Random Robby Ramblings

The best thing about being 40 or older is that we did all our stupid stuff before the internet existed so there’s no proof.

Which country’s capital has the fastest-growing population?  Ireland.  Every day it’s Dublin.

Without freedom of speech, we wouldn’t know who the idiots are.

Does anyone out there know how long you are supposed to microwave those boil in bag fish that you win at the fair?

Is a fish with legs a two-knee fish?

Did the fish blush because it saw the ocean’s bottom?

I’m guessing you want me to scale back on the fish Jokes.

My recliner and I go way back….

A Mexican magician says he will disappear on the count of 3. He says “uno, dos…” poof. He disappeared without a tres.

I caught my son chewing on electrical cords, so I had to ground him. He’s doing better currently and conducting himself properly..

Bad Day

There I was, sitting at the bar staring at my drink when a large, trouble-making biker steps up next to me, grabs my drink and gulps it down in one swig.

“Well, whatcha’ gonna do about it?” he says menacingly, as I burst into tears.

“Come on, man,” the biker says, “I didn’t think you’d CRY. I can’t stand to see a man crying.”

“This is the worst day of my life,” I say. “I’m a complete failure. I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don’t have any insurance. I left my wallet in the cab I took home, there I found my wife with another man and then my dog bit me.”

“So I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all, I buy a drink, I drop a capsule in and sit here watching the poison dissolve. Then you show up and drink the whole thing! But enough about me, how’s your day going?”

Something’s Fishy

A friend hosted a dinner party for people from work and everyone was encouraged to bring their children. All during the sit-down dinner one co-worker’s three-year-old girl stared at the man sitting across from her. The girl could hardly eat her food from staring.

The man checked shirt, felt his face for food, patted his hair in place, but nothing stopped her from staring at him. He tried his best to just ignore her but finally it was too much for him. He asked her, “Excuse me little girl, but why do you keep staring at me?”

Everyone at the table had noticed her behavior, and the table went quiet for her response. The little girl said, “I just want to see how you drink like a fish.”

Carjacking Granny

(Supposedly) TRUE STORY: Carjacking Foiled.

An elderly lady did her shopping and, upon return, found four males in her car. She dropped her shopping bags and drew her handgun, proceeding to scream at them at the top of her voice that she knows how to use it and that she will if required: so get out of the car. The four men didn’t wait around for a second invitation but got out and ran like mad, whereupon the lady proceeded to load her shopping bags into the back of the car and get into the driver’s seat.

Small problem: Her key wouldn’t fit the ignition. Her car was identical and parked four or five spaces farther down. She loaded her bags into her car and drove to the police station. The sergeant to whom she told the story nearly tore himself in two with laughter and pointed to the other end of the counter, where four pale white males were reporting a carjacking by a mad elderly white woman; no charges were filed.

The New Pastor

The new pastor was visiting in the homes of his parishioners. At one house it seemed obvious that someone was at home, but no answer came to his repeated knocks at the door. He took out a card, wrote “Revelation 3:20” on the back and stuck it in the door.

When the offering was processed the following Sunday, he found that his card had been returned. Added to it was this cryptic message, “Genesis 3:10.”

Reaching for his Bible to check out the citation, he broke up in gales of laughter.

Revelation 3:20 begins “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”

Genesis 3:10 reads, “I heard your voice in the garden and I was afraid for I was naked.”

Brother Miller’s Roadside Stand

During the waning years of the Depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Brother Miller’s roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used extensively.

One particular day, Brother Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising 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 Brother Miller and the ragged boy next to me.

“Hello, Barry, how are you today?”

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

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

“Fine. Gittin’ stronger alla’ time.”

“Good. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, Sir. Jus’ admirin’ them peas.”

“Would you like to take some home?”

“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.”

“Here ’tis. She’s a dandy.”

“I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?”

“Not ‘zackley 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.”

“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 sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps.”

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

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, I learned that Brother Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening, and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon our 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…very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, 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 mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket. “Those three young men that 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…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 magnificently shiny red marbles.

Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds.