My goal for 2016 was to lose just 10 pounds. Only 15 to go.
Ate salad for dinner! Mostly croutons and tomatoes. Really just one big, round crouton covered with tomato sauce. And cheese. FINE, it was a pizza. I ate a pizza.
How to prepare Tofu:
1. Throw it in the trash.
2. Grill some Meat.
I just did a week's worth of cardio after walking into a spider web.
I don't mean to brag but...I finished my 14-day diet in 3 hours and 20 minutes.
A recent study has found that women who carry a little extra weight live longer than men who mention it.
Kids today don't know how easy they have it. When I was young, I had to walk 9 feet through shag carpet to change the TV channel.
Senility has been a smooth transition for me.
Remember back when we were kids and every time it was below zero out they closed school? Me neither.
I may not be that funny or athletic or good looking or smart or talented....I forgot where I was going with this.
I love being over 50. I learn something new every day...and forget 5 others.
A thief broke into my house last night...He started searching for money so I woke up and searched with him.
My dentist told me I need a crown. I was like: I KNOW !, Right?
I think I'll just put an "Out of Order" sticker on my forehead and call it a day.
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Saturday, March 12, 2016
President Obama Has a Huge Penis He is Very Proud of...
Whoever replaces president Obama will have a challenge in
regard to penis size.
Look at that confidence!
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Only a Cop
Just have to share this email from one of my friends...
This long, passionate, very well written monologue, should be read through to the end by every active and retired public safety officer, every news reporter and actually by every citizen of this nation. Please read it and forward it to all you can.
Proud of my career,
Ken B
Only a Cop By Harry T. O'Reilly
I was at a cocktail party recently in Manhattan and my host, in efforts to get conversation going between people with mutual interests, introduced me to a shiny, well-groomed young man who had recently earned his master's degree in criminal justice. When he learned that I was a retired cop who was now teaching at John Jay College, he remarked that his father was a cop. When I asked where his father worked, he replied, "Oh, you wouldn't know him. He never did anything important. He's only a cop in the 32nd Precinct."
My host saw the look on my face and before I could put my drink down so both hands could be free to choke him, he whisked the kid off to a neutral corner to protect him, rushed back, and begged me to forget about it. I couldn't, so I'm writing this column in the hope this message will reach that young man and so many people like him who are so quick to minimize the role of the working policeman in our society.
I've never worked in the 32nd Precinct, and I don't personally know any cops who do; but I've visited there a few times, much against my will, when I was "flown" in to supervise a detail of men who were supplementing the precinct's manpower during various crises over the years, and I know what it is like to work there. I don't know that kid's old man, but I do know policemen, and I know that whether your beat is in New York City's Harlem district or in 3 suburb of Los Angeles, the nature of the job doesn't vary that much. The volume of activity may be greater or less, and the surroundings may appear to be different, but the dangers and the problems and the stresses and the heartaches are very much the same.
Listen closely, son, I'm going to tell you about your father. Your reference to him as "only a cop" upset the hell out of me, because "only a cop" implies a sense of failure or lack of achievement because he's not a sergeant or lieutenant or higher. How many brothers and sisters do you have? Did grandpa die and leave you a ton of money? If not, are you aware of the financial realities of raising and educating a family? Do you have any idea of how difficult the competition is to be promoted in an occupation where there are limited vacancies and opportunities for advancement? Are you aware that if you have to work a second, and sometimes and third job to make ends meet, that maybe you are too weary to study or to attend promotion-tutorial classes? Are you aware that for many men, being "only a cop" can be so fulfilling that there may be no desire to be promoted?
Have you ever noticed those green, white and blue bars over your father's shield? Have you ever asked what they represent? I can assure you, he didn't get them in a Cracker Jacks box. Each one of them represents a superior achievement in a job where bravery, courage, danger and brilliant police work are considered routine.
While the chiefs and bosses were sitting in headquarters sending down orders to "use restraint" and while the sociologists were trying to explain (if not to justify) why people were rioting and looting, he was more concerned with staying alive as boards, bricks and rifle fire came down from the rooftops. Despite his own fears, he was very careful as he fired his revolver towards the rooftop not to hit one of the innocent, curious, decent people who struck their heads out of the windows of the apartments where they had barricaded themselves in fear.
He never told you about the time when half a cinder block thrown by a "social protester" crashed through the roof of the radio car, narrowly missing his head as he and his partner drove along a side street on patrol.
He never told you about the rats, the pissy hallways, the fights or the dead babies. You never knew that when you were a kid he wrestled with you on the living room floor while the Popeye cartoons blared out of the television set that a few hours earlier he was wrestling around on a filthy sidewall; with someone who was intent on taking his pistol from him and blowing his head off.
You wonder why he didn't show too much emotion when you cut your hand playing ball and had to get stitches. Perhaps he has become jaded to pain and suffering. Perhaps he felt that your hurt was small in comparison to the accident which he handled the night before where he saw brains splattered across a windshield and a severed arm and smelled fiery death. Perhaps you should be proud and grateful that after that he still had enough feeling left to kiss the boo-boo and hug you and pat your head, brief though the moment of tenderness may have been.
When you complained of him "never being home," he was usually out moonlighting to make the extra money required to pay off the house that he couldn't afford, but bought anyway, in order to get you away from the old neighborhood when he saw the violence and crime increasing. When you complained that he "wasn't there when you needed him," it wasn't his choice-he was out earning the money to pay your tuition while you whined to your friends about how he didn't care about you or understand you.
When he came home from work after a hard day and seemed a little abrupt to you, you sulked and felt abused and unwanted. You didn’t know that yet another case had been thrown out of court due to some legal technicality after he risked his ass making the arrest; or that he had been hauled down to the civilian complaint review board again on some unwarranted charge because his accuser knew that lodging charges against the officer can be helpful to the defense in a criminal prosecution; or that an overzealous boss who never worked in a combat zone before was on his back over some petty rules infraction.
