D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
July
2008
Speeding Tickets, Men of the Cloth and Warm Cookies
Plus signs you're no longer "cool" and
what not to ask before your trip to Australia.
Annals of law enforcement. . . New correspondent A.E. kicks us off with a tale that needs no cruise control:
"A New Mexican senior citizen drove his brand new BMW convertible out of the car salesroom. Taking off down the highway, he floored it to 90 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little hair he had left. 'Amazing!' he thought as he flew along, pushing the pedal to the metal even more. Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw a police car behind him, blue lights flashing and siren blaring. 'I can get away from him — no problem!' he thought as he floored it to 110 mph, then 120, then 130 mph.
"Suddenly, he thought, 'What on earth am I doing? I'm too old for this nonsense!' So he pulled over to the side of the road and waited for the police car to catch up with him.
"Pulling in behind the BMW, the police officer walked up to the driver's side, looked at his watch and said, 'Sir, my shift ends in 10 minutes. Today is Friday and I'm heading off for the weekend. If you can give me a reason why you were speeding that I've never heard before, I'll let you go.'
"The senior citizen looked very seriously at the policeman and replied, 'Years ago, my wife ran off with a policeman. I thought you were bringing her back.'
"'Have a good day, sir,' said the policeman."
Got a favorite funny to share? Send it to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com.
Putting starch in your collar. . . These two tales both come courtesy of Old Grumps and both mention the clergy. We couldn't resist pairing them up. . .
"A priest from Ireland was assigned to a Texas diocese. One morning, Father O'Malley rose from his bed. It was a fine spring day in his new Texas mission parish. He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside. He then noticed there was a jackass lying dead in the middle of his front lawn. He promptly called the local police station.
"The conversation went like this:
"'Good morning, this is Sergeant Jones, how might I help you?'
"'And the best of the day te yerself. This is Father O'Malley at St. Brigid's . There's a jackass lying dead in me front lawn. Would ye be so kind as to send a couple o' yer lads to take care of the matter?'
"Sergeant Jones, considering himself to be quite a wit, replied with a smirk, 'Well now, Father, it was always my impression that you people took care of last rites!'
"There was dead silence on the line for a long moment. Father O'Malley then replied, 'Aye, 'tis certainly true, but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin.'"
"A woman takes a lover home during the day while her husband is at work. Her nine-year-old son comes home unexpectedly, sees them and hides in the bedroom closet to watch. The woman's husband also comes home. She puts her lover in the closet, not realizing the little boy is in there already. The little boy says, 'Dark in here.' The man says, 'Yes, it is.' Boy: 'I have a baseball.' Man: 'That's nice.' Boy: 'Want to buy it?' Man: 'No, thanks.' Boy: 'My dad's outside.' Man: 'OK, how much?' Boy: '$150.' Man: 'Sold.'
"In the next few weeks, it happens again that the boy and the lover are in the closet together. Boy: 'Dark in here.' Man: 'Yes, it is.' Boy: 'I have a Wilson infielder's glove.' The lover, remembering the last time, asks the boy, 'How much?' Boy: '$350.' Man: 'Highway robbery. Sold.'
"A few days later, the father says to the boy, 'Grab your gloves, let's go outside and have a game of catch.' The boy says, 'I can't, I sold my ball and my glove.' The father asks, 'How much did you sell them for?' The boy says, '$500.' The father says, 'That's terrible to overcharge your friends like that. That is way more than those two things cost. I'm going to take you to church and make you confess your greed.'
"They go to the church and the father makes the little boy sit in the confession booth and he closes the door. The boy says, 'Dark in here.' The priest says, 'Don't start that crap again, you're in my closet now!'"
Losing the battle of the sexes. . . Our ongoing reportage from the front lines of the gender wars continues with this installment from Huntswoman:
"While attending a marriage seminar dealing with communication, Tom and his wife Grace listened to the instructor say, 'It is essential that husbands and wives know each other's likes and dislikes.'
"The instructor addressed Tom, 'Can you name your wife's favorite flower?'
"Tom leaned over, touched his wife's arm gently and whispered, 'It's Pillsbury, isn't it?'"
Postcardsrom the edge. . . Our cup runneth over with reader photos submitted from hither and yon, so this month we present two.
The photo above arrived with this note: "Hola from Sucre, Bolivia. Barbara and Gilbert Mora, Silver City residents, are spending two years in the Peace Corps here. Jeanie McLerie was kind enough to send us the Desert Exposure, as well as many other treats from home."
The photo below comes from Karen Dunn, who writes: "This photo of me on a camel showing DE amongst the 'Blue Men' in the Sahara was taken in Morocco."
Going places? Take us with you on your next trip and send home a snapshot of yourself holding "the biggest little paper in the Southwest." Send to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, or by email to diary@desertexposure.com
You're only as old as you feel. . . Another new correspondent, Scoggin, reminds us that perhaps it's time to take the Partridge Family records off the stereo:
"You are no longer 'cool' when. . .
