Adam’s Pain

At Sunday School they were teaching how God created everything, including human beings.

Little Johnny, a child in the kindergarten class, seemed especially intent when they told him how

Eve was created out of one of Adam’s ribs.

Later in the week his mother noticed him lying down as though he were ill, and said,

“Johnny what is the matter?”

Little Johnny responded, “I have a pain in my side. I think I’m going to have a wife.”

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A little boy opened the big family Bible. He was fascinated as he fingered through the old pages.

Suddenly something fell out of the Bible. He picked up the object and looked at it closely.

What he saw was an old leaf that had been pressed in between the pages.

“Momma, look what I found,” the boy called out.

“What have you got there, dear?” his mother asked.

With astonishment in the young boy’s voice, he answered: “I think it’s Adam’s suit!”

 

A bear walks into a Store and says, “Clerk, give me a Oreo……………………………………………………………………………………………………….. Cookie.”

Clerk says, “Sure, buddy, but what’s up with the long pause?”

The bear looks at his hands and say, “I dunno, my dad had them too.”

 

Q: What kind of dinosaur is never late?

A: A pronto-saurus.

Q: Why did the hot dog put on a sweater?

A: Because it was a chili dog.

 

 

Q: What do you get when a gang of robbers jump into a pool?

A: A crime wave.

 

Buenos Dias

Those of us who worked at the front desk of a convention hotel in Williamsburg, Va., prided ourselves on making the guests feel special. When someone arrived at reception, credit card in hand, we would sneak a peek at it and address him by name.

Once during a particularly busy check-in, one of our guests presented a corporate credit card. “Welcome to Williamsburg, Mr. Bell,” the desk clerk said.

“Oh, please,” the man replied, “call me Taco.”

 

Who Really Is Man’s Best Friend

 

A dog is truly a man’s best friend. If you don’t believe it, just try this experiment.

Put your dog and your wife in the trunk of the car for an hour.

When you open the trunk, who is really happy to see you?

 

 

‘P’s’ in the Would be Catholic Dictionary

Pantheism–The belief in the miracle of Teflon.

Papal bull–A letter from the Pope that’s infallibull.

Predestination–1. The rendezvous spot for you and your friends when you’re supposed to be at Mass. 2. The gas station where a Catholic family stops, even though Mom and Dad told everyone to go before they left.

Pride–Bringing photographs along to confession.

Protestant–A person who will probably make it to Heaven, but won’t live in as good of a neighborhood.

Purgatory–1. A place that Cub fans will bypass completely. 2. A place where a snowball still has a chance.

 

The Protestant Dictionary

AMEN: The only part of any prayer that everyone knows.

AND IN CONCLUSION: A required statement midway through the sermon.

BAPTISTRY WATER: A liquid with a chemical formula of H2OLY.

BULLETIN: Parish information, read only during the sermon.

HYMN: A song of praise, usually sung in a key three octaves higher than that of the congregation’s range.

MAGI: The most famous trio to attend a baby shower.

PEW: A medieval torture device still found in protestant churches.

PROCESSION: The ceremonial formation at the beginning of the service, consisting of the pastors, the choir, and late parishioners looking for seats.

RECESSIONAL HYMN: The last song on Sunday AM, often sung a little more quietly, since most of the people have already left.

USHERS: The only people in the church who don’t know the seating capacity of a pew.

 

Countrified Dictionary & Philosophy

 

Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the recipient who doesn’t get it.

Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like a serious bummer.

Glibido: All talk and no action.

Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a refund from the IRS, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

Lost Marbles

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.

Pondering the peas, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

“Hello Barry, how are you today?”

“H’lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Just admirin’ them peas. They sure look good.”

“They are good, Barry. How’s your Ma?”

“Fine. Gettin’ stronger all the time.”

“Good. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, Sir. Just admirin’ them peas.”

“Would you like to take some home?” asked Mr. Miller.

“No, sir. Got nuthin’ to pay for ’em with.”

“Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?”

“All I got’s my prize marble here.”

“Is that right? Let me see it,” said Miller.

“Here it is. She’s a dandy.”

“I can see that. Hmm…only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?” the store owner asked.

“Not exactly, but almost.”

“Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble,” Mr. Miller told the boy.

“Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.”

Mrs.Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile she said, “There are two other boys like him in our community. All three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever…

“When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn’t like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.”

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts, all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband”s casket.

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband’s bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

“Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.

“They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim “traded” them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size (she smiled), they came to pay their debt.

“We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,” she confided, “but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.”

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.