Thought for the Day
An elderly lady phoned her telephone company to report
that her telephone failed to ring when her friends
called -- and that on the few occasions when it did
ring, her pet dog always moaned right before the phone
rang.
The telephone repairman proceeded to the scene,
curious to see this psychic dog or senile elderly
lady. He climbed a nearby telephone pole, hooked in
his test set, and dialed the subscriber's house. The
phone didn't ring right away, but then the dog moaned
loudly and the telephone began to ring. Climbing down
from the pole, the telephone repairman found:
1. The dog was tied to the telephone system's ground
wire via a steel chain and collar.
2. The wire connection to the ground rod was loose.
3. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signaling current
when the phone number was called.
4. After a couple of such jolts, the dog would start
moaning and then urinate on himself and the ground.
5. The wet ground would complete the circuit, thus
causing the phone to ring.
Which goes to show that some problems can be fixed by
pissing and moaning.
~from the email bag
Friday, June 18
Sunday, June 13
Why Did the Chicken cross the Road?
~ The Strategy Page ~
Coalition Provisional Authority: The fact that the Iraqi chicken crossed the road affirmatively demonstrates that decision-making authority has been transferred to the chicken well in advance of the scheduled June 30th transition of power. From now on the chicken is responsible for its own decisions.
Halliburton: We were asked to help the chicken cross the road. Given the inherent risk of road crossing and the rarity of chickens, this operation will only cost the US government $326,004.
Muqtada al-Sadr: The chicken was a tool of the evil Coalition and will be killed.
US Army Military Police: We were directed to prepare the chicken to cross the road. As part of these preparations, individual soldiers ran over the chicken repeatedly and then plucked the chicken. We deeply regret the occurrence of any chicken rights violations.
Peshmerga: The chicken crossed the road, and will continue to cross the road, to show its independence and to transport the weapons it needs to defend itself. However, in future, to avoid problems, the chicken will be called a duck, and will wear a plastic bill.
1st Cav: The chicken was not authorized to cross the road without displaying two forms of picture identification. Thus, the chicken was appropriately detained and searched in accordance with current SOP?s. We apologize for any embarrassment to the chicken. As a result of this unfortunate incident, the command has instituted a gender sensitivity training program and all future chicken searches will be conducted by female soldiers.
Al Jazeera: The chicken was forced to cross the road multiple times at gunpoint by a large group of occupation soldiers, according to eye-witnesses. The chicken was then fired upon intentionally, in yet another example of the abuse of innocent Iraqi chickens.
Blackwater: We cannot confirm any involvement in the chicken-road-crossing incident.
Translators: Chicken he cross street because bad she tangle regulation. Future chicken table against my request.
U.S. Marine Corps: The chicken is dead.
Navy: The chicken upon crossing the road was painted and lashed to the curb.
Kerry: "The chicken crossed the road before it did not"
Baghdad Bob: The chicken never crossed the road! He is safe in Baghdad, miles from the marauding vehicles of the infidel! THERE IS NO ROAD!
USAF: "As you can see here in the target video, the bomb was locked onto the chicken...and there it goes...the chicken is still moving...still moving...and unfortunately passed out of the parameters of the guidance system so that the bomb completely missed it and hit the weasel instead. Gotta admit thought, it's impressive footage..."
~from the email bag
Thank you, Sean, the Marine Version made Dad spew his coffee~
~ The Strategy Page ~
Coalition Provisional Authority: The fact that the Iraqi chicken crossed the road affirmatively demonstrates that decision-making authority has been transferred to the chicken well in advance of the scheduled June 30th transition of power. From now on the chicken is responsible for its own decisions.
Halliburton: We were asked to help the chicken cross the road. Given the inherent risk of road crossing and the rarity of chickens, this operation will only cost the US government $326,004.
Muqtada al-Sadr: The chicken was a tool of the evil Coalition and will be killed.
US Army Military Police: We were directed to prepare the chicken to cross the road. As part of these preparations, individual soldiers ran over the chicken repeatedly and then plucked the chicken. We deeply regret the occurrence of any chicken rights violations.
Peshmerga: The chicken crossed the road, and will continue to cross the road, to show its independence and to transport the weapons it needs to defend itself. However, in future, to avoid problems, the chicken will be called a duck, and will wear a plastic bill.
1st Cav: The chicken was not authorized to cross the road without displaying two forms of picture identification. Thus, the chicken was appropriately detained and searched in accordance with current SOP?s. We apologize for any embarrassment to the chicken. As a result of this unfortunate incident, the command has instituted a gender sensitivity training program and all future chicken searches will be conducted by female soldiers.
Al Jazeera: The chicken was forced to cross the road multiple times at gunpoint by a large group of occupation soldiers, according to eye-witnesses. The chicken was then fired upon intentionally, in yet another example of the abuse of innocent Iraqi chickens.
Blackwater: We cannot confirm any involvement in the chicken-road-crossing incident.
Translators: Chicken he cross street because bad she tangle regulation. Future chicken table against my request.
