********************************
Subject: US Redneck Special Forces
Date: Sun, 5 Jun 2005 05:07:44 -0400
US Redneck Special Forces
The Pentagon announced today the formation of a new
500 man elite fighting unit called the US REDNECK
SPECIAL FORCES (USRSF). These North Carolina,
Kentucky, West Virginia, Mississippi, Missouri,
Oklahoma, Arkansas, Alabama, Georgia, Texas and
Tennessee boys will be dropped into Iraq and have been
given the following facts about terrorists:
1. The season opened today.
2. There is no limit.
3. They taste just like chicken.
4. They don't like beer, pickups, country music, or
Jesus.
5. They are DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE for the death of Dale Earnhardt. This mess in Iraq should be over IN A WEEK.
********************************
The Cost of Kids
The government recently calculated the cost of raising
a child from birth to 18 and came up $160,140! That
doesn't even touch college tuition. For those with
kids, that figure leads to wild fantasies about all
the money we could have banked if not for (insert your
child's name here). For others, that number might
confirm the decision to remain childless.
But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down. It
translates into $8,896.66 a year, $741.38 a month, or
$171.08 a week. That's a mere $24.44 a day! Just over
a dollar an hour. Still, you might think the best
financial advice says don't have children if you want
to be "rich". It is just the opposite.
What do your get for your $160,140? Naming rights.
First, middle, and last! Glimpses of God every day.
Giggles under the covers every night. More love than
your heart can hold. Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs.
Endless wonder over rocks, ants, clouds, and warm
cookies. A hand to hold, usually covered with jam. A
partner for blowing bubbles, flying kites, building
sand castles, and skipping down the sidewalk in the
pouring rain. Someone to laugh yourself silly with no
matter what the boss said or how your stocks performed
that day.
For $160,140, you never have to grow up. You get to finger-paint, carve pumpkins, play hide-and-seek, catch lightning bugs, and never stop believing in Santa Claus. You have an excuse to keep: reading the Adventures of Piglet and Pooh, watching Saturday morning cartoons, going to Disney movies, and wishing on stars. You get to frame rainbows, hearts, and flowers under refrigerator magnets and collect spray painted noodle wreaths for Christmas, hand prints set in clay for Mother's Day, and cards with backward letters for Father's Day.
For $160,140, there is no greater bang for your buck.
You get to be a hero just for retrieving a Frisbee off
the garage roof, taking the training wheels off the
bike, removing a splinter, filling the wading pool,
coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs, and coaching a
baseball team that never wins but always gets treated
to ice cream regardless. You get a front row seat to
history to witness the first step, first word, first
bra, first date, and first time behind the wheel. You
get to be immortal. You get another branch added to
your family tree, and if you're lucky, a long list of
limbs in your obituary called grandchildren. You get
an education in psychology, nursing, criminal justice, communications, and human sexuality that no college can match.
In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there with
God. You have all the power to heal a boo-boo, scare
away the monsters under the bed, patch a broken heart,
police a slumber party, ground them forever, and love
them without limits, so one day they will, like you,
love without counting the cost.
********************************
There were two old guys, Abe and Ken, sitting on a bench in a park feeding pigeons and talking about baseball, just like they did every day. Abe turns to Ken and says, "Do you think there's baseball in heaven?"
Ken thinks about it for a minute and replies, "I dunno, Abe. But let's make a deal: If I die first, I will come back and tell you -- and if you die first, you come back and tell me -- if there is baseball in heaven."
They shake on it and, sadly, a few months later poor Abe passes on. One day soon afterward, Ken is sitting there feeding the pigeons by himself when he hears a voice whisper, "Ken... Ken...."
Ken responds, "Abe! Is that you?"
"Yes it is Ken," whispers the spirit of Abe.
Ken, still amazed, asks, "So, is there baseball in heaven?"
"Well," says Abe says, "I got good news and I got bad news."
"Gimme the good news first," says Ken.
Abe says, "Well... there is baseball in heaven."
Ken says, "That's great! What news could be bad enough to ruin that!?"
Abe sighs and whispers, "You're pitching on Friday."
********************************
A little something for the pet lovers!)
Dear Dog and/or Cat,
When I say to move, it means go someplace else, not switch positions with each other so there are still two of you in the way.
The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your
food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. (Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate of food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.)
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a
racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object.
Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs and cats sleeping. They can actually curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. (I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space used is nothing but
sarcasm.)
My compact discs are not miniature Frisbees.
For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine meow, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. (In addition, I have been using the bathroom for years...canine or feline attendance is not mandatory.)
The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dogs or cats. I cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for you.
To pacify you I have posted the following message on our
front door..... Rules for Non-pet owners who visit and like
to complain about our pets: 1. They live here; you don't. 2.
If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. 3. I like my pet better than I like most people. 4. To you it's an animal. To me he and/or she is an adopted son and/or daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and is speech challenged.
Dogs and cats are better than kids. They eat less, don't ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don't hang out with drug using friends, don't drink or smoke, don't worry about buying the latest fashions, don't wear your clothes, don't need a gazillion dollars for college, and when they have young, you can sell the results.
********************************
Computer Error
I was having trouble with my computer. So I called Bob the computer guy, to come over. Bob clicked a couple of buttons and solved the problem. He gave me a bill for a minimum service call.
As he was walking away, I called after him, "So, what was wrong?" He replied, "It was an ID ten T error."
I didn't want to appear stupid, but nonetheless inquired, "An, ID ten T error? What's that, in case I need to fix it again?"
The computer guy grinned.... "Haven't you ever heard of an ID ten T error before?"
"No," I replied.
"Write it down," he said, "and I think you'll figure it out."
So I wrote out.... I D 1 0 T
I used to like Bob!
********************************
CleanQuote.
"God answers all the prayers. Sometimes he answers 'yes,' sometimes he answers 'no,' and sometimes the answer is 'you gotta be kidding.'" - Jimmy Carter (on Larry King Live)