A grandmother overheard 5-year-old Christy “playing wedding.” The wedding vows went like this:
“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say may be held against you, you have the right to have an attorney present. You may kiss the bride.”
Harold the Computer Guy
I was having trouble with my computer. So I called Harold, the computer guy, to come over. Harold clicked a couple of buttons and solved the problem. He gave me a bill for a minimum service call.
As he was walking away, I called after him, “So, what was wrong?”
He replied, “It was an ‘ID ten T’ error.”
I didn’t want to appear stupid, but I nonetheless inquired, “An ID ten T Error? What’s that, in case I need to fix it again?”
Harold grinned. “Haven’t you ever heard of an ID ten T error before?”
“No,” I replied.
“Write it down,” he said, “and I think you’ll figure it out.”
So I wrote it down.
I D 1 0 T
I used to like Harold…
A lady is riding the subway, reading her Bible.
A man sitting next to her, seeming amused, asks her, “You don’t really believe what they say in there, do you?”
“Every word,” she replied.
“OK,” he asks, “how about the Noah story, the flood, the animals – do you believe that?”
“Absolutely,” she said.
“What about God creating the universe in six days?”
“All true, I believe every word.”
“What about Jonah – how could a man live for three days in the belly of a whale?” he asks.
“Yes, I believe that too,” she says.
“Well, how could that be – how did he breathe?”
” I don’t know,” she said. “When I get to Heaven, I’ll ask him.”
“What if he’s not in Heaven,” the guy asks.
The lady replies, “In that case, you can ask him!”
The personnel office received an email requesting a listing of the department staff broken down by age and sex.
The personnel office sent this reply:
“Attached is a list of our staff per your request. We currently have no one broken down by age or sex. However, we have a few alcoholics.”
When you write copy you have the right to copyright the copy you write, if the copy is right. If however, your copy falls over, you must right your copy. If you write religious services you write rite, and have the right to copyright the rite you write.
Very conservative people write right copy, and have the right to copyright the right copy they write. A right wing cleric would write right rite, and has the right to copyright the right rite he has the right to write. His editor has the job of making the right rite copy right before the copyright can be right.
Should Jim Wright decide to write right rite, then Wright would write right rite, which Wright has the right to copyright. Duplicating that rite would copy Wright right rite, and violate copyright, which Wright would have the right to right.
What Happened To Your Ears?
A blonde with two red ears went to her doctor. The doctor asked her what had happened to her ears?
“I was ironing a shirt and the phone rang – but instead of picking up the phone I accidentally picked up the iron and stuck it to my ear.”
“Oh Dear!” the doctor exclaimed in disbelief. “But, what happened to your other ear?”
“The Creep called back!”
A guy named Bob goes to a costume dress party with a girl on his back.
Harold, answering the door: What are you supposed to be?
Bob: A turtle.
Harold: What do you mean?
Bob: The girl on my back is Michelle.
The chef at a family-run restaurant had broken her leg and came into our insurance office to file a disability claim. As I scanned the claim form, I did a double take.
Under “Reason unable to work,” she wrote: “Can’t stand to cook.”
Q: Why couldn’t the orange cross the street?
A: It ran out of juice!
Q: What’s the deal with poker players?
A: Usually, five cards.
Q: Where do geologists go for good music?
A: To a rock concert!
The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box. “Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please!”
Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl’s upturned face. “A dollar ninety-five. That’s almost $2.00. If you really want them, you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday’s only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.”
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill, and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere — Sunday School, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green. Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?” Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you.” “Then give me your pearls.” “Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess — the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She’s my favorite.” “That’s okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night.” And he brushed her cheek with a kiss. About a week later, after the story time, Jenny’s daddy asked again, “Do you love me?” “Daddy, you know I love you.” “Then give me your pearls.” “Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.” “That’s okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.” And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.
A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. “What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter?”
Jenny didn’t say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, “Here, Daddy. It’s for you.”
With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny’s kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a stand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny. He had had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.
So like our heavenly Father, what are you hanging on to?
– WRITTEN BY ALICE GRAY –