So most people know about the strange U.S. custom of eating a giant turkey feast on the last Thursday of November. If you didn’t, well, that’s what we do. After which we have a lot of badly aging leftovers stuffed into our refrigerators for about a week. My mother used to create a myriad of soups, casseroles, and concoctions from the remains. I dare say my dad probably has a few Cool Whip containers that she’d left behind in the deep freezer from Thanksgivings long past… And knowing my dad, he’d probably eat them too.
Two men, sentenced to die on the same day, were led down to the room where the electric chair was. The priest had given them last rites, the formal speech had been given by the warden, and a final prayer had been said among the participants. The warden, turning to the first man, solemnly asked, “Son, do you have a last request?”
The man replied, “Yes sir, I do. I love dance music. Could you please play the Macarena for me one last time?”
“Certainly,” replied the warden.
He turned to the other man and asked, “Well, what about you, son? What is your final request?”
“Please,” said the condemned man, “Kill me first.”
A 4-year-old boy was asked to pray before Thanksgiving dinner. The family members bowed their heads in expectation.
He began his prayer, thanking the Lord for all his friends, naming them one by one.
Then he thanked the Lord for Mommy, Daddy, brother, sister, Grandma, Grandpa, and all his aunts and uncles. Then he began to thank the Lord for the food. He gave thanks for the turkey, the dressing, the fruit salad, the cranberry sauce, the pies, the cakes, even the Cool Whip.
Then he paused, and everyone waited — and waited.
After a long silence, the young fellow looked up at his mother and asked, “If I thank the Lord for the broccoli, won’t he know that I’m lying?”
A male patient is lying in bed in the hospital, wearing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. A young student nurse appears and gives him a partial sponge bath.
“Nurse,”‘ he mumbles from behind the mask, “are my testicles black?”
Embarrassed, the young nurse replies, “I don’t know, Sir. I’m only here to wash your upper body and feet.”
He struggles to ask again, “Nurse, please check for me. Are my testicles black?”
Concerned that he might elevate his blood pressure and heart rate from worrying about his testicles, she overcomes her embarrassment and pulls back the covers. She raises his gown, holds his manhood in one hand and his testicles gently in the other.
She looks very closely and says, “There’s nothing wrong with them, Sir. They look fine.”
The man slowly pulls off his oxygen mask, smiles at her, and says very slowly, “Thank you very much. That was wonderful. Now listen very, very closely:
Are – my – test – results – back?”
Hung Chow calls in to work and says, “Hey, boss I not come work today, I really sick. I got headache, stomach ache and my legs hurt. I not come work.”
The boss says, “You know Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel like this I go to my wife and tell her to give me sex. That makes everything better and I can go to work. You should try that.”
Two hours later Hung Chow calls again, “Boss, I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon. By the ways, you got nice house.”
So during the last fireside chat, I might have given some of you the impression that I don't like my dog. Well, I do, but with such boundless energy she can be very tiring. I'm getting on in my years, and having a living bouncy ball sap my energy every day is frustrating.
But Gail is my baby girl, and though she often tests my limits, she does have her up sides. Off hand I can't think of any, but... Oh wait! She does actually settle down, and when I'm sitting on the couch or lying in bed, she is right there snuggled up next to me. She looks at me in such a way as to tell me that I am her everything.
And Gail is still just a pup. Granted, she is an 85 pound musclebound pup, but her brain is still developing. It is always a pleasant surprise when something finally "clicks" in that head of hers, and she learns to control some of the less desirable aspects of her behavior.
Make no mistake, there is a long way to go before Gail is what I would consider a "good" dog, and I have had enough dogs to know the difference. In the meantime, she still gets plenty of toys and treats and belly rubs.
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