Maybe your pop is at fault for not sharing his job-related problems with his family. Maybe we all are. Maybe in our efforts to protect our loved ones from our frustrations and pain, we fail to communicate to tell them the very facts which would help them to understand our anger.
Perhaps you would have understood if your father was a “hollerer,” one of those cops whose wife always complains that he “takes the job home with him,” the guy who yells and rants and gets it off his chest and then goes back the next day to do the job again. Maybe your pop needed that kind of ventilation to void himself of the frustration he felt, and the humiliation and painful criticism of his work at the hands of the self-styled “community leaders,” who by their visible and vocal presence purport to represent a community whose decent, hard-working people do not share their views of the police, but who are more concerned with day-to-day existence and survival in a poverty area than they are in politics or community affairs.
When he came home late for dinner with a few drinks on his breath, maybe he had to stop off so that he could open his heart about some painful aspect of the job to brother officers who could understand what he was saying, rather than to inflict pain on those of you who he chose to protect. Perhaps he underestimated the strength of you and your mother, who might have willingly shared the pain and commiserated with him; or perhaps it would have been too much for you to handle. Who knows.
Your father has listened to the station-house rhetoric for years. He knows the old timers who claim to have given up, but who still fight you to get up the stairs first on a gun run; he knows the young buffalos who bitch beyond reasonable bitching but still do the job; and he knows the angries, the men who never seem to feel good about themselves because of the seemingly endless struggle against an unrealistic bureaucracy that demands so much of them and offers so little in the way of reward or compensation. After all they are “only” cops.
Your father has sat in the back room of the precinct and listened to the negative remarks and ethnic slurs of his colleagues which, to an outside observer might indicate a deep-rooted hatred for the people of the community. But he tolerates the remarks, not because he’s afraid to take a stance, but because he knows that cop’s true feelings, and that the same cop who is doing the bad mouthing would not hesitate for one instant to crawl into a burning tenement and risk his life to save a child of the same ethnic minority which he was defaming a few hours before.
He has shared the joy of birth - in fact, there are kids walking around the neighborhood bearing his first name, just as you do - because he delivered their mothers of babies in a taxicab or in an overcrowded sweltering tenement apartment. He has smiled with his people, and he has grieved over the deaths, the shameful waste of precious life, which is part of the life style of his community.
He has stood in the rain with tears streaming down his face as they buried yet another of his brothers who was killed in the line of duty. You never heard about it, but he lost a piece of himself each time it happened, and it happened far too many times.
Your “only a cop” description tells me that perhaps you think your old man isn’t too smart; yet he had the wisdom to insulate you from the hardships and hurts of his life and to try and raise you in an atmosphere of normalcy that was denied him for at least eight hours a day for the greater part of his adult life.
Now son I’ll get off your case. I can understand your feelings, and so can your old man, believe it or not. I am not looking to lay any guilt trip on you. Maybe your father didn’t talk to you enough. Maybe you weren’t listening. As the song says, “There ain’t no good guys and there ain’t no bad guys.” But I’d like you to take a step back and take a good look at your old man again. You’re looking at a man who has seen more of the evil and negative side of life than anyone else you have ever known, and yet he is still able to be sweet and gentle when the time is right to be soft.
He is a strong man, with a strength born of surviving a steady diet of painful episodes, any one of which might shatter a lesser man. He has been through the fire that can destroy or purify, and he has emerged as tempered steel. Try talking to him sometime about the theory you have learned on the way to your master’s degree.
You missed something somewhere along the line in your education if you can say that as a working cop your father "never did anything important.” Maybe if you can communicate with your pop and combine your formal learning with his street wisdom and knowledge of the real world, you can get something to get that will give you the impetus to effect the changes necessary to create a viable criminal justice system at some point in the future. The one we have now isn't working too well, I’m afraid. It’s you and the people like you who will have to be the catalyst for change.
Just remember as you proceed in your career that your pop is, as all cops are, part of the thin blue line that each day preserves our civilization as a misguided society systematically places frustrating stumbling blocks in his way while protecting the rights of the criminal element and virtually ignoring the rights of their victims. It’s an awesome job, and yet he can still come home at the end of a tour and kiss mom on the cheek, ask you how things went in school, go on with his life, and go back into the pits again tomorrow. I guess being “only a cop” is a pretty worthwhile thing to be.
Harry T. O’Reilly, known to his friends as “Harry-O,” is the director of investigative services training and educating project, Aurora, Illinois. He commutes frequently from New York City, where he is an adjunct assistant professor in the Department of Law and Police Science at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. Since his retirement in 1977, he has been affiliated with the Criminal Justice Center of John Jay College and serves as the director of investigative services.
A 20 year veteran of the New York City Police Department, Mr. O’Reilly served as a Detective Supervisor in robbery, burglary, homicide and sex crime units. He was decorated 23 times for outstanding police work and had published numerous articles, texts, movies and television scripts dealing with police related subjects. He also lectures to police audiences throughout the country.
This article originally appeared in the “Police Badge” magazine, of which Mr. O’Reilly was an Associate Editor.
This long, passionate, very well written monologue, should be read through to the end by every active and retired public safety officer, every news reporter and actually by every citizen of this nation. Please read it and forward it to all you can.
Proud of my career,
Ken B
Only a Cop By Harry T. O'Reilly
I was at a cocktail party recently in Manhattan and my host, in efforts to get conversation going between people with mutual interests, introduced me to a shiny, well-groomed young man who had recently earned his master's degree in criminal justice. When he learned that I was a retired cop who was now teaching at John Jay College, he remarked that his father was a cop. When I asked where his father worked, he replied, "Oh, you wouldn't know him. He never did anything important. He's only a cop in the 32nd Precinct."
My host saw the look on my face and before I could put my drink down so both hands could be free to choke him, he whisked the kid off to a neutral corner to protect him, rushed back, and begged me to forget about it. I couldn't, so I'm writing this column in the hope this message will reach that young man and so many people like him who are so quick to minimize the role of the working policeman in our society.
