Funnies and Other Stuff!
I'm clearing out my e-mail as well as bagging and tagging. I found this funny in the archives, Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder.
Pass along by my son-in-law's grandmother.
A TEENAGER'S VIEW OF HEAVEN
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote.." It also was the last.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off the road in and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on
each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it,seemed newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?EFFECTIVE OCTOBER 1, 2008
NEW OFFICE POLICY
Dress Code:
1) You are advised to come to work dressed according to your salary.
2) If we see you wearing Prada shoes and carrying a Gucci bag, we will assume you are doing well financially
and therefore do not need a raise.
3) If you dress poorly, you need to learn to manage your money better, so that you may buy nicer clothes, and
therefore you do not need a raise.
4) If you dress just right, you are right where you need to be and therefore you do not need a raise.
Sick Days:
We will no longer accept a doctor's statement as proof of sickness. If you are able to go to the doctor, you are able to come to work.
Personal Days:
Each employee will receive 104 personal days a year. They are called Saturdays & Sundays.
Bathroom Breaks:
Entirely too much time is being spent in the toilet. We supply see-thru toilet paper to encourage you
to 'do-your-business' at home.
There will now be a strict three-minute time limit in the stalls. At the end of three minutes, an alarm will sound, the toilet paper roll will retract, the stall door will open, and a picture will be taken. After your second offense, your picture will be posted on the company bulletin board under the 'Chronic Offenders' category. Anyone caught smiling in the picture will be sectioned under the company's mental health policy.
Lunch Break:
* Skinny people get 30 minutes for lunch, as they need to eat more, so that they can look healthy.
* Normal size people get 15 minutes for lunch to get a balanced meal to maintain their average figure.
* Chubby people get 5 minutes for lunch, because that's all the time needed to drink a Slim-Fast.
Thank you for your loyalty to our company. We are here to provide a positive employment experience. Therefore, all questions, comments, concerns, complaints, frustrations, irritations, aggravations, insinuations,
allegations, accusations, contemplations, consternation and input should be directed elsewhere.
The Management
Pass this on to all who are employed!
This one cracked me up! How true it is!
To all my friends who send me best 'wishes', chain letters , 'angel' letters or other promises of good luck.
NONE OF THAT SHIT IS WORKING!
Could you please just send Money , Alcohol, Chocolate or Gasoline Vouchers?
Thank You!
A Golf Story
A Husband takes his wife to play her first game of golf.....Of course, the wife promptly whacked her first shot right through the window of the biggest house adjacent to the course.
The husband cringed, 'I warned you to be careful! Now we'll have to go up there, find the owner, apologize and see how much your lousy drive is going to cost us.'
So the couple walked up to the house and knocked on the door. A warm voice said, 'Come on in.'
When they opened the door they saw the damage that was done: glass was all over the place, and a broken antique bottle was lying on its side near the broken window.
A man reclining on the couch asked, 'Are you the people that broke my window?'
'Uh...yeah, sir. We're sure sorry about that,' the husband replied.
'Oh, no apology is necessary. Actually I want to thank you... You see, I'm a genie , and I've been trapped in that bottle for a thousand years. Now that you've released me, I'm allowed to grant three
wishes. I'll give you each one wish, but if you don't mind, I'll keep the last one for myself.'
'Wow, that's great!' the husband said. He pondered a moment and blurted out, 'I'd like a million dollars a year for the rest of my life.'
'No problem,' said the genie. 'You've got it, it's the least I can do. And I'll guarantee you a long, healthy life!' 'And now you, young lady, what do you want?' the genie asked.
'I'd like to own a gorgeous home complete with servants in every country in the world,' she said.
'Consider it done,' the genie said. 'And your homes will always be safe from fire, burglary and natural disasters !'
'And now, the couple asked in unison, what's your wish, genie?'
'Well, since I've been trapped in that bottle and haven't been with a woman in more than a thousand years, my wish is to have sex with your wife.'
The husband looked at his wife and said, 'Gee, honey, you know we both now have a fortune, and all those houses. What do you think?'
She mulled it over for a few moments and said, 'You know, you're right. Considering our good fortune, I guess I wouldn't mind, but what about you, honey?'
'You know I love you sweetheart,' said the husband. I'd do the same for you!'
So the genie and the woman went upstairs where they spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying each other in every way. After about three hours of non-stop sex, the genie rolled over and looked directly into her eyes and asked, How old are you and your husband?'
'Why, we're both 35,' she responded breathlessly.
'NO SHIT .' He said, 'Thirty-five years old and both of you still believe in genies?'
The Pickle Jar
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.
As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar .. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.
Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck..
Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully.. 'Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.'
Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly 'These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me.'
We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. 'When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.'
He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar.
As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. 'You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,' he said. 'But you'll get there; I'll see to that.'
No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.
To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. 'When you finish college, Son,' he told me, his eyes glistening, 'You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to.'
The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.
A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith.
The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. 'She probably needs to be changed,' she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.
She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. 'Look,' she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our
eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.
This truly touched my heart. I know it has yours as well.. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse.
God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for Good in others.
The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller
- Happy moments, praise God.
- Difficult moments, seek God.
- Quiet moments, worship God.
- Painful moments, trust God.
- Every moment, thank God.
Sears Catalog
Two rednecks were looking at a Sears catalog and admiring the models.
One says to the other, 'Have you seen the beautiful girls in this catalog?'
The second one replies, 'Yes, they are very beautiful. And look at the price!'
The first one says, with wide eyes, 'Wow, they aren't very expensive. At this price, I'm buying one.'
The second one smiles and pats him on the back. 'Good idea! Order one and if she's as beautiful as she is in the catalog, I will get one too.'
Three weeks later, the youngest redneck asks his friend, 'Did you ever receive the girl you ordered from the Sears catalog?'
The second redneck replies, 'No, but it shouldn't be long now. I got her clothes yesterday!'
'Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.'
A sharp tongue can cut your own throat.
If you want your dreams to come true, you mustn't oversleep.
Of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important.
The best vitamin for making friends....... B1.
The happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts.
The heaviest thing you can carry is a grudge.
One thing you can give and still keep...is your word.
You lie the loudest when you lie to yourself.
If you lack the courage to start, you have already finished.
One thing you can't recycle is wasted time.
Ideas won't work unless 'you' do.
Your mind is like a parachute...it functions only when open.
The 10 commandments are not a multiple choice.
The pursuit of happiness is the chase of a lifetime! It is never too late to become what you might have been.
Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don't. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.
Friends are like balloons; once you let them go, you might not get them back. Sometimes we get so busy with our own lives and problems that we may not even notice that we've let them fly away. Sometimes we are so caught up in who's right and who's wrong that we forget what's right and wrong.. Sometimes we just
don't realize what real friendship means until it is too late. I don't want to let that happen so I'm going to tie you to my heart so I never lose you.Politics
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, 'What is Politics?'
Dad says, 'Well son, let me try to explain it this way:
I am the head of the family , so call me The President.
Your mother is the administrator of the money, so! we call her the Government.
We are here to take care of your needs, so we will call you the People.
The nanny, we will consider her the Working Class.
And your baby brother, we will call him the Future.
Now think about that and see if it makes sense.'
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him.
He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper.
So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother asleep.
Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny.
He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy say's to his father, 'Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.'
The father says, 'Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.'
The little boy replies, 'The President is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound
asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit.
BREAKING NEWS
In 2009 the government will start deporting all of the weird old people. I started crying when I thought of you.
Run, my friend, RUN !!!!
Well, what can I say? Someone sent it to me & I'm not going alone!