U.S. Marine Corps: The chicken is dead.
Navy: The chicken upon crossing the road was painted and lashed to the curb.
Kerry: "The chicken crossed the road before it did not"
Baghdad Bob: The chicken never crossed the road! He is safe in Baghdad, miles from the marauding vehicles of the infidel! THERE IS NO ROAD!
USAF: "As you can see here in the target video, the bomb was locked onto the chicken...and there it goes...the chicken is still moving...still moving...and unfortunately passed out of the parameters of the guidance system so that the bomb completely missed it and hit the weasel instead. Gotta admit thought, it's impressive footage..."
~from the email bag
Thank you, Sean, the Marine Version made Dad spew his coffee~
Saturday, June 12
OFFICIAL 2004 DNC CONVENTION PROGRAM
6:00pm - Opening flag burning ceremony
6:30pm - Anti-war rally no. 1
6:40pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
7:00pm - Tribute theme to France
7:10pm - Collect offerings for al-Zawahri and al-Sadr defense fund
7:20pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
7:25pm - Tribute theme to Spain
7:45pm - Anti-war rally no. 2. (Moderated by Michael Moore)
8:00pm - John Kerry presents one side of the issues
8:25pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
8:30pm - Terrorist appeasement workshop
9:00pm - Gay marriage ceremony
9:30pm - * Intermission * (Refreshments hosted by Ted Kennedy)
10:00pm - Flag stomping and defacing ceremony
10:15pm - Re-enactment of Kerry's fake medal toss
10:30pm - Cameo by Dean 'Yeeearrrrrrrg!'
10:40pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
10:50pm - Pledge of allegiance to the UN
11:00pm - Double gay marriage ceremony
11:15pm - Maximizing Welfare workshop
11:20pm - John Kerry presents the other side of the issues
11:30pm - 'Free Saddam' pep rally
11:59pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
12:00am - Nomination of Democrat candidate
~Thanks to 'Shaman'
6:00pm - Opening flag burning ceremony
6:30pm - Anti-war rally no. 1
6:40pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
7:00pm - Tribute theme to France
7:10pm - Collect offerings for al-Zawahri and al-Sadr defense fund
7:20pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
7:25pm - Tribute theme to Spain
7:45pm - Anti-war rally no. 2. (Moderated by Michael Moore)
8:00pm - John Kerry presents one side of the issues
8:25pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
8:30pm - Terrorist appeasement workshop
9:00pm - Gay marriage ceremony
9:30pm - * Intermission * (Refreshments hosted by Ted Kennedy)
10:00pm - Flag stomping and defacing ceremony
10:15pm - Re-enactment of Kerry's fake medal toss
10:30pm - Cameo by Dean 'Yeeearrrrrrrg!'
10:40pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
10:50pm - Pledge of allegiance to the UN
11:00pm - Double gay marriage ceremony
11:15pm - Maximizing Welfare workshop
11:20pm - John Kerry presents the other side of the issues
11:30pm - 'Free Saddam' pep rally
11:59pm - Ted Kennedy proposes a toast
12:00am - Nomination of Democrat candidate
~Thanks to 'Shaman'
Friday, June 4
THIS ONE WILL NUDGE YOUR HEART~
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on
the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom.
When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets
and toss his coins into the jar. As a small boy I was
always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they
were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry
jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones
gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and
admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like
a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the
bedroom window.
When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen
table and roll the coins before taking them to the
bank. Taking the coins to the bank was always a big
production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box,
the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat
of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to
the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. "Those coins
are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son.
You're going to do better than me. This old mill
town's not going to hold you back." Also, each and
every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across
the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would
grin proudly. "These are for my son's college fund.
He'll never work at the mill
all his life like me!"
We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for
an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always
got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor
handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins
nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start
filling the jar again." He always let me drop the
first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around
with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other.
"You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and
quarters," he said. "But you'll get there. I'll see to
that."
The years passed, and I finished college and took a
job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents,
I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that
the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and
had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared
at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had
always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never
lectured me on the values of determination,
perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me
all these virtues far more eloquently than the most
flowery of words could have done.
When I married, I told my wife Susan about the
significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my
life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than
anything else, how much my dad had loved me. No matter
how rough things got at home, Dad continued to
doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer
when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to
serve driedbeans several times a week, not a single
dime was taken from the jar. To the contrary, as Dad looked
across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans
to make them more palatable, he became more determined
than ever to make a way out for me. "When you finish
college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening,
"You'll never have to eat beans again...unless you
want to."
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was
born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After
dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa,
taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began
to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's
arms."She probably needs to be changed," she said,
carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper
her. When Susan came back into the living room, there
was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica
back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into
the room. "Look," she said softly, her eyes directing
me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my
amazement, there, as if it had never been removed,
stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered
with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down
into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.
With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped
the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad,
carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room.
Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same
emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.
