Dragon Laffs

Not sure what we are bewaring, but as promised, I’m jumping right back into this one and trying to get a little bit ahead again. I know I’m not going to get this one finished, but well started is … something … I forget that old saw. ANYWAY … let’s just jump right in, shall we?

There is something incredibly satisfying when karma comes swooping around and lands so appropriately.

And quite a bit of humor!

A woman walked into a pet store.

“I haven’t got much money”, she told the clerk, “so I’d like to know if you’ve got any kittens you’ll let go cheap”. 

“I’d let them, Ma’am.” said the clerk, “but they prefer to meow.” 

“I advertised that the poor would be welcome in this church,” said the minister, “and after counting the collection I see they have come.”

There is dragon in this cat’s bloodline somewhere.

This next one is one of the most amazing stories I’ve ever read in my life! Thank you Lynn for sharing this, especially with the pictures.

It was 4:43 in the afternoon in Colorado when the mountain lion dragged our dog across the backyard.

And my eight year old daughter still recovering from chemotherapy ran straight toward it with nothing but a broom in her hands.

At first, we thought Scout was barking at squirrels again.

That old golden retriever barked at everything: birds, leaves, shadows moving across the fence. It was his daily routine.

I was washing dishes in the kitchen. My wife was folding laundry in the living room. Lila sat outside drawing with sidewalk chalk in the grass.

For the first time in months, life felt normal.

Then we heard the scream.

Not Scout’s.

Lila’s.The sound hit like lightning.

I dropped the plate in my hands. It shattered in the sink as Scout’s barking suddenly changed from playful to terrified.

I ran to the window.

And froze.

The mountain lion was massive.

Its body twisted violently in the yard behind the swing set while Scout struggled underneath it. One paw pinned him to the ground while its jaws clamped near his shoulder.

Scout was losing. Fast. My wife screamed behind me, but before either of us could react, Lila sprinted past us barefoot and into the yard.“No!” my wife shouted.

But Lila kept running.

She looked so small out there. Her hair had only recently started growing back after chemotherapy. The treatments had drained nearly all her strength over the past year.

Yet somehow, she never slowed down.“You leave my dog alone!” she screamed.

The mountain lion looked up instantly.

For one terrible second, everything stood still.

Then Lila swung the broom with both hands.CRACK.The animal snarled.

She hit it again.

And again.

The broom snapped near the handle, but she kept swinging the broken piece anyway.

Startled, the mountain lion finally backed away.

Then, unbelievably, Lila stepped between the animal and Scout.

Tiny bare feet planted in the dirt.Broken broom trembling in her hands.

The mountain lion stared at her for a long moment before disappearing into the trees beyond our yard.

Silence filled the backyard.

Scout crawled toward Lila, bleeding and shaking. She dropped beside him immediately and wrapped her arms around his neck.“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”By the time I reached them, my legs barely worked.

I grabbed Lila so tightly I nearly cried. My wife collapsed beside Scout, sobbing as we searched Lila for injuries.

She didn’t have a single scratch.

Scout, however, needed emergency surgery.

That night, after the vet stitched him up and sent him home, I found Lila sitting beside him on the living room floor. Scout refused to leave her side.

Every few minutes, he rested his head against her leg like he was making sure she was still there.

I sat beside her quietly.“You scared us today,” I said.

She nodded.“I know.”

“Why did you run toward it?”Lila looked down at Scout for a moment before answering softly:

“Because he would’ve done it for me.”A week later, security footage from a neighbor’s camera spread online. Millions watched the tiny girl charge across the yard with a broom to save her dog.

People called her fearless.

But during a ceremony held in town a few weeks later, a reporter asked Lila the question everyone wanted answered.“Weren’t you scared?”Lila looked down at Scout, then back at the crowd.

And smiled.

A calm, quiet smile that seemed far older than eight years old.“I already beat cancer,” she said. “I’m not scared of a big cat.”The crowd fell silent.

Because everyone understood the same thing at once:

That little girl had already faced something far more terrifying than a mountain lion.

And survived.

AND I DIDN’T!!

You know … that’s a really good point …

And it’s probably only partially full.

Living with a poor editing?

It’s now Sunday and I’m home from work and just settling down and … boy has it been a weekend! I’m tired my friends. And poor Izzy has been working, cleaning rooms in lodging in the heat and threw up a couple of times and the poor dear is miserable. She’s in the shower right now and when she’s done I’m going to suggest she go lay down for a nap…which will probably stretch all evening. She put a load of laundry in that I’ll finish up for her…if she wants to lay down…cuz I’m a good daddy dragon.

Here’s why you should always question your assumptions: 

 Late at night, a doctor’s phone rang. He answered it groggily. “Hello?” 

 “Dr. Jones? This is Dave Mitchell. I’m sorry to call you so late, but my wife has this sharp pain in her side. It’s sort of tender when I touch it, and I wonder if I should take her to the hospital.” 

The doctor recognized his patient’s voice. “That’s all right, Dave. Just give her a few aspirin; I’m sure she’ll be fine.” 

 Dave called back a few minutes later. “Doctor, are you sure about this? My wife thinks it might be appendicitis.” 

 “It’s not appendicitis,” the doctor said curtly. “Maybe it’s something she ate.” 

 “How can you be sure?” 

