Christmas Sucked For Me

Well, all the Christmas stuff should be over by now. So I can tell you why I haven’t posted in a few days. I am sicker than John Kerry on election night.

I didn’t want to say anything for fear of ruining your Christmas. The though of you walking around in circles or from room to room wringing our hands and maybe a few tears running down your cheeks worrying about me and my health stopped me from posting. I’m giving and caring in that way. It’s all about you as far as I am concerned.

On Wednesday I started feeling bad, coughing and stuff. By Thursday morning my eyelids a very merry shad of red and matted shut, and I was coughing like I thought it was fun or something. The wife, at gun point, forced me to go to the urgent care center for my miracle cure. I told her that it would have been better to call Ernest Angley and have him send me a miracle cure prayer cloth, but she cocked the hammer.

I have an upper respiratory and sinus infection that was moving into my eyes. Thus the puss and drainage and stuff. I still participated in the family gathering, but went back to bed as soon as all the loot was passed out. It was fun and I loved having the family around, but I left Judy and the kids and kids in law playing board games on the kitchen table and went to bed.

Still feel like shit, but I am on the North Side Of The Dirt and that is a good thing.

Regardless of my problems, trials and tribulations, I hope you peeps had a great and happy Christmas and Hanukah. I don’t send Kwanza wishes because that is just a made up holiday that means nothing so I ignore it. And I hope you atheist out there enjoyed your materialist holidays, too.

I have been given a couple of awards and I will post them as soon as I feel like sitting here long enough to do it. Thank you, too, for the honor.

Later, peeps!

I Got A Medal

It’s not Christmas yet but I got a real cool gift today from my blogging buddy, Kanani Fong. It seems that she feels I went out of my way to helped her husband, David, get from one Army base to another.

Several people commented on the post I put up about the trip. But folks, I did nothing out of the ordinary. Well, in this day and time helping someone out may seem strange and above board. But that is not how I was raised. You just help out when you can and expect nothing in return. It’s a part of the Southern Hospitality you hear about.

Anyway, Kanani was appreciative enough to send me this gold coin.(I have to apologize about the quality of the pictures. My camera will not take National Geographic type photos, so dig out your magnifying glasses to view them clearly.)


On one side, in the middle is an Army emblem and the outside edge says across the top reads, “DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY” and across the bottom, “UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.”



On the other side on the top, “IN APPRECATION OF EXCELLANCE” and in the middle,
“John Coffey”
“Warrior”
“Sailor”
“Friend”

This is a great gift for doing something as simple as helping a veteran in his efforts. I don’t deserve if, but I WILL cherish it.

I might have it bronzed!

Just kidding!

Thank You, Kanani.

Silent Monks Singing Halleluia

Back To The Classroom You Go

As you long suffering readers of my site know, I am dedicated to the advancement of your educational needs. I want to you be smart…like me…kinda…

But I have been remise in my endeavors. I got tied up in Redneck Monday, actually reading others blogs and commenting regularly, doing animal transports and other shit, and just ran out of time to do the proper research needed to help you advance your thinking capabilities and vocabulary.

So today I will try to get back on track with two (no, not one, but two) submissions. Now clear you head, blow your nose if you have too, and start the absorption of knowledge…NOW:

Create a new word 2009 winners:

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are the 2009 winners:

1. Cashtration n.: The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone n.: The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon n.: The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic Fit n.: The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug n.: Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor n.: The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

AND:

The Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

And the winners are:

1. Coffee, n. The person upon whom one coughs.

2. Flabbergasted, adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.

3. Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. Esplanade, v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. Lymph, v. To walk with a lisp.

6. Gargoyle, n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.

7. Flatulence, n. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.

8. Balderdash, n. A rapidly receding hairline.

9. Oyster, n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.

10. Frisbeetarianism, gn. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

There! Now don't you feel smarter and ready to take on the world and talk intelligently to anyone you meet? I know I does!

You're Welcome!

Oh Holy Night - Celtic Women

These babes have some pipes!!!

I watch all their specials and would love to see them in person.


O Holy Night is my favorite Christmas song. I love the John Berry’s version I posted last Christmas, but YouTube pulled it at, I assume, John or his handlers request. So enjoy this one before YouTube pulls it, too.

Monday Redneck Humnor

A very genteel Southern lady drove across the Savannah River Bridge into Georgia one day. As she neared the top of the bridge, she noticed a young man ready {fixing} to jump.