I've never worked in the 32nd Precinct, and I don't personally know any cops who do; but I've visited there a few times, much against my will, when I was "flown" in to supervise a detail of men who were supplementing the precinct's manpower during various crises over the years, and I know what it is like to work there. I don't know that kid's old man, but I do know policemen, and I know that whether your beat is in New York City's Harlem district or in 3 suburb of Los Angeles, the nature of the job doesn't vary that much. The volume of activity may be greater or less, and the surroundings may appear to be different, but the dangers and the problems and the stresses and the heartaches are very much the same.
Listen closely, son, I'm going to tell you about your father. Your reference to him as "only a cop" upset the hell out of me, because "only a cop" implies a sense of failure or lack of achievement because he's not a sergeant or lieutenant or higher. How many brothers and sisters do you have? Did grandpa die and leave you a ton of money? If not, are you aware of the financial realities of raising and educating a family? Do you have any idea of how difficult the competition is to be promoted in an occupation where there are limited vacancies and opportunities for advancement? Are you aware that if you have to work a second, and sometimes and third job to make ends meet, that maybe you are too weary to study or to attend promotion-tutorial classes? Are you aware that for many men, being "only a cop" can be so fulfilling that there may be no desire to be promoted?
Have you ever noticed those green, white and blue bars over your father's shield? Have you ever asked what they represent? I can assure you, he didn't get them in a Cracker Jacks box. Each one of them represents a superior achievement in a job where bravery, courage, danger and brilliant police work are considered routine.
While the chiefs and bosses were sitting in headquarters sending down orders to "use restraint" and while the sociologists were trying to explain (if not to justify) why people were rioting and looting, he was more concerned with staying alive as boards, bricks and rifle fire came down from the rooftops. Despite his own fears, he was very careful as he fired his revolver towards the rooftop not to hit one of the innocent, curious, decent people who struck their heads out of the windows of the apartments where they had barricaded themselves in fear.
He never told you about the time when half a cinder block thrown by a "social protester" crashed through the roof of the radio car, narrowly missing his head as he and his partner drove along a side street on patrol.
He never told you about the rats, the pissy hallways, the fights or the dead babies. You never knew that when you were a kid he wrestled with you on the living room floor while the Popeye cartoons blared out of the television set that a few hours earlier he was wrestling around on a filthy sidewall; with someone who was intent on taking his pistol from him and blowing his head off.
You wonder why he didn't show too much emotion when you cut your hand playing ball and had to get stitches. Perhaps he has become jaded to pain and suffering. Perhaps he felt that your hurt was small in comparison to the accident which he handled the night before where he saw brains splattered across a windshield and a severed arm and smelled fiery death. Perhaps you should be proud and grateful that after that he still had enough feeling left to kiss the boo-boo and hug you and pat your head, brief though the moment of tenderness may have been.
When you complained of him "never being home," he was usually out moonlighting to make the extra money required to pay off the house that he couldn't afford, but bought anyway, in order to get you away from the old neighborhood when he saw the violence and crime increasing. When you complained that he "wasn't there when you needed him," it wasn't his choice-he was out earning the money to pay your tuition while you whined to your friends about how he didn't care about you or understand you.
When he came home from work after a hard day and seemed a little abrupt to you, you sulked and felt abused and unwanted. You didn’t know that yet another case had been thrown out of court due to some legal technicality after he risked his ass making the arrest; or that he had been hauled down to the civilian complaint review board again on some unwarranted charge because his accuser knew that lodging charges against the officer can be helpful to the defense in a criminal prosecution; or that an overzealous boss who never worked in a combat zone before was on his back over some petty rules infraction.
Maybe your pop is at fault for not sharing his job-related problems with his family. Maybe we all are. Maybe in our efforts to protect our loved ones from our frustrations and pain, we fail to communicate to tell them the very facts which would help them to understand our anger.
Perhaps you would have understood if your father was a “hollerer,” one of those cops whose wife always complains that he “takes the job home with him,” the guy who yells and rants and gets it off his chest and then goes back the next day to do the job again. Maybe your pop needed that kind of ventilation to void himself of the frustration he felt, and the humiliation and painful criticism of his work at the hands of the self-styled “community leaders,” who by their visible and vocal presence purport to represent a community whose decent, hard-working people do not share their views of the police, but who are more concerned with day-to-day existence and survival in a poverty area than they are in politics or community affairs.
When he came home late for dinner with a few drinks on his breath, maybe he had to stop off so that he could open his heart about some painful aspect of the job to brother officers who could understand what he was saying, rather than to inflict pain on those of you who he chose to protect. Perhaps he underestimated the strength of you and your mother, who might have willingly shared the pain and commiserated with him; or perhaps it would have been too much for you to handle. Who knows.
Your father has listened to the station-house rhetoric for years. He knows the old timers who claim to have given up, but who still fight you to get up the stairs first on a gun run; he knows the young buffalos who bitch beyond reasonable bitching but still do the job; and he knows the angries, the men who never seem to feel good about themselves because of the seemingly endless struggle against an unrealistic bureaucracy that demands so much of them and offers so little in the way of reward or compensation. After all they are “only” cops.
Your father has sat in the back room of the precinct and listened to the negative remarks and ethnic slurs of his colleagues which, to an outside observer might indicate a deep-rooted hatred for the people of the community. But he tolerates the remarks, not because he’s afraid to take a stance, but because he knows that cop’s true feelings, and that the same cop who is doing the bad mouthing would not hesitate for one instant to crawl into a burning tenement and risk his life to save a child of the same ethnic minority which he was defaming a few hours before.
He has shared the joy of birth - in fact, there are kids walking around the neighborhood bearing his first name, just as you do - because he delivered their mothers of babies in a taxicab or in an overcrowded sweltering tenement apartment. He has smiled with his people, and he has grieved over the deaths, the shameful waste of precious life, which is part of the life style of his community.