 “Because I removed your wife’s appendix seven or eight years ago. I remember it clearly. And no one grows a second appendix.” 

 Dave paused. “Yes, but some people have a second wife.”

Foot Note:  “Necessity may be the mother of all inventions, but assumption is the mother of all screw-ups.” –Anonymous–

Aussie Pete sent me a really good visual about the odds of things killing you, but when I tried to insert it, you couldn’t see it, so I’m going to just give you the highlights here:

Obesity kills 30,000 people annually.
Lightning kills 10,000 people annually.
Texting kills 6,000 people annually.
Hippos kill 2,900 people annually.
Airplanes kill 1,200 people annually.
Volcanoes kill 845 people annually.
Autoerotic Asphyxiation kill 600 people annually.
Shopping on Black Friday kiss 550 people annually.
Falling out of Bed kills 450 people annually in the United States.
Bathtubs kill 340 people annually.
Deer kill 130 people annually.
Icicles kill 100 people annually.
Hot Dogs kill 70 children annually.
Tornadoes kill 60 people annually.
Jellyfish kill 40 people annually.
Dogs kill 30 people annually in the United States.
Ants kill 30 people annually.
High School Football kills 20 people annually.
Vending Machines kill 13 people annually.
Roller Coasters kill 6 people annually.
Sharks kill 5 people annually.

Okay, Impish observations: What is up with Hippos!?!? I thought tornadoes would have been higher than that. I would have thought ants would have been lower than that. And sharks need to really step up their game to keep up with their reputation.

A guy was walking down the street when a sign in a pet shop window caught his eye: “AMAZING TALKING PARROT. SUPER PROMOTION. BUY IT BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE DOES!”

Intrigued, he stepped inside and found a gorgeous, multi-colored bird preening its feathers.

“What’s so special about this one?” the guy asked the shopkeeper. “Honestly, he looks like every other parrot I’ve ever seen.”

“Ah, but he’s a polyglot!” the shopkeeper beamed. “Watch this. If you gently pull his right leg, he speaks perfect English.”

The guy gave the right leg a tug, and the parrot instantly squawked, “Good afternoon, governor! Lovely weather we’re having!”

“And,” the shopkeeper continued, “if you pull his left leg, he speaks flawless Spanish.”

The guy gave the left leg a pull, and the bird chimed, “¡Hola, señor! ¿Cómo estás?”

The guy smirked, thinking he was being clever. “Alright, so what happens if I pull both legs at the same time?”

Before the shopkeeper could open his mouth, the parrot glared at the guy and snapped:

“I’ll fall off the perch, you idiot!!!”

I love being married.

It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life. 

I’m sure that was sent in by a woman.

Things weren’t going too well in the Sunday School class. 

Nobody seemed to recall the identity of Matthew.  

Nor did they do any better with Mark.  

Finally, the teacher said hopefully, “Surely somebody remembers Peter!” 

A small boy in the last row came to the rescue.

“Teacher,” he piped, “wasn’t he a wabbit?”

The Monday Afternoon Club, an organization of wealthy city women, met and decided that this month’s outing was to be at a dairy farm. 

Most of them had lived in the city all their lives, and had never seen such a thing.

The day came, and the ladies filed into the rented bus which whisked them off to their destination. 

On the way, they watched out the windows as the city squalor turned into lovely, unpolluted countryside.

After they arrived, they were greeted by the farmer who invited them to look him up should they have any questions. 

Myrtle, after looking about, and being amazed by what she saw, stepped into a building and viewed something she thought was quite remarkable. 

She saw the farmer walk by and hailed him – he sauntered in.

“Sir,” she inquired, “Why doesn’t this cow have any horns?” 

The farmer cocked his head for a moment, then began in a patient tone: “Well, ma’am, cattle can do a powerful lot of damage with horns. 

Sometimes we keep’ em trimmed down with a hacksaw. 

Other times we can fix up the young ‘uns by puttin’ a couple drops of acid where their horns would grow in, and that stops ’em cold.

Still, there are some breeds of cattle that never grow horns.

But the reason this cow don’t have no horns, ma’am, is ’cause it’s a horse.”

A man having lunch at a Chinese restaurant noticed that the table had been set with forks, not chopsticks.  He asked why. The waiter said “Chopsticks were provided only on request.” 

“But,” the man countered, “if you gave your patrons chop-sticks, you wouldn’t have to pay someone to wash all the forks.” 

“True,” the waiter shot back, “but we would have to hire three more people to clean up the mess.” 

And that’s it for this one my friends…and HEY! It’s still Sunday! I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing. May your day only go up from here, my dear friends. Love and happiness to you all.

I am so incredibly blessed. The things that have been happening to me are too overwhelming to even begin to understand. I actually called my Pastor and pretty much cried on his shoulder over the phone. I told him that I didn’t understand what was going on. I know I’m starting in the middle in working outward, so let’s review going backwards in time. Some of this you will remember:

–First, the first chunk of fence fell down and that had to be fixed to keep the puppy dogs in.
-Then, the water heater went out, right?
-Then, the branch from my tree fell in the neighbor’s yard. (Big Branch!)
-Then they came and did an A/C check and discovered a leak in my A/C unit.
-Next came the busted deck belt on the lawn mower.
-Then the cake topper – while the A/C guys were here, this little white pickup truck pulls up and a man from the city comes over to me and hands me a letter. The letter says, “It has come to our attention that your fence is in disrepair (the rest of the apocalypse fence) and you have 10 days to remove it or fix it or face a fine of $25 a day. If you ignore this after 10 days it’s $50 a day. After another 10 days $75 a day and then $100 a day. You can call to discuss this matter or discuss an extension.”