This truly touched my heart... I know it has yours as
well. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles
that we forget to count our blessings.Never
underestimate the power of your actions. With one
small gesture you can change a person's life, for
better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's
lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God
in others.
"The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or
touched - they must be felt with the heart."
~Helen Keller
In:
Happy moments, praise God.
Difficult moments, seek God.
Quiet moments, worship God.
Painful moments, trust God.
Every moment, thank God.
The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect he becomes an adolescent;
the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult;
the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise.
~Alden Nowlan
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on
the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom.
When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets
and toss his coins into the jar. As a small boy I was
always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they
were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry
jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones
gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and
admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like
a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the
bedroom window.
When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen
table and roll the coins before taking them to the
bank. Taking the coins to the bank was always a big
production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box,
the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat
of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to
the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. "Those coins
are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son.
You're going to do better than me. This old mill
town's not going to hold you back." Also, each and
every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across
the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would
grin proudly. "These are for my son's college fund.
He'll never work at the mill
all his life like me!"
We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for
an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always
got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor
handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins
nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start
filling the jar again." He always let me drop the
first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around
with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other.
"You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and
quarters," he said. "But you'll get there. I'll see to
that."
The years passed, and I finished college and took a
job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents,
I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that
the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and
had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared
at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had
always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never
lectured me on the values of determination,
perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me
all these virtues far more eloquently than the most
flowery of words could have done.
When I married, I told my wife Susan about the
significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my
life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than
anything else, how much my dad had loved me. No matter
how rough things got at home, Dad continued to
doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer
when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to
serve driedbeans several times a week, not a single
dime was taken from the jar. To the contrary, as Dad looked
across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans
to make them more palatable, he became more determined
than ever to make a way out for me. "When you finish
college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening,
"You'll never have to eat beans again...unless you
want to."
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was
born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After
dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa,
taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began
to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's
arms."She probably needs to be changed," she said,
carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper
her. When Susan came back into the living room, there
was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica
back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into
the room. "Look," she said softly, her eyes directing
me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my
amazement, there, as if it had never been removed,
stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered
with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down
into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.
With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped
the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad,
carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room.
Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same
emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.
This truly touched my heart... I know it has yours as
well. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles
that we forget to count our blessings.Never
underestimate the power of your actions. With one
small gesture you can change a person's life, for
better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's
lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God
in others.
"The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or
touched - they must be felt with the heart."
~Helen Keller
In:
Happy moments, praise God.
Difficult moments, seek God.
Quiet moments, worship God.
Painful moments, trust God.
Every moment, thank God.
The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect he becomes an adolescent;
the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult;
the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise.
~Alden Nowlan
Friday, April 23
AWESOME JOKE FROM THE EMAIL BAG~
A very attractive lady goes up to a bar in a quiet
rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the bartender
who comes over immediately. When he arrives, she
seductively signals that he should bring his face
closer to hers. When he does, she begins to gently
caress his full beard. "Are you the manager?" she
asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
Actually, No," the man replies. "Can you get him for
me? I need to speak to him," she says, running her
hands beyond his beard and into his hair. Can't,"
breathes the bartender. "He's not here. Is there
anything I can do?" "Yes, there is. I need you to give
him a message," she continues, running her forefinger
across the bartender's lips and slyly popping a couple
of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck
them gently. What should I tell him?" the bartender
manages to say. "Tell him," she whispers, "there is no
toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the
ladies room."
Women and thier wiley ways!
Here's, yet another, example of that:
One day, while a seamstress was sewing while sitting close to a river,
her thimble fell into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared
and asked, "Why are you crying?" The seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the water, and she needed the thimble to make her living.
The Lord went down into the water and reappeared with a golden thimble. "Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked. The seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord again went down and came up with a wooden thimble. "Is this
your thimble?" the Lord asked. Again, the seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord went down again and came up with a silver thimble. "Is this
your thimble?" the Lord asked. The seamstress replied, "Yes."
The Lord was pleased with the woman's honesty and gave her all three
thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.
Some time later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along the
riverbank, and her husband fell into the river. When she cried out, The Lord again appeared and asked her, Why are you crying?"
"Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the water!" The Lord went down into the water and came up with Mel Gibson. "Is this your husband?" the Lord asked. "Yes," cried the seamstress.
The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an untruth!" The seamstress
replied, "Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said 'no' to Mel Gibson, you would have come up with Tom Cruise. Then if I said 'no' to him, you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said 'yes,' you would have given me all three. Lord, I am a poor woman and am not able to take care of all three husbands, so THAT'S why I said yes to Mel Gibson."
The moral of this story is: Whenever a woman lies, it is for a good and honorable reason, and for the benefit of others.
