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A prisoner at
the Edmonton Max started
training a large fly to do tricks.
For years, for thousands of
hours, he worked with the insect. It
learned to walk across a miniature
high wire, ride a tiny one-wheel bike,
balance on a pair of stilts
and sing songs from PHANTOM OF THE OPERA.
"When you and I get
out of here," the jailbird said to the fly.
"we're going to tour
the nightspots and make a fortune."
Finally the day arrived. Fly
safely tucked away in his pocket, (inside
its matchbox home), the
ex-con made his way to a bar to celebrate.
At the bar, he
brought out his trick fly. On cue, it started
moonwalking. "What about
this fly, eh?" he said to the bartender.
In one swift motion, the
bartender reached for his copy of the
newspaper THE EDMONTON SUN,
rolled it up and squished the fly with a mighty
swipe.
"Glad
you saw it," muttered the bartender. "Blasted things are
eve
rywhere."
A woman goes into the local newspaper
office to see that the obituary for her recently deceased husband is
published. After
the editor informs her that the fee for the
obituary is 50
cents a word, she pauses, reflects and then says, "Well,
then,
let it read 'Fred Brown died'."
Confounded at the
woman's thrift, the editor stammers that there
is a 7-word minimum for
all obituaries. The woman pauses again,
counts on her fingers and
replies, "In that case, 'Fred Brown
died: 1983 Pick-up for
sale'."
A car was involved in an accident in a
street. As expected a large crowd gathered. A newspaper reporter,
anxious to
get his story could not get near the car.
Being a
clever sort, he started shouting loudly, "Let me through! Let
me
through! I am the son of the victim."
The crowd made way for
him.
Lying in front of the car was a donkey.
"I meant," said Ipslore bitterly, "what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?"
Death thought about it.
"Cats," he said eventually. "Cats are nice." Terry Pratchett
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands e e cummings
...And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. So I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Martin Luther King Jr.