Well, to say that I am upset at this point is probably the understatement of the WORLD! So, I read the name of the person who signed the letter (man that name looks familiar) and immediately, heart racing, hands shaking, call this lady. But, I am a Christian gentleman, always. And I look at the pictures that came along with said letter and realize that they are all of the BACK of my property and I know EXACTLY what is going on. My back neighbors have filed a complaint. Okay, the lightbulb has come on. And knowing that I am dealing with “THE GOVERNMENT” I know what I am going to try to do. Remember boys and girls, I work for the Federal Government. This is the City Government. Different but the same.

My algorithm works like this. Always ask for twice what you really want. If I want my budget to be $2000 at work, I always ask for $4000. Almost invariably they give me half of what I ask for. Therefore, I get what I need. And if for some reason, the Fairy Godmother department is at work that day and I get what I ask for, alls the better.

So, I get the lady on the phone and I sweetly explain the situation to her about the water heater, the air conditioner and the lawn mower and I ask her pretty please, if I could have a 60 day extension, knowing that I could probably have what she needs done, or what I think she needs done in 30 days.

“Oh! I don’t know. I’ll have to ask my boss. I’ve never heard of a 60 day extension.” She comes back on the line in like a minute and a half. “He says that’s fine, but we’ll need to see some sort of progress in 30 days. We’ll be out on the 2nd of July to inspect.” That’s great! We’ll be done by then.

So then I get on the phone with my Pastor and cry on his shoulder and he reminds me of James 1:2-3 after I told him that I didn’t know if I was doing something really good and Satan was trying to step on me or if I was doing something really bad and God was trying to teach me a lesson. I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to the James quote, even though he actually quoted it to me. But if you remember, as I’ve mentioned to you before, God always teaches me a lesson 3 times. Here’s James “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete lacking in nothing.” In other words, wait on God and He will bring you to joyful understanding, lacking in nothing that you need. And then the next line in James, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” God wasn’t done answering me, yet. That’s one.

So, last night at the jail, what are we studying? James chapter 5. I tell my ministry partner before we go in everything that’s going on, making the same comment about not knowing if I’m doing something good or something bad, etcetera. It’s my turn to read and we get to verses 10 and 11 – “As an example of suffering and patience, brothers, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. Behold, we consider those blessed who remained steadfast. You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful.” There’s that steadfastness again. And the text of the lesson is ALL ABOUT IT. Even referring us to Romans chapter 5:3-4 “Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,” More steadfastness.

And Ron, my partner, is digging me in the ribs the whole time I’m reading going, “See! See! What’s God telling you? See!” So that’s Two, right?

So, those of you who have followed along with me this whole time and have paid attention are probably think to yourselves, “but at the very beginning you said how incredibly blessed you are…um…ain’t seein’ it so far there boss.” Well, here it goes, and it amounts to number 3, also.

I spoke with my Pastor. I spoke with my son. And I spoke with my deputy at work. I spoke with other people as well, but let’s start with those three.

My son belongs to the Freedom Riders motorcycle group and they help out Veterans. And he thinks he can get some guys from the club up here to supply the man power to pull out the old fence and put up the new.

My deputy at work also happens to own a dumpster company and he’s going to supply us with a dumpster. I don’t know if it’s going to be at cost or regular price, but just being able to get a dumpster out here at this time of year in the middle of all this construction is a blessing in and of itself.

My Pastor … first of all he spoke with the church board and he said it’s because I do so much for the church, but I think he’s pulling my leg because I don’t think I do that much for the church, but without going into all the detail, the church through different paths is going to donate 150 of fence through some package that they found. I’m not sure yet whether that will be enough, but that is one heck of a start. Plus he’s talking to the Men’s group to also get volunteers out here to help (won’t that be a chance for ministering between the motorcycle group and the men’s church group). PLUS he called me last night and asked me, “hey would you mind if while you are at work tomorrow (which was today) if we come out (we was him and one other guy) and clear out all the brush around the fence to make it easier for the guys to come out work on the fence?” Would I mind?! Mind you…Pastor is 65 and the guy he brought with him is in his 50s. I’m not sure what I expected when I got home, but I was completely overwhelmed. They even cut my back lawn that I didn’t get to because the lawn mower broke before I could!!! It looks like a park back there now!!! They must’ve been out there for ten hours, just the two of them! I called him to thank them and you know what he tells me?! Yeah, only took us about 2 … 2 1/2 hours. It would’ve taken me 2 1/2 weeks! Good ole farmer boys!

And that my dear friends is number 3 and how incredibly blessed I am.

And now, on to the VERY delayed show. Working all weekend and I’m very far behind. So, let’s go!

EVERYONE knows it was BOUND to happen!!!

I feel like dancing!!! (Mind you, it would be a horrible mistake, but I still feel like it!)

By the way, Chuck G., it was GREAT talking to you on the phone today! Brother, you made my day! Thanks for the call! You lifted my heart my friend.