That's our story, and we're sticking to it
~Another one from the email bag
A very attractive lady goes up to a bar in a quiet
rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the bartender
who comes over immediately. When he arrives, she
seductively signals that he should bring his face
closer to hers. When he does, she begins to gently
caress his full beard. "Are you the manager?" she
asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
Actually, No," the man replies. "Can you get him for
me? I need to speak to him," she says, running her
hands beyond his beard and into his hair. Can't,"
breathes the bartender. "He's not here. Is there
anything I can do?" "Yes, there is. I need you to give
him a message," she continues, running her forefinger
across the bartender's lips and slyly popping a couple
of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck
them gently. What should I tell him?" the bartender
manages to say. "Tell him," she whispers, "there is no
toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the
ladies room."
Women and thier wiley ways!
Here's, yet another, example of that:
One day, while a seamstress was sewing while sitting close to a river,
her thimble fell into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared
and asked, "Why are you crying?" The seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the water, and she needed the thimble to make her living.
The Lord went down into the water and reappeared with a golden thimble. "Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked. The seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord again went down and came up with a wooden thimble. "Is this
your thimble?" the Lord asked. Again, the seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord went down again and came up with a silver thimble. "Is this
your thimble?" the Lord asked. The seamstress replied, "Yes."
The Lord was pleased with the woman's honesty and gave her all three
thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.
Some time later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along the
riverbank, and her husband fell into the river. When she cried out, The Lord again appeared and asked her, Why are you crying?"
"Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the water!" The Lord went down into the water and came up with Mel Gibson. "Is this your husband?" the Lord asked. "Yes," cried the seamstress.
The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an untruth!" The seamstress
replied, "Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said 'no' to Mel Gibson, you would have come up with Tom Cruise. Then if I said 'no' to him, you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said 'yes,' you would have given me all three. Lord, I am a poor woman and am not able to take care of all three husbands, so THAT'S why I said yes to Mel Gibson."
The moral of this story is: Whenever a woman lies, it is for a good and honorable reason, and for the benefit of others.
That's our story, and we're sticking to it
~Another one from the email bag
Sunday, April 11
A Hearwarming Story I stumbled across. . . .
The Legend of Buck Bunny
(As told by John Burridge, complete with spastic gestures, bugged out eyes, and evil giggles.)
Once upon a time, 1988 to be exact, there was a college, Reed College in fact. And at this college there were some students who lived in a house called The Motel 6. Near by there was a Safeway, and in this Safeway, around Easter Time, there were boxes and boxes and boxes of chocolate Easter Bunnies.
One day, I was walking in the Safeway, and one of the bunnies caught my eye. It was Buck Bunny, and on the outside of Buck's box was a story. The story was bad; the story was tacky; the story was a collection of bad puns; and finally, the story was an artless rip off of Star Wars, Buck Rodgers, and World War II anti-German propaganda. "Oh my God," I said to myself, "This chocolate space bunny is so tacky, there's only one possible response: Into the microwave with you, Buck!"
And so I popped Buck Bunny into my shopping cart and scampered off to the Motel 6 with him and the rest of my groceries (Pop Tarts, Cheerioes, and 2% Milk, for those of you who have forgotten). We placed Buck into his own special little nitch in the cabinet (above the Microwave), and for two weeks we would remind Buck of his impending Doom on Easter Morning.
Easter Morning dawned. At the crack of noon we got up and stumbled about. We unwrapped Buck from his box, placed him in a bowl, and put him into the Microwave. Now, this was a in the late '80's before Microwaves were made fancy with internal turn tables and safety meshes across the glass doors. So you could see right into the window (and probably get a tan, too) while your food was beamed with microwaves.
We closed the door, dialed a time setting, and gathered around the window. Buck Bunny stood bravely. The microwave bell dinged. "This is sick," someone said, and continued "Do it some more." We gave him ten more seconds.
Nothing happened.
We twisted the timer as far as we could. The microwave fan blew and the megatron tube hummed and Buck Bunny stood there not melting. "Huh," I said, "I don't think anything is going to happen." About this time a sheen of moisture appeared on Buck's brown brow. "Oh, wait," someone said, "Something's happening."
Suddenly, with a quick thwuck Buck Bunny's little candy eyes fell backwards into his head and there were these little blank eye sockets staring out at us! And WE ALL WENT: "EEEEEEUWWW!!!!!!"
And then with a glorp Buck Bunny collapsed in on himself into a chocolate puddle.
We pulled him out of the Microwave, and there were his little candy eyes looking up at us.
We had a fruit fondue with bananas, oranges, and apples. For the rest of the afternoon we were spastic from the chocolate.
The End
(Or IS IT?)
~Sounds like my kind of party
The Legend of Buck Bunny
(As told by John Burridge, complete with spastic gestures, bugged out eyes, and evil giggles.)
Once upon a time, 1988 to be exact, there was a college, Reed College in fact. And at this college there were some students who lived in a house called The Motel 6. Near by there was a Safeway, and in this Safeway, around Easter Time, there were boxes and boxes and boxes of chocolate Easter Bunnies.