He has stood in the rain with tears streaming down his face as they buried yet another of his brothers who was killed in the line of duty. You never heard about it, but he lost a piece of himself each time it happened, and it happened far too many times.
Your “only a cop” description tells me that perhaps you think your old man isn’t too smart; yet he had the wisdom to insulate you from the hardships and hurts of his life and to try and raise you in an atmosphere of normalcy that was denied him for at least eight hours a day for the greater part of his adult life.
Now son I’ll get off your case. I can understand your feelings, and so can your old man, believe it or not. I am not looking to lay any guilt trip on you. Maybe your father didn’t talk to you enough. Maybe you weren’t listening. As the song says, “There ain’t no good guys and there ain’t no bad guys.” But I’d like you to take a step back and take a good look at your old man again. You’re looking at a man who has seen more of the evil and negative side of life than anyone else you have ever known, and yet he is still able to be sweet and gentle when the time is right to be soft.
He is a strong man, with a strength born of surviving a steady diet of painful episodes, any one of which might shatter a lesser man. He has been through the fire that can destroy or purify, and he has emerged as tempered steel. Try talking to him sometime about the theory you have learned on the way to your master’s degree.
You missed something somewhere along the line in your education if you can say that as a working cop your father "never did anything important.” Maybe if you can communicate with your pop and combine your formal learning with his street wisdom and knowledge of the real world, you can get something to get that will give you the impetus to effect the changes necessary to create a viable criminal justice system at some point in the future. The one we have now isn't working too well, I’m afraid. It’s you and the people like you who will have to be the catalyst for change.
Just remember as you proceed in your career that your pop is, as all cops are, part of the thin blue line that each day preserves our civilization as a misguided society systematically places frustrating stumbling blocks in his way while protecting the rights of the criminal element and virtually ignoring the rights of their victims. It’s an awesome job, and yet he can still come home at the end of a tour and kiss mom on the cheek, ask you how things went in school, go on with his life, and go back into the pits again tomorrow. I guess being “only a cop” is a pretty worthwhile thing to be.
Harry T. O’Reilly, known to his friends as “Harry-O,” is the director of investigative services training and educating project, Aurora, Illinois. He commutes frequently from New York City, where he is an adjunct assistant professor in the Department of Law and Police Science at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. Since his retirement in 1977, he has been affiliated with the Criminal Justice Center of John Jay College and serves as the director of investigative services.
A 20 year veteran of the New York City Police Department, Mr. O’Reilly served as a Detective Supervisor in robbery, burglary, homicide and sex crime units. He was decorated 23 times for outstanding police work and had published numerous articles, texts, movies and television scripts dealing with police related subjects. He also lectures to police audiences throughout the country.
This article originally appeared in the “Police Badge” magazine, of which Mr. O’Reilly was an Associate Editor.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
An old Italian man and his tomatoes in the garden joke
An old Italian man lived alone in the country. It was Spring and he wanted to dig his tomato garden, as he had done every year, but it was very hard work for the aging man as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was currently in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:
Dear Vincent,
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If only you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.
Love Dad
A few days later he received a letter from his son:
Dear Dad,
Not for nothing, but don't dig up that garden. That's where I buried the BODIES.
Love Vinnie
At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived at the old man's house and dug up the entire area. However, they didn't find any bodies, so they apologized to the old man and left.
That same day the old man received another letter from his son.
Dear Dad,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love Vinnie
Dear Vincent,
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If only you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.
Love Dad
A few days later he received a letter from his son:
Dear Dad,
Not for nothing, but don't dig up that garden. That's where I buried the BODIES.
Love Vinnie
At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived at the old man's house and dug up the entire area. However, they didn't find any bodies, so they apologized to the old man and left.
That same day the old man received another letter from his son.
Dear Dad,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love Vinnie
Two engineering students and a girl - joke
Two engineering students were walking across a university campus when one said, "Where did you get such a great bike?"
The second engineer replied, "Well, I was walking along yesterday, minding my own business, when a beautiful woman rode up on this bike, threw it to the ground, took off all her clothes and said, "Take what you want."
The first engineer nodded approvingly and said, "Good choice; the clothes probably wouldn't have fit you anyway."
The second engineer replied, "Well, I was walking along yesterday, minding my own business, when a beautiful woman rode up on this bike, threw it to the ground, took off all her clothes and said, "Take what you want."
The first engineer nodded approvingly and said, "Good choice; the clothes probably wouldn't have fit you anyway."
Girl at the Doctors Office - joke
A girl goes into the doctor's office for a checkup. As she takes off her blouse, the doctor notices a red 'H' on her chest. "How did you get that mark on your chest?" asks the doctor. "Oh, my boyfriend went to Harvard and he's so proud of it he never takes off his Harvard sweatshirt, even when we make love," she replies.
A couple of days later, another girl comes in for a checkup. As she takes off her blouse, he notices a blue 'Y' on her chest. "How did you get that mark on your chest?" asks the doctor. "Oh, my boyfriend went to Yale and he's so proud of it that he never takes off his Yale sweatshirt, even when we make love," she replies.
A couple of days later, another girl comes in for a checkup. As she takes off her blouse, he notices a green 'M' on her chest. "Do you have a boyfriend at Michigan?" asks the doctor.
"No, but I have a girlfriend at Wisconsin, Why do you ask?"
College Graduate Joke
The College graduate with a science degree asks, "Why does it work?"
The College graduate with an engineering degree asks, "How does it work?"
The College graduate with an accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?"
The College graduate with an arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with that?"
The College graduate with an engineering degree asks, "How does it work?"
The College graduate with an accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?"
The College graduate with an arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with that?"
Monday, June 29, 2015
Funny Paraprosdokians by Winston Churchill (who loved them)
Winston Churchill loved Paraprosdokians which are figures of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected; frequently humorous.
