Archive for October, 2007

Ahead…

A man is waiting for his wife to give birth. The doctor comes in and informs the dad that his son was born without a torso, arms or legs. The son is just a head! But the dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can, with love and compassion.

After 18 years, the son is now old enough for his first drink. Dad takes him to the pub, tearfully tells the son he is proud of him and orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With everyone looking on curiously and the bar-man shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of alcohol. Swoooop! A torso pops out! The pub is dead silent; then bursts into a whoop of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son to drink again.

The auld fellas roar at him, “Take another drink”! The bar-man still shakes his head in dismay. Swoooop! Two arms pops out! The pub goes wild. The father, crying and wailing, begs his son to drink again. Drunks are screaming now, “Take another drink”! The bar-man ignores the whole affair.

By now the boy is getting tipsy, and with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his drink and guzzles the last of it. Swoooop! Two legs pop out. The pub is in chaos. The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks God. The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left… then to the right… right through the front door, into the street, where a truck runs over him and kills him instantly. The pub falls silent. The father moans in grief. The bar-man sighs and says… “He should have quit while he was a head!”

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The Chicken…

MOHAMMED SAEED AL-SAHAF (COMICAL ALI):
The chicken did not cross the road. This is a complete fabrication. We do not even have a chicken.

GEORGE W. BUSH:
We don’t care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road or not. The chicken is either for us or against us. There is no middle ground.

TONY BLAIR:
I agree with George.

HANS BLIX:
We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.

MARTIN LUTHER KING Jr:
I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.

ALBERT EINSTEIN:
Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?

TRISHA:
Isn’t that interesting? In a few moments we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart-warming story of how it survived a serious case of moulting and went onto accomplish its dream of crossing the road.

JOHN LENNON:
Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together in peace.

ARISTOTLE:
It is the nature of the chicken to cross the road.

RONALD REAGAN:
What Chicken?

SIGMUND FREUD:
The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

BILL GATES:
EChicken 2003 will not only cross roads but will lay eggs, file your important documents and balance your cheque book, and Internet Explorer 7 is an integral part of eChicken.

BILL CLINTON:
What is your definition of chicken?

GRANDAD:
In my day we didn’t ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road and that was good enough.

COLOLNEL SANDERS:
Did I miss one?

HOMER SIMPSON:
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm chicken!

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Career Choice

Edward was at school this morning and the teacher asked all the
children what their fathers did for a living.

All the typical answers came out, Fireman, Policeman, Salesman,
Chippy, Captain of Industry etc, but Edward was being uncharacteristically
quiet and so the teacher asked him about his father.

“My father is an exotic dancer in a gay club and takes off all his
clothes in front of other men.”

The teacher quickly set the other children some work and took little Edward
aside to ask him if that was really true.

“No” said Edward, “He plays Rugby for England but I was just too embarrassed to say.”

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The Room – Joshua Harris

THE ROOM

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found
myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features
save for the one wall covered with small index card files.
They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author
or subject in alphabetical order.
But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and
seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different
headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to
catch my attention was one that read “Girls I Have Liked”.
I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I
quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the
names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog
system for my life. Here were written the actions of my
every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory
couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled
with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening
files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and
sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so
intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if
anyone was watching.

A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I
Have Betrayed”. The titles ranged from the mundane to
the outright weird. “Books I Have Read”, “Lies I Have
Told”, “Comfort I Have Given”, “Jokes I Have Laughed
At”. Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things
I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at:
“Things I Have Done in My Anger”, “Things I Have
muttered Under My Breath at My Parents”. I never
ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were
many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I
hoped.

I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had
lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 16
years to write each of these thousands or even millions of
cards? But each card confirmed this truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with
my signature. When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I
Have Listened To”, I realized the files grew to contain
their contents. The cards were packed tightly,
and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of
the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of
music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file
represented.

When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts”, I felt a
chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch,
not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I
shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that
such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought
dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards!
No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!”
In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t
matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I
took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I
could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and
pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I
tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-
pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I
Have Shared the Gospel With”.

The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,
almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not
more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could
count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep
that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me.
I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from
the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves
swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever
know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No,
please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I
watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read
the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in
the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I
saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to
intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read
every one?

Finally, He turned and looked at me from across the
room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was
a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered
my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could
have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word.
He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.
Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and,
one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each
card. “No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could
find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him.
His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was,
written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus
covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently
took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began
to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He
did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard
Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He
placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I
stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was
no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

Josh died a few weeks before he wrote this. When his family were clearing out his school locker they found this story he wrote for a class project…

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Why?

Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are getting dead?

Why do we raise our voices on the phone when the battery is low?

Why do banks charge a fee on “insufficient funds” when they know there is not enough money?

Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?