She stopped her car, rolled down the window and said, "Please don't jump, think of your dear mother and father."

He replied, "Mom and Dad are both dead; I'm going to jump."

She said, "Well, think of your wife and children."

He replied, "I'm not married and I don't have any kids."

She said, "Well, think of Robert E. Lee."

He replied, "Who's Robert E. Lee?"

She said, "Well bless your heart, just go ahead and jump, you Yankee bastard."

My Visit With A True Hero

I should have posted this on Friday night, but I was just too tired. Then I had to post about my Secrete Santa. Plus I had to do the Santa thing at Pet Smart, so I am just getting around to it.

See?


My blogging buddy, Kanani over at The Kitchen Dispatch is the wife of an Army surgeon who has been stationed in some forward area in Afghanistan as part of a surgical trauma unit. He and his team for professionals deserve the title, and truly are, Heroes.

His name is David and he is home - kinda. After a five day trip, he finally arrived at Fort Benning in Columbus, GA, on the Alabama border, to process back into the States and turn in some equipment. Benning is the CONUS departure and receivng area for most of the East Cost. I drove down to meet him and help him in any way possible. Luckly for me there wasn’t much for me to do because he is a squared away man.

I knew I would have to drive around and find the building to get a temporary permit to drive on the base, which is HUGE, so I called my old Navy buddy Earl, who, at 75, still works full time for a company who services all the eating places on the base. With Earl driving his truck with the proper widow decals, we were able to drive directly to David’s location. From there, we went back to my truck and had a cup of coffee and some good ‘jaw-jacking’ with Earl and saw some awesome pictures from David’s time in Ass-crack-astan.

We then headed on a cross-state run to deliver him to his home base at Fort Stewart, just outside of Savannah, GA, on the South Carolina border. It was a four and a half hour drive, in the rain, in the traffic. But he made the time fly by with his interesting conversations.

The man truly loves his work and bragged to no end about his team of doctors, and medics. It doubled my belief in the quality of men and women we have serving our country. For example, you remember all the posting and interest in FOB Keating? David and his team worked on the more seriously wounded from that debacle. He talked about it in a soft voice. He cares.



Anyway, we finally got him settled into his apartment on base.


And he was so thankful; he showed me how much in the good old Army way.



We then retrieved his car from the storage area and I left him to contact Kanani and get some much needed sleep.

But that is also why I said he was home - kinda. He will be flying out to Califorina to be with his family for Christmas. Then he will be home.

But it was such a treat to have met such a caring and giving man as LCOL David Anderson - a true American Hero.

From My Secret Santa - Hot Damn

This year I joined a group of people (and maybe some dogs or something - yah never know) involved in a Secret Santa gift giving. Two awesome ladies, Amy and Georgie, are the instigators, uh, administrators of the effort, and it had to be an exhausting enterprise to say the least. Anyway, one of the requirements is to post about your gift when it arrives.

I don’t know who my Secret Santa is, but he, she or it really did the job right in my case.

Below are the THREE (3), gifts sent to me. Ain’t they purty?


These is the same gifts (did I say 3?) opened. They are freaking awesome.

The t-shirt says, “I’m not a Doctor, but I’ll take a look anyway.” Is that me or what? I’m always willing to do breast and pelvic exams. And I also keep a pretty sharp pocket knife in my pocket of any impromptu pap smears that need to be made.

And the Civil War book, “Campaigns of the Civil War - A Photographic History” is perfect as I am a huge fan of anything relating to the Campaign of Northern Aggression and the illegal trespassing of those Godless Yankees on our Southern Sacred Soil. And more important - it has pictures, my favorite form of reading (next to audio books.)

And there is a box of Anthony-Thomas’s Buckeyes, a peanut butter and Milk Chocolate candies that are officially licensed by The Ohio State University. So I guess not all Yankees are Godless.

And the beautiful card says on the outside, “Ho, Ho, Ho” - three of my favorite type ladies.

And the inside says, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Wishing you a Holiday Season filled with Faith, Hope and Love.”
And hand written “Merry Christmas from your favorite blogging buddy, Secret Santa!!”

Now is that cool or what.

So, who ever your are, I thank you very much. If you are a woman I’ll give you some, if you are a man I’ll buy you a cup of coffee or a cold beer, and if you are a dog or something, I’ll give you a huge hug and a belly rub.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Bumper Stickers Seen On A Military Base

"Except For Ending Slavery, Fascism, Nazism and Communism, WAR has Never Solved Anything."

