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  D e s e r t   E x p o s u r e   June 2009

Desert Diary

Ostriches, Unhappy Campers and Italian Firefighters

Plus: Around the world with Desert Exposure!

 


The joke's on us. . . This one, from Old Grumps, takes awhile to get there — but the journey is worth it:

"A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him. The waitress asks them for their orders. The man says, 'A hamburger, fries and a Coke,' and turns to the ostrich, 'What's yours?'

"'I'll have the same,' says the ostrich.

"A short time later the waitress returns with the order: 'That will be $9.40, please.' The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.

"The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and the man says, 'A hamburger, fries and a Coke.' The ostrich says, 'I'll have the same.' Again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change.

"This becomes routine until one evening the two enter again. 'The usual?' asks the waitress.

"'No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato and a salad,' says the man. 'Same,' says the ostrich.

"Shortly the waitress brings the order and says, 'That will be $32.62.' Once again the man pulls the exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table. The waitress cannot hold back her curiosity any longer: 'Excuse me, sir. How do you manage to always come up with the exact change in your pocket every time?'

"'Well,' says the man, 'several years ago I was cleaning the attic and found an old lamp. When I rubbed it, a genie appeared and offered me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there.'

"'That's brilliant!' says the waitress. 'Most people would ask for a million dollars or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!'

"'That's right. Whether it's a gallon of milk or a Rolls-Royce, the exact money is always there,' says the man.

"The waitress asks, 'What's with the ostrich?'

"The man sighs, pauses and answers, 'My second wish was for a tall chick with a big butt and long legs who agrees with everything I say.' "

Capital pun-ishment. . . New correspondent Bill of Cedar Hill returns with this pithy punning:

"And then there was the man who hated waterfowl. Yep, no tern remained unstoned."



You're only as old as you feel. . . We happily welcome new correspondent LynnF, who writes, "Having just returned from a camping trip in the Chiricahuas, I've been moved to send in some thoughts for those over 60 who might be thinking about doing the same:

"1. Sleeping in a tent is no longer 'half the fun.'

"2. You will lose your glasses/keys/etc. every hour on average.

"3. You will find you have forgotten to bring your toothbrush/aspirin/flashlight/etc.

"4. Getting out of your sleeping bag in the middle of a freezing night — you know why — isn't an adventure to be relished.

"5. Historical sites aren't all that interesting because you've already lived through them. And if you didn't, your parents or grandparents did and you know all about it.

"6. Remember the $60 camp coffee maker you made fun of in the store? As if 'any sane person would spend that much on such a gadget?' As you drink your instant coffee, you will wish you'd bought it.

"7. Privations build more ill-temper than character. Plus, you already have plenty of character.

"8. All the hikers out on the trails are young enough to be your grandchildren, and will inquire if you're 'out here by yourself?' They look behind you as if they expect to see four strong men bearing a gurney.

"9. Shin splints and slipped discs may occur. See #3 above.

"10. After three days of washing yourself with baby-wipes, you will smell as if your sleeping bag is lined with cow patties and old catfish. Not to mention your appearance, which will greatly resemble the old codger (or codgeress as in my case) that you really are.

"11. The campers in your immediate area will be: a. Very fond of loud music and drinking beer into the wee hours. b. The parents of three children under age six who, from their hysterical behavior, have obviously never been allowed outside in their entire lives. c. The owners of a small dog named Tiffy — 'she's very friendly' — who will yip 24/7 and attempt to sever your Achilles tendon. 'Oh Tiffy, naughty, naughty girl.' Note: There are interesting people who camp, but they are re-reading War and Peace or writing a travel book and will have nothing to do with you.

"12. Items necessary to camp with a modicum of comfort will increase 10-fold every year past 50."

No, no, your other brain!. . . This "guy story" comes courtesy of GeeRichard:

"I'm pacing nervously in the expectant father's waiting room in the hospital obstetrics ward. A gent sitting there tells me to relax. 'Everything will be fine,' he says. 'This is my eighth time in here.'