I love this every time I see it!

WHAT IN THE WORLD?!?!

I want to do this and I want them to add, “You looked great, by the way!”

Another one of my favorite jokes.

Yeah … that’s the one I struggle with … daily.

Me: *Looking at a barn full of feed*

Who’s all that for?

Farmer: The cattle eat it.

Me: Wow, that’s one hungry cat.

I remember!

“I know you can’t get married on the money I

pay you,” said the boss to his new employee,

“but someday you’ll thank me for it!”

And that’s it for this one … at long last. And I must IMMEDIATELY jump into the next. It’s been such a LONG HARD WEEK for me. Please keep me in your prayers my friends. And until next time time …

Today is June 6th, the 82nd anniversary of D-Day, the Normandy Invasion, Operation Overlord during World War II. The largest sea invasion in history, it was designed to liberate France and then move on to the rest of western Europe. At least 10,000 allied casualties and 4,414 confirmed dead. Much blood is given to defend and protect those who can’t.

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13)

Memorial Day was just the other day and I think there is a reason that it occurs so close to the anniversary of D-Day. I had some late arriving Memorial Day stuff and one really excellent essay from Lynn that I want to share with you on this anniversary, so let’s get to it.

Most Veterans don’t want to be honored, we just don’t want to be treated like crap and treated like we don’t know what we’re talking about.

Keep in mind that the following was originally written for Memorial Day, but I didn’t get it in time.

As someone who has stood on the shores of Normandy, there is NOTHING “happy” about this weekend. 1964. Twenty years after D-Day. Eisenhower returned to Normandy beaches where he’d sent thousands of young men to die. CBS filmed him walking Omaha Beach. No speeches. No celebration. Just an old general remembering the boys who never came home. In April 1964, nearly two decades after the largest amphibious invasion in military history, former President and Supreme Allied Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower walked back onto the beaches of Normandy—the beaches where he had once sent thousands of young men into history’s deadliest storm.

CBS News cameras followed him for a special documentary episode titled D-Day Plus 20 Years: Eisenhower Returns to Normandy. The network filmed the 73-year-old Eisenhower as he revisited Omaha Beach, Utah Beach, and the invasion sites he’d studied obsessively on maps twenty years earlier, places he’d seen only in after-action photographs and casualty reports.

But this was not a victory tour. Not a celebration of military triumph. Not a general basking in past glory or a former president seeking attention. It was something far more profound and painful: a reckoning.

On June 5, 1944, the night before D-Day, General Dwight D. Eisenhower had made what he would later describe as the most difficult decision of his entire life—more difficult than any political decision he’d make as president, more consequential than anything else he’d ever be asked to do. Launch the invasion of Nazi-occupied France across the English Channel. Or delay and risk complete disaster.

The weather was terrible—storms, high winds, dangerous seas. His meteorologists said there might be a brief window of slightly better conditions on June 6th, but it wasn’t guaranteed. Postponing meant waiting weeks for the next favorable tide and moon conditions—weeks during which German intelligence might discover the invasion plans, during which troop morale would deteriorate, during which strategic surprise would be lost.

But launching in bad weather meant higher casualties, greater risk of complete failure, possible catastrophe that could lose the war. Eisenhower understood the stakes with absolute clarity: If the invasion failed, the Allied cause in Europe could be lost. The war might continue for years. Nazi Germany might develop new weapons. The cost in lives would be incalculable.

If the invasion succeeded, thousands of Allied soldiers would still die in the first hours. The beaches would become slaughter zones. Boys barely out of high school would drown in surf or be cut down on sand before they could advance.

Success or failure—both meant extraordinary loss of life. Eisenhower signed the order to proceed anyway. Gave the command that sent 156,000 men across the Channel on June 6, 1944.

And he drafted a statement accepting full personal responsibility if the invasion failed—a message prepared in advance, never needed but kept as evidence of his willingness to bear complete blame.

On June 6, 1944, those young soldiers—many still teenagers, barely out of high school, some who’d never seen combat before—stormed the Normandy beaches under devastating German fire.

Machine guns and artillery tore through the first waves. Men drowned weighted down by equipment in water too deep to stand. Bodies fell on the sand before soldiers could reach cover. Medics worked desperately on casualties they couldn’t save.

The waves literally turned red with blood. Sand became temporary graves. Freedom—the liberation of Western Europe from Nazi occupation—was being bought with thousands of individual lives, each one someone’s son or brother or husband or father.

By the end of June 6th, Allied forces had established a foothold in France. The invasion succeeded strategically. But approximately 4,400 Allied soldiers died that day. Thousands more were wounded. The “success” was built on a foundation of extraordinary human sacrifice.

Twenty years later, in 1964, Dwight D. Eisenhower—no longer Supreme Commander, no longer President, just an aging man carrying memories—stood on those same beaches.

Older now, at 73. Quieter than he’d been as a commanding general. Physically heavier but emotionally weighed down by two decades of remembering what happened here.

There were no triumphant speeches delivered to cameras. No celebration of military victory. No self-congratulation about his role in history. Just quiet, painful reflection on what this place represented.

Eisenhower walked slowly across Omaha Beach. He looked at the bluffs where German machine gun positions had decimated the first assault waves. He stood where young men had died before taking more than a few steps onto French soil.