1. Where there's a will, I want to be in it.
2. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on my list.
3. Since light travels faster than sound, some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
4. If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.
5. We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.
6. War does not determine who is right - only who is left.
7. Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit . . . Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.
8. To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.
9. I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.
10. In filling out an application, where it says, 'In case of emergency, Notify:' I put 'DOCTOR'.
11. Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.
12. You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.
13. I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not so sure.
14. To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.
15. Going to synagogue doesn't make you a Jew any more than standing in a garage makes you a mechanic.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Actual Complaints From Dissatisfied Customers On Vacation
These Are Actual Complaints Received By "Thomas Cook Vacations" From Dissatisfied Customers:
1. "They should not allow topless sunbathing on the beach. It was very distracting for my husband who just wanted to relax."
2. "On my holiday to Goa in India, I was disgusted to find that almost every restaurant served curry. I don't like spicy food."
3. "We went on holiday to Spain and had a problem with the taxi drivers as they were all Spanish."
4. "We booked an excursion to a water park but no-one told us we had to bring our own swimsuits and towels. We assumed it would be included in the price."
5. "The beach was too sandy. We had to clean everything when we returned to our room."
6. "We found the sand was not like the sand in the brochure. Your brochure shows the sand as white but it was more yellow."
7. "It's lazy of the local shopkeepers in Puerto Vallartato close in the afternoons. I often needed to buy things during 'siesta' time -- this should be banned."
8. "No-one told us there would be fish in the water. The children were scared."
9. "Although the brochure said that there was a fully equipped kitchen, there was no egg-slicer in the drawers."
10. "I think it should be explained in the brochure that the local convenience store does not sell proper biscuits like custard creams or ginger nuts."
11. "The roads were uneven and bumpy, so we could not read the local guide book during the bus ride to the resort. Because of this, we were unaware of many things that would have made our holiday more fun."
12. "It took us nine hours to fly home from Jamaica to England. It took the Americans only three hours to get home. This seems unfair."
13. "I compared the size of our one-bedroom suite to our friends' three-bedroom and ours was significantly smaller."
14. "The brochure stated: 'No hairdressers at the resort.' We're trainee hairdressers and we think they knew and made us wait longer for service."
15. "When we were in Spain, there were too many Spanish people there. The receptionist spoke Spanish, the food was Spanish. No one told us that there would be so many foreigners."
16. "We had to line up outside to catch the boat and there was no air-conditioning."
17. "It is your duty as a tour operator to advise us of noisy or unruly guests before we travel."
18. "I was bitten by a mosquito. The brochure did not mention mosquitoes."
19. "My fiancée and I requested twin-beds when we booked, but instead we were placed in a room with a king bed. We now hold you responsible and want to be re-reimbursed for the fact that I became pregnant. This would not have happened if you had put us in the room that we booked."
1. "They should not allow topless sunbathing on the beach. It was very distracting for my husband who just wanted to relax."
2. "On my holiday to Goa in India, I was disgusted to find that almost every restaurant served curry. I don't like spicy food."
3. "We went on holiday to Spain and had a problem with the taxi drivers as they were all Spanish."
4. "We booked an excursion to a water park but no-one told us we had to bring our own swimsuits and towels. We assumed it would be included in the price."
5. "The beach was too sandy. We had to clean everything when we returned to our room."
6. "We found the sand was not like the sand in the brochure. Your brochure shows the sand as white but it was more yellow."
7. "It's lazy of the local shopkeepers in Puerto Vallartato close in the afternoons. I often needed to buy things during 'siesta' time -- this should be banned."
8. "No-one told us there would be fish in the water. The children were scared."
9. "Although the brochure said that there was a fully equipped kitchen, there was no egg-slicer in the drawers."
10. "I think it should be explained in the brochure that the local convenience store does not sell proper biscuits like custard creams or ginger nuts."
11. "The roads were uneven and bumpy, so we could not read the local guide book during the bus ride to the resort. Because of this, we were unaware of many things that would have made our holiday more fun."
12. "It took us nine hours to fly home from Jamaica to England. It took the Americans only three hours to get home. This seems unfair."
13. "I compared the size of our one-bedroom suite to our friends' three-bedroom and ours was significantly smaller."
14. "The brochure stated: 'No hairdressers at the resort.' We're trainee hairdressers and we think they knew and made us wait longer for service."
15. "When we were in Spain, there were too many Spanish people there. The receptionist spoke Spanish, the food was Spanish. No one told us that there would be so many foreigners."
16. "We had to line up outside to catch the boat and there was no air-conditioning."
17. "It is your duty as a tour operator to advise us of noisy or unruly guests before we travel."
18. "I was bitten by a mosquito. The brochure did not mention mosquitoes."
19. "My fiancée and I requested twin-beds when we booked, but instead we were placed in a room with a king bed. We now hold you responsible and want to be re-reimbursed for the fact that I became pregnant. This would not have happened if you had put us in the room that we booked."
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Bums, Bare Breats and Strawberries Joke.
A bum is selling strawberries door to door to housewives.... one attractive woman opens her door to the bum and seductively bares her breast... the bum starts crying...
The housewife "what's wrong you poor man?"
Bum "I've lost my home, my family, my job and now I'm going to get fucked out of my strawberries!"
The housewife "what's wrong you poor man?"
Bum "I've lost my home, my family, my job and now I'm going to get fucked out of my strawberries!"
Alligator Joke
Two alligators are sitting on the edge of a swamp. The small one turns to the big one and says, “I don't understand how you can be so much bigger than me. We are the same age; we were the same size as kids. I just don't get it.”
Well, says the big alligator,“what have you been eating? “Lawyers, same as you,” replies the small alligator.
“Hmmmm. Well, where do you catch them?” “Down at that law firm on the edge of the swamp.”
