2003Mar25
There was a tradesman, a painter called Wayne, who was very interested in making a penny where he could, so he often would thin down paint to make it go a wee bit further. As it happened, he got away with this for some time, but eventually the Baptist Church decided to do a big restoration job on the painting of one of their biggest buildings. Wayne put in a bid, and because his price was so low, he got the job. And so he set to erecting the trestles and setting up the planks, and buying the paint and, yes, I am sorry to say, thinning it down with turpentine. Well, Wayne was up on the scaffolding, painting away, the job nearly completed when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder, and the sky opened, the rain poured down, washing the thinned paint from all over the church and knocking Wayne clear off the scaffold to land on the lawn among the gravestones, surrounded by telltale puddles of the thinned and useless paint. Wayne was no fool. He knew this was a judgment from the Almighty, so he got on his knees and cried: "Oh, God! Forgive me! What should I do?" And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke: "Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!"
Thursday, July 26, 2007
an echo from the Kat
5/21/2002 2:30 AM
A mother and her son were flying Southwest Airlines from Kansas City to Chicago. The son (who had been looking out the window) turned to his mother and asked, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?" The mother (who couldn't think of an answer) told her son to ask the Flight attendant. So the boy asked the Flight attendant, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?" The Flight attendant responded, "Did your mother tell you to ask me?" The boy admitted that this was the case. "Well, then, tell your mother that there are no baby planes because Southwest always pulls out on time. Your mother can explain it to you."
A mother and her son were flying Southwest Airlines from Kansas City to Chicago. The son (who had been looking out the window) turned to his mother and asked, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?" The mother (who couldn't think of an answer) told her son to ask the Flight attendant. So the boy asked the Flight attendant, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?" The Flight attendant responded, "Did your mother tell you to ask me?" The boy admitted that this was the case. "Well, then, tell your mother that there are no baby planes because Southwest always pulls out on time. Your mother can explain it to you."
Friday, July 20, 2007
horsing aroung
One day while he was at the track betting on the ponies and nearly losing his shirt, Mitch noticed a priest who stepped out onto the track and blessed the forehead of one of the horses lining up for the 4th race.
Lo and behold, that horse - a very long shot - won the race.
Mitch was most interested to see what the priest did the next race. Sure enough, the priest stepped out onto the track as the 5th race horses lined up, and placed a blessing on the forehead of one of the horses. Mitch made a beeline for the window and placed a small bet on the horse.
Again, even though it was another long shot, the horse the priest had blessed won the race.
Mitch collected his winnings and anxiously waited to see which horse the priest would bless for the 6th race.
The priest showed, blessed a horse, Mitch bet on it, and it won!
Mi tch was elated! As the day went on, the priest continued blessing horses, and they always came in first.
Mitch began to pull in some serious money, and by the last race, he knew his wildest dreams were going to come true. He made a quick stop at the ATM, withdrew his savings, and awaited the priest's blessing that would tell him which horse to bet on.
True to his pattern, the priest stepped out onto the track before the last race and blessed the forehead, eyes, ears, and hooves of one of the horses.
Mitch bet every cent, and watched the horse come in dead last. Mitch was dumbfounded. He made his way to the track, and when he found the priest, he demanded, "What happened, Father? All day long you blessed horses and they won. The last race, you blessed a horse and he lost. Now, thanks to you, I've lost all my savings!!"
The priest nodded wisely and said, "That's the problem with Protestants--you can't tell the difference between a simple blessing and the Last Rites!"
[posted by pup for Kat who is shy]
Lo and behold, that horse - a very long shot - won the race.
Mitch was most interested to see what the priest did the next race. Sure enough, the priest stepped out onto the track as the 5th race horses lined up, and placed a blessing on the forehead of one of the horses. Mitch made a beeline for the window and placed a small bet on the horse.
Again, even though it was another long shot, the horse the priest had blessed won the race.
Mitch collected his winnings and anxiously waited to see which horse the priest would bless for the 6th race.
The priest showed, blessed a horse, Mitch bet on it, and it won!
Mi tch was elated! As the day went on, the priest continued blessing horses, and they always came in first.
Mitch began to pull in some serious money, and by the last race, he knew his wildest dreams were going to come true. He made a quick stop at the ATM, withdrew his savings, and awaited the priest's blessing that would tell him which horse to bet on.