He remembered—as he would for the rest of his life—the letters he had written to families of soldiers killed under his command. Thousands of condolence letters, each one attempting to find words adequate to parents’ grief, each one carrying the weight of his decision to launch the invasion.

He remembered the nights before D-Day when he lay awake knowing what was coming, knowing thousands would die on his orders, knowing he bore ultimate responsibility for whatever happened.

He remembered the faces—not abstractions or statistics, but individual soldiers he’d met, talked to, encouraged before they boarded landing craft. Young men who’d looked to him for confidence, for leadership, for the assurance that what they were about to do mattered.

Some of those faces never aged beyond June 6, 1944.

Eisenhower had commanded millions of soldiers during World War II. He’d made countless strategic decisions affecting entire nations. He’d become President of the United States and shaped Cold War policy. But he never forgot the individuals. Never reduced the human cost to acceptable statistics or necessary sacrifices. Never stopped feeling the weight of those deaths.

This 1964 visit to Normandy was not about his power or historical importance or military genius.

It was about responsibility—about a commander returning to the place where he had asked absolutely everything from others, where he had sent thousands to almost certain death because strategic necessity demanded it.

And where he would spend the rest of his life knowing the full cost of that decision.

Standing on those beaches in 1964, Eisenhower didn’t see historical monuments or tourist attractions or symbols of Allied victory. He saw sons. Eighteen-year-olds who should have been starting college or careers or families, who instead died in French surf or on Norman sand. He saw sacrifice measured not in grand strategic terms but in individual lives cut short, futures erased, families destroyed by telegrams beginning “We regret to inform you…”

He saw history written in blood and courage—written by young men who had trusted his judgment, followed his orders, and paid with their lives. The CBS documentary captured something raw and genuine: not a victorious general reviewing his triumph, but an old man confronting the human cost of decisions he’d made two decades earlier.

Eisenhower would die just five years later, in 1969. But until his death, he never stopped honoring those who fell on D-Day. Never stopped feeling the weight of command. Never allowed himself to forget what his orders had cost.

That 1964 walk on Normandy beaches wasn’t closure. Decisions like launching D-Day don’t allow closure.

It was witness. Remembrance. The ongoing responsibility of a commander to never forget the men who died following his orders. June 6, 1944. Thousands of young men stormed beaches defended by machine guns and artillery.

April 1964. An old general returned to where they fell. He didn’t celebrate victory. He mourned sacrifice. And remembered names, faces, letters to parents.

That’s not just leadership. That’s carrying the weight of command with honor until the very end.

Gwen VanVoorhis 

So… From there, let’s move on to our regular issue, shall we? And you all KNOW that we have plenty of issues to explore in our issue.

So, the next step in my line of “What could possibly go wrong next?” is while mowing the lawn yesterday, the belt that runs the deck cutter broke. For you guys this is a week ago.

I mean, come on! Let’s see that’s:

Fence

Water Heater

Motorcycle

Air Conditioner

Lawn Mower

I thought these things were supposed to come in 3s.

Anyway, let’s get going with the fun stuff…

That one was from Lynn and I understand completely.

This was sent to us by brother Don

Just a short history. While the story about the tune being found in a dead soldier’s pocket is nice, it is not necessarily true.

Peace

Don

Change that to 2027 and 2026 and I’m all set!

Probably #5 maybe #4.

The church should also be a hospital, not a hospice. A hospice is a place where you go to die. You don’t just show up on Sundays, sing a few songs, listen to a sermon and then forget about it again until the next Sunday. Church is a hospital, where the wounded show up to get patched up so they can get back out into the world and get back into the fight. That’s church. Too many people treat church like a hospice and not a hospital.

This one’s from Joe who says:

For my older friends:

Ways that families used to supplement income in the 1950’s and a little later. 

The Smiths had tried for years to start a family. After many consultations, hopeful tests, and quiet evenings of dreaming, they made a decision: they would welcome a surrogate father to help bring their dream of parenthood to life.
On the big day, Mr. Smith kissed his wife, Eleanor, goodbye at the front door. “Well, I’m off now,” he said, adjusting his coat. “The man should be here soon. Just follow the plan we discussed, and everything will be perfect”.
Eleanor nodded, smiling nervously but confidently. “I’ve got this. Go, and don’t worry about a thing.”

Half an hour later, just as Eleanor was tidying the living room for the third time, the doorbell rang. She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress, and opened the door.
Standing there was a cheerful man with a camera bag slung over his shoulder and a warm, professional smile.
“Good morning, Ma’am” he said brightly. “I’ve come to—”
“Oh, no need to explain.” Eleanor interrupted, cheeks flushing slightly. “I’ve been expecting you.”
The photographer blinked, then grinned. “Have you really? Well, that’s wonderful. Did you know…babies are my specialty?”
Eleanor’s eyes lit up. “Well, that’s exactly why my husband and I had hoped. Please, come in and have a seat.”
She gestured to the sofa, then hovered nearby, hands clasped. After a brief, polite silence, she leaned in slightly and asked, voice soft with anticipation: “Well….where do we start?”

The photographer opened his portfolio, flipping through pages with practiced ease.

