While Nostradamus was alive, he was in great demand by the various churches and temples in the area. Since this got to be a strain running from place to place, the religious groups got together and hammered out a schedule where they would each get Nostradamus's services for one or two days a month on a rotating basis. It was the world's first prophet-sharing plan.
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Unconditional Love
A treasure to be cherished, A gift from God above; Is the beauty of a friendship, Touched by unconditional love. A love that asks no questions, Believes in all the best; Never doubting, ever trusting, Withstanding any test. A love that weathers any storm, And yet that love still stands; Through the very darkest hour, It still reaches out a hand. There in that hand the sweetest gift, That you can give a friend; A heart that cares, a love that shares, That will be there till the end. A treasure to be cherished, A gift from God above; Is what I share with you my friend, An unconditional love.
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Lawns & God
GOD: St. Francis, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there in the USA? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honeybees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles.
ST. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers weeds and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.
GOD: Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It's temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?
ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.
GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.
ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it, sometimes twice a week.
GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?
ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.
GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?
ST. FRANCIS: No, sir -- just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.
GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?
ST. FRANCIS: Yes, sir.
GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.
ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.
GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stoke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of life.
ST. FRANCIS: You'd better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.
GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose?
ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.
GOD: And where do they get this mulch?
ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.
GOD: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?
ST. CATHERINE: Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It's a real stupid movie about ...
GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.
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Senator Hillary Clinton was attending a party, when she noticed Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. She walked over to him, and in a quiet voice said; “If you were my husband I would poison your drink.” Schwarzenegger smiled, leaned forward, and whispered in her ear, “And if you were my wife I would drink it.”
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70-year-old George went for his annual physical. All of his tests came back with normal results. Dr. Smith said, “George, everything looks great physically. How are you doing mentally and emotionally? Are you at peace with yourself, and do you have a good relationship with your God?” George replied, “God and me are tight. He knows I have poor eyesight, so he’s fixed it so that when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom (poof!) the light goes on when I pee, and then (poof!) the light goes off when I’m done.” “Wow,” commented Dr. Smith, “that’s incredible!” A little later in the day Dr. Smith called George’s wife. “Thelma,” he said, “George is just fine. Physically he’s great. But I had to call because I’m in awe of his relationship with God. Is it true that he gets up during the night and (poof!) the light goes on in the bathroom, and then (poof!) the light goes off?” Thelma exclaimed, “That old fool! He’s peeing in the refrigerator again!”
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Several women appeared in court, each accusing the others of causing the trouble they were having in the apartment building where they lived. The women were arguing noisily even in the court. The judge, banging his gavel to quiet them, said, “We are going to do this in an orderly manner. I can’t listen to all of you at once. I’ll hear the oldest first.” The case was dismissed for lack of testimony.
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