One day, I was walking in the Safeway, and one of the bunnies caught my eye. It was Buck Bunny, and on the outside of Buck's box was a story. The story was bad; the story was tacky; the story was a collection of bad puns; and finally, the story was an artless rip off of Star Wars, Buck Rodgers, and World War II anti-German propaganda. "Oh my God," I said to myself, "This chocolate space bunny is so tacky, there's only one possible response: Into the microwave with you, Buck!"
And so I popped Buck Bunny into my shopping cart and scampered off to the Motel 6 with him and the rest of my groceries (Pop Tarts, Cheerioes, and 2% Milk, for those of you who have forgotten). We placed Buck into his own special little nitch in the cabinet (above the Microwave), and for two weeks we would remind Buck of his impending Doom on Easter Morning.
Easter Morning dawned. At the crack of noon we got up and stumbled about. We unwrapped Buck from his box, placed him in a bowl, and put him into the Microwave. Now, this was a in the late '80's before Microwaves were made fancy with internal turn tables and safety meshes across the glass doors. So you could see right into the window (and probably get a tan, too) while your food was beamed with microwaves.
We closed the door, dialed a time setting, and gathered around the window. Buck Bunny stood bravely. The microwave bell dinged. "This is sick," someone said, and continued "Do it some more." We gave him ten more seconds.
Nothing happened.
We twisted the timer as far as we could. The microwave fan blew and the megatron tube hummed and Buck Bunny stood there not melting. "Huh," I said, "I don't think anything is going to happen." About this time a sheen of moisture appeared on Buck's brown brow. "Oh, wait," someone said, "Something's happening."
Suddenly, with a quick thwuck Buck Bunny's little candy eyes fell backwards into his head and there were these little blank eye sockets staring out at us! And WE ALL WENT: "EEEEEEUWWW!!!!!!"
And then with a glorp Buck Bunny collapsed in on himself into a chocolate puddle.
We pulled him out of the Microwave, and there were his little candy eyes looking up at us.
We had a fruit fondue with bananas, oranges, and apples. For the rest of the afternoon we were spastic from the chocolate.
The End
(Or IS IT?)
~Sounds like my kind of party
Questions that really need answers...
1. Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?"
2. Who was the first person to say, "See that chicken there? I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta it's butt."
3. Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer?
4. If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?
5. Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane?
6. Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?
7. Why does your OB-GYN leave the room when you get undressed if they are going to look up there anyway?
8. Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? they're both dogs!
9. If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that Acme crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?
10. If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?
11. If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from?
12. If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
13 Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?
14. Stop singing and read on..........
15. Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup?
16. Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?
17. Does pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster?
~Out of the email bag,
Thanks Flipper!
1. Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?"
2. Who was the first person to say, "See that chicken there? I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta it's butt."
3. Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer?
4. If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?
5. Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane?
6. Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?
7. Why does your OB-GYN leave the room when you get undressed if they are going to look up there anyway?
8. Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? they're both dogs!
9. If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that Acme crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?
10. If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?
11. If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from?
12. If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
13 Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?
14. Stop singing and read on..........
15. Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup?
16. Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?
17. Does pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster?
~Out of the email bag,
Thanks Flipper!
Sunday, March 28
WOW!
~Seems some of my childhood heroes were hereos in more ways than one!
Surprising information
Captain Kangaroo turned 76 recently, which is odd, because he's never looked a day under 76. (DOB:6/27/27) It reminded me of the following story.
Some people have been a bit offended that the actor, Lee Marvin, is buried in a grave alongside 3 and 4 star generals at Arlington National Cemetery. His marker gives his name, rank (PVT) and service (USMC). Nothing else. Here's a guy who was only a famous movie star who served his time, why the heck does he rate burial with these guys? Well, following is the amazing answer: I always liked Lee Marvin, but did not know the extent of his Corps experiences.
In a time when many Hollywood stars served their country in the armed forces often in rear-echelon posts where they were carefully protected, only to be trotted out to perform for the cameras in war bond promotions, Lee Marvin was a genuine hero. He won the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima. There is only one higher Naval award... the Medal Of Honor. If that is a surprising comment on the true character of the man, he credits his sergeant with an even greater show of bravery. Dialog from The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson:
His guest was Lee Marvin. Johnny said: "Lee, I'll bet a lot of people are unaware that you were a Marine in the initial landing at Iwo Jima... and that during the course of that action you earned the Navy Cross and were severely wounded."
"Yeah, yeah... I got shot square in the ass and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Suribachi...bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting' shot hauling you down. But, Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew...
We both got the cross the same day, but what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. The dumb bastard actually stood up on Red beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. Bullets flying by and mortar rounds landing every where and he stood there as the main target of gun fire so that he could get his men to safety. He did this on more than one occasion because his men's safety was more important than his own life. That Sergeant and I have been lifelong friends. When they brought me off Suribachi we passed the Sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me, lying on my belly on the litter and said, where'd they get you Lee?'
"Well Bob... if you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!"
Johnny, I'm not lying...Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew.....
The Sergeant's name is Bob Keeshan... You and the world know him as "Captain Kangaroo."