Leave everything to me,” he said confidently. “I usually try two in the bathtub for that soft, natural light. One on the couch for a cozy vibe. Perhaps a couple on the bed for variety. And sometimes—the living room floor is fantastic. You can really spread me out there.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Bathtub? Living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work out for Harry and me.”
The photographer chuckled warmly. “Well, Ma’am, none of us can guarantee a perfect result every time. But if we try several different positions—and I shoot from six or seven angles—I’m sure you’ll be thrilled with the outcomes.”

“My, that’s…a lot” Eleanor gasped, fanning herself slightly.

“In my line of work,” he replied with gentle sincerity, “a man has to take his time. I’d love to be in and out in five minutes, but I’m sure you’d be disappointed with that.”

“Don’t I know it.” Eleanor murmured, nodding vigorously.

He opened his briefcase and pulled out a glossy portfolio. “Take a look—this one was done on the top of a city bus at sunset,” he said proudly, pointing to a golden-hour shot.

“Oh, my goodness.” Eleanor exclaimed, hand flying to her throat.

“And these twins turned out exceptionally will” he continued, flipping the page. 
“Especially when you consider their mother was…well, quite difficult to work with.”

“Difficult?” Eleanor asked, intrigued.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” he sighed. “I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around—four and five deep—just to get a good look.”

“Four and five deep?” Eleanor whispered, eyes wide with amazement.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling—I could hardly concentrate. And when darkness started to fall, I had to rush my final shots.”
He paused, then added with a wry smile. “Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment…I just had to pack it all in.”

Eleanor leaned forward, voice barely audible. “Do you mean…they actually chewed on your, uh..equipment?”

It’s true, Ma’am,” he said solemnly. Then, with renewed enthusiasm: “Well. If your ready, I’ll set up my tripod and we can get to work right away.”

“Tripod?” Eleanor echoed, brow furrowing.

“Oh yes, Ma’am,” he replied, pulling a sturdy tripod from his bag. “I need it to rest my Canon on. It’s much too big to be held in the hand very long.”

And with that, Eleanor fainted.

The new inmate at the mental hospital announced in a loud voice that he was the famous British naval hero, Lord Nelson.  

This was particularly interesting, because the institution already had a “Lord Nelson.” 

The head psychiatrist, after due consideration, decided to put the two men in the same room, feeling that the similarity of their delusions might prompt an adjustment in each that would help in curing them.  

It was a calculated risk, of course, for the two men might react violently to one another, but they were introduced and then left alone and no disturbance was heard from the room that night.

The next morning, the doctor had a talk with his new patient and was more than pleasantly surprised when he was told “Doctor,  I’ve been suffering from a delusion.  I know now for a fact that I am not Lord Nelson.”

“That’s wonderful,” said the doctor. “Who are you?” 

Smiling coyly, the patient replied, “I’m Lady Nelson.”

This is fantastically funny! A must watch!

Lasers were once a huge scientific breakthrough, now we use them to play with cats.

Computers were once a huge scientific breakthrough, now we use them to look at cats.

Conclusion: Science was made for cats.

I’m in Home Depot and some little kid called me an old fart…

So, if you’re missing your kid …

he’s in the red LG dryer … aisle 17

And that’s it my friends. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Until next time.

I’m in a mood. I just did a Google search as to why A/C refrigerant is so expensive and got this as an answer:

AC refrigerant is highly expensive due to federal environmental regulations, supply chain shortages, and high labor and certification overheads.

I had my A/C tune up today and everything is working perfectly. That’s a good thing since I’ve never had one before and I’ve lived here for eleven years. The one thing I DO need is some refrigerant. From 2 to 5 pounds. They are coming tomorrow and are going to start with 2 pounds and see where it goes from there. That’s going to cost me $401. From what I see on line, that’s either about right or actually a little cheap. Digging a little deeper … who cares about the ozone layer!!!! Global warming is pure bunk! Now it’s becoming stupid.

Okay … deep breath … do not pull that soapbox. Leave it under the counter where it belongs. Another deep breath…and … moving on.

Gotta go back to work tomorrow. Boy, that was a fast five day vacation. But, I had fun. Rode the bike, spent time with you guys. Spent time with a lady friend (don’t get any ideas ’cause I’m not!). Got homework done, A/C worked on … all kinds of things done. I need to be more cheerful.

Now, let’s go …

Very true and I know….a bit late. Sorry, I missed this from brother Sasquatch.

Sorry, I know, I couldn’t help myself.

5 mb. They don’t even make thumb drives that small anymore!!!

I was told I should get as excited about church as I do football.

I did that and was asked to leave.

It seems dumping a bottle of Gatorade over the pastor after that rousing sermon isn’t what they had in mind.

Sure woulda been nice if you hadn’t covered up the picture with the words!!!

I used to be … for a short time … it was called Basic Training and they forced me.

So, update on the A/C. They found a little leak. Gave me options from replacing the entire HVAC system including the furnace (running a special this month with military discounts, etc.) down through different levels of A/C units to just fixing the leak on the crappy pipe connection on my 14 year old unit Bryant 3 ton A/C unit. Now, I know that the unit is a bit oversized for the house (I like that fact). I can see where the supervisor showed me where the leak was in the line where the original installers crimped the line rather than put in a valve like they should have. So, we need to go in, cut the line, vacuum the system, install said valve, refill the system (the real expensive part) making sure there is NO moisture in said system and start it all back up again. But Mr. Impish, your unit is 14 years old, the compressor could go out at any time. Yup, and it could last another 10 years. Let’s leave that part up to God, shall we? 19 hundred rather than 8 grand. And most of the 19 hundred is for the darn refrigerant! They’re coming back out on Tuesday (Today is Thursday) to do it. And, they are going to replace all the miscellaneous stuff while they’re cutting stuff away while they’re at it because I said so. All the other old stuff that can start leaking. My only question is, “Am I done yet, God?”