" U.S. Marines - Certified Counselors to the 72 Virgins Dating Club."

"Water-boarding is out so kill them all!"

"Interrogators can't water-board dead guys"

" U.S. Marines - Travel Agents To Allah"

"Stop Global Whining"

"When In Doubt, Empty The Magazine"

"The Marine Corps - When It Absolutely, Positively Has To Be Destroyed Overnight"

"Death Smiles At Everyone - Marines Smile Back"

"Marine Sniper - You can run, but you'll just die tired!"

"What Do I Feel When I Kill A Terrorist? A Little Recoil"

"Marines - Providing Enemies of America an Opportunity To Die For their Country Since 1775"

"Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Anyone Who Threatens It"

"Happiness Is A Belt-Fed Weapon"

"It's God's Job to Forgive Bin Laden - It's Our Job To Arrange The Meeting"

"Artillery Brings Dignity to What Would Otherwise Be Just A Vulgar Brawl"

"One Shot, Twelve Kills - U.S. Naval Gun Fire Support"

"Do Draft-Dodgers Have Reunions? If So, What Do They Talk About?"

"My Kid Fought In Iraq So Your Kid Can Party In College"

"Machine Gunners - Accuracy By Volume"

"A Dead Enemy Is A Peaceful Enemy - Blessed Be The Peacemakers"

"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But the Marines don't have that problem." ...Ronald Reagan

Coke Ad For Seniors

I've been drinking Diet Coke...maybe I should switch back to Coke.

I'm Glad I'm A Woman

Equal Time For Fairness

I'm glad I'm a woman, yes I am, yes I am.
I don't live off of Budweiser, Beer Nuts and Spam.

I don't brag to my buddies about my erections.
I won't drive to Hell before I ask for directions.

I don't get wasted at parties, and act like a clown.
And I know how to put that damned toilet seat down!

I won't grab your hooters, I won't pinch your butt.
My belt buckle's not hidden beneath my beer gut.

And I don't go around "re-adjusting" my crotch,
or yell like Tarzan when my headboard gets a notch.

I don't belch in public, I don't scratch my behind.
I'm a woman you see-I'm just not that kind!

I'm glad I'm a woman, I'm so glad I could sing.
I don't have body hair like shag carpeting.

It doesn't grow from my ears or cover my back.
When I lean over you can't see 3 inches of crack.

And what's on my head doesn't leave with my comb.
I'll never buy a toupee to cover my dome.

Or have a few hairs pulled from over the side.
I'm a woman, you know-I've got far too much pride!

And I honestly think its a privilege for me,
to have these two boobs and squat when I pee.

I don't live to play golf and shoot basketball.
I don't swagger and spit like a Neanderthal.

I won't tell you my wife just does not understand,
or stick my hand in my pocket to hide that gold band.

Or tell you a story to make you sigh and weep,
then screw you, roll over and fall sound asleep!

Yes, I'm so very glad I'm a woman, you see.
Forget all about that old penis envy.

I don't long for male bonding, I don't cruise for chicks.
Join the Hair Club For Men, or think with my dick.

I'm a woman by chance and I'm thankful, it's true.
I'm so glad I'm a woman and not a man like you!
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I'm Glad I'm A Man

I'm glad I'm a man, you better believe.
I don't live on yogurt, diet coke, or cottage cheese.

I don't bitch to my girlfriends about the size of my breasts.
I can get where I want to - north, south, east or west.

I don't get wasted after only 2 beers,
and when I do drink I don't end up in tears.

I won't spend hours deciding what to wear.
I spend 5 minutes max fixing my hair.

And I don't go around checking my reflection
in everything shiny from every direction.

I don't whine in public and make us leave early,
and when you ask why get all bitter and surly.

I'm glad I'm a man, I'm so glad I could sing.
I don't have to sit around waiting for that ring.

I don't gossip about friends or stab them in the back.
I don't carry our differences into the sack.

I'll never go psycho and threaten to kill you
or think every guy out there's trying to steal you.

I'm rational, reasonable, and logical too.
I know what the time is and I know what to do.

And I honestly think its a privilege for me
to have these two balls and stand when I pee.

I live to watch sports and play all sorts of ball.
It's more fun than dealing with women after all.

I won't cry if you say it's not going to work.
I won't remain bitter and call you a jerk.

Feel free to use me for immediate pleasure.
I won't assume it's permanent by any measure.

