Little Johnny was celebrating his birthday soon. His father asked him what he would like for his birthday. Without hesitation Johnny said, “A spider.” His father was somewhat incredulous, so he asked him again. “I really want a spider,” responded Johnny.
Well, his father went to the pet store and asked the salesperson, “Do you sell spiders?”
“We sure do,” was the response.
“How much do they cost?”
“$50.00,” said the clerk.
Somewhat taken aback, Johnny’s father said, “That’s too expensive. I’m sure I can find something cheaper on the web.”
Veteran Pillsbury spokesman Pop N. Fresh died Wednesday of a severe yeast infection. He was 71.
He was buried Friday in one of the biggest funerals in years. Dozens of celebrities turned out including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, and the Hostess Twinkies.
The graveside was piled high with flours, as longtime friend Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Fresh as a man who “never knew he was kneaded”.
Fresh rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a smart cookie, and wasted much of his dough on half-baked schemes.
Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a roll model to millions. Fresh is survived by his second wife. They had two children, and one in the oven.
The funeral was at 3:50 for 20 minutes.
One day, a man from the Czech Republic came to visit his friend in New York.
When asked what he wanted to see, the visitor replied, “I would like to see one of the zoos in America.”
To his delight, the New Yorker took him to the Bronx Zoo. They were touring the zoo, and standing in front of the gorilla cage, when one of the gorillas busted out of the cage and swallowed the Czech whole.
Shocked, his friend from New York quickly called over the zoo keeper. He quickly explained the situation and the zoo keeper immediately took steps to save the man’s friend. The zoo keeper got an axe and asked the man, “OK, which gorilla did it? Was it the male or the female?” The New Yorker pointed out the female as the culprit. Quickly, the zoo keeper split the female gorilla open and found nothing of the Czech.
He looked at the man from New York, who shrugged and said, “Guess the Czech is in the male.”
Two boll weevils grew up in South Carolina. One went to Hollywood and became a famous actor. The other stayed behind in the cotton fields and never amounted to much.
The second one, naturally, became known as the lesser of two weevils.
A guy goes to a psychiatrist. “Doc, I keep having these alternating recurring dreams. First I’m a teepee, then I’m a wigwam, then I’m a teepee, then I’m a wigwam. It’s driving me crazy. What’s wrong with me?”
The doctor replies, “It’s very simple. You’re two tents.”
Polynesia: memory loss in parrots.
I’m writing a book. I’ve got the page numbers done.
Laughing stock: cattle with a sense of humor.
Wear short sleeves! Support your right to bare arms!
To err is human, to moo bovine.
The storm chaser was so fascinated by tornadoes that he tended to get carried away.
Q: What do stylish frogs wear?
Q: What bird is the best weightlifter?
A: The crane.
Q: What do stylish frogs wear?
I wasn’t originally going to get a brain transplant, but then I changed my mind.
The Indian’s Theory of Math Construction
An Indian chief had three wives, each of whom was pregnant.
The first gave birth to a boy. The chief was so elated he built her a teepee made of deer hide.
A few days later, the second gave birth, also to a boy. The chief was very happy. He built her a teepee made of antelope hide.
The third wife gave birth a few days later, but the chief kept the details a secret. He built this one a two story teepee, made out of a hippopotamus hide. The chief then challenged the tribe to guess what had occurred.
Many tried, unsuccessfully. Finally, one young brave declared that the third wife had given birth to twin boys.
“Correct,” said the chief. “How did you figure it out?”
The warrior answered, “It’s elementary. The value of the squaw of the hippopotamus is equal to the sons of the squaws of the other two hides.”
Useful words that ought to exist:
1) Begathon – Fundraising drive on public television or radio.
2) Cheedle – Residue on your fingers after eating CheetosŽ.
3) Crummox – Cereal bits in the bottom of the bag.
4) Fenderberg – Deposits of snow and ice that accumulate around your tires under the fender.
