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ZL3AI > HUMOUR 29.12.03 17:26l 67 Lines 2546 Bytes #999 (0) @ WW
BID : 2570-ZL3AI
Read: DH0GHU GUEST DL4NWM
Subj: Farmers/Surgery/Letter
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WB0TAX<VK7AX<ZL2BAU<ZL3VML
Sent: 031229/1403Z @:ZL3VML.#80.NZL.OC #:15591 [Chch-NZ] FBB7.00i $:2570-ZL3AI
From: ZL3AI@ZL3VML.#80.NZL.OC
To : HUMOUR@WW
Blonde Farmers
--------------
Two farmers (blondes, of course) had this mule that was a very hard worker.
The only problem was every time they went to put the mule back in his
stall, his ears would brush the top of the entrance and then the old mule
would go nuts and kick everything. One day, the farmers decided to cut a
opening in the top of the stall, to prevent this from happening.
While they were working, a neighbor stopped by and asked what they were
doing, so they explained the problem. The neighbor suggested that they
could save a lot of work and time if they simply took a shovel and dug the
entrance down a little bit.
The blondes thanked their neighbor and he drove off. Then the one blonde
said to the other, "That's some stupid neighbor we have, it's not his feet
that's too long, it's his ears!"
Surgery
-------
Jerry is recovering from day surgery when a nurse asks him how he is
feeling.
"I'm ok but I didn't like the four-letter-word the doctor used in surgery,"
he answered.
"What did he say," asked the nurse.
"OOPS!"
Letter
------
Dear Darling Son (and That Person You Married),
Merry Christmas to you, and please don't worry. I'm just fine considering I
can't breathe or eat. The important thing is that you have a nice holiday,
thousands of miles away from your ailing mother. I've sent along my last
ten dollars in this card, which I hope you'll spend on my grandchildren.
God knows their mother never buys them anything nice. They look so thin in
their pictures, poor babies.
Thank you so much for the Christmas flowers, dear boy. I put them in the
freezer so they'll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds me -- we buried
Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a
good funeral so Aunt Viola and I dug her up and had the services all over
again. I would have invited you, but I know that woman you live with would
have never let you come.
Well son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now. I lost my cane beating
off muggers last week, but don't you worry about me. I'm also getting used
to the cold since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost
on my bed numbs the constant pain. Now don't you even think about sending
any more money, because I know you need it for those expensive family
vacations you take every year. Give my love to my darling grandbabies and
my regards to whatever-her-name-is -- the one with the black roots who
stole you screaming from my bosom.
Merry Christmas.
Love, Mom
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