= = = "THINK ABOUT THIS FOR A MINUTE''== = =WOODEN NICKEL

"THINK ABOUT THIS FOR A MINUTE''

FREE MARKET

A car company can move its factories to Mexico and claim it's a free market.

A toy company can out-source to a Chinese sub-contractor and claim it's a free market.

A major bank can incorporate in Bermuda to avoid taxes and claim it's a free market.

BUT, heaven help the elderly who dare to buy their prescription drugs from a Canadian pharmacy.

How Un-American! Maybe you'll forward it on....I DID.....

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A Rabbi who was late for a golf game was rather curt with several people whose phone calls kept delaying him.

The next day his secretary said "Rabbi, several members of the congregation were really upset with you when you cut them short yesterday."

At that point, a man who had been sitting within earshot in the reception room got up and departed hurriedly.

"Who was that?" asked the Rabbi.

"Oh, that was Mr. Ruthenberg." she answered. "He wanted to speak to you about a circumcision for his son."

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All his life, Cohen (the ubiquitous, Cohen) has wanted to own an elegant, made-to-measure hand-tailored suit with all the exacting details not found in an ordinary off the rack model. But he was a little guy, not very successful in business, and could never afford one. Later in life, however, things took a turn for the better and he eventually managed to set aside enough money to finally make his impossible dream come true, and he goes off to a very expensive tailor to get fitted. The great day comes, the suit is finally ready, it's gorgeous, it fits like you wouldn't believe. And... so many "extras!" He proudly wears it home, and can hardly wait for Mrs. Cohen to see him in his elegant new splendor. "Oy, is she in for a surprise!" he thinks. When he walks into the living room, she's reading the paper. "Mama, I'm home." cheerfully announces Cohen. She glances up, grunts, "Ehh", and goes back to her paper. He tries again, "Look, Mama vot I got on, a whole brand new hand- tailored suit." Again, short-shrift from Mrs Cohen, "Ehh." He goes on, "And, look, hand-stitched lapels yet." Another, "Ehh." Undaunted, the poor schlep, trying vainly to impress her, says, "And, Mama, take a good substantial look at dis...on de full-pleated pents...a full length, easy sliding zipper like you've never seen on my pents before!" Mrs. Cohen finally looks up and answers, "So? Schwartz, next door, has a two car garage, and vot comes out? A bicycle!"

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Q: How do you scare a man?

A: Sneak up behind him and start throwing rice.

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Confucius say: Baseball is wrong; man with four ball cannot walk.

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When push comes to shove... somebody's gonna figure out that "push" and "shove" mean the same thing

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Given the capacity to be stupid, people will be.

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A Tale of Two Christmases

It is the worst of times. It is the best of times. The Christmas you have depends upon you. May you be blessed to follow the Light and choose the right.

A Christmas Poem C is for Credit Cards that make buying a breeze. H is for your Headache when your cards are seized. R is for Remembering everyone on your list. I is for feeling Insulted when your gifts are dissed. S is for feeling Stressed when you're on the fly. T is for the Truckloads of presents that you buy. M is for your Massive debt that soars into the sky. A is for the Awful feeling that you've gone astray. S is for your Sorrow and the tears you'll shed today.

The True Christmas Poem C is for the Christ child lying in a manager. H is for the Holy One who saved us all from danger. R is to Remember Him who died that we may live. I is to Inspire us that we may always give. S is for joyful Songs and sacred hymns that praise. T is to Thank the Lord for showing us the way. M is for the Miracles that bless us each day. A is for the Almighty who always puts us first. S is for the Shepherd who guides us on earth.

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Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates.

"In honor of the season," Saint Peter said, "you must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven on this holy day."

The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on.

"It represents a holy candle," he said.

"You may pass through the pearly gates," Saint Peter said.

The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells."

Saint Peter said, "You may pass through the pearly gates."

The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women's panties.

"What do these symbolize?" Saint Peter asked.

The man replied, "They're Carols"

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An old Battleship admiral dies and goes to Heaven. He is met at the pearly gates by Saint Peter who salutes crisply and says "Welcome aboard Admiral, for your dedication to your country and your navy a place in Heaven has been saved for you." The admiral returns the salute and says "Thank you, but I wonder if you could answer a question for me?" "Certainly" says Saint Peter. "Well..." the admiral begins "I have to know if you have any Chief Petty Officers up here. you see I have been plagued by them since I was an ensign they are always up to no end of trouble and I just couldn't rest through eternity knowing somehow one has made it up here." "No worries Admiral, I can't think of a single chief who has made it up here yet."

Well, with that the admiral is off, checking out his new surroundings. Not long into his stroll around Heaven he sees a fellow sailor coming towards him ... one arm around a beautiful woman, a bottle of whiskey clutched in his free hand, his grin wrapped around a big fat cigar, and to top it off his cover tilted to a salty angle on his head with that daRned "gold fouled anchor" on it ... no doubt about it folks this is a Chief if the admiral has ever seen one!

Doing an immediate about face he marches back to the pearly gates and confronts Saint Peter with his findings. He looks at the Admiral, winks and says "That's not a Chief, that's God... He just thinks he's a Chief!"

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?Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, (we?ve poisoned the mouse) The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads (and yes, since you ask, it?s a part of my lofty design for their learning: they dream of Tchaikovsky).

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I put down ?The Times? to see what was the matter. Through the double glazed window, behind the net curtain, I carefully gazed, to observe, to ascertain.

I fear I expressed now some candid opinions At the bloody great sleigh on our winter delphiniums: ?Get off! Go away!? (heat and temper increase) ?Sod off now, or I promise I?ll call the police!?

It takes to the air! It's got reindeer attached! - Oh good God, there'll be mess on my vegetable patch and imagine the damage that's caused by a hoof ? There?s a crash, as this maniac lands on the roof.

The children are woken, the cat?s looking chary, The wife calls out, shaken, the hamster is wary, And ? I hate to admit it, but you can't guess what else ? Down the chimney now plummets a smouldering elf.

Let me pause, to relate that I set nothing higher Than to sit, of an evening, before a log fire (though it is rather dirty, what with charcoal and ash ? I?m seriously thinking of changing to gas),

And thus the intruder discovered too late, Not our decorative logs, but a fire in the grate. His boots how they sizzled! His beard how it flared! His furs how inflammable! His eyes how they glared!

He sprang from the fire in a half second flat, Caught his neck in the stockings and stepped on the cat, Which flew up the curtains, which pulled them all free, While St. Nick's strangled thrashings set a spark to the tree:

The fairy ignited, and flamingly fell, Like a vision of Lucifer cast into Hell. I ran for the phone and I rapidly made A call for police and the fire brigade.

Now children, don't fret, Father Christmas is well, And he?s only got seven months left in his cell. The sentence was lenient, and half of it's spent (he got off on arson; we can't prove intent.)

What became of his reindeer we?re slowly discovering. They took off when the firemen gave them a covering Of freezing cold water, and flew at a run Rapidly north, up the southbound M1.

Twas the morning of Christmas. A cold pallid light Bared the acrid remains of the magical night. The floor was soaked through, the walls black with grime, And the ceiling collapsed just before half past nine.

The moral? Don't resent or begrudge our nation Its inexorable trend to commercialisation; A red plastic Santa, from Korea or Laos, May offend your good taste, but it won?t gut your house.

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