Why don’t witches like to ride their brooms when they’re angry?
They’re afraid of flying off the handle!
Who did the boy monster take to the Halloween dance?
His bootiful ghoul-friend.
Why did the ghost become a sailor?
He wanted to haunt for buried treasure!
What would you get if you crossed a wolf with a polyester jacket?
What do baseball players do on Halloween?
They practice pitchcraft.
How do you make a witch itch?
Take away the W.
Do witches stay home on weekends?
No. They go away for a spell.
What do you call a ghost in a torn sheet?
A holy terror.
What goes “Oob, oob!”
A ghost in reverse.
What do spooks call their navy?
The ghost guard.
Did you hear about the cannibal who was expelled from school?
He was buttering up his teacher.
What did the mother ghost say to the baby ghost when they got into the car?
“Don’t forget to buckle your sheetbelt!”
What did the sign in the Egyptian funeral home say?
“Satisfaction guaranteed or double your mummy back.”
Random Robby Thoughts
I thought getting old would take longer.
Q: What’s a cat’s favorite breakfast?
A: Mice Krispies.
Q: What do whale’s like to chew?
A: Blubber gum.
Q: How does a lion like his steak?
A: Medium roar.
Q: What do frogs eat with their hamburgers?
A: French flies.
Decidedly Dinner Options
I have changed my system for labeling homemade freezer meals. I used to carefully note in large clear letters, “Meatloaf” or “Pot Roast” or “Steak and Vegetables or “Chicken and Dumplings” or “Beef Pot Pie.”
However, I used to get frustrated when I asked my husband what he wanted for dinner because he never asked for any of those things. So, I decided to stock the freezer with what he really likes.
If you look in my freezer now you’ll see a whole new set of labels. You’ll find dinners with neat little tags that say: “Whatever,” “Anything,” “I Don’t Know,” “I Don’t Care,” “Something Good,” or “Food.” Now no matter what my husband replies with when I ask him what he wants for dinner, I know that it is there waiting.
Food For Thought
A church goer wrote a letter to the editor of a newspaper and complained that it made no sense to go to church every Sunday. “I’ve gone for 30 years now,” he wrote, “and in that time I have heard something like 3,000 sermons. But for the life of me, I can’t remember a single one of them. So, I think I’m wasting my time and the pastors are wasting theirs by giving sermons at all.”
This started a real controversy in the “Letters to the Editor” column, much to the delight of the editor. It went on for weeks until someone wrote this clincher: “I’ve been married for 30 years now. In that time my wife has cooked some 32,000 meals. But, for the life of me, I cannot recall the entire menu for a single one of those meals. But I do know this. They all nourished me and gave me the strength I needed to do my work. If my wife had not given me these meals, I would be physically dead today.
Likewise, if I had not gone to church for nourishment, I would be spiritually dead today!”
I came across this phrase in a book yesterday: “fender skirts.”
I haven’t heard this term in a long time, and thinking about “fender skirts” started me thinking about other words that quietly disappear from our language with hardly a notice, such as “curb feelers” and “steering knobs.”
Since I’d been thinking of cars, my mind naturally went that direction first. Kids, you will probably have to find some elderly person over 60 to explain some of these terms to you.
Remember “continental kits”? They were rear bumper extenders and spare tire covers that were supposed to make any car as cool as a Lincoln Continental.
When did we quit calling them “emergency brakes”? At some point “parking brake” became the proper term. But I miss the hint of drama that went with “emergency brake.”
Didn’t you ever wait at the street for your dad to come home so you could ride the “running board” up to the house?
Here’s a phrase I heard all the time in my youth but never anymore: “store-bought.” Of course, just about everything is store-bought these days. But once it was bragging material to have a store-bought dress or a store-bought bag of candy.
“Coast-to-coast” is a phrase that once held all sorts of excitement and now means almost nothing. Now we take the term “worldwide” for granted. This floors me.
On a smaller scale, “wall-to-wall” was once a magical term in our homes. In the ’50s, everyone covered hardwood floors with, wow, wall-to-wall carpeting! Today, everyone replaces wall-to-wall carpeting with hardwood floors. Go figure.
Most of these words go back to the ’50s, but here’s a pure ’60s word I came across the other day: “rat fink.” Ooh, what a nasty put-down!
Here’s a word I miss: “percolator.” That was just a fun word to say. And what was it replaced with? “Coffee maker.” How dull. Mr. Coffee, I blame you for this.