"You find yourself listening to talk radio.
"Your daughter says she got pierced and you look at her ears.
"The pattern on your shorts and couch match.
"You fondly remember your powder-blue leisure suit.
"You think Tragically Hip is when a middle-aged man gets a new sports car, hair piece and a 20-year-old girlfriend.
"You criticize the kids of today for their satanic suicide-inducing music, forgetting that you rocked to Alice Cooper and Black Sabbath.
"You call the police on a noisy party next door instead of grabbing a beer and joining it.
"You turn down free tickets to a rock concert because you have to work the next day.
"Grass is something that you cut, not cultivate.
"Jogging is something you do to your memory.
"All the cars behind you flash their headlights.
"You bought your first car for the same price you paid for your son's new running shoes.
"You actually ASK for your father's advice.
"You don't know how to operate a fax machine.
"When someone mentions 'surfing' you picture waves and a surf board.
"'Getting a little action' means your prune juice is working."
Share your lists, yarns and jokes with Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver
City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com.
The joke's on us. . . This tale of the last laugh, so to speak, comes to us courtesy of Ned Ludd:
"An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate-chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.
"With labored breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven: There, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table, were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate-chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
"Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.
"His aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.
"'Stay out of those!' she said. 'They're for the funeral.'"
Kids say the darnedest things. . . Ah, the innocence of youth, as captured in this funny from Toni in the Vet's Office:
"Two young boys walked into a pharmacy one day, picked out a box of Tampax and proceeded to the checkout counter. The man at the counter asked the older boy, 'Son, how old are you?'
"'Eight,' the boy replied.
"The man continued, 'Do you know what these are used for?'
"The boy replied, 'Not exactly, but they aren't for me. They're for him. He's my brother. He's four. We saw on TV that if you use these you would be able to swim and ride a bike. He can't do either one.'"
Innocents abroad. . . As folks whose home state is often mistaken for Mexico, we immediately empathized with this submission from Barb Up North Supposedly, these questions were posted on an Australian tourism Web site and the answers are the actual responses by the Web site officials, who obviously have a great sense of humor:
Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia? I have never seen it rain on TV — how do the plants grow? (UK).
A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.
Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? (USA)
A: Depends how much you've been drinking.
Q: I want to walk from Perth to Sydney — can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it's only 3,000 miles, take lots of water.
Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane, Cairns, Townsville and HerveyBay? (UK)
A: What did your last slave die of?
Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia? (USA)
A: Af-ric-a is the big triangle-shaped continent south of Europe. Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the Pacific which does not. . . Oh, forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Kings Cross. Come naked.
Q: Which direction is north in Australia? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.
Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia? (UK)
A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.
Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys Choir schedule? (USA)
A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is. . . Oh, forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Kings Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.
Q: Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? (Germany)
A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of vegan hunter/gatherers. Milk is illegal.
Q: Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)
A: Rattlesnakes live in A-mer-i-ca which is where YOU come from. All Australian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.
Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I forget its name. It's a kind of bear and lives in trees. (USA)
A: It's called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.
Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia? (USA)
A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.
Q: Can you tell me the regions in Tasmania where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)
A: Yes, gay night clubs.
Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia? (France)
A: Only at Christmas.
Q: I was in Australia in 1969 on R&R, and I want to contact the girl I dated while I was staying in Kings Cross. Can you help? (USA)
A: Yes, and you will still have to pay her by the hour.
Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first."
I can resist anything except temptation. . . Trust us, this one from Technophobe is worth reading all the way to the end:
"I was a very happy man. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married.
"There was only one little thing bothering me — her beautiful younger sister. My prospective sister-in-law was 22, wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was bra-less. It had to be deliberate.
"One day her 'little' sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome. She told me that she wanted me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister.
"Well, I was in total shock, and couldn't say a word.
"She said, 'I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me.'
"I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door. I opened the door and headed straight towards my car.
"Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping!
"With tears in his eyes, my prospective father-in-law hugged me and said, 'We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family.'
"And the moral of this story is:
"Always keep your condoms in your car."
Subject to interpretation. . . Finally, we also couldn't resist one more nod to the clergy, this one sent our way by Jess Hossinaround in Arenas Valley:
"Reverend Boudreaux was the part-time pastor of the local Cajun Baptist Church, and Pastor Thibodaux was the minister of the Covenant Church across the road. They were both standing by the road, pounding a sign into the ground, that read:
"'Da End is Near! Turn You self Around Now! Before It's Too Late!'
"As a car sped past them, the driver leaned out his window and yelled, 'You religious nuts!'
"From the curve they heard screeching tires and a big splash. Boudreaux turned to Thibodaux and asked, 'Do ya tink maybe da sign should jus' say, 'Bridge Out'?"
Send favorite jokes, puns and ponderings to: Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver
City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com Remember,
the best submission each month gets a highly collectible Desert Exposure coffee
mug.