Why doesn’t glue stick to the bottle?

Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard?

Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him?

Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?

Whose idea was it to put an “S” in the word “Lisp”?

If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?

Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always white?

Is there ever a day that mattresses are not on sale?

Why do people constantly return to the refrigerator with hopes that something new to eat will have materialized?

Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum one more chance?

Why is it that no plastic bag will open from the end on your first
try?

How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light fixtures?

When we are in the supermarket and someone rams our ankle with a shopping cart then apologises for doing so, why do we say, “It’s all right?” Well, it isn’t all right, so why don’t we say, “That hurt, you stupid idiot”.

Why is it that whenever you attempt to catch something that’s
falling off the table you always manage to knock something else over?

In winter why do we try to keep the house as warm as it was in
summer when we complained about the heat?

How come you never hear father-in-law jokes?

And my FAVORITE……

The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four persons is
suffering from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three
best friends — if they’re okay, then it’s you.

Computers…Technical Support

Customer: Hi, this is Celine. I can’t get my diskette out.
Tech support: Have you tried pushing the Button?
Customer: Yes, sure, it’s really stuck.
Tech support: That doesn’t sound good; I’ll make a note.
Customer: No, wait a minute,I hadn’t inserted it yet-it’s still on my desk

Tech support: What kind of computer do you have?
Female customer: A white one…

Tech support: Click on the ‘my computer’ icon on to the left of the screen.
Customer: Your left or my left?

Tech support: Good day. How may I help you?
Male customer: Hello… I can’t print.
Tech support: Would you click on “start” for me and…
Customer: Listen pal, don’t start getting technical on me!I’m not Bill Gates

Customer: Hi, good afternoon, this is Martha, I can’t print. Every time I try, it says ‘Can’t find printer’. I’ve even lifted the printer and placed it in front of the monitor, but the computer still says he can’t find it…

Customer: I have problems printing in red…
Tech support: Do you have a color printer?
Customer: Aaaah……. ……… …thank you

Tech support: What’s on your monitor now, ma’am?
Customer: A teddy bear my boyfriend bought for me at the 7/11.

Customer: My keyboard is not working anymore.
Tech support: Are you sure it’s plugged into the computer?
Customer: No. I can’t get behind the computer.
Tech support: Pick up your keyboard and walk 10 paces back
Customer: OK
Tech support: Did the keyboard come with you?
Customer: Yes
Tech support: That means the keyboard is not plugged in. Is there another keyboard?
Customer: Yes, there’s another one here. Ah…that one does work

Tech support: Your password is the small letter “a” as in apple, a capital letter V as in Victor, the number 7.
Customer: Is that 7 in capital letters?

Customer: I can’t get on the Internet.
Tech support: Are you sure you used the right password?
Customer: Yes, I’m sure. I saw my colleague do it.
Tech support: Can you tell me what the password was?
Customer: Five stars.

Tech support: What anti-virus program do you use?
Customer: Netscape.
Tech support: That’s not an anti-virus program.
Customer : Oh, sorry…Internet Explorer.

Customer: I have a huge problem. A friend has placed a screen saver on my computer, but every time I move the mouse, it disappears.

Tech support: How may I help you?
Customer: I’m writing my first e-mail.
Tech support: OK, and what seems to be the problem?
Customer: Well, I have the letter ‘a’ in the address, but how do I get the circle around it?

A woman customer called the Canon help desk with a problem with her printer.
Tech support: Are you running it under windows?
Customer: “No, my desk is next to the door, but that is a good point. The man sitting in the cubicle next to me is under a window, and his printer is working fine.”

And last but not least…

Tech support: “Okay Bob, let’s press the control and escape keys at the same time. That brings up a task list in the middle of the screen. Now type the letter “P” to bring up the Program Manager”
Customer: I don’t have a P.
Tech support: On your keyboard, Bob.
Customer: What do you mean?
Tech support: “P”…..on your keyboard, Bob.
Customer: I’M NOT GOING TO DO THAT!

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Philosophy

Can you cry underwater?

How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of murdered?

Once you’re in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buried in for eternity?

Round Pizza…Square Box?

What disease did cured ham have?

Why do we say we ‘slept like a baby’? Babies only sleep for about 2 hours at a time

If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?

Why are you IN a film, but ON Telly?

Why do you go all the way up a tall bulding to look down at the people below through binoculars?

Why do doctors leave the room when you change, they’re going to see you naked anyway?!

Why is bra singular and panties plural?

Why do toasters have a setting that burns bread to a horrible crisp, one that no one will ever eat?!

Why does Goofy stand up whilst Pluto is on all fours, they’re both dogs?!

If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn’t he just buy dinner?

If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from?

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?

Why did you just try singing both songs?

Why does a dog get mad when you blow in his face, but he sticks his head out the window in car?!

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