I miss those made-up marketing words that were meant to sound so modern and now sound so retro: words like “DynaFlow” and “Electrolux.” Introducing the 1963 Admiral TV, now with “SpectraVision”!
Here’s food for thought: Was there a telethon that wiped out lumbago? Nobody complains of that anymore. Maybe that’s what castor oil cured, because I never hear mothers threatening kids with castor oil anymore.
Some words aren’t gone but are definitely on the endangered list. The one that grieves me most is “supper.” Now everybody says “dinner.” Save a great word. Invite someone to supper. Discuss fender skirts.
I do system support in a law firm. The other day I had to log a user off and then back on. I entered her initials and then she just gave me her password (Rule No. 1 broken). Her password is “genius”.
After three tries and the system telling me “access denied,” I asked her how to spell it.
She said, “G – E – N – I – O – U – S.”
WHERE DO I Come From?
One day our Little niece Rita went up to her mother and asked, “Mom, where did I come from?”
My sister in law stammered a bit, but finally got her composure.
She thought it was time her daughter knew the facts of life. So, she told Little Rita how the expression of love resulted in the beginning of life, how life developed in the womb and finally how a child was born. As my sister in law gave the whole story, Rita’s eyes got wider and wider.
When She was finished, Little Rita said “Wow, that’s really neat. That sure beats what Uncle Rusty told me. He said that he came from Pennsylvania.”
Guideposts Classics: Corrie ten Boom on Trusting in God
In this story from August 1976, the author of The Hiding Place recalls her watchmaker father’s timeless advice.
by Corrie ten Boom
Some of my happiest days came when it was decided that I could work in the shop as an assistant to my kindly, bearded father. I loved being with him and I loved the shop itself. It had a very special atmosphere, and gradually I began to overcome my shyness and insecurity in meeting people, and I enjoyed selling the watches and clocks to our customers.
There were many ups and downs in the watchmaking business. Father loved his work, but he was not a money-maker, and times were often hard. Once I remember we were faced with a real financial crisis. A large bill had to be paid, and there simply wasn’t enough money. Then one day a well-dressed gentleman came into the shop and asked to see some very expensive watches. I stayed in the workshop and prayed, with one ear tuned to the conversation in the front room.
“Mmm … this is a fine watch. Mr. ten Boom,” the customer said, turning a very costly timepiece over in his hands. “This is just what I’ve been looking for.”
I held my breath as I saw the affluent customer reach into his inner pocket and pull out a thick wad of bills. Praise the Lord—cash! (I saw myself paying the overdue bill and being relieved of the burden of anxiety I had been carrying for the past few weeks.)
The customer looked at the watch admiringly and commented, “I had a good watchmaker here in Haarlem … his name was van Houten. Perhaps you knew him.”
Father nodded his head He knew almost everyone in Haarlem, especially other watchmakers.
“When van Houten died and his son took over the business, I kept on doing business with the young man. However, I bought a watch from him that didn’t run at all. I sent it back three times, but he couldn’t seem to fix it. That’s why I decided to find another watchmaker.”
“Will you show me that watch, please?” Father said.
The man took a large watch out of his vest and gave it to Father.
“Now, let me see,” Father said, opening the back of the watch. He adjusted some thing and handed it back to the customer “There that was a very little mistake. It will be fine now. Sir, I trust the young watchmaker. Someday he wilt be just as good as his father. So if you ever have a problem with one of his watches, come to me. I’ll help you out, Now I shall give you back your money and you return my watch.”
I was horrified. I saw Father take back the watch and give the money to the customer. Then he opened the door for him and bowed deeply in his old-fashioned way.
My heart was where my feet should be as I emerged from the shelter of the workshop.
“Papa! How could you?”
Father looked at me patiently through his steel-rimmed glasses.
“Corrie,” he said, “you know that I brought the Gospel at the burial of Mr. van Houten.”
Of course I remembered. It was Father’s job to speak at the burials of the watchmakers in Haarlem. He was greatly loved by his colleagues and was also a very good speaker; he always used the occasion to talk about the Lord Jesus.
“Corrie, what do you think that young man would have said when he heard that one of his good customers had gone to Mr. ten Boom? Do you think that the name of the Lord would be honored? As for the money, trust the Lord, Corrie. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills and He will take care of us.”
I felt ashamed and I knew that Father was right. I wondered if I could ever have that kind of trust instead of blind determination to follow my own stubborn path. Could I really learn to trust God?
“Yes, Father,” I answered quietly. Whom was I answering? My earthly father or my Father in Heaven?