Iran's Future, Updated Euphemisms and
Why the Chicken Crossed the Road
Plus the wisdom of Solomon and why your dog's haircut
costs more than yours.
Annals of diplomacy. . . We hesitate to start with anything mentioning the president, given the tenor of the just-completed (thank goodness!) campaign season, but we suspect that GOP and Democratic voters alike will get a chuckle out of this one, passed along by prolific e-mailer Grumps:
"The Iranian Ambassador to the UN had just finished giving a speech, and walked out into the lobby where he met President Bush. They shook hands, and as they walked the Iranian said, 'You know, I have just one question about what I have seen in America.'
"President Bush said, 'Well, anything I can do to help you, I will.'
"The Iranian whispered, 'My son watches this show "Star Trek" and in it there is Chekhov who is Russian, Scotty who is Scottish, and Sulu who is Chinese, but no Arabs. My son is very upset and doesn't understand why there aren't any Iranians on "Star Trek."'
"President Bush laughed, leaned toward the Iranian ambassador, and whispered back, 'It's because it takes place in the future.'"
The wisdom of Solomon. . . This funny comes courtesy of Ned Ludd, whom we're now expecting to send us jokes we can label with the names of Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Archilles and Mercury. (The first reader who gets that obscure reference gets a Desert Exposure mug!)
"Two women came before wise King Solomon, dragging between them a young man in a three-piece suit. 'This young lawyer agreed to marry my daughter,' said one.
"'No! He agreed to marry MY daughter,' said the other.
"And so they argued before the King until he called for silence. 'Bring me my biggest sword,' said Solomon, 'and I shall cut the young attorney in half. Each of you shall receive a half.'
"Sounds good to me,' said the first lady.
"But the other woman said, 'Oh Sire, do not spill innocent blood. Let the other woman's daughter marry him.'
"The wise king did not hesitate a moment. 'The attorney must marry the first lady's daughter,' he proclaimed.
"'But she was willing to see him cut in two!' exclaimed the king's advisor.
"'Indeed,' said wise King Solomon. 'That shows she is the TRUE mother-in-law.'"
Don't let Grumps and Ned Ludd hog all the column inches–not to mention the 10th-anniversary Desert Exposure mugs. Send your favorite jokes to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com.
It's a dog's life. . . New correspondent Ant Doris sends along the following explanation of one of life's eternal mysteries, which she credits to the newspaper in Aitkin, Minn. How it got to southwest New Mexico, we'll never know, but we hope the originator won't mind our respectful reprinting:
"Why your dog's haircut costs more than yours"
"10. Your hair dresser doesn't wash and clean your rear end. 9. You don't get to go six to eight weeks without washing and brushing your hair. 8. Your hair dresser doesn't have to give you a sanitary trim. 7. Your hair dresser doesn't have to clean your ears. 6. You sit still for your hair dresser. 5. Your hair dresser doesn't have to clean the boogies from your eyes. 4. Your haircut doesn't include a manicure and a pedicure. 3. Your hair dresser only washes and cuts the hair on your head. 2. You don't bite and scratch your hair dresser. 1. And the number-one reason that your dog's haircut costs more than yours: The likelihood of you pooping or peeing while your hair is being done is extremely slim."
The joke's on us. . . This, too, comes courtesy of Grumps (we told you he was a prolific e-mailer!):
"Two hillbillies were sitting around talking one afternoon. After a while the first fellow said to the second, 'If I was to sneak over to your place Saturday and make love to your wife while you was off huntin', and she got pregnant and had a baby, would that make us kin?'
"The second fellow crooked his head sideways for a minute, scratched his head, and squinted his eyes like he was thinking real hard about the question.
"Finally, he said, 'Well, I don't know about kin, but it would make us even.'''
Persons of the blonde persuasion. . . We're already apologizing to blondes everywhere for that stereotypical introductory phrase, so please substitute the hair-color slur of your choosing in the yarn below, sent by Toni in the Vets Office:
"I urgently needed a few days off work, but I knew the boss would not allow me to take a leave. I thought that maybe if I acted 'crazy,' then he would tell me to take a few days off.
"So I hung upside down on the ceiling and made funny noises. My blonde co-worker asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was pretending to be a light bulb so that the boss would think I was crazy and give me a few days off.
"A few minutes later the boss came into the office and asked, 'What are you doing?' I told him I was a light bulb.
"He said, 'You are clearly stressed out. Go home and recuperate for a couple of days.'
"I jumped down and walked out of the office. When my co-worker (the blonde) followed me, the boss asked her, 'And where do you think you're going?'
"She said, 'I'm going home, too. I can't work in the dark!'"
Political corrections. . . Once again rising to our challenge to suggest new euphemisms for our times, Blue Meany returns with a second set of up-to-date double-talk:
"He's not dumb as an ox–his 'level of cognition is indubitably ruminant beyond question.'
"He's not a womanizer–he's 'performing an informal, open-ended survey of the mating practices of a specific, highly adapted primate species.'
"She's not insecure–she's 'suffering from overly subscribing to the power of random possibility.'
"He's not an obsequious suck-up–he's 'adept at anticipating which particular anatomical quadrants might merrily acquiesce to a time-honored display of affection.'
"He's not cowardly–he is 'merely lacking in those curious pendants which so curiously and unequivocally doubly adorn the typical male of the species.'
"She is not gullible–she rather 'believes information is presorted before it arrives to the nexus of time and space where her physical body coincidentally resides.'
"He's not cheap–he 'subscribes to the theory that the value of money lies not in its purchasing power but rather in its staying power.'
"He's not a fast-food junkie–he's 'scrupulously avoiding sampling errors by increasing the amount of data ingested in his ongoing scientific study of the quality-control capabilities of American icons Nabisco, Frito-Lay and Little Debbie.'
"He's not egotistical–he's 'merely noted that from his own frame of reference the stellar bodies do inscribe what appears to be nocturnal revolutions in a 360-degree circle around his spatial coordinates.'
"He's not a physical coward–he 'believes that the physical domain is better defined mathematically without the needless introduction of random variables.'
"She's not oversexed–she 'merely thinks that verticality is over-hyped.'
"He's not indecisive–he 'doesn't want to overcommit to a course of action until the need for taking it has temporally exhausted itself.'
"He's not a heartless meat-eater–he 'believes it's the quintessence of humanity to ingest only food that first had a statistically meaningful chance of escaping a culinary solution to the problems of existence.'
"She's not getting a boob job–she's 'seeking a more robust solution to the timeless problem of attracting a potential mate with potential and more financial assets than he feels comfortable in conserving for his own future utilization and enjoyment.'
"He's not a football-watching, chip-munching couch potato–he's 'minimizing the impact of body heat on the environment and the concomitant logarithmic increase in global warming by surrounding his epidermal areas with stationary padded fixtures noted for their efficacy at absorbing infrared energy, and further anesthetizing any resulting palpable physical discomfiture though the application of cathode-ray technology in the form of a light hypnotic state induced by watching hormonally enhanced men testing the latest in impact protective gear while performing a time-honored Sunday ritual on a carefully demarcated rectangular green field, simultaneously validating the life histories of millions and millions of yeast microorganisms while consuming thinly sliced tubers, previously triangulated and enhanced through the application of hydrogenated oil.'"
Don't let Blue Meany have all the fun! Send your own euphemisms for our times to Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com.
You're not getting older. . . This humorous take on the joys of aging comes to us courtesy of Major Grandpa:
"An old fellow was celebrating 92 years on this earth. He spoke to his toes: 'Hello toes!' he said. 'How are you, toes? You know, you are 92 today. Oh, the times we've had! Remember we walked in the park every Sunday afternoon? The times we waltzed on the dance floor? Happy birthday, toes!'
"'Hello, knees,' he continued. 'How are you, knees? You know you're 92 today. Oh, the times we've had! Remember when we marched in the parade? Oh, the hurdles we've jumped together. Happy birthday, knees!'
"Then he looked down at his crotch. He said, 'Hello, Willie! You little bugger, if you were alive today, you'd be 92.'"
Pondering the imponderables. . . Returning to one of our favorite topics after too long a hiatus, we happily share this collection of supposed celebrity answers to the eternal question, "Why did the chicken cross the road?," sent our way by Barb Up North:
"Dr. Phil: 'The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the problem on THIS side of the road before it goes after the problem on the OTHER SIDE of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his CURRENT problems before adding NEW problems.'
"Oprah: 'Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.
"George W. Bush: 'We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.'
"Donald Rumsfeld: 'Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road. . . .'
"Anderson Cooper of CNN: 'We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.'
"John Kerry: 'Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it. It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am for it now, and will remain against it.'
"Judge Judy: 'That chicken crossed the road because he's GUILTY! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.'
"Pat Buchanan: 'To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American!'
"Martha Stewart: 'No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the farmer's market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level.'
"Dr. Seuss: 'Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told.'
"Ernest Hemingway: 'To die in the rain. Alone.'
"Jerry Falwell: 'Because the chicken was gay! Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That's why they call it the "other" side. Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay, too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side." That chicken should not be free to cross the road. It's as plain and simple as that!'
"Grandpa: 'In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.'
"Barbara Walters: 'Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heartwarming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.'
"John Lennon: 'Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together–in peace.'
"Aristotle: 'It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.'
"Bill Gates: 'I have just released eChicken2006, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook. Internet Explorer is an integral part of eChicken. The platform is much more stable and will never cra.#@&&^( C \. . . reboot.'
"Albert Einstein: 'Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?'
"Bill Clinton: 'I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your definition of "chicken"?'
"Al Gore: 'I invented the chicken!'
"Colonel Sanders: 'Did I miss one?'"
Heaven can wait. . . Finally, Ned Ludd returns with this celestial story called "The Guardian Angel's Mistake":
"A middle-aged woman has a heart attack and is taken to the hospital. While on the operating table she has a near-death experience. During that experience she sees her guardian angel and asks if this is her time. The angel says no and explains that she has another 30-40 years to live.
"Upon her recovery, the woman decides to just stay in the hospital for a few more days and have a facelift, liposuction and a tummy tuck. She even has someone come in and change her hair color. She figures since she's got another 30 or 40 years, she might as well make the most of it.
"She walks out the hospital after the last operation and is killed by an ambulance speeding up to the hospital.
"She arrives in heaven again, sees her guardian angel and says, 'I thought you said I had another 30-40 years!'
"The angel replies, 'Sorry. I didn't recognize you.'"
Share your favorite jokes, heavenly or otherwise, anecdotes and pithy observations on life with Desert Dairy at PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com. Remember, the best submission each month gets rewarded with a 10th-anniversary Desert Exposure coffee mug, soon to be a priceless collectible!