When they first invented the clock, how did they know what time to set it to?
When I get a headache, I take 2 aspirin and keep away from children, just like the label says.
What do you call a bee born in between April 30 and June 1?
Know what Paul Revere said at the end of his famous ride?
What if my dog only brings back my ball because he thinks I like throwing it?
Knock on Wood
A young man, who was also an avid golfer, found himself with a few hours to spare one afternoon. He figured that if he hurried and played very fast, he could get in 9 holes before he had to head home. Just as he was about to tee off, an old gentleman shuffled onto the tee and asked if he could accompany the young man as he was golfing alone. Not being able to say no, he allowed the old man to join him.
To his surprise, the old man played fairly quickly. He didn’t hit the ball far, but plodded along consistently and didn’t waste much time. Finally, they reached the 9th fairway and the young man found himself with a tough shot. There was a large pine tree right in front of his ball and directly between his ball and the green. After several minutes of debating how to hit the shot, the old man finally said, “You know, when I was your age, I’d hit the ball right over that tree.”
With that challenge placed before him, the youngster swung hard, hit the ball up, right smack into the top of the tree trunk and it thudded back on the ground not a foot from where it had originally laid.
The old man offered one more comment, “Of course, when I was your age, that pine tree was only 3 feet tall.”
Earl and Bob, both obsessed with baseball, never missed their favorite team’s game. They promised whoever died first, and went to heaven, would come back to earth and tell the other if there was baseball in heaven.
One day, Earl died. Bob waited for him to come back. Finally Earl did.
He said to Bob, “I have good news and bad news. I’ll tell you the good news first. There IS baseball in heaven.”
Bob said, “That’s the best news!”
Then Earl said, “Time for the bad news…you’re pitching tomorrow night.”
A tourist stopped a local in a village he was visiting and asked, “What is the quickest way to the Beach?”
The local thought for a while. “Are you walking or driving?” he asked the tourist.
“That’s the quickest way.”
Bill, Jim, and Scott were at a convention together and were sharing a large
suite on the top of a 75-story skyscraper. After a long day of meetings they
were shocked to hear that the elevators in their hotel were broken and they
would have to climb 75 flights of stairs to get to their room.
Bill said to Jim and Scott, “Let’s break the monotony of this unpleasant
task by concentrating on something interesting. I’ll tell jokes for 25
flights, and Jim can sing songs for 25 flights, and Scott can tell sad
stories the rest of the way.”
At the 26th floor Bill stopped telling jokes and Jim began to sing.
At the 51st floor Jim stopped singing and Scott began to tell sad stories.
“I will tell my saddest story first,” he said. “I left the room key in the
A piece of toast and a hardboiled egg walked into a bar. The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve breakfast here.”
Welcome to Holland
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability — to try to help people who have not shared the unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this. . .
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip — to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. Michelangelo’s “David.” The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The flight attendant comes and says, “Welcome to Holland.” “Holland!” you say. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland, and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. You must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.” And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.
– WRITTEN BY EMILY PERL KINGSLEY –