Yes, I'm so very glad I'm a man, you see.
I'm glad I'm not capable of child delivery.

I don't get all bitchy every 28 days.
I'm glad that my gender gets me a much bigger raise.

I'm a man by chance and I'm thankful it's true.
I'm so glad I'm a man and not a woman like you!

My Word Is Law

The wife and I were at Wal Mart picking up some stuff for stocking stuffers. She noticed a display of blue jeans for $8.00 a pair.

There are a few things you need to know before I go on.

First of all I HATE to shop for anything except groceries. HATE IT!

Second, I only wear blue jeans or shorts. I have a couple of slack type pants for special occasions, but I go no where special, so they just hang in the closet. I own one suit that gets worn maybe once a year.

I have two pair of jeans that do not have holes in the knees. I like holes. It gives the jeans character. All are comfortable and fit the way I like them. They are family to me, and well taken care of in their old age.

Judy wants me to have some new jeans. She argues that most of my jeans have holes and the two who don’t are faded and worn looking.

I told her to not talk so loud and to be nice. I was wearing one of my holey jeans and the senior member of my jean collection would get his feelings hurt. She scoffed.

And an argument ensued - right in the middle of Wal Mart. But no one paid any attention, of course. It is Wal Mart, after all. But we argued because I don’t want to buy jeans right here at Christmas. The kiddies need stuff. She needs stuff. I need nothing.

So I told her that in no way was I spending any money on a cheap pair of jeans just because the are on sale for $8 per. I don’t want the Goddamn things. Read my lips, Dammit. It’s my final word, NO! And I walked off.

She’s pissed, too. Call’s me names, tells me not to go by the Sports department because there are knives and pool sticks and things she can use on me. But, Dammit I have spoken.

So now I have two new pairs of jeans. I’ll even wear one pair tonight when I go to the kiddies school band Christmas concert. I know! I will be hot and all the ladies will be eyeing my studly pair of $8 jeans and daydreaming. Sorry girls! You will just have to suffer and wish. Why not…that’s what I do when I see one of you in a great pair of jeans. It’s payback time.

Global Warming Protest

Thousands gather to protest global warming.

Only An Italian Man...

ONLY AN ITALIAN MAN CAN MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE A WOMAN...

On a transatlantic flight, a plane passes through a severe storm. The turbulence is awful, and things go from bad to worse when one wing is struck by lightning. One woman in particular is terrified.

Screaming, she stands up in the front of the plane. 'I'm too young to die', she wails. Then she yells, 'Well, if I'm going to die, I want my last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there ANYONE on this plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?'

For a moment there is silence. Everyone has forgotten their own peril. They all stare, riveted, at the desperate woman in the front of the plane.

Then an Italian man stands up in the rear of the plane. He is handsome, tall, well built, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He starts to walk slowly up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time.

No one moves. He removes his shirt, muscles rippling across his chest.

She gasps!

He walks right up to her, so close she can feel and smell his breath, and looks her straight in the eyes and says.....

'Here - Iron this, and get me something to eat....'
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A Couple of Humurous Nothings

These two are from my friend, Julie.


and

It is near the Christmas break of the school year. The students have turned in all their work and there is really nothing more to do. All the children are restless and the teacher decides to have an early dismissal.

Teacher: "Whoever answers the questions I ask, first and correctly can leave early today."

Little Johnny says to himself "Good, I want to get outta here. I'm smart and will answer the question."

Teacher: "Who said 'Four Score and Seven Years Ago'?"

Before Johnny can open his mouth, Susie says, "Abraham Lincoln."

Teacher: "That's right Susie, you can go home."

Johnny is mad that Susie answered the question first.

Teacher: "Who said 'I Have a Dream'?"

Before Johnny can open his mouth, Mary says, "Martin Luther King."

Teacher: "That's right Mary, you can go."

Johnny is even madder than before.

Teacher: "Who said 'Ask not, what your country can do for you'?"

Before Johnny can open his mouth, Nancy says, "John F. Kennedy."

Teacher: "That's right Nancy , you may also leave."

Johnny is boiling mad that he has not been able to answer to any of the questions.

When the teacher turns her back Johnny says, "I wish these bitches would keep their mouths shut!"

The teacher turns around: "NOW WHO SAID THAT?"

Johnny: "TIGER WOODS. CAN I GO NOW?"
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Redneck Monday - Pick-Up Lines

Redneck Pick-Up Lines:

1) Did you fart? Cuz you blew me away.

