Last night, my friend and I were watching the news. There was a story about a woman who was in the hospital on life support.
After the story, I thought for a moment and said to my friend:
“I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug.”
So my friend got up, unplugged my computer and took my wine.
She’s such a bitch…
Remember High School? What a difference thirty years can make. Here’s a list of how things have changed since your High School Days:
1980: Long Hair
2010: Longing for hair
1980: The perfect high
2010: The perfect high yield mutual fund
1980: KEG
2010: EKG
1980: Acid Rock
2010: Acid Reflux
1980: Moving to California because it’s cool
2010: Moving to California because it’s warm
1980: Growing pot
2010: Growing pot belly
1980: Watching John Glenn’s historic flight with your parents
2010: Watching John Glenn’s historic flight with your children
1980: Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Elizabeth Taylor
2010: Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Elizabeth Taylor
1980: Seeds and stems
2010: Roughage
1980: Our president’s struggle with Fidel
2010: Our president’s struggle with fidelity
1980: Paar
2010: AARP
1980: Killer weed
2010: Weed killer
1980: Hoping for a BMW
2010: Hoping for a BM
1980: The Grateful Dead
2010: Dr. Kevorkian
1980: Getting out to a new, hip joint
2010: Getting a new hip joint
1980: Rolling Stones
2010: Kidney stones
1980: Being called into the principal’s office
2010: Calling the principal’s office
1980: Peace sign
2010: Mercedes logo
1980: Parents begging you to get your hair cut
2010: Children begging you to get their heads shaved
1980: Take acid
2010: Take antacid
1980: Passing the driver’s test
2010: Passing the vision test
1980: “Whatever”
2010: “Depends”
An old prospector shuffled into town leading an old tired mule. The old man headed straight for the only saloon in town to clear his parched throat. He walked up to the saloon and tied his old mule to the hitch rail.
As he stood there brushing some of the dust from his face and clothes, a young gunslinger stepped out of the saloon with a gun in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
The young gunslinger looked at the old man and laughed, saying, “Hey old man, have you ever danced?”
The old man looked up at the gunslinger and said, “No, I never did dance, just never wanted to.”
A crowd gathered quickly and the gunslinger grinned and said, “Well you old fool, you’re gonna’ dance now,” and started shooting at the old man’s feet.
The old prospector in order to not get a toe blown off or his boots perforated was soon hopping around like a flea on a hot skillet and everybody was laughing uproariously.
When the last bullet had been fired the young gunslinger, still laughing, holstered his gun and turned around to go back into the saloon.
The old man turned to his pack mule, pulled out a double barreled shotgun, and cocked both hammers back. The loud, audible double clicks carried clearly through the desert air. The crowd stopped laughing immediately.
The young gunslinger heard the sounds and he turned around very slowly… The quiet was almost deafening. The crowd watched as the young gunman stared at the old timer and the large gaping holes of those twin barrels.. He found it hard to swallow. The barrels of the shotgun never wavered in the old man’s hands.
The old man said, “Son, did you ever kiss a mule’s ass?”
The boy bully swallowed hard and said, “No. But I’ve always wanted to.”
There are two lessons for us all here:
1. Don’t waste ammunition.
2. Don’t mess with old people.
Water Skiing at The Olde Phart's Trailorpark
Senior’s Water Skiing is Introduced at “The Olde Pharte’s” Trailorpark
A wealthy old man by the name of Chet Bond was dying of a rare disease.
On his hospital bed he asked his wife to bring his priest, insurance rep and physician the next day.
He told them, “I have trusted all of you for many years and I’m going to give each of you $90,000 in an box to put in my casket so I can always have it with me.”
Mr. Bond soon passed away and at his wake the three men each placed their boxes in his casket.
While leaving the funeral the three were riding in a limo and the doctor confessed “I only left $60,000 in my box. I used the money to buy a new invention that will help me diagnose his rare disease and treat others. He would have wanted me to do it.”
The priest then sighed and said: “I only left $30,000 in my box. We needed that money to help more homeless, and Mr. Bond would have wanted me to do it.”
Angrily, the insurance agent then scolded the other two: “You two should be ashamed of yourselves for stealing from a dead guy. I cut Mr. Bond a check for the full $90,000!”
George Phillips, an old retired man, was going up to bed when his wife told him that he’d left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window.
George opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things.
He phoned the police, who asked him, “Is someone in your house?”
He said,”No, but they are stealing from me.”
They said, “All patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be along when available.”
George said, “Okay,” hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the police again.
“Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people stealing things from my shed. Well, you don’t have to worry about them now because I’ve just shot them.” Then he hung up.
Within five minutes three police cars, a Sergeant, and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips’ house and caught the burglars red-handed.
After things settled down a bit, one of the officers said to George, “I thought you said that you’d shot them!”
George said, “And I thought you said there was nobody available.”
Moral of the story: Don’t mess with old people.
When I was younger I hated going to weddings.
All of my older female relatives, the aunts and the grandmotherly types — used to come up to me, poking me in the ribs and giggling, saying to me, “You’re next.”
I put up with it for years, just quietly suffering through their torments.
Then I had an idea: I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.
