dhabuh
09-10-2006, 05:11 AM
A Texas Millionaire
A Texas millionaire had fallen ill. The doctors consulted did not seem to understand what ailed him. The millionaire let it be known that any doctor who could heal him could have whatever he desired.
A country doctor was finally able to cure him, and as the doctor was leaving after a week's stay, the Texan said, "Doc! I am a man of my word. You name it, and if it is humanly possible I'll get it for you."
"Well," said the doctor, "I love to play golf, so if I could have a matching set of golf clubs, that would be fine." With that the physician left.
The doctor didn't hear from the Texan millionaire for some months. Then, one day, he got a phone call from the millionaire.
"Doc, I bet you thought that I had gone back on my word. I have your matching set of golf clubs. The reason it took so long is that two of them didn't have swimming pools, and I didn't think they were good enough for ya. So I had pools installed and they're all ready for you now!"
Santa is a Woman
I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she.
Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!
For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.
Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets and mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th-hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman.
Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.
Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted, and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh, amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.
Even if the male Santa did have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost in the snow and clouds, and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.
Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.
Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
- Men can't pack a bag.
- Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
- Men would feel their masculinity is threatened, having to be seen with all those elves.
- Men don't answer their mail.
- Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described, even in jest, as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
- Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.
I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men. Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. Cupid flies around carrying weapons. Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance.
Tech Support
One of my friends works in the customer service call center of a national pager company. There, he deals with the usual complaints regarding poor pager operation, as well as the occasional crank caller demanding to be paged less often, more often, or by more interesting people.
The best call came from Bubba, who repeatedly complained that he keeps being paged by "Lucille."
He was instructed that he would have to call her and tell her to stop paging him.
"She don't never leave no number, so I can't call her back," he said.
After three such calls, someone thought to ask how he knew it was Lucille if she didn't leave a number.
"She leaves her name," was the reply.
After establishing that the customer had a numeric-only pager, the light bulb came on.
"How does she spell her name?" the service rep asked.
"L-O-W C-E-L-L"
Another technical problem solved.
Knock Knock! Who's There?
Disney.
Disney who?
I just stopped spinning, so I am Disney!
A Texas millionaire had fallen ill. The doctors consulted did not seem to understand what ailed him. The millionaire let it be known that any doctor who could heal him could have whatever he desired.
A country doctor was finally able to cure him, and as the doctor was leaving after a week's stay, the Texan said, "Doc! I am a man of my word. You name it, and if it is humanly possible I'll get it for you."
"Well," said the doctor, "I love to play golf, so if I could have a matching set of golf clubs, that would be fine." With that the physician left.
The doctor didn't hear from the Texan millionaire for some months. Then, one day, he got a phone call from the millionaire.
"Doc, I bet you thought that I had gone back on my word. I have your matching set of golf clubs. The reason it took so long is that two of them didn't have swimming pools, and I didn't think they were good enough for ya. So I had pools installed and they're all ready for you now!"
Santa is a Woman
I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she.
Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!
For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.
Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets and mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th-hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman.
Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.
Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted, and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh, amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.
Even if the male Santa did have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost in the snow and clouds, and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.
Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.
Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
- Men can't pack a bag.
- Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
- Men would feel their masculinity is threatened, having to be seen with all those elves.
- Men don't answer their mail.
- Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described, even in jest, as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
- Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.
I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men. Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. Cupid flies around carrying weapons. Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance.
Tech Support
One of my friends works in the customer service call center of a national pager company. There, he deals with the usual complaints regarding poor pager operation, as well as the occasional crank caller demanding to be paged less often, more often, or by more interesting people.
The best call came from Bubba, who repeatedly complained that he keeps being paged by "Lucille."
He was instructed that he would have to call her and tell her to stop paging him.
"She don't never leave no number, so I can't call her back," he said.
After three such calls, someone thought to ask how he knew it was Lucille if she didn't leave a number.
"She leaves her name," was the reply.
After establishing that the customer had a numeric-only pager, the light bulb came on.
"How does she spell her name?" the service rep asked.
"L-O-W C-E-L-L"
Another technical problem solved.
Knock Knock! Who's There?
Disney.
Disney who?
I just stopped spinning, so I am Disney!