Have Book, Will Waste Space (joke)

AN ASTRONAUT PREPARES FOR HIS FIRST MISSION 

An astronaut was packing his bags for his first space mission. Room on the
space shuttle was limited, and he was instructed to pack lightly. The
astronaut
was an avid reader. So he decided to make some sacrifices in order to take a
couple of books. As he was squeezing a book into his case, his wife entered
the room. Seeing the book, she said, “Don’t you think that book would be a
waste of space?”

The Year’s Best (actual) Headlines of 2007

THE YEAR’S BEST [actual] HEADLINES OF 2007: 

Crack Found on Governor’s Daughter 

Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says 

Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers 

Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus? 

Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over 

Miners Refuse to Work after Death 

Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant 

War Dims Hope for Peace 

If Strike Isn’t Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile 

Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures 

Enfield (London) Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide 

Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges 

Man Struck By Lightning: Faces Battery Charge 

New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group 

Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas
in Spacecraft 

Kids Make Nutritious Snacks 

Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half 

Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors 

And the winner is…. 

Typhoon Rips Through
Cemetery; Hundreds Dead  

What you Never Forget

I remember my first experience fishing. Okay, so I was like five-years-old when Daddy took me and my sister to some murky creek with those kiddy fishing poles. ON the end of my fishing line’s pole was a plastic Micky Mouse bobble that floated on the water. My sister had Donald Duck, I believe. The two of us sat there on the grassy bank, wondering when we’d get a big fish. OUr cousin, Jonathan, had his own kiddy pole. Dad and his sister were also fishing, and they blabbed about whatever grownups do. I watched tehthe water, and waited. And waited. IT was getting boring. There were no fish here. Dad was making it all up. What junky fishing poles. Then Jonathan got too close to the edge. DAd warnred him to stay away because he’d fall into the water. Jonathan was always a showoff. He was acting like some great explorer along the bank when he suddenly lost his footing and fell right into the water. “Jonathan!” me and my sister cried, wondering what would happen to our cousin. To us, four feet of water was like eight feet. Dad pulled him out and that was the end of the fishing experience. We all piled into the car, all except for Jonathan. “NO, you’re not,” Dad said, popping open the trunk, “You’re not getting my seats wet.” I thought this was a really stupid thing to say as my soaking wet cousin was made to lay in the trunk. DAd was nice enough to leave half of it open for light and air, thogh, as we left the creek and got onto the road. Me and my sister knelt on the backseat, staring down at our cousin, who looked more like a prisoner, or like Dad was trying to kidnap him. “What’s it like in there?” I asked Jonathan. “It’s fun,” ehhe grinned as we hit a few bumps. “Is it scary?” I asked, really wishing I could ride in the trunk. He started to answer when…thump! The trunk lid banged shut. Uh-oh. Jonathan was in total darkness! “Dadddy,” me and my sister cried with horror, “the ttrunk closed on Jonathan!” Dad didn’t answer. I knew he was grumpy and could care less about his suffocating nephew. Would Jonathan make it alive? What was it like in the dark? To be all alone? I didn’t want to know. WE got home shortly afterward and then a soggy Jonathan was let out of the trunk. I was glad he was still breathing. “WEre you sacarescared?” I asked him. “Yeah,” he said, “But it was cool.” Wow. I admired him for being so brave. I would have cried. Just another family story.

Just Because you’re Paranoid

Okay, you think a microburst is scary. But what is scarier is when your family is too calm about it. In the fall of 2006, a sudden thunderstorm became a full-phledged microburst–which actually was a small tornado, it was reported, by the weather people. Anyway, I’m literally shaking with fear–my heart pounding, mouth drying out, the works, as me and my family huddled together in the corner of the room. And what is DAd talking about as the rain slashes the windows and the thunder growls? Fixing the shutters on the outside windows, the shutters he didn’t fix during the summertime! I was recording this storm event, in hopes it’d be something dramamtic, but instead my sister’s friend, who was also with us, was giggling about some dumb joke my sister had made. Maybe I’m to serious but isn’t everyone taking this a little too casual? The fact that the last microburst storm tore off our neighbor’s barn roof across the street from their house?! WE were lucky. Nothing was damaged, except for a few torn tree branches and some of our own barn roof shingles. Now, maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised when my family acts so calm about everything. IT’s better than panicking I guess. But what about all the times my sister and Dad stand out there on the front porch, sitting in front of a metal door as lightning bolts are striking the ground in the field across the street from them? “wow! that was a hot one!” DAd exclaimed as one crackling thunderclap sent me reeling back. I have brontophobia, the fear of the sound of thunder, so thunderstorms are a big deal to me. Meanwhile, my sister’s frantically trying to snap pics with her digital camera as the battery’s dying (she never replaced the charger she lost), to capture the lightning bolts, as if she were one of those professional weather guys. She missed them everytime. NOt quick enough. “Wel,” Dad said after the storm had moved farther away, “I’m bored. If richard’s house isn’t getting grilled, I don’t care,” he looked towards our neighbor’s squat modgler home just up the road and across from our house. In my digital recorder I whispered, “They’re idiots, sitting there in metal chairs as lightning bolts flash around them.” My famly. It’s a wonder I turned out so sane. OR maybe paranoid.

Patron Saint of emails

Q: Who’s the patron saint of emails? A: St. Francis of a CC.–Submitted by Terry Sangster (Laughter: It’s the Best Medicine, Jan. 2008, Vol. 172)

Super Editing Bloopers

A semi was eastbound on 24th. STreet when it struck a deer which failed to yield the right-of-way.–the (Marshalltown, Iowa) Times Republican, submitted by Don Boehler 11-30 a.m. a delivery truck was hit by a parked car.–The Verona (Wesconsin) Press, submitted by Janet Stoikes(from Reader’s Digest, Jan. 2008, Vol. 172)

What really Happened: a kid’s POV on the modern Christmas story

During the Sunday mass homily, the priest was telling us a story about a class of Sunday school kids drawing their versions on the theme of Flight From Egypt–when Mary and JOseph left Egypt from the reign of King Herod–and the one little boy held up his picture to the teacher. The picture was of Mary, wearing a blue veil and JOseph with a beard, sitting in the back of an airplane. “Okay,” the teacher smiled, “they’re flying a plane out of Egypt. I see who these are,” she pointed to Mary and JOseph. The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!” he affirmed. “But,” the teacher was puzzled, “I see someone’s steering the plane. who’s that?” The boy said suddenly, “Don’t you know? that’s Pontius the pilot!”