"I calm down a bit and then realize he might answer a question I've had on my mind these last few days. I ask, 'Tell me, how soon after the baby's born can I, uhhhh, make love to my wife?'

"He replies, 'That all depends, is she in a single room?'

Isn't science wonderful? . . . Feeling a little guilty, having recently broken down and bought a Kindle "e-book" reader, we're hoping to atone by sharing this submission from Jess Hossinaround in Arenas Valley:

"FABULOUS NEW TECHNOLOGY!

"Announcing the new Built-in Orderly Organized Knowledge Device, otherwise known as the BOOK. It's a revolutionary breakthrough in technology: no wires, no circuits, no batteries, nothing to be connected or switched on.

"It's so easy to use even a child can operate it. Just lift the cover. Compact and portable, it can be used anywhere — even sitting in an armchair by the fire — yet it is powerful enough to hold as much information as a CD-ROM disk.

"Here's how it works: Each BOOK is constructed of sequentially numbered sheets of paper (recyclable), each capable of holding thousands of bits of information. These pages are locked together with a custom-fit device called a binding, which keeps the sheets in their correct sequence. By using both sides of each sheet, manufacturers are able to cut costs in half!

"Each sheet is scanned optically, registering information directly to your brain. A flick of the finger takes you to the next sheet. The BOOK may be taken up at any time and used merely by opening it. The 'browse' feature allows you to move instantly to any sheet, and move forward or backward as you wish. Most come with an 'index' feature, which pinpoints the exact location of any selected material for instant retrieval.

"An optional 'BOOKmark' accessory allows you to open the BOOK to the exact place you left it in a previous session — even if the BOOK has been closed! BOOKmarks fit universal design standards; thus a single BOOKmark can be used in BOOKs of various manufacturers.

"Portable, durable and affordable, the BOOK is the entertainment wave of the future, and many new titles are expected soon, due to the surge in popularity of its programming tool, the Portable Erasable-Nib Cryptic Intercommunication Language Stylus, or PENCILS. Look for these items in a store near you."


Send your "inventions," jokes and anecdotes to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, email diary@desertexposure.com

 

Losing the battle of the sexes. . . We were with Toni in the Vet's Office all the way on this one until, well, the second part:


"This morning on the Interstate, I looked over to my left and there was a woman in a brand-new Cadillac doing 75 mph with her face up next to her rearview mirror, putting on her eyeliner. I looked away for a couple seconds. And when I looked back she was halfway over in my lane, still working on that makeup.

"As a man, I don't scare easily. But she scared me so much, I dropped my electric shaver, which knocked the donut out of my other hand. In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car, using my knees against the steering wheel, it knocked my cell phone away from my ear, which fell into the coffee between my legs, splashed, and burned Big Jim and the Twins, ruined the damn phone, soaked my trousers, and disconnected an important call. Damn women drivers!"


Taking aim. . . Sparing our blonde readers this month, we instead offer this yarn from Ned Ludd with our apologies to the tolerant citizens of Montana:


"A man seeking to join a Montana sheriff's department is being interviewed. The deputy doing the interview says, 'Your qualifications all look good, but there is an attitude-suitability test that you must take before you can be accepted.' Sliding a service pistol across the desk, the deputy goes on, 'Take this pistol and go out and shoot six crooked lawyers, six meth dealers, six Islamic extremists, and a rabbit.'

"'Why the rabbit?'

"'Great attitude,' says the deputy. 'When can you start?'"


Annals of fire fighting. . . Finally, having begun with a bit of a saga, we finish with this thrilling tale sent our way by T.O.. Again, it's worth it:


"One dark night in the small town of Garfield, NJ, a fire started inside the local sausage factory. In a blink the building was engulfed in flames. The alarm went out to all the fire departments for miles around.

"When the first volunteer fire fighters appeared on the scene, the sausage company president rushed to the fire chief and said, 'All of our secret sausage recipes are in the vault in the center of the plant. They have to be saved, so I will donate $50,000 to the fire company that brings them out and delivers them to me.'

