"Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you are aboard there is nothing you can do about it." - Golda Meir
The State Gets Involved to Fix Things
During a terrible storm, all the highway signs were covered with snow.
The following spring, the state decided to raise all the signs twelve inches at a cost of six million dollars.
“That’s an outrageous price!” said a local farmer, “but I guess we’re lucky the state handled it instead of the federal government.”
“Why’s that?” asked the state trooper that was talking to him.
The farmer paused for a minute before he responded.
“Because knowing the federal government, they’d have decided to lower the highways.”
A hunter lived alone in the middle of a forest, in a small house by the river. A short distance down a slope in front of his house, he had a garden where he would grow vegetables to supplement his diet of forest game and fish. One morning, he awoke to the sounds of a thunderstorm and rushing water. Quickly getting dressed and stumbling outside, he saw the river had flooded. Overflowing its banks, the waters swelled and flowed past, getting ever so closer to the hunter's abode. It would not reach the house, the hunter observed, for it had the higher ground. But there was no hope for the vegetable garden -- it was only a matter of minutes before the floodwaters would wash over it, ruining his harvest for that season.
"Godda**it," the hunter muttered.
Right before the hunter's eyes, a bolt of lightning struck the bank at the other side of the river, followed by a deafening clap of thunder and a massive explosion. Trees, rocks and chunks of dirt flew hundreds of feet into the air!
No sooner had the debris started falling back to the ground when a monstrous tornado blew in from parts unknown and scooped them right up again. The tornado headed straight towards the river, uprooting more trees and rocks in its path, carving a deep gouge into the earth.
As soon as the tornado blew across the river, there was another flash of lightning and deafening clap of thunder. The tornado disappeared as quickly as it had materialized. The uprooted trees, rocks and dirt crashed into the river, diverting its waters into the deep gouge in the earth. The floodwaters receded, having come within inches of the hunter's vegetable garden.
Having witnessed the whole extravaganza from start to finish, the hunter could only stare, wide eyed, his legs shaking and mouth hanging stupidly open. It was a while before he finally managed to speak.
Then, from above him, a voice boomed:
How do Medieval sheep protest prisons? They storm the baaaastille.
Medieval Kings and Queens were afraid of the rain in the middle ages because the rain would storm the castle.
The Special Animal Program
A young cowboy from Montana goes off to college.
Halfway through the semester, having foolishly squandered all his money, he begins thinking about his dire situation. He hatches a plan. He calls home.
"Dad," he says to his father, "You won't believe what modern education is developing! They actually have a program here in University that will teach our dog, Ole' Blue how to talk!"
"That's amazing!" his Dad says. "How do I get Ole' Blue in that program?"
"Just send him down here with $1,000," the son says "and I'll get him in the course."
So, his father sends the dog and $1,000.
About two-thirds of the way through the semester, the money again runs out. The boy calls home.
So how's Ole' Blue doing son?" his father asks.
"Awesome, Dad, he's talking up a storm," he says, "but you just won't believe this, they've had such good results they have started to teach the animals how to read!"
Read!?" says his father, taken aback. "No kidding! How do we get Blue in that program?"
"Just send $2,500, I'll get him in the class."
The money promptly arrives. But the young lad has a problem. At the end of the year, his father will find out the dog can neither talk, nor read. So he ponders his problem, again and again, he comes up with a plan. He finds the dog a new home and gives him away to a loving family. When he arrives home at the end of the year, his father is all excited.
"Where's Ole' Blue? I just can't wait to talk to him!"
"Dad," the boy says, "I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Ole' Blue was in the living room, kicking back in the recliner, reading the Wall Street Journal, as he usually does. Then Ole' Blue turned to me and asked, 'So, is your daddy still messing around with that little redhead who lives down the street?'"
The father went white, then red, then exclaimed, "I hope you shot that lying dog before he talks that trash to your Mother!"
"I sure did, Dad!"
"That's my boy!"