On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth. But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long sleeve sweater on his show to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. A master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat. After the war Mr. Rogers became an ordained Presbyterian minister and therefore a pacifist. Vowing to never harm another human and also dedicating the rest of his life to trying to help lead children on the right path in life. He hid the tattoos and his past life away and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm. America's real heroes don't flaunt what they did, they quietly go about their day to day lives, doing what they do best. They earned our respect and the freedoms that we all enjoy.
Look around and see if you can find one of those heroes in your midst. Often, they are the ones you'd least suspect, but would most like to have on your side if anything ever happened. Take the time to thank anyone that has fought for our freedom. With encouragement they could be the next Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers.
~from the email bag,
Thanks Ryan!~
~Seems some of my childhood heroes were hereos in more ways than one!
Surprising information
Captain Kangaroo turned 76 recently, which is odd, because he's never looked a day under 76. (DOB:6/27/27) It reminded me of the following story.
Some people have been a bit offended that the actor, Lee Marvin, is buried in a grave alongside 3 and 4 star generals at Arlington National Cemetery. His marker gives his name, rank (PVT) and service (USMC). Nothing else. Here's a guy who was only a famous movie star who served his time, why the heck does he rate burial with these guys? Well, following is the amazing answer: I always liked Lee Marvin, but did not know the extent of his Corps experiences.
In a time when many Hollywood stars served their country in the armed forces often in rear-echelon posts where they were carefully protected, only to be trotted out to perform for the cameras in war bond promotions, Lee Marvin was a genuine hero. He won the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima. There is only one higher Naval award... the Medal Of Honor. If that is a surprising comment on the true character of the man, he credits his sergeant with an even greater show of bravery. Dialog from The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson:
His guest was Lee Marvin. Johnny said: "Lee, I'll bet a lot of people are unaware that you were a Marine in the initial landing at Iwo Jima... and that during the course of that action you earned the Navy Cross and were severely wounded."
"Yeah, yeah... I got shot square in the ass and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Suribachi...bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting' shot hauling you down. But, Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew...
We both got the cross the same day, but what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. The dumb bastard actually stood up on Red beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. Bullets flying by and mortar rounds landing every where and he stood there as the main target of gun fire so that he could get his men to safety. He did this on more than one occasion because his men's safety was more important than his own life. That Sergeant and I have been lifelong friends. When they brought me off Suribachi we passed the Sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me, lying on my belly on the litter and said, where'd they get you Lee?'
"Well Bob... if you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!"
Johnny, I'm not lying...Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew.....
The Sergeant's name is Bob Keeshan... You and the world know him as "Captain Kangaroo."
On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth. But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long sleeve sweater on his show to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. A master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat. After the war Mr. Rogers became an ordained Presbyterian minister and therefore a pacifist. Vowing to never harm another human and also dedicating the rest of his life to trying to help lead children on the right path in life. He hid the tattoos and his past life away and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm. America's real heroes don't flaunt what they did, they quietly go about their day to day lives, doing what they do best. They earned our respect and the freedoms that we all enjoy.
Look around and see if you can find one of those heroes in your midst. Often, they are the ones you'd least suspect, but would most like to have on your side if anything ever happened. Take the time to thank anyone that has fought for our freedom. With encouragement they could be the next Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers.
~from the email bag,
Thanks Ryan!~
Sunday, March 7
A few Random Thoughts for your consideration~
1. Ever wonder about those people who spend $2.00 apiece on those little bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards: NAIVE
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
2. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
3. OK.... so if the Jacksonville Jaguars are known as the "Jags" and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers are known as the "Bucs," what does that make the Tennessee Titans?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
4. If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea...does that mean that one enjoys it?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
5. There are three religious truths:
a. Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah.
b. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the leader of the Christian faith.
c. Baptists do not recognize each other in the liquor store or at Hooters.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
6. If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren't people from Holland called Holes?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
7. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
8. If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
9. Why do croutons come in airtight packages? Aren't they just stale bread to begin with?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
10. Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a racecar is not called a racist?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
11. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced onety one?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
12. If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted,cowboys deranged, models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
13. If Fed Ex and UPS were to merge, would they call it Fed UP?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
14. Do Lipton Tea employees take coffee breaks?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
15. What hair color do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
16. I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older; then it dawned on me ..they're cramming for their final exam.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
17. I thought about how mothers feed their babies with tiny little spoons and forks , so I wondered what do Chinese mothers use? toothpicks?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
18. Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so the mailmen can look for them while they deliver the mail?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
19. If it's true that we are here to help others, then what exactly are the others here for?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
20. You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
21. Ever wonder what the speed of lightning would be if it didn't zigzag?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
22. If a cow laughed, would milk come out of her nose?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
23. Whatever happened to Preparations A through G?
~Thanks, Merc
from the email bag~
1. Ever wonder about those people who spend $2.00 apiece on those little bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards: NAIVE
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
2. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
3. OK.... so if the Jacksonville Jaguars are known as the "Jags" and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers are known as the "Bucs," what does that make the Tennessee Titans?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
4. If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea...does that mean that one enjoys it?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
5. There are three religious truths:
a. Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah.
b. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the leader of the Christian faith.
c. Baptists do not recognize each other in the liquor store or at Hooters.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
6. If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren't people from Holland called Holes?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
7. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
8. If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
9. Why do croutons come in airtight packages? Aren't they just stale bread to begin with?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
10. Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a racecar is not called a racist?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
11. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced onety one?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
12. If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted,cowboys deranged, models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
13. If Fed Ex and UPS were to merge, would they call it Fed UP?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
14. Do Lipton Tea employees take coffee breaks?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
15. What hair color do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
16. I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older; then it dawned on me ..they're cramming for their final exam.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
17. I thought about how mothers feed their babies with tiny little spoons and forks , so I wondered what do Chinese mothers use? toothpicks?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
18. Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so the mailmen can look for them while they deliver the mail?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
19. If it's true that we are here to help others, then what exactly are the others here for?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
20. You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
21. Ever wonder what the speed of lightning would be if it didn't zigzag?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
22. If a cow laughed, would milk come out of her nose?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
23. Whatever happened to Preparations A through G?
~Thanks, Merc
from the email bag~
Thanks for sharing this one with us, Harold!
Retired Green Beret takes on John Kerry
Open Letter to John Kerry:
My wife had rotator cuff surgery earlier this year, and the recovery is terribly painful. Then, she developed a staph-epi infection, and they had to cut the same scar open and operate on her again. Just thinking about the pain and anxiety of facing that painful surgery a second time in the same wound, makes me cringe. That experience, however pales in comparison to what I am going through right now, in my heart.
The old hurts are surfacing and the feelings of betrayal by fellow citizens, and their leader stirring them up, are breaking my heart again. I am being cut in the same scar. How did we who served in Vietnam suddenly become cold-blooded killers, torturers, and rapists, of the ilk of the Nazi SS or the Taliban? Most of us were American soldiers who grew up idolizing John Wayne, Roy Rogers, and all the other heroes. That was why I volunteered.. But for political expediency, John Kerry has rewritten history, again. After spending only four months in the country of Vietnam, John Kerry testified before Congress in 1971 with these exact words about incidents he supposedly witnessed or heard about from other vets: "They personally raped, cut off ears, cut off heads, taped wires from portable telephones to human genitals and turned up the power, cut off limbs, blown up bodies, randomly shot at civilians, razed villages, shot cattle and dogs for fun, poisoned food stocks, and generally ravaged the countryside of South Vietnam."
I was a green beret officer who volunteered for duty in Vietnam and fought in the thick of it in 1968 and 1969 on a Special Forces A-team on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, just for starters. We were the elite. We saw the most action. Everybody in the world knows that. But we did not just kill people, we built a church, a school, treated illnesses, passed out soap, food, and clothing, and had fun and loving interaction with the indigenous people of Vietnam, just like our boys did in Normandy, Baghdad, Saigon, and everywhere American soldiers ever served. We all gave away our candy bars and rations to kids. Our hearts to oppressed people all over the globe. > >My children and grandchildren could read your words, and think those horrendous things about me, Mr. Kerry. You are a bold-faced, unprincipled liar, and a disgrace, and you have dishonored me and all my fellow Vietnam veterans. Sure, there were a couple bad-apples, but I saw none, and I saw it all, and if I did, as an army officer, it was my obligation to stop it, or at the very least report it. Why is there not a single record anywhere of you ever reporting any incidents like this or having the perpetrators arrested? The answer is simple. You are a liar. Your medals and mine are not a free pass for lifetime, Senator Kerry, to bypass character, integrity, and morality. I earn my green beret over and over daily in all aspects of my life.
Eight National Guard green berets, and other National Guard soldiers, have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, and you totally dishonored their widows and families by lumping National Guard service in with being a draft-dodger, conscientious objector, and deserter, just so you can try to sabotage the patriotism of our President who proudly served as an Air National Guard jet pilot. I have a son earning his green beret at Fort Bragg right now, and his wife serves honorably in the Air National Guard, just like President Bush did, and I am as proud of her as I am my son. I volunteered for Vietnam and have no problem whatsoever with President Bush being our Commander-In-Chief. In fact, I am proud of him as our leader.
John Kerry, you personally derailed the Vietnam Human rights Bill, HR2883, in 2001, after it had passed the House by a 411 to 1 vote, and thousands of pro-American Montagnard tribespeople in Vietnam died since then who could have been saved, by you. Earlier, as Chair of the Senate Select Committee on MIA/POW Affairs, you personally quashed the efforts of any and all veterans to report sightings of living POW's, when you held those reins in Congress. You have fought tooth and nail to push for the US to normalize relations with Vietnam for years. Why, Mr. Kerry?