"But the roaring flames held the firefighters off. Soon more fire departments had to be called in because the situation became desperate. As the firemen arrived, the president shouted out that the offer to extricate the secret recipes was now $100,000 to the fire department that could save them.

"Suddenly, from up the road, a lone siren was heard as another fire truck came into sight. It was the fire engine of the nearby Lodi, NJ, volunteer fire department composed mainly of Italian firefighters over the age of 65.

"To everyone 's amazement, the little rundown fire engine, operated by these Italian firefighters, passed the fire engines parked outside the plant and drove straight into the middle of the inferno. Outside, the other firemen watched in amazement as the Italian old timers jumped off and began to fight the fire as if they were fighting to save their own lives. Within a short time, the Lodi old timers had extinguished the fire and saved the secret recipes.

"The grateful sausage company president joyfully announced that for such a superhuman accomplishment he was upping the reward to $200,000, and walked over to personally thank each of the brave elderly Italian firefighters.

"A TV news crew rushed in after capturing the event on film. The 'on camera' reporter asked the Italian fire chief, 'What are you going to do with all that money?'

"'Wella,' said Chief Pasquale De Luccinellavanti, the 70-year-old fire chief, 'de fursta tinga we gonna do isza fixa de brakes on dat frikkinna truck!'"


Send your favorite jokes, anecdotes, puns and tall tales to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com The best submission each month gets a brand-new Desert Exposure mouse pad, scientifically proven to take the strain out of emailing jokes to Desert Diary.



Postcards from the edge. . . We interrupt our ongoing playing catch-up with our (wonderful) backlog of reader vacation photos of themselves holding Desert Exposure for two particularly timely pix. First up is this photo sent in by Valerie Quintana of Silver City, who writes: "Pictured is my father, John Shank, of Tucson, whom I send the Desert Exposure every month. This was taken on my dad's first cruise since my mother's death last year. They had traveled together for the past three decades. I'd like to honor my father for 'stepping out' and continuing his explorations. How about the June issue, for Father's Day?"

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Father's Day it is, Valerie. This pair of photos also came with a note from her dad: "When my daughter learned of my plans to take an around-the-world cruise on the Cunard ocean liner, Queen Mary Two, she prompted me to display a copy of the Desert Exposure at various ports of call. Since I was familiar with this publication, I eagerly agreed! My first chance was at Pago Pago, American Samoa. Then again at Auckland, New Zealand, with the ship's shore photographer. Then, an overland side trip I'd arranged independently for a week off the ship offered the really high-adventure opportunity, while in Cambodia.

 

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"Upon my arrival at the Siem Reap airport and clearing the international border formalities, I arranged for a local tour guide to escort me to the Angkor Wat temple and the south gate of Angkor Thom, dating to the 12th century. The spectacular sights of the temple complex are truly magnificent! My guide, Khenwg, took a picture there with me holding the paper. We then continued to the causeway leading to the Wat, where Khenwg pointed out to me that dogs were forbidden then — pointing to a sign to that effect. It was there that I took a picture of my guide holding the Desert Exposure with a picture of a DOG on the cover!"



Our second photo submission comes from much closer to home, but is no less less remarkable because of the context. Don Trammell of Silver City writes: "Attached is a photo of me at the enclosure gate of the Trinity atom-bomb blast site on April 4, 2009. Only on two days each year, the first Saturday of April and the first Saturday of October, is the general public allowed to visit this site.

 

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"I was an 'ear' witness to the first atom bomb blast. The family all came awake at Buckhorn at the same time early on the morning of July 16, 1945. This is close to 200 miles as the crow flies from Trinity Site. While we were wondering what had caused us to wake at that time, there was a tremendous blast. The newspapers reported that the ammunition dump at Holloman Air Base had exploded. When the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima on August 6, we learned what had really happened. Either the bright light or the shock wave had awakened us in time to hear the blast."



Whether you're going around the world, witnessing history or just heading for the Four Corners (now that geographers know where it really is), snap a picture of yourself holding a copy of "the biggest little paper in the Southwest" and send it to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, email diary@desertexposure.com Sooner or later, we'll get to them all — promise!



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