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The British are feeling the pinch in relation to recent
bombings and have raised their security level from "Miffed"
to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet
again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." Londoners have
not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea
supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been
re-categorised from "Tiresome" to a "Bloody Nuisance." The
last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning
level was during the great fire of 1666.
Also, the French government announced yesterday that it has
raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only
two higher levels in France are "Surrender" and
"Collaborate." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire
that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively
paralysing the country's military capability.
It's not only the English and French that are on a
heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert
level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate
Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective
Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."
The Germans also increased their alert state from
"Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing
Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a
Neighbour" and "Lose."
Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual,
and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling
out of Brussels.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Cart Ads"
My father is a skilled CPA who is not great at self-promotion. So when an advertising company offered to put my father's business placard in the shopping carts of a supermarket, my dad jumped at the chance. Fully a year went by before we got a call that could be traced to those placards.
"Richard Larson, CPA?" the caller asked.
"That's right," my father answered. "May I help you?"
"Yes," the voice said. "One of your shopping carts is in my yard, and I want you to come and get it."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Today's CleanLaugh. - "Cart Ads"
My father is a skilled CPA who is not great at self-promotion. So when an advertising company offered to put my father's business placard in the shopping carts of a supermarket, my dad jumped at the chance. Fully a year went by before we got a call that could be traced to those placards.
"Richard Larson, CPA?" the caller asked.
"That's right," my father answered. "May I help you?"
"Yes," the voice said. "One of your shopping carts is in my yard, and I want you to come and get it."
Today's CleanQuote
"What is beautiful is not always good, but what is good is not always beautiful."
- Unknown
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Today's Illustration.
- "Training"
I was a new Army basic trainee at Fort McClellan and one requirement was a demanding 12-mile march. We got started at 6 a.m. and were pumped up for the trek.
An hour later, feeling the heavy load of our packs, we wondered if the end would ever come. "Men," our sergeant yelled, "You're doing a fine job. We've already covered four miles!"
Revitalized, we picked up the pace. "And," continued Sarge, "we should reach the starting point any minute now."
(Featured Illustrations items are well suited for introducing or illuminating a point in a sermon, speech, or devotional. Funny, moving, or perhaps even graphic, the point of them is the point you make with them.)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now here's a Christmas Poem I like -- Revv Those
Engines!!!
The Wrench Who Stole Racing
By Greg Engle
Cup Scene Daily
December 5 (adapted from the " How The Grinch stole
Christmas, by Dr. Suess)
(This is the first of my annual Christmas NASCAR
Style Stories. I'll debut one every week during
December)
Down in Fan-ville they liked racing a lot
But the 'Wrench', who lived just north of Fan-ville,
did NOT!
The 'Wrench' hated racing! The whole racing season.
Now please don't ask why, No one quite knows the
reason.
It could be that his helmet wasn't screwed on quite
right.
It could be, perhaps, that his 'steering' was too
tight.
But I think the most likely reason of all
May have been that his hands was two sizes too small.
But whatever the reason, his head or his hands,
He stood there the night before the first race, hating
the Fans. Staring down from his cave with a sour,
Wrenchy pout
At the motorhomes below in the infield scattered all
about.
Was busy now hanging driver flags with glee.
"And they're wearing driver t-shirts!" he snarled with
a sneer, "Tomorrow is race day! It's practically
here!"
Then he growled, with his Wrench fingers nervously
drumming,
"I MUST find a way to keep race day from coming!"
For, tomorrow, he knew...All Fan guys and gals
Would wake up bright and early with screams and happy
howls...
They'd head for the track. They'd rush the
grandstands!
Hats on their heads and scanners in their hands.
They drop that green flag and then, And then!
Oh the noise!
Oh the noise!
Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's the one thing he hated!
The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
The Fans, young and old, would sit down there to watch
them race.
And they'd race.
And they'd race!
And they'd RACE! RACE! RACE! RACE!
Those infernal machines would start going round,
the Fans all cheering, yelling so loud!
But, before all of THAT they'd do something he liked
least of all. Every Fan down in Fanville, the tall
and the small,
in the stands, in the infield And along the pit
wall,
Would place their Fan hands over their little Fan
hearts,
And they'd start singing. They'd sing! And they'd
sing.
AND they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!
(To Be Continued)
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Thanks to LBS: GIFT OF GIVING
The holiday season comes with lots and lots of rain
And just like the water, our money goes down the
drain.
But what would the season be, without the spirit of
living?
It would be like the world of the dead, without the
gift of giving.
For the ability to give is a gift, which came from
God, above;
HE gave his beloved son as a token of HIS undying
love.
And Jesus continued the gift by dying on Calvary
To save everyone who obeys him, every sinner just like
me.
Oh, that I may follow and imitate their blessed
example
That others may see in me a tiny bit of a sample
Of the greatness of God and HIS blessed son.
May others see and say, " In all, may HIS will be
done."
By L. B. Strawn
December 1, 1998