Big chunk of fence.

Water heater.

Air Conditioner.

God has been SO GOOD TO ME! I have NO room to complain. I’m not complaining at all. I’m blessed to have a roof over my head, food on the table, cool in the summer and warm in the winter. A car (and a motorcycle) that run, relatively good health, I am SO BLESSED! So no, I’m not complaining. But, these annoyances do take time away from more important things and if they keep up, I’m going to be financially in trouble. But I’m also 100% convinced that my Heavenly Father will provide because in all instances, He always has.

Just as an aside, in my jail lesson last night, we read that if you make more than $400 a month, that’s $100 a week, you are more well off than most of the rest of the world. That is amazing to me. The federal minimum wage right now is $7.25 an hour. If you only work 20 hours a week at minimum wage your going to make $145 a week or $580 a month. We are so blessed in this country and people don’t even know it.

Anyway, onward we go!

FAKE NEWS!! That is NOT a Chernobyl Dragon!! That is my cousin Harold. Don’t pick on him. He had a rough upbringing!!

There’s a name for this…

In my house, it’s when I am trying to eat ANYTHING! My dogs look at me like this when I am taking my morning medicine. Like, “Does he have food? He’s putting it in his mouth. It must be food!”

My nightmares … there’s an ex-wife joke in there somewhere, but I’m not going there.

Kansas Law

Pedestrians crossing the highways at night

must wear tail lights.

So many Sisyphus jokes…

While sports fishing off Melbourne Beach, a tourist capsized his boat. 

He could swim, but his fear of alligators kept him clinging to the overturned craft. 

Spotting an old beachcomber standing on the shore, the tourist shouted, “Are there any ‘gators around here?!” 

“Naw,” the man hollered back, “they ain’t been around for years!” 

“Feeling safe, the tourist started swimming leisurely toward the shore. 

About halfway there he asked the guy, “How’d you get rid of the ‘gators?” 

“We didn’t do nothin’,” the beach bum said.

“The sharks got ’em.”

Yeah, that’s pretty close … and the rest of it is: “but the righteous are bold as a lion.”

You know, people are looking for signs and portents of the coming of Christ and the Rapture, but do you know that there is NOTHING that needs to take place, absolutely N O T H I N G prior to the Church being called back home. And folks, it’s a one-time deal. If you don’t make the trip, then you are here for the 7 years of wrath. Not that you still can’t be saved. In fact, that’s the whole REASON for the seven years of the Tribulation. Because God is such a merciful God, He is going to give all his children as many chances as possible to see the light. But He is like a parent who punishes a recalcitrant child who refuses to behave. The punishments get worse and worse until the child either gets in line or … eternity is a LONG time. Spending it in a burning lake of fire, in eternal agony … I can’t imagine. Time is running out. The Rapture could happen between the time you read this word and this word. Or ten years from now or next week or 50 years from now or … you get it. BE READY. Remember the parable of the bridesmaids and the oil my friends.

Pheromones are the natural chemicals found in animals, including
humans, that the body uses to attract the opposite sex. Fragrances,
such as perfumes, are detected by the Olfactory Glands in the nose,
The presence of pheromones are picked up by the vomeronasal organ
which is located in the nasal pit directly under the nose. When the
vomeronasal organ is triggered by pheromones, it sends a signal
to the brain that creates a subconscious increase in desire for
persons of the opposite sex.

So why am I telling you about pheromones? Well, I’ve been getting
a lot of junk email lately about miracle pheromone treatments that
can help me attract persons of the opposite sex. Honestly, I am
happily married and am not interested in attracting anyone to me
other than my wife.  However, I didn’t think that the makers of
“Primal Instinct” needed to know this fact when I sent them the 
following email:

Dear Sir/ Madam,

I recently purchased a bottle of “Primal Instinct,” your most 
popular pheromone product. At first I was rather impressed with
the product as I noticed that women were giving me more attention
from the very first time I used it. I am in the habit of joining my
friends at a popular nightclub on weekends and I was in the habit
of always carrying my bottle of “Primal Instinct” with me right up 
until a most unfortunate incident that occurred last Friday night. 

I decided to use a little more than my usual amount of the pheromone
product and the night started off well with several women asking
me to dance shortly after my arrival at the club. I decided to
up the dosage a little more and ventured to the men’s room to
do just that.  Unfortunately, the entrance to the men’s room is
a bit close to the sink and mirror area and my elbow was bumped
by another patron as I was applying a liberal dosage of “Primal
Instinct” to my neck region. As a result, the entire contents of 
the bottle spilled down the front of me.

This is when the nightmare began. I attempted to go from the
bathroom to the bar by the straightest path, which just happened to
be directly across the dance floor. I reached the midpoint of the
dance floor when I noticed what seemed to be an odd glow emanating
from all areas around me. It was when I stopped in the middle of
the dance floor that I realized that the glow wasn’t a glow at all
but was the whites of the eyes of seventy-five women. I realize
now that I should never have stopped walking.