“Same here. Hmmm. How do you catch them?” Well, I crawl under a BMW and wait for someone to unlock the door. Then I jump out, bite them, shake the crap out of them, and eat them!
“Ah!” says the big alligator, “I think I see your problem. By the time you get done shaking' the crap out of a lawyer, there's nothin' left but an asshole and a briefcase.”
Saturday, August 31, 2013
President Obama walks into a local bank - political joke
President Obama walks into a local bank in Chicago to cash a check. He is surrounded by Secret Service agents. As he approaches the cashier he says, "Good morning Ma'am, could you please cash this check for me?"
Cashier:
"It would be my pleasure sir. Could you please show me your ID?"
Obama:
"Truthfully, I did not bring my ID with me as I didn't think there was any need to. I am President Barack Obama, the President of the United States of AMERICA !!!!"
Cashier:
"Yes sir, I know who you are, but with all the regulations and monitoring of the banks because of 9/11, impostors, forgers, money laundering, and bad mortgage underwriting not to mention requirements of the Dodd/Frank legislation, etc., I must insist on seeing ID."
Obama:
"Just ask anyone here at the bank who I am and they will tell you. Everybody knows who I am."
Cashier:
"I am sorry Mr. President but these are the bank rules and I must follow them."
Obama:
"I am urging you, please, to cash this check. I need to buy a gift for Michelle for Valentine's Day"
Cashier:
"Look Mr. President, here is an example of what we can do. One day, Tiger Woods came into one of our bank branches without ID. To prove he was Tiger Woods he pulled out his putter and made a beautiful shot across the bank into a coffee cup. With that shot we knew him to be Tiger Woods and cashed
his check."
"Another time, Andre Agassi came into the same place without ID. He pulled out his tennis racquet and made a fabulous shot where the tennis ball landed in a coffee cup. With that shot we cashed his check. So, Mr. President, what can you do to prove that it is you, and only you, as the President of the United States?"
Obama:
Obama stands there thinking, and thinking, and finally says, "Honestly, my mind is a total blank...there is nothing that comes to my mind. I can't think of a single thing. I have absolutely no idea what to do and I don't have a clue."
Cashier:
"Will that be large or small bills, Mr. President?
Cashier:
"It would be my pleasure sir. Could you please show me your ID?"
Obama:
"Truthfully, I did not bring my ID with me as I didn't think there was any need to. I am President Barack Obama, the President of the United States of AMERICA !!!!"
Cashier:
"Yes sir, I know who you are, but with all the regulations and monitoring of the banks because of 9/11, impostors, forgers, money laundering, and bad mortgage underwriting not to mention requirements of the Dodd/Frank legislation, etc., I must insist on seeing ID."
Obama:
"Just ask anyone here at the bank who I am and they will tell you. Everybody knows who I am."
Cashier:
"I am sorry Mr. President but these are the bank rules and I must follow them."
Obama:
"I am urging you, please, to cash this check. I need to buy a gift for Michelle for Valentine's Day"
Cashier:
"Look Mr. President, here is an example of what we can do. One day, Tiger Woods came into one of our bank branches without ID. To prove he was Tiger Woods he pulled out his putter and made a beautiful shot across the bank into a coffee cup. With that shot we knew him to be Tiger Woods and cashed
his check."
"Another time, Andre Agassi came into the same place without ID. He pulled out his tennis racquet and made a fabulous shot where the tennis ball landed in a coffee cup. With that shot we cashed his check. So, Mr. President, what can you do to prove that it is you, and only you, as the President of the United States?"
Obama:
Obama stands there thinking, and thinking, and finally says, "Honestly, my mind is a total blank...there is nothing that comes to my mind. I can't think of a single thing. I have absolutely no idea what to do and I don't have a clue."
Cashier:
"Will that be large or small bills, Mr. President?
Monday, June 17, 2013
Funny Dating Ads for Old Folks and Seniors
Ads seen in "The Villages" Florida newspaper. Who says seniors don't have a sense of humor?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
FOXY LADY:
Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty, 80's, slim, 5'4' (used to be 5'6'), searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion.
Matching white shoes and belt a plus.
----------------------------------------------------
LONG-TERM COMMITMENT :
Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband, looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot. Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.
----------------------------------------------------
SERENITY NOW:
I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation. If you are the silent type, let's get together, take our hearing aids out and enjoy quiet times.
----------------------------------------------------
WINNING SMILE:
Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser to share rare steaks, corn on the cob and caramel candy.
----------------------------------------------------
BEATLES OR STONES?
I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights and still like to play the guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let's get together and listen to my eight-track tapes.
----------------------------------------------------
MEMORIES:
I can usually remember Monday through Thursday. If you can remember Friday, Saturday and Sunday, let's put our two heads together.
----------------------------------------------------
MINT CONDITION:
Male, 1932 model, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Not in running condition, but walks well.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
FOXY LADY:
Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty, 80's, slim, 5'4' (used to be 5'6'), searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion.
Matching white shoes and belt a plus.
----------------------------------------------------
LONG-TERM COMMITMENT :
Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband, looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot. Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.
----------------------------------------------------
SERENITY NOW:
I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation. If you are the silent type, let's get together, take our hearing aids out and enjoy quiet times.
----------------------------------------------------
WINNING SMILE:
Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser to share rare steaks, corn on the cob and caramel candy.
----------------------------------------------------
BEATLES OR STONES?
I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights and still like to play the guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let's get together and listen to my eight-track tapes.
----------------------------------------------------
MEMORIES:
I can usually remember Monday through Thursday. If you can remember Friday, Saturday and Sunday, let's put our two heads together.
----------------------------------------------------
MINT CONDITION:
Male, 1932 model, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Not in running condition, but walks well.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Problem with 2013 tax return
The IRS sent my Tax forms back! AGAIN!!!
I guess it was because of my response to the question : "List all dependents?"
I replied:"12 million illegal immigrants, 3 million crack heads, 42 million unemployable people on food stamps, 2 million people in over 243 prisons, Half of Mexico and 535 fools in the US House and Senate.”
