D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
November
2008
Investment Advice, Old Soldiers and Space Cadets
Plus: Dying to get into Desert Diary.
Brother, can you spare a dime?. . . Given the current economic doldrums, it seems appropriate to start this month's installment with the following financial lesson from new contributor Desert Valkyrie:
"If you had purchased $1,000 of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49. With Enron, you would have $16.50 left of the original $1,000. With WorldCom, you would have less than $5 left.
"But if you had purchased $1,000 worth of beer one year ago, drunk all the beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum-recycling refund, you would have $214. Based on the above, the best current investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle.
"This is called the 401-Keg Plan."
And this from Ned Ludd:
"According to inside contacts, the Japanese banking crisis shows no signs of ameliorating. If anything, it's getting worse.
"Following last week's news that Origami Bank had folded, we are hearing that Sumo Bank has gone belly up, and Bonsai Bank plans to cut back some of its branches. Karaoke Bank is up for sale, and it is (you guessed it!) going for a song.
"Meanwhile, shares in Kamikaze Bank have nose-dived, and 500 back-office staff at Karate Bank got the chop. Analysts report that there is something fishy going on at Sushi Bank, and staff there fear they may get a raw deal."
You're only as old as you feel. . . Turning from economic health to physical well-being, there's this missive from Geerichard:
"A friend recently picked a new primary-care doctor. After two visits and exhaustive lab tests, he was told he was doing 'fairly well' for his age. A little concerned about that comment, the friend couldn't resist asking the doctor, 'Do you think I'll live to be 90?'
"The doctor asked, 'Do you smoke tobacco, or drink beer or wine?
'''Oh no,' he replied. 'I'm not doing drugs, either!'
"Then the doctor asked, 'Do you eat ribeye steaks and barbecued ribs?'
"The patient said, 'No, my former doctor said that all red meat is very unhealthy!'
"'Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like playing golf, sailing, hiking or bicycling?'
"'No, I don't,' the patient replied.
"'Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lot of sex?'
"'No,' was the reply.
"The doctor looked at the man and asked, 'Then, why do you even care?'"
Salute when you say that. . . Speaking of getting on in years, this anonymous author — passed along by Old Grumps — may be onto something when it comes to national defense:
"I am over 60 and the Armed Forces thinks I'm too old to track down terrorists. You can't be older than 42 to join the military. They've got the whole thing backwards. Instead of sending 18-year-olds off to fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be able to join a military unit until you're at least 35.
"For starters: Researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every 10 seconds. Old guys think about sex only a couple of times a day, leaving us more than 28,000 additional seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy.
"Young guys haven't lived long enough to be cranky, and a cranky soldier is a dangerous soldier: 'My back hurts! I can't sleep, I'm tired and hungry.' We are impatient and maybe letting us kill some jerk who desperately deserves it will make us feel better and shut us up for a while.
"An 18-year-old doesn't even like to get up before 10 a.m. Old guys always get up early to pee, so what the hell. Besides, like I said, 'I'm tired and can't sleep and since I'm already up, I may as well be up killing some fanatical SOB.'
"If captured, we couldn't spill the beans because we'd forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank and serial number would be a real brainteaser.
"Boot camp would be easier for old guys. We're used to getting screamed and yelled at, and we're used to soft food. We've also developed an appreciation for guns. We've been using them for years as an excuse to get out of the house, away from the screaming and yelling.
"They could lighten up on the obstacle course, however. I've been in combat and didn't see a single 20-foot wall with rope hanging over the side, nor did I ever do any push-ups after completing basic training. I can hear the drill sergeant in the 'new army' now: 'Get down and give me — er — one.'
"Actually, the running part is kind of a waste of energy, too. I've never seen anyone outrun a bullet.
"An 18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still learning to shave, to start up a conversation with a pretty girl. He still hasn't figured out that a baseball cap has a brim to shade his eyes, not the back of his head.
"These are all great reasons to keep our kids at home to learn a little more about life before sending them off into harm's way.
"Let us old guys track down those dirty rotten coward terrorists. The last thing an enemy would want to see right now is a couple of million pissed-off old farts with attitude and automatic weapons who know that their best years are already behind them."
What color is your parachute?. . . If the army's not for you, maybe outer space is more your style. Consider this parable from new correspondent SteveL:
"NASA was interviewing professionals to be sent to Mars. Only one could go, but with one catch — he couldn't return to Earth.
"The first applicant, an engineer, was asked how much he wanted to be paid for going. 'One million dollars,' he answered, 'because I want to donate it to MIT.'
"The next applicant, a doctor, was asked the same question. He asked for $2 million. 'I want to give a million to my family,' he explained, 'and leave the other million for the advancement of medical research.'
"The last applicant was a lawyer. When asked how much money he wanted, he whispered in the interviewer's ear, 'Three million dollars.'
"'Why so much more than the others?' the interviewer asked.
"The lawyer replied, 'If you give me $3 million, I'll give you $1 million, I'll keep $1 million, and we'll send the engineer.'"
School daze. . . The squeamish might want to avert their eyes from this morality tale sent our way by JackB. But they'd be missing something very, er, educational:
"First-year students at Texas A&M's vet school were receiving their first anatomy class, with a real dead cow. They all gathered around the surgery table with the body covered with a white sheet. The professor started the class by telling them, 'In veterinary medicine it is necessary to have two important qualities as a doctor: The first is that you not be disgusted by anything involving the animal body.'
