Amish Auto Repair, Cat Poetry and Keeping a (Paranoid) Eye on the Swiss

Plus is there baseball in heaven?

The joke's on us. . . We open with this yarn from Toni in the Vet's Office, who must have had a lot of time on her hands lately, since (as you'll see by Diary's end) she's been an email-joke-forwarding fiend:

"An Amish woman was driving her buggy to town when a highway patrol officer stopped her. 'I'm not going to cite you,' said the officer. 'I just wanted to warn you that the reflector on the back of your buggy is broken and it could be dangerous.'

"'I thank thee,' replied the Amish lady. 'I shall have my husband repair it as soon as I return home.'

"'Also,' said the officer, 'I noticed one of your reins to your horse is wrapped around his testicles. Some people might consider this cruelty to animals, so you should have your husband check that, too.'

"'Again I thank thee. I shall have my husband check both when I get home.'

"True to her word, when the Amish lady got home she told her husband about the broken reflector, and he said he would put a new one on it immediately. 'Also,' said the Amish woman, 'the policeman said there was something wrong with the emergency brake.'"

 

Our pets, ourselves. . . To atone for that last one, we're delighted to present the return of poems by cats, forwarded to us by Frumpy Fox, who oughta know:

Share your pet poetry (shouldn't dogs get equal time here?) or simply your favorite jokes with Desert Diary at diary@desertexposure.com, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, or fax 534-4134.

If you've wondered why the Silver City art hotspot is now named Reese-Benton Gallery, here's the reason: That's gallery owner Major Benton visiting his new granddaughter, Reese, in Atlanta. Note that he's taken his favorite publication along to read on the trip and is introducing young Reese to the joys of Desert Exposure. (Um, Major, she might be a bit young for a few of the jokes in Desert Diary. . . .) Take us with you on your next trip and send home a snapshot of yourself holding "the biggest little paper in the Southwest." Send it to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, or by email to diary@desertexposure.com.

Striking out. . . Two tales courtesy of Ned Ludd, the first on the inevitable toll of aging:

"An elderly man goes into a brothel and tells the madam he would like a young woman for the night. Surprised, she looks at the ancient man and asks how old he is.

"'I'm 90 years old,' he says.

"'Ninety!' replies the woman. 'Man, don't you realize you've had it?'

"'Oh, sorry,' says the old man. 'How much do I owe you?'"

And the other, on a topic we know is near and dear to Ned's heart, "Baseball Fans in Heaven":

"Two buddies, Bob and Earl, were among the biggest baseball fans in America. Their entire adult lives, Bob and Earl discussed baseball history in the winter, and they pored over every box score during the season. They went to 60 games a year. They even agreed that whoever died first would try to come back and tell the other if there was baseball in heaven.

"One summer night, Bob passed away in his sleep after watching the Yankees' victory earlier in the evening. He died happy.

"A few nights later, his buddy Earl awoke to the sound of Bob's voice from beyond.

"'Bob is that you?' Earl asked.

"'Of course it's me,' Bob replied.

"'This is unbelievable!' Earl exclaimed. 'So tell me, is there baseball in heaven?'

"'Well I have some good news and some bad news for you. Which do you want to hear first?'

"'Tell me the good news first.'

"'Well, the good news is that yes, there is baseball in heaven, Earl.'

"'Oh, that is wonderful!' Earl responded. 'So what could possibly be the bad news?'

"'You're pitching tomorrow night.'"

 

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you . . . Frequent correspondent Bert of the Burros makes a triumphant return to these pages with a launch of a whole new category of correspondence. He subtitles this "An exercise in paranoia"—but we'll let him explain:

"Who's Watching the Swiss?

"These are troubling times. The Middle East threatens to erupt into both religious and civil wars at the same time. Every time we look at our trade balance, North Korea has a military parade, or China threatens Taiwan, we all look to the Far East. South of us, Chavez is about to convince the Venezuelans to give him more power than Hitler had. Africa is a disaster, between famines and tribal massacres. The United States spends much time and money watching all these tinderboxes, in the hope of being able to react quickly and effectively in order to protect our interests.

"But who's watching the Swiss?

"'The Swiss?' you say. 'Why should we worry about the Swiss? They are a peaceful people.'

"On a strategic level, the best preface to a surprise attack is complacency and distraction.

"And we are certainly distracted! Sure, we have seen nothing to indicate that the Swiss are planning anything, but have we seen anything at all that tells us what they are doing behind their borders?

"When's the last time you even heard any news of any sort coming out of Switzerland? They have slyly shut off all interest in and access to information about their plans. The only thing we know about them is that they yodel and make cheese. I'll bet our spy satellites don't even have Switzerland in their software.

"So we don't know what they are doing. We have CIA and other agents in every spot of the world, snooping and reporting daily, but I'm not sure we even have an embassy in Switzerland. If we do, we certainly don't send our brightest there. We also don't know what their capabilities are. What's the size of their army? What secret weapons might they have developed over the years? The Swiss have always been known as great engineers. Isn't it interesting that, in two world wars, the Germans never thought about invading Switzerland? Maybe they knew something we don't.

