And now for something completely different...

Posted by scatamousche on KLF.


An old farmer owned a large farm with a nice pond in the back forty. It was fixed up nice: picnic tables, horseshoe courts,and some apple and peach trees. One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over. He grabbed a five gallon bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he came closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond. He made some noise so the women would be aware of his presence, and they all went to the deep end of the pond. One of the women shouted to him, "We're not coming out until you leave!" The old man frowned, "I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked."

Holding the bucket up he said, I'm here to feed the alligator."



"Women in Kabul"

Barbara Walters, of 60 Minutes (USA), did a story on gender roles in Kabul, several years before the Afghan conflict.

She noted that women, customarily, walked about 5 paces behind their husbands.

She returned to Kabul, recently, and observed that women still walk behind their husbands, but now seem to walk even further back and are happy with the old custom.

Ms. Walters approached one of the Afghani women and asked, "Why do you, now, seem happy with the old custom that you used to try and change?"

"Land mines," said the woman.


A man staggered home late after another evening with his drinking buddies. Shoes in left hand to avoid waking his wife, he tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step in the darkened entryway. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump.

A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful. Managing to suppress a yelp, the man sprung up, pulled down his pants, and examined his lacerated and bleeding cheeks in the mirror of a nearby darkened hallway, then managed to find a large full box of Band-aids and proceeded to place a patch as best he could on each place he saw blood. After hiding the now almost empty box, he managed to shuffle and stumble his way to bed.

In the morning, the man awoke with searing pain in head and butt and his wife staring at him from across the room. She said, "You were drunk again last night." Forcing himself to ignore his agony, he looked meekly at her and replied, "Now, hon, why would you say such a mean thing?"

"Well", she said, "it could be the open front door, it could be the glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailingthrough the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but, mostly....it's all those Band-aids stuck on the downstairs mirror!"