True to his pattern, the priest stepped out onto the track before the last race and blessed the forehead, eyes, ears, and hooves of one of the horses.
Mitch bet every cent, and watched the horse come in dead last. Mitch was dumbfounded. He made his way to the track, and when he found the priest, he demanded, "What happened, Father? All day long you blessed horses and they won. The last race, you blessed a horse and he lost. Now, thanks to you, I've lost all my savings!!"
The priest nodded wisely and said, "That's the problem with Protestants--you can't tell the difference between a simple blessing and the Last Rites!"
[posted by pup for Kat who is shy]
Thursday, June 21, 2007
O Kat, sound familiar?
For all of you out there who've had to deal with an irate customer, this one is for you.
It's a classic! In tribute to those 'special' customers we all love!
An award should go to the United Airlines gate agent in Denver for being smart and funny, and making her point, when confronted with a passenger who probably deserved to fly as cargo.
A crowded United flight was canceled and a single agent was rebooking a long line of inconvenienced travelers. Suddenly an angry passenger pushed his way to the desk. He slapped his ticket down on the counter and said,
It's a classic! In tribute to those 'special' customers we all love!
An award should go to the United Airlines gate agent in Denver for being smart and funny, and making her point, when confronted with a passenger who probably deserved to fly as cargo.
A crowded United flight was canceled and a single agent was rebooking a long line of inconvenienced travelers. Suddenly an angry passenger pushed his way to the desk. He slapped his ticket down on the counter and said,
I HAVE to be on this flight and it has to be FIRST CLASS.The agent replied,
I'm sorry sir. I'll be happy to try to help you, but I've got to help these folks first, and I'm sure we'll be able to work something out.The passenger was unimpressed. He asked loudly, so that the passengers behind him could hear,
Do you have any idea who I am?Without hesitating, the gate agent smiled and grabbed her public address microphone.
May I have your attention please?she began, her voice bellowing throughout the terminal.
We have a passenger here at the gate WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHO HE IS. If anyone can help him find his identity, please come to the gate.With the folks behind him in line laughing hysterically, the man glared at the United agent, gritted his teeth and swore,
F*** you.Without flinching, she smiled and said,
I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to stand in line for that, too.[from the email archives now being purged]
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Kat is hiding so pup stands in to post her message
Written by a housewife from New Jersey . . . this is one ticked off lady.
Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on 2001Sep11? Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan , across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in PA? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn't they?
And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet? Well, I don't. I don't care at all.
I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.
I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia .
I'll care when these thugs tell the world they are sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling slashed throat
I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.
I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.
I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.
In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this . . . I don't care.
When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college-hazing incident, rest assured . . . I don't care.
When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank ... I don't care.
When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts . . . I don't care.
And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and you guessed it . . I don't care ! ! ! !
In case we find ourselves starting to believe all the anti-American sentiment and negativity, we should remember England 's Prime Minister Tony Blair's words during a recent interview. When asked by one of his Parliament members why he believes so much in America , he said,
Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on 2001Sep11? Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan , across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in PA? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn't they?
And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet? Well, I don't. I don't care at all.
I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.
I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia .
I'll care when these thugs tell the world they are sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling slashed throat
I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.
I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.
I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.
In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this . . . I don't care.
When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college-hazing incident, rest assured . . . I don't care.
When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank ... I don't care.
When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts . . . I don't care.
And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and you guessed it . . I don't care ! ! ! !
Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem. - Ronald ReaganI have another quote that I would like to add AND . . .. I hope you forward all of this.
If we ever forget that we're One Nation Under God, then we will be a nation gone under. - Ronald ReaganOne last thought for the day . . .
In case we find ourselves starting to believe all the anti-American sentiment and negativity, we should remember England 's Prime Minister Tony Blair's words during a recent interview. When asked by one of his Parliament members why he believes so much in America , he said,
A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at how many want in . . . and how many want out.Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you:
- Jesus Christ
- The American G. I.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Kat flies
The Kat is on her way to Israel. Let's hope her curiosity does not get the better of her.
p.s. it is cool in ATL.
49 F in my unheated garage a while ago. 25 F on front deck right now @ 11 pm.
p.s. it is cool in ATL.
49 F in my unheated garage a while ago. 25 F on front deck right now @ 11 pm.
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