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Welcome to the world of geocaching

Voice of a Ranchwoman:
School Days

School days: when chalk was precious

Rage Against the Machine
From Army Ranger to revolutionary

Building Images
Southwest Storylines: Silver City photographer Dennis Weller

Breaking Free
El Refugio celebrates 25 years of helping domestic-violence victims

O Pioneers
Hiking Apacheria: Mangas Creek Ranch

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Editor's Note
Desert Diary

Poll Watching
Tuning in to the 1800's
Performing Life
Top 10

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The Starry Dome
Southwest Gardener
Ramblin' Outdoors
40 Days & 40 Nights
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Henry Lightcap's Journal
Continental Divide

Special Section
Arts Exposure

Weekend at the Galleries
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Body, Mind & Spirit
Ironworks Gym
In Love with an Artist?
Mental Fitness Through Meditation

Red or Green
Dining Guide
Josephina's Old Gate Café
Table Talk

About the cover

  D e s e r t   E x p o s u r e   October 2008


Alligator Shoes, Burial at Sea and Work vs. Prison

Plus beach bums, hot-chocolate wisdom and
why you shouldn't aggravate a fairy.

Kids say the darnedest things. . . We start off this month with a tale of what happens when you're "hooked on phonics," courtesy of Karin in Hurley:

"A class of five-year-old students was learning to read. One of them pointed at a picture in a zoo book and said, 'Look at this! It's a frickin' elephant!'

"Their teacher took a deep breath, then asked, 'What did you call it?'

"'It's a frickin' elephant! It says so on the picture!'

And so it did: 'A f r i c a n  Elephant.'"

Fashion statements. . . Speaking of wild animals, this yarn of footwear and zoology comes our way from CC in Cruces:

"A young lady was visiting a small Louisiana town and, of course, shopping. She found a pair of alligator skin shoes and a matching purse that she really liked, but the price was too high. After no luck at haggling with the shop owner, she angrily left declaring she would just go to the swamp and get them there.

"At the close of day the shop owner closed up and headed home. On his way he looked into the swamp and saw the lady up to her butt in swamp water with a nine-foot alligator rapidly approaching her. He stopped and jumped out to see if he could help her. Just then she raised a rifle and shot the alligator several times, and hauled it to the shore.

"To his amazement, she then deftly flipped the alligator on its back alongside six other dead ones, all on their backs. She then began to cuss like a sailor and ended the tirade with, 'Damn! Another barefoot male!'"

Losing the battle of the sexes. . . If you thought non-living things don't have gender — except in, say, Spanish grammar — Geerichard begs to differ:

"Ziploc bags are male because they hold everything in and you can see right through them.

"Photocopiers are female because, once turned off, it takes a while to warm them up again. They are effective reproductive devices if the right buttons are pushed, but can wreak havoc if the wrong buttons are pushed.

"Tires are male because they go bad when overinflated.

"Hot-air balloons are male because to get one to go anywhere, you have to light a fire under it, and then there's the hot air part.

"Sponges are female because they are soft, squeezable and retain water.

"Web pages are female because they are always getting hit on.

"Subway systems are male because they use the same old lines to pick people up.

"An hourglass is female because, over time, the weight shifts to the bottom.

"A hammer is male because it hasn't changed much over the last 5,000 years but is handy to have around.

"Remote controls are female. Bet you thought they were male! But consider this: It gives a man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and when he doesn't know the right buttons to push, he keeps on trying."


Share your gender assignments, jokes, anecdotes and other yarns with Desert Diary at PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4154 or email diary@desertexposure.com.


Persons of the blonde persuasion. . . We pass along this funny from JackB with our usual invitation to substitute the hair color of your choice herein:

"Bubbles and Barbie, two blonde sisters, had promised their uncle, who had been a seafaring gentleman all his life, to bury him at sea when he died. Of course, in due time, he did pass away and the two blondes kept their promise. They set off with their uncle all stitched up in a burial bag and loaded onto their rowboat.

"After a while, Bubbles said, 'Do you think we're out far enough, Barbie?'

"Barbie slipped over the side and, finding the water only knee deep, said, 'Nope, not yet, Bubbles.' So they rowed a little farther.

"Again Bubbles asked Barbie, 'Do you think we're out far enough now?' Once again Barbie slipped over the side and almost immediately said, 'No, this will never do, the water is only up to my chest.'

"So on they rowed on and on, and finally Barbie slipped over the side again; this time she disappeared. Quite a bit of time went by and poor Bubbles was really getting worried, when suddenly Barbie broke the surface, gasping for breath.

"'Well, is it deep enough yet, Sis?' Bubbles asked.

"'Yes, finally! Hand me the shovel.'"

The world of work. . . Just in case you ever get these two environments mixed up, this comparison thoughtfully supplied by Gypsy Ed should make things a little bit clearer:

"In prison, you spend most of your time in a 10-by-10 cell. At work, you spend most of your time in a 6-by-6 cubicle.

"In prison, you get three fully paid-for meals a day. At work, you get a break for one meal, and you have to pay for it.

"In prison, for good behavior, you get time off. At work, for good behavior, you get more work.

"In prison, the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you. At work, you must carry a security card and open all the doors yourself.

"In prison, you can watch TV and play games. At work, you could get fired for watching TV and playing games.

"In prison, you get your own toilet. At work, you have to share the toilet with people who pee on the seat.

"In prison, they allow your family and friends to visit. At work, you aren't even supposed to speak to your family.

"In prison, all expenses are paid by the taxpayers with no work required on your part. At work, you must pay all your expenses to go to work, and they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners.

"In prison, you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out. At work, you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars.

"In prison, you must deal with sadistic wardens. At work, they are called 'managers.'"


Working hard or hardly working? Either way, share your creative comparisons, jokes, puns and whatnot with Desert Diary at PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4154 or email diary@desertexposure.com.

A rose by any other name . . . With apologies to all our hillbilly readers, we pass along this yarn from Barclay:

"Billy Bob's pregnant sister is in a terrible car accident and goes into a deep coma. After being in the coma for nearly six months, she wakes up and sees that she is no longer pregnant. Frantically, she asks the doctor about her baby. The doctor replies, 'Ma'am, you had twins! A boy and a girl. The babies are fine and your brother came in and named them.'

"The woman thinks to herself, 'Oh no, not my brother — he's an idiot!' Expecting the worst, she asks the doctor, 'Well, what's the girl's name?'

"'Denise,' says the doctor.

"The new mother says, 'Wow, that's a beautiful name! I guess I was wrong about my brother. I like Denise.' Then she asks, 'What's the boy's name?'


Freudian slippage. . . The easily offended might want to avert their eyes from the salubrious details in this yarn from Ned Ludd:

"A guy goes to the supermarket and notices an attractive woman waving at him. She says hello. He's rather taken aback because he can't place where he knows her from. So he says, 'Do you know me?'

"To which she replies, 'I think you're the father of one of my kids.'

"Now his mind travels back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful to his wife and he says, 'My God, are you the stripper from my bachelor party that I made love to on the pool table with all my buddies watching while your partner whipped my butt with wet celery?'

"She looks into his eyes and says calmly, 'No, I'm your son's teacher.'"

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