I guess it was because of my response to the question : "List all dependents?"
I replied:"12 million illegal immigrants, 3 million crack heads, 42 million unemployable people on food stamps, 2 million people in over 243 prisons, Half of Mexico and 535 fools in the US House and Senate.”
What do you want to be when you grow up
Teacher asks the kids in class: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Little' Johnny: "I wanna be a billionaire, going to the most expensive clubs, take the best bitch, give her a Ferrari worth over a million bucks, an apartment in Copacabana, a mansion in Paris, a jet to travel through Europe, an Infinite Visa Card and to make love to her three times a day".
The teacher, shocked, and not knowing what to do with the bad behavior of the child decides not to give any importance to what he said and then continues the lesson… … and you Tanya?
"I wanna be Little Johnny's bitch!"
Little' Johnny: "I wanna be a billionaire, going to the most expensive clubs, take the best bitch, give her a Ferrari worth over a million bucks, an apartment in Copacabana, a mansion in Paris, a jet to travel through Europe, an Infinite Visa Card and to make love to her three times a day".
The teacher, shocked, and not knowing what to do with the bad behavior of the child decides not to give any importance to what he said and then continues the lesson… … and you Tanya?
"I wanna be Little Johnny's bitch!"
Boy is English hard!
You think English is easy?? This took a lot of work to put together!
1) The bandage was wound around the wound.
2) The farm was used to produce produce.
3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4) We must polish the Polish furniture.
5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.
8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10) I did not object to the object.
11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
13) They were too close to the door to close it.
14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
18) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
19) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
20) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?
21) If only you knew what the new gnu knew
Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France . Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which, an alarm goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.
PS. - Why doesn't 'Buick' rhyme with 'quick' ?
1) The bandage was wound around the wound.
2) The farm was used to produce produce.
3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4) We must polish the Polish furniture.
5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.
8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10) I did not object to the object.
11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
13) They were too close to the door to close it.
14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
18) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
19) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
20) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?
21) If only you knew what the new gnu knew
Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France . Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which, an alarm goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.
PS. - Why doesn't 'Buick' rhyme with 'quick' ?
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Sandy Hook Shooting Didn't Happen [PROOF] - crazy email
Subject: Sandy Hook Shooting Didn't Happen [PROOF] - crazy email
Email Sent by: VoiceOfFreedom@Inter.net
Looks like the Sandy Hook Shooting brought out more crazy's other than just the shooter. Don't believe me? read this!
Excerpt from Muad'Dib's January 7th, 2013 Critical Mass Radio interview:
...They used a poster child for this to get everybody's sympathy and to get everybody's emotions up so that they could hopefully bring in a gun ban. They used a little poster child, a little blonde-haired blue-eyed six year old girl. She was the face, the poster child. She was supposedly killed along with the other 19 six year olds and seven year olds at Sandy Hook. Three days later Obama was there doing a photo op and she's sitting on his knee. She's supposed to be dead, used as a poster child, this little girl died - she's sitting on Obama's knee three days later. The same little girl.
And then they have her parents interviewed. It shows that they're all actors. It never really happened, because the guy that was supposedly her dad, is shown in the video where he's to the side and he's laughing and joking with other people and then he's called up in front of the camera. He's off to the left. Then he's called to the center, to the focus of the camera to be interviewed and to give his speech about Sandy Hook and about his daughter. And he goes from on the side from laughing and joking with everybody, he comes up to the center and ... he takes the joking, smiling face off and you can see him physically trying to force his face to look sad and then he starts talking about how his daughter's been killed. They're actors. There were no bodies.
It was a made for TV drama to try to ram through the gun control laws, because they want to kill the American people and they can't kill armed people. That's why Hitler disarmed the Germans, it's why Stalin disarmed the Russians, it's why chairman Mao disarmed the Chinese and they killed between them something like 120 million of their own people. And that's what they want to do in America and they can't do it because the people have the Second Amendment and they have guns. So they have to do all of this, and they'll keep doing it. There will be more incidents like this, which are made for television, until they manage to persuade the American people to give up their guns. And then they'll start killing the Americans. Because the Americans are the only people stopping them from doing what they want to do already. They know they can't put their next phase, which is reducing the world's population, they can't put that phase into operation whilst the Americans have got millions of guns.
***
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Email Sent by: VoiceOfFreedom@Inter.net
Looks like the Sandy Hook Shooting brought out more crazy's other than just the shooter. Don't believe me? read this!
Excerpt from Muad'Dib's January 7th, 2013 Critical Mass Radio interview:
...They used a poster child for this to get everybody's sympathy and to get everybody's emotions up so that they could hopefully bring in a gun ban. They used a little poster child, a little blonde-haired blue-eyed six year old girl. She was the face, the poster child. She was supposedly killed along with the other 19 six year olds and seven year olds at Sandy Hook. Three days later Obama was there doing a photo op and she's sitting on his knee. She's supposed to be dead, used as a poster child, this little girl died - she's sitting on Obama's knee three days later. The same little girl.
And then they have her parents interviewed. It shows that they're all actors. It never really happened, because the guy that was supposedly her dad, is shown in the video where he's to the side and he's laughing and joking with other people and then he's called up in front of the camera. He's off to the left. Then he's called to the center, to the focus of the camera to be interviewed and to give his speech about Sandy Hook and about his daughter. And he goes from on the side from laughing and joking with everybody, he comes up to the center and ... he takes the joking, smiling face off and you can see him physically trying to force his face to look sad and then he starts talking about how his daughter's been killed. They're actors. There were no bodies.
It was a made for TV drama to try to ram through the gun control laws, because they want to kill the American people and they can't kill armed people. That's why Hitler disarmed the Germans, it's why Stalin disarmed the Russians, it's why chairman Mao disarmed the Chinese and they killed between them something like 120 million of their own people. And that's what they want to do in America and they can't do it because the people have the Second Amendment and they have guns. So they have to do all of this, and they'll keep doing it. There will be more incidents like this, which are made for television, until they manage to persuade the American people to give up their guns. And then they'll start killing the Americans. Because the Americans are the only people stopping them from doing what they want to do already. They know they can't put their next phase, which is reducing the world's population, they can't put that phase into operation whilst the Americans have got millions of guns.
***
This message has no links to help it get through spam blockers. If you are interested in the subjects being discussed, please search the Web for more information.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Irish Sausages - funny Irish joke
Shamus and Murphy fancied a pint or two but didn't have a lot of money. Between them they could only raise the staggering sum of one Euro.
Murphy said 'Hang on, I have an idea.'
He went next door to the butcher's shop and came out with one large sausage.
Shamus said 'Are you crazy? Now we don't have any money at all!'
Murphy replied, 'Don't worry - just follow me.'
He went into the pub where he immediately ordered two pints of Guinness and two glasses of Jamieson Whiskey.
Shamus said 'Now you've lost it. Do you know how much trouble we will be in? We haven't got any money!!'
Murphy replied, with a smile. 'Don't worry, I have a plan. Cheers! '
They downed their Drinks. Murphy said, 'OK, I'll stick the sausage through my zipper and you go on your knees and put it in your mouth.'
The barman noticed them, went berserk, and threw them out.
They continued this, pub after pub, getting more and more drunk, all for free.
At the tenth pub Shamus said 'Murphy - I don't think I can do any more of this. I'm drunk and me knees are killing me!'
Murphy said, 'How do you think I feel? I can't even remember which pub I lost the sausage in.'
Murphy said 'Hang on, I have an idea.'
He went next door to the butcher's shop and came out with one large sausage.
Shamus said 'Are you crazy? Now we don't have any money at all!'
Murphy replied, 'Don't worry - just follow me.'
He went into the pub where he immediately ordered two pints of Guinness and two glasses of Jamieson Whiskey.
Shamus said 'Now you've lost it. Do you know how much trouble we will be in? We haven't got any money!!'
Murphy replied, with a smile. 'Don't worry, I have a plan. Cheers! '
They downed their Drinks. Murphy said, 'OK, I'll stick the sausage through my zipper and you go on your knees and put it in your mouth.'
The barman noticed them, went berserk, and threw them out.
They continued this, pub after pub, getting more and more drunk, all for free.
At the tenth pub Shamus said 'Murphy - I don't think I can do any more of this. I'm drunk and me knees are killing me!'
Murphy said, 'How do you think I feel? I can't even remember which pub I lost the sausage in.'
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Get Your Free Estate Planning Guide from LegalZoom - scam spam email from Legal Zoom
Subject: Get Your Free Estate Planning Guide from LegalZoom
Sent by: LegalZoom
Sent Via Email Address: legal@theastrogeek.com
Determination: Dishonest Spammer. Since legal zoom lets these dishonest people spam, who lie and cheat to beat spam filters, who can you not trust?
Here is the hidden text use by this legal zoom affiliate in order to defeat spam filters.
At the first gesture of morning, flies began stirring. Inman's eyes and the long wound at his neck drew them, and the sound of their wings and the touch of their feet were soon more potent than a yardful of roosters in rousing a man to wake. So he came to yet one more day in the hospital ward. He flapped the flies away with his hands and looked across the foot of his bed to an open triple-hung window. Ordinarily he could see to the red road and the oak tree and the low brick wall. And beyond them to a sweep of fields and flat piney woods that stretched to the western horizon. The view was a long one for the flatlands, the hospital having been built on the only swell within eyeshot. But it was too early yet for a vista. The window might as well have been painted grey. Had it not been too dim, Inman would have read to pass the time until breakfast, for the book he was reading had the effect of settling his mind. But he had burned up the last of his own candles reading to bring sleep the night before, and lamp oil was too scarce to be striking the hospital's lights for mere diversion. So he rose and dressed and sat in a ladderback chair, putting the gloomy room of beds and their broken occupants behind him. He flapped again at the flies and looked out the window at the first smear of foggy dawn and waited for the world to begin shaping up outside. The window was tall as a door, and he had imagined many times that it would open onto some other place and let him walk through and be there. During his first weeks in the hospital, he had been hardly able to move his head, and all that kept his mind occupied had been watching out the window and picturing the old green places he recollected from home. Childhood places. The damp creek bank where Indian pipes grew. The corner of a meadow favored by brown-and-black caterpillars in the fall. A hickory limb that overhung the lane, and from which he often watched his father driving cows down to the barn at dusk. They would pass underneath him, and then he would close his eyes and listen as the cupping sound of their hooves in the dirt grew fainter and fainter until it vanished into the calls of katydids and peepers. The window wanted only to take his thoughts back. Which was fine with him, for he had seen the metal face of the age and had been so stunned by it that when he thought into the future, all he could vision was a world from which everything he counted important had been banished or had willingly fled. By now he had stared at the window all through a late summer so hot and wet that the air both day and night felt like breathing through a dishrag, so damp it caused fresh sheets to sour under him and tiny black mushrooms to grow overnight from the limp pages of the book on his bedside table. Inman suspected that after such long examination, the grey window had finally said about all it had to say. That morning, though, it surprised him, for it brought to mind a lost memory of sitting in school, a similar tall window beside him framing a scene of pastures and low green ridges terracing up to the vast hump of Cold Mountain. It was September. The hayfield beyond the beaten dirt of the school playground stood pant-waist high, and the heads of grasses were turning yellow from need of cutting. The teacher was a round little man, hairless and pink of face. He owned but one rusty black suit of clothes and a pair of old overlarge dress boots that curled up at the toes and were so worn down that the heels were wedgelike. He stood at the front of the room rocking on the points. He talked at length through the morning about history, teaching the older students of grand wars fought in ancient England.
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