I’m watching the news and they are doing an anti-ICE protest in Minneapolis and the temperature is like -7°F there and the pictures that they are showing is a LOT of people standing around, very few of them yelling, most of them so wrapped up you can’t tell whether they are yelling anything or not, all of them stamping their feet trying to stay warm and I’m sorry, all I can do is laugh…. A LOT! 

The left is blowing up over ICE “arresting” a 5 year old boy. It’s pure crap. The boys father ran and left him, so what’s ICE supposed to do? Leave the boy alone in the cold? No, of course not. They even tried taking the boy back to where he said him and his dad were staying. They knocked on the door and the people inside refused to take him in. 

I like what the commentator just said. ICE is taking care of a lot more kids in Minnesota than the Somalia child care centers are.

Anyway, while I have my minions get ready for the snow-pocolypse that’s supposed to be headed to wipe out the United States, let’s give you guys some fun stuff, shall we?

Oh, before I go, let me show you this. Buddy Wheats gave me this idea, incase the lights go out. Better than candles. (And please don’t judge me for the messiness of my kitchen)

 

Left side is out of the box, right side is proof of concept, full of oil and flame lit. 

And with that…

Let’s start with some cold weather stuff…

Outside of my church.

 

 

“Doctor, Doctor, You’ve got to help me – I just can’t stop my hands shaking!” 

“Do you drink a lot?”

“Not really – I spill most of it!”

Funny story, I was working out of town and was driving home in the snow quite similar if not worse than the road pictured above. Highway Dept had those great posts with reflectors on each side of the road and I figured so long as I stayed between the reflectors I would be fine and besides, someone had blazed a trail before me and I was following in their tracks.  Then, as I was driving along I realized that both sets of reflectors were off to my left and I was driving through the field … although I was still following the tracks of the previous driver who had also driven into the field. I managed to drive back onto the roadway and eventually found my way home only taking 4 hours to my usual 1 hour trip. I can laugh about it now, but at the time, well I wasn’t laughing at all. There were other interesting portions of that drive that were even more horrifying, like the 50 yards of black ice that I only knew about because of the 20 or so cars that were strewn about before me.

Great fun.

 

 

A young girl (18ish) walks into a prestige car sales room. Looks around at all the Porsches, Lamborghini’s, Jags etc., and says to the salesman “can I have the red one?” – a top of the range Porsche. 

” I’ll pay cash!” and starts taking handfuls of tenners out of a carrier bag until she gets to the right price.

The deal is finalized very quickly and the girl drives it away.

She is back 2 days later – “I want my money back…it smell awfully bad when I use the brakes” she states emphatically.

Not wanting to lose the sale (having taken cash and fiddled the books) the manager decides to ride in the car with her ‘in case she is not driving it properly’

He gets in and she roars out of the dealership, drops it into second gear at 55 mph, floors the pedal again and slips into 3rd at 80 mph does a handbrake turn into a country lane and then really starts to accelerate.

120 mph into 4th gear; 5th at 145 mph. 

The engine is screaming, trying to leap out of the bonnet when it reaches 170 mph. 

The scenery is a green blur the G-force has him pinned in the seat. 

In the distance, to his relief, the barriers of a level crossing are beginning to come down and she will have to slow down (he thinks!) instead the pitch of the engine increases.

100 yards from the crossing she slams on the brakes and the car stops inches from the barrier.

“Can you smell it?” she says.

“SMELL IT? I’M SITTING IN IT!”

You’re traveling west on the Oregon Trail. It’s 1847. Your wagon is half-broken, your oxen are malnourished, and you’ve already buried three friends thanks to dysentery and one bad river crossing. Spirits are low.

One afternoon, you stop at a dusty fort to trade a wheel and half a sack of flour. There, leaning against a post and chewing on a piece of straw like he owns the frontier itself, you meet another pioneer.

He introduces himself calmly.

“Name’s Terry.”

You pause. You look at him – the mud-caked boots, the rifle slung over his shoulder, the thousand-yard stare of a man who’s definitely seen things.

And you laugh.

“Terry?” you say. “That’s a girl name!”

The fort goes silent. Even the wind seems to stop. Terry slowly removes the straw from his mouth. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t explain. He doesn’t clarify that Terry is short for Terrence, or that names work differently in the 1800s.

He just raises his rifle.

Bang.

Your screen fades to black.

You have died of dissin’ Terry.

I print this out into bookmarks and pass it out to the guys in the jail.

 

 

Honesty is a very expensive gift.
Don’t expect it from cheap people.

I can’t even imagine the self control required to work at a bubble wrap factory.

Worrying is like walking around with an umbrella, waiting for it to rain.

Boss: Can you work this weekend? 

Me: Yeah, no worries, but I’ll probably be late as public transportation on a weekend is a bit slow. 

Boss: What time will you get here? 

Me: Monday.

I love putting on warm underwear fresh out of the dryer. Plus it’s fun to look around the laundromat and guess who they belong to.

What’s worse than your girlfriend sending you a text to “Break up”?

Another text saying, “Sorry, that wasn’t for you!”

 

 

“Nothing spoils a good story like the arrival of an eyewitness.”

~ Mark Twain

 

And that’s it my friends. I do so hope that you enjoyed this as much as I did. And until we meet again …