5) Flopcorn – Unpopped kernels at the bottom of the microwave bag.
What My Teacher Knew by Heart
What is it that stirs your memory of a favorite teacher? How it is you can still see the face, hear the voice and know for certain your life has never been the same since? I’m not sure I’ll ever really understand what my teacher at King’s School, Miss Aarhus, left me. Fifty years after the last school bell rang, I can still hear her: “Jim, please stop talking!” Yet, her life and manner have been speaking to me ever since.
To a 12-year-old boy who thought more about cars than homework, Miss Alma Aarhus fit my image of what a teacher was supposed to be. She had gray-black hair and glasses. She kept to a schedule. But there was something more to her. Somehow, whether I was whispering a joke to a friend, or actually paying attention to the lesson, I felt good about being in her class.
Had I known her story back then, I would have understood. She was born to native Norwegian parents who settled on the North Dakota plains. Her family’s first house was built into a hillside and then moved alongside a creek. It had a ground floor and a single upstairs room. She learned charity at home. I didn’t know then that traveling bands of gypsies were common to her family in Iowa. One day they stopped by the Aarhus home and asked for some children’s clothes. Alma’s mother gathered some items and gave them something to wear.
After Miss Aarhus graduated from Bible school, a friend handed her a newspaper clipping about a new Christian school in Seattle ready to hire teachers. She became interested enough to drive herself from Minnesota to Seattle to interview at King’s Garden, a school she had read about, only to learn there were no openings.
Her journey wasn’t over, however, when she arrived home in North Dakota. She was barely in the door when a telephone call came from Mr. Henry, the King’s Garden principal. One of his teachers couldn’t fulfill her contract because her mother was sick. Alma Aarhus stood in her kitchen and later said, “Just as clear as a bell, I heard, ‘Go to King’s Garden.’ I said, ‘Thank you, Lord. That’s fine.’ ”
I was too young to know that she, like all the other teachers at my school, received their salary in the form of free room and board on campus. For her, the opportunity to teach children had very little to do with money and everything to do with training young people to grow in both mind and heart. It’s why I appreciate that she prayed for us in class each morning and that she did something no other teacher I’ve known ever dared try. She let us work every assignment and every test with a fellow classmate. She trusted us to bring out the best in each other. She saw the wisdom of how two students could gain more confidence and knowledge together than alone. And because of alphabetized seating, I learned how much I didn’t know from my best friend, Gaylord Gunhus, who was smarter than me.
There was something else I didn’t know at the time about Miss Aarhus. Before coming to King’s Elementary, she had taught handicapped children. Years later, I heard her tell a story about a student named Carol who had some learning problems. So Miss Aarhus created a remedial course called the Sunset Class that met after school. Some students liked it so much they purposely didn’t finish their work so they could be with their teacher and fellow classmates.
Miss Aarhus might have had something to do with the fact that Carol eventually graduated from Cornell University and went on to become a home economics professor and that Gaylord Gunhus ascended the ranks to serve as Chief of Chaplains for the United States Army.
Looking back on her life as a missionary and teacher, including 17 years at King’s School, Miss Aarhus said, “Teaching handicapped children was one of the best things that ever happened to me, because from them I learned patience.”
That’s what my favorite teacher gave me: Time.
Time to learn to pay attention. Time to stop talking. Time to join her in prayer. Time to take an extra needed minute to complete my math problems.
Time to say good-bye to her at the end of the day without really knowing why I was already looking forward to school the next day.
There always seemed to be a tone in her voice and a look in her eyes that said, “I’m here for you, Jim. The Bible says to be transformed by the renewing of your mind. That’s what I want for you, Jim.” She cared so much because she knew the Lord loved her totally and unconditionally.
Maybe that is why my favorite teacher never married. Surely, the way she made us feel about ourselves, about learning and the Lord, is why countless students are grateful to have been one of her children.