"For an example, the professor pulled back the sheet, stuck his finger in the anus of the dead cow, withdrew it and stuck it in his mouth. 'Go ahead and do the same thing,' he told his students.
"The students freaked out, hesitating for several minutes. But eventually each took a turn sticking a finger in the anal opening of the dead cow and then sucking on the finger.
"When everyone had finished, the professor looked at the class and told them, 'The second most important quality is observation. I stuck in my middle finger and sucked on my index finger. Now, learn to pay attention!'"
Postcards from the edge. . . We continue double-dipping into our bounty of reader photos of themselves holding "the biggest little paper in the Southwest." Above, lest warm weather slide into winter without one last bathing-suit picture (we're still getting kidded about last month's shot!), "Several local Silver City folks were spotted trying their hand (and bodies) at boogie-boarding on the Pacific Coast of beautiful Baja, Mexico. Mark and Earl Hunter of Hunter's Creations and Dana Carlsen and Mike Osborne of Bornsen Coffee are shown having a much-needed break and lots of fun."
Desert Exposure contributor Siri Dharma sent the photo below with this caption: "So this is me with my dearest friend from high school in Toronto, Maribeth Gray. We are in Bali, Indonesia. (Maribeth has recently moved to Gila with her husband.) This picture was taken about two minutes from the Indian Ocean."
Whether near the ocean or in the desert, halfway around the world or on a weekend getaway, take us along on your next trip and send home a snapshot of yourself holding Desert Exposure. Send to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, or by email to diary@desertexposure.com
Northern exposure. . . Being part Scandinavian ourselves, we can share this yarn from Dakota Duaine with a clear conscience:
"Three dead bodies turn up at the mortuary, all with very big smiles on their faces. The police inspector calls the coroner to find out what has happened.
"The coroner tells the inspector: 'First body is a 72-year-old Frenchman. He died of heart failure while with his mistress. Hence the enormous smile.
"'The second body is an Irishman, 25 years of age. He won a thousand dollars in the lottery and spent it all on whisky. Died of alcohol poisoning. Hence the smile.'
"The inspector asks, 'What of the third body?'
"'Ah,' says the coroner, 'this is the most unusual one. Ole Swenson, from Minnesota, age 30, struck by lightning.'
"'Why is he smiling then?' inquires the Inspector.
"'He thought he was having his picture taken.'"
Losing the battle of the sexes. . . We couldn't go an entire Diary without a dispatch from the gender wars. So here again is Old Grumps:
"There is a new study about women and how they feel about their asses. The results were pretty interesting:
"30 percent of women think their ass is too fat.
"10 percent of women think their ass is too skinny.
"The remaining 60 percent say they don't care, they love him, he's a good man, and they wouldn't trade him for the world."
Doing the math. . . Not to be morbid, but this month we seem to be developing a theme: dead cows, dead bodies and now a dead donkey, in this lively tale from Jess Hossinaround in Arenas Valley:
"Young Chuck moved to Texas and bought a donkey from a farmer for $100. The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the next day. The next day he drove up and said, 'Sorry, son, but I have some bad news: The donkey died.'
"Chuck replied, 'Well, then, just give me my money back.'
"The farmer said, 'Can't do that. I went and spent it already.'
"Chuck said, 'OK, then, just bring me the dead donkey.'
"The farmer asked, 'What ya gonna do with him?'
"Chuck said, 'I'm going to raffle him off.'
"The farmer said, 'You can't raffle off a dead donkey!'
"Chuck said, 'Sure I can. Watch me. I just won't tell anybody he's dead.'
"A month later, the farmer met up with Chuck and asked, 'What happened with that dead donkey?'
"Chuck said, 'I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at $2 apiece and made a profit of $898.'
"The farmer said, 'Didn't anyone complain?'
"Chuck said, 'Just the guy who won. So I gave him his $2 back.'"
Age-appropriate behavior. . . Finally, picking back up on our earlier theme of aging, Toni in the Vet's Office takes us all the way from youth to old age:
"You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house — mowing the lawn, putting a new fence in, painting the living room, or whatever. You are hot and sweaty, covered in dirt or paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit: shorts with the hole in crotch, old T-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of tennis shoes. Right in the middle of this great home-improvement project, you realize you need to run to Wal-Mart to get something to help complete the job. Depending on your age you might do the following:
"In your 20s: Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss, and put on clean clothes. Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout lane. You went to school with the pretty girl running the register.
"In your 30s: Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change shoes. You married the hot chick, so no need for much else. Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it. Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister of someone you went to school with.
"In your 40s: Stop what you are doing. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts. Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brut cologne is almost empty, so you don't want to waste any of it on a trip to Wal-Mart. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird thinking she is spicy.
"In your 50s: Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on, wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes, because you don't want to get dirt in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat. The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it. Then you remember the hat you have on is from Buddy's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms.'
"In your 60s: Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose the dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50s. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute, but you don't have your glasses on so you are not sure.
"In your 70s: Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Wal-Mart until they have your prescriptions ready, too. Don't even notice the dog crap on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her grandfather.
"In your 80s: Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you needed to go to Wal-Mart. Go to Wal-Mart and wander around trying to think what it is you are looking for. Fart out loud and think someone called out your name. You went to school with the old lady who greeted you at the front door."
Send your 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 — while they last!