2) Are yer parents retarded? Cuz ya sure are special.

3) My Love fer you is like diarrhea. I can't hold it in.

4) Do you have a library card? Cuz I'd like to sign you out.

5) Is there a mirror in yer pants? Cuz I can see myself in em.

6) If you was a tree and I were a Squirrel, I' d store my nuts in yer hole.

7) You might not be the best lookin girl here, but beauty's only a light switch away.

8) Man - "Fat Penguin!"
Woman - "WHAT?"
Man - "I just wanted to say something that would break the ice."

9) I know I'm not no Fred Flintstone, but I bet I can make yer bed-rock.

10) I can't find my puppy, can you help me find him? I think he went inta this cheap motel room.

11) Yer eyes are as blue as window cleaner.

12) If yer gunna regret this in the mornin, we kin sleep till afternoon.

13) Yer face reminds me of a wrench, every time I think of it my nuts tighten up.

14) Your eyes are as pretty as two hen turds in a bowl of clabber.

15) Darlin', your ears are a cut as mud-flaps on a gopher’s ass.

Now I know you ladies are swooning already, but pull yourself together. I wasn’t applying my Southern Redneck charm directly at you. I was just giving you an example of what to expect when you meet some of us good ole boys. When you do, THEN you can let the ‘panty puddin’ begin.
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Old Salts of the Navy...

(The painting is of my ship, USS Frank E. Evans DD754, heading to her last assignment - and death)

For years I have been trying to come up with the words that explains my experience in the Navy. Then, today, I get this email from my friend and former shipmate, Chuck. This is so dead on that I had to post it. I also found a passage from Psalms in the bible that adds somehting to this post. It is at the bottom.

Old Salts of The Navy. . . . . . . .

I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe - the ship beneath me feeling like a living thing as her engines drove her swiftly through the sea.

I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck, the harsh squawk of the 1MC, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work. I liked Navy vessels - nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet auxiliaries and amphibs, sleek submarines and steady solid aircraft carriers.

I liked the proud names of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington, Saratoga, Coral Sea, Antietam , Valley Forge - memorials of great battles won and tribulations overcome. I liked the lean angular names of Navy "tin-cans" and "escorts" - Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy, Damato, Leftwich, Mills, Vance, Evans and the Manley - mementos of heroes who went before us. And the others - San Jose, San Diego, Atlanta, Los Angeles, St. Paul, Chicago - named for our cities.

I liked the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside speakers as we pulled away from the oiler after refueling at sea. I liked liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port. I even liked the never-ending paperwork and all-hands working parties as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies, both mundane and to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there was water to float her.

I liked sailors, officers and enlisted men from all parts of the land; farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England, from the cities, the mountains and the prairies, from all walks of life. I trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me - for professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage. In a word, they were "shipmates"; then and forever.

I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was passed: "Now set the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving port," and I liked the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side. The work was hard and dangerous; the going rough at times; the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the "all for one and one for all" philosophy of the sea was ever present.

I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as flying fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night. I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead and range lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead.

I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me that my ship was alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch would keep me safe. I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong coffee - the life-blood of the Navy - permeating everywhere.

I liked hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness. I liked the sudden electricity of "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations," followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of water-tight doors as the ship transformed herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war - ready for anything. And I liked the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize.

I liked the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made them. I liked the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones and Burke. A sailor could find much in the Navy: comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's trade. An adolescent could find adulthood.

In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea they will still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods - the impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of hearty laughter in the wardroom and chief's quarters and mess decks.

Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon. Remembering this, they will stand taller and say, "I WAS A SAILOR ONCE AND WOULD DO IT AGAIN."

Psalms 107:23-30
"Those who go down to the sea in ships, who do business on great waters, they see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For He commands and raises the stormy wind, which lifts up the waves of the sea. They mount up to the heavens, they go down again to the depths; their soul melts because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end. Then they cry out to the Lord in their trouble, and He brings them out of their distresses. He calms the storm, so that its waves are still. Then they are glad because they are quiet; so He guides them to their desired haven."

Detroit Kindergarten Kid

A teacher in a Detroit kindergarten class asked the kids what kind of sound a pig makes...


Little Tyrone stood up and yelled:

"FREEZE, MUTHAFUCKA!"

I guess there aren't many farms in Detroit...

Weekend Humor