"Let's talk WMDs (Weapons of Mass Destruction). If Saddam did have such weapons, maybe the reason we didn't find them is because he shipped them out somewhere. Switzerland?? Where was that Russian who was trying to sell weapons-grade uranium going? Could it be Switzerland?

"Since Switzerland has not fought a war in modern times, look at the money they have saved. They are the world's preeminent bankers, holding much of the wealth of Europe. While we spend billions on a two-ocean Navy, the Swiss put that money in the bank. So there it is. There are people all over the world selling weapons to anyone and Switzerland is loaded and secretive. Well?

"Let's look at geography. Is it just a coincidence that Switzerland is located where it is? (If you ask most high-school students where Switzerland is, they would probably say it's between Disneyland and Lego-Land.) Every country in Europe is just a stone's throw (or missile launch) away in all directions. Pretty clever of them. Military strategists always say you should hold the high ground. They certainly have done that.

"So what should we do? Should we plan a preemptive attack? We don't even have faulty CIA intelligence reports to go on. Should we impose sanctions? On Swiss cheese?! How about a naval blockade? It worked in Cuba. Cut off aid? The Swiss apparently don't need any.

"No, it looks like they have us where they want us, overconfident and distracted. Our only choice is to watch them carefully, very carefully. If they ever implement whatever plans they may have, don't say you weren't warned!"

 

And Bert didn't even get around to mentioning Swiss watches, cleverly crafted to disguise that ticking sound that just might be a BOMB! While you still can, share your own paranoid delusions with Desert Diary at PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com. Please, nothing about the current crop of politicians—they're scary enough without our help.

Blonde ambition. . . As you'll see, we had to share this second offering from Toni in the Vet's Office while it was still semi-seasonal. As usual, we apologize to all the blondes out there and invite them to substitute the hair-color of their choice:

"As a trucker stops for a red light, a blonde catches up. She jumps out of her car, runs up to his truck and knocks on the door. The trucker lowers the window, and she says, 'Hi, my name is Heather and you are losing some of your load.' The trucker ignores her and proceeds down the street.

"When the truck stops for another red light, the girl catches up again. She jumps out of her car, runs up and knocks on the door. Again, the trucker lowers the window. As if they've never spoken, the blonde says brightly, 'Hi, my name is Heather, and you are losing some of your load!' Shaking his head, the trucker ignores her again and continues down the street.

"At the third red light, the same thing happens again. All out of breath, the blonde gets out of her car, runs up and knocks on the truck door. The trucker lowers the window. Again she says, 'Hi, my name is Heather, and you are losing some of your load!' When the light turns green, the trucker revs up and races to the next light.

"When he stops this time, he hurriedly gets out of the truck and runs back to the blonde's car. He knocks on her window, and as she lowers it, he says, 'Hi, my name is Kevin, it's winter in Ohio and I'm driving the SALT TRUCK.'"

 

C'mon, don't let Toni have all the fun and hog the exclusive, highly collectible Desert Exposure mugs we send to the best Desert Diary correspondent each month. Send your own favorite funnies to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com.

Losing the battle of the sexes. . . Speaking of those highly sought-after coffee mugs, we welcome back a previous mug-winner, Grumps, who sends along this tale of woe:

"A woman was walking down the street when she was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless woman who asked her for a couple of dollars for dinner. The woman took out her billfold, extracted 10 dollars and asked, 'If I give you this money, will you buy some wine with it instead of dinner?'

"'No, I had to stop drinking years ago,' the homeless woman replied.

"'Will you use it to go shopping instead of buying food?' the woman asked.

"'No, I don't waste time shopping,' the homeless woman said. 'I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive.'

"'Will you spend this on a beauty salon instead of food?' the woman asked.

"'Are you NUTS?' replied the homeless woman. 'I haven't had my hair done in 20 years!'

"'Well,' said the woman, 'I'm not going to give you the money. Instead, I'm going to take you out for dinner with my husband and myself tonight.'

"The homeless woman was astounded. 'Won't your husband be upset with you for doing that? I know I'm dirty, and I probably smell pretty disgusting.'

"The woman replied, 'That's okay. It's important for him to see what a woman looks like after she has given up wine, shopping and hair appointments.'"

 

Sweet bird of youth. . . This final dispatch from—you guessed it—the ubiquitous Toni in the Vet's Office arrived just as we were collecting this month's column, and we couldn't resist. (But isn't the Vet starting to wonder what Toni is doing with her time all day in the office?)

"I was at the mall the other day eating at the food court when I noticed an old man watching a teenager sitting next to him. The teenager had spiked hair in all different colors: green, red, orange and blue. The old man kept staring at him. The teenager would look and find the old man staring every time.

"When the teenager had enough, he sarcastically asked, 'What's the matter, old man, never done anything wild in your life?'

"The old man did not bat an eye in his response: 'Got high once and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son.'"

 

Send your jokes, heartwarming anecdotes and ponderings to: Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, email diary@desertexposure.com, fax 534-4134. Remember, the best submission each month gets a highly collectible Desert Exposure coffee mug.

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