Simple, your first cousin C. Stewart Forbes, CEO, of Colliers International, recently signed a contract with Hanoi, worth BILLIONS of dollars for Collier's International to become the exclusive real estate representative for the country of Vietnam.
"Hanoi John," now that it works for you, you beat your chest about your Vietnam service, but to me, you are a phony, opportunistic, hypocrite. You are one of those politicians that is like a fertilizer machine: all that comes out of you is horse manure, and you are spreading it everywhere.
Medals do not make a man. Morals do.
Don Bendell
Canon City, Colorado
Don Bendell served as an officer in four Special Forces Groups, is a best-selling author with over 1,500,000 books in print, a 1995 inductee into the International Karate Hall of Fame, and owns karate schools in southern Colorado.
~from the email bag
Retired Green Beret takes on John Kerry
Open Letter to John Kerry:
My wife had rotator cuff surgery earlier this year, and the recovery is terribly painful. Then, she developed a staph-epi infection, and they had to cut the same scar open and operate on her again. Just thinking about the pain and anxiety of facing that painful surgery a second time in the same wound, makes me cringe. That experience, however pales in comparison to what I am going through right now, in my heart.
The old hurts are surfacing and the feelings of betrayal by fellow citizens, and their leader stirring them up, are breaking my heart again. I am being cut in the same scar. How did we who served in Vietnam suddenly become cold-blooded killers, torturers, and rapists, of the ilk of the Nazi SS or the Taliban? Most of us were American soldiers who grew up idolizing John Wayne, Roy Rogers, and all the other heroes. That was why I volunteered.. But for political expediency, John Kerry has rewritten history, again. After spending only four months in the country of Vietnam, John Kerry testified before Congress in 1971 with these exact words about incidents he supposedly witnessed or heard about from other vets: "They personally raped, cut off ears, cut off heads, taped wires from portable telephones to human genitals and turned up the power, cut off limbs, blown up bodies, randomly shot at civilians, razed villages, shot cattle and dogs for fun, poisoned food stocks, and generally ravaged the countryside of South Vietnam."
I was a green beret officer who volunteered for duty in Vietnam and fought in the thick of it in 1968 and 1969 on a Special Forces A-team on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, just for starters. We were the elite. We saw the most action. Everybody in the world knows that. But we did not just kill people, we built a church, a school, treated illnesses, passed out soap, food, and clothing, and had fun and loving interaction with the indigenous people of Vietnam, just like our boys did in Normandy, Baghdad, Saigon, and everywhere American soldiers ever served. We all gave away our candy bars and rations to kids. Our hearts to oppressed people all over the globe. > >My children and grandchildren could read your words, and think those horrendous things about me, Mr. Kerry. You are a bold-faced, unprincipled liar, and a disgrace, and you have dishonored me and all my fellow Vietnam veterans. Sure, there were a couple bad-apples, but I saw none, and I saw it all, and if I did, as an army officer, it was my obligation to stop it, or at the very least report it. Why is there not a single record anywhere of you ever reporting any incidents like this or having the perpetrators arrested? The answer is simple. You are a liar. Your medals and mine are not a free pass for lifetime, Senator Kerry, to bypass character, integrity, and morality. I earn my green beret over and over daily in all aspects of my life.
Eight National Guard green berets, and other National Guard soldiers, have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, and you totally dishonored their widows and families by lumping National Guard service in with being a draft-dodger, conscientious objector, and deserter, just so you can try to sabotage the patriotism of our President who proudly served as an Air National Guard jet pilot. I have a son earning his green beret at Fort Bragg right now, and his wife serves honorably in the Air National Guard, just like President Bush did, and I am as proud of her as I am my son. I volunteered for Vietnam and have no problem whatsoever with President Bush being our Commander-In-Chief. In fact, I am proud of him as our leader.
John Kerry, you personally derailed the Vietnam Human rights Bill, HR2883, in 2001, after it had passed the House by a 411 to 1 vote, and thousands of pro-American Montagnard tribespeople in Vietnam died since then who could have been saved, by you. Earlier, as Chair of the Senate Select Committee on MIA/POW Affairs, you personally quashed the efforts of any and all veterans to report sightings of living POW's, when you held those reins in Congress. You have fought tooth and nail to push for the US to normalize relations with Vietnam for years. Why, Mr. Kerry?
Simple, your first cousin C. Stewart Forbes, CEO, of Colliers International, recently signed a contract with Hanoi, worth BILLIONS of dollars for Collier's International to become the exclusive real estate representative for the country of Vietnam.
"Hanoi John," now that it works for you, you beat your chest about your Vietnam service, but to me, you are a phony, opportunistic, hypocrite. You are one of those politicians that is like a fertilizer machine: all that comes out of you is horse manure, and you are spreading it everywhere.
Medals do not make a man. Morals do.
Don Bendell
Canon City, Colorado
Don Bendell served as an officer in four Special Forces Groups, is a best-selling author with over 1,500,000 books in print, a 1995 inductee into the International Karate Hall of Fame, and owns karate schools in southern Colorado.
~from the email bag
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