The ensuing stampede was the most frightening thing I have ever
experienced. Women were coming at me from all sides and their
intentions were not to ask me to dance. They began ripping my
clothes from me and I was just lucky enough to be able to crawl
out underneath them as they converged into a tangled mass in the
center of the dance floor.

I slipped outside without being detected but the prevailing winds
were evidently blowing towards the nearby women’s college. As I
walked home, I could see the eyes of hundreds of women as they
approached me through a forest pathway. As cars would pass and
their headlights shone on the woods, it was like looking at a
massive heard of deer. I picked up my pace but that only made me
sweat, causing me to leave a pheromone vapor trail. It was like
a fast motion version of “Night of the Living Dead” except these 
women weren’t interested in my brain. I was able to make it back
to my house but the scratching at the door continued for most of
the night.

When I purchased your product, it came with a money back guarantee
if not completely satisfied. I am dissatisfied but not because
your product attracted more women than I had anticipated and its
not the fact that I had to explain to my wife why five hundred
women were scratching at the door. I’m dissatisfied more or less
because of the effects caused by my wife getting a whiff of the
pheromone stuff and letting five hundred women into the house.

Please send one half of the refund to Mercy General Hospital. Send
the other half to George Garth, my divorce attorney.

Man, they were good…

A man and his wife were having an argument in bed. He finally jumped up and took a blanket to the couch. 

The next day the wife feeling bad about what happened decided to buy her husband a gift, and since he was an avid golfer she went to the pro shop where he usually played golf. She talked with the pro and he suggested a putter and he showed her one of his finest. 

“How much is it?” she asked. 

“One hundred and fifty dollars,” he replied. She felt that was kind of expensive and told him so. “But it comes with an inscription,” he said. 

“What kind of inscription?” she asked. 

“Whatever you wish,” he explained, “but one of the old golfers favorites is, NEVER UP, NEVER IN.'” 

“OH, that will never do!” exclaimed the wife. “That’s what started the argument in the first place!” 

And I can’t say that out loud without my voice cracking.

That last one is one of my favorites. It’s been redone several times. Having worked in the bomb business myself for many years, the many, many, many ways that guys can come up with teasing other guys around high explosives boggles the mind. And YES, I absolutely KNOW how completely moronic that sounds. But I also understand that when you do that for a living, especially at that age, you have to maintain a feeling of … being indestructible. Like I said … moronic.

So, on that note, until next time my friends, until we meet again.

Welcome to June! One of the nicer months of the year around here … supposedly. We’ll see how it plays out. The way things are going lately, I’m not planning on anything working out.

I really don’t have much for the opener for today, so what do you say we just jump right in, shall we?

I did notice that today is my “service computation date”. The date where they add up all my “government service and figure out how much time that is and what date it would date back to. It’s not an exact science. Basically, I now have 35 years of service to the United States Air Force under my belt. That’s counting the two years as a civilian cop that they don’t count because it was a “Temp job”. Yeah…don’t ask.

Anyway, let’s get this party started, shall we?

Honestly, I did, too.

H O L Y C O W !!!

You can get more with a kind word and a gun

than you can with a kind word alone. 

– Al Capone (1899-1947)

You know, there were very few things that upset my ex-wife.

It makes me feel rather special to have been one of them.

A minister was giving the children’s message during church.  

For this part of the service, he would gather all the children around him and give a brief lesson before dismissing them. 

On this particular Sunday, he was using squirrels for an object lesson on industry and preparation.  

He started out by saying, “I’m going to describe something, and I want you to raise your hand when you know what it is.” 

The children nodded eagerly.

“This thing lives in trees (pause) and eats nuts (pause)…” 

No hands went up.  

“And it is gray (pause) and has a long bushy tail (pause)…” 

The children were looking at each other, but still no hands raised. 

“And it jumps from branch to branch (pause) and chatters and flips its tail when it’s excited (pause)…” 

Finally one little boy tentatively raised his hand.  The minister breathed a sigh of relief and called on him. 

“Well,” said the boy, “I know the answer you’re looking for is supposed to be ‘Jesus’ …  but it sure sounds like a squirrel to me.” 

A college student has been thrown out of his apartment for not paying his rent, so he sends an e-mail to his father. 

“Please send money. I’m in the street.”

The father replies, “Have no money. Watch out for cars.” 

Judi stormed up to the front desk of the library and said, “I have a complaint!” 

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I borrowed a book last week and it was horrible!”

“What was wrong with it?”

“It had way too many characters and there was no plot whatsoever!” 

The librarian nodded and said, “Ahh. So you must be the person who took our phone book.” 

R2-D2 was in that picture?

Completely unsurprising.

A wasp landed on my bare foot and now I

know how to Riverdance.

How rare is it for a cow to be struck by

lightning?

Medium rare.

The uncomfortable feeling I get when everyone watches me unwrap a gift makes me totally understand why the dog takes his treats into the other room.

I smashed a sheet of glass and I can’t find the

last part.

It’s a bit of a pane.

I basically have 3 hairstyles:

Straight, wavy, and homeless.

And that’s it my friends. Welcome to June. I hope you had as much fun as I did. Until next time, be well, be happy and …