The Ant and the Grasshopper
OLD VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.
The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.
The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Be responsible for yourself! ************************************************************
MODERN VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.
Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.
CBS, NBC, PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.
How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?
Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper, and everybody cries when they sing, "It's Not Easy Being Green."
Jesse Jackson stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where the news stations film the group singing, "We shall overcome." Jesse then has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.
Nancy Pelosi & John Kerry exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.
Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity and Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer. The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the government.
Hillary gets her old law firm to represent the grasshopper in a defamation suit against the ant, and the case is tried before a panel of federal judges that Bill Clinton appointed from a list of single-parent welfare recipients.
The ant loses the case.
The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the ant's food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around him because he doesn't maintain it. The ant has disappeared in the snow. The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once peaceful neighborhood.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote.
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"I happen to believe in the sanctity of marriage -- no matter how ugly and
disgusting it gets." - Major Frank Burns, M*A*S*H
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Redneck Special ForcesThe end of the war is near...
The Pentagon announced today the formation of a new 500-man elite fighting unit called the United States Redneck Special Forces (USRSF).The Alabama, Arkansas, NW Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, Oklahoma, Tennessee and Texas boys will be dropped off into Iraq, and have been given only 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, pick-up trucks or country music.5. They are all gay.6. They are DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE for the death of Dale Earnhardt.The Pentagon expects the problem in Iraq to be over by Friday.
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The Old PhoneA boy's journey with his friend, “ Information Please”
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not know.“Information Please” could supply anyone's number and the correct time.My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone!Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing.Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.“Information, please” I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.“ Information.”“I hurt my finger...” I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.“Isn't your mother home?” came the question.“Nobody's home but me,” I blubbered.“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.“No, ” I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.”“Can you open the icebox?” she asked. I said I could.“Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the voice.After that, I called “Information Please” for everything.I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was.She helped me with my math.She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.Then there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, “Information Please” and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child.But I was not consoled.I asked her, “Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?”She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “Wayne, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.”Somehow I felt better.Another day I was on the telephone, “Information Please.”“ Information,” said in the now familiar voice.“How do I spell fix?” I asked.All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest.When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston.I missed my friend very much.“Information Please” belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciate now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes.I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown Operator and said, “Information Please.”Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. “ Information.”I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, “Could you please tell me how to spell fix?”There was a long pause.Then came the soft spoken answer, “I guess your finger must have healed by now?”I laughed. “So it's really you,” I said.“I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?”“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.”I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.“Please do,” she said. “Just ask for Sally.”Three months later I was back in Seattle.A different voice answered “ Information.”I asked for Sally.“Are you a friend?” she said.“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.“I'm sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.”Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne?”“ Yes,” I answered.“Well, Sally left a message for you.”“She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you. The note said, 'Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean.'”I thanked her and hung up.I knew what Sally meant...Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today?Life is a journey, NOT a guided tour. So don't miss the ride, and have a great time going around - you don't get a second shot at it...