To Be Sure . . .
Makes Sense
NSA Called Conference
Whole-heartedly, In Fact
A Song I Really Like for Some Reason
Scales Nicely
Man Is Born to Trouble as the Sparks Fly Upward
Jokes I Like to Tell
Many decades ago, before the invention of the kind of equipment that can paint yellow lines on highways without a lot of fuss and bother, the task had to be done by hand. One day, there was a young man who had a great attitude, and a real work ethic, who applied for that job. He wanted nothing more than to paint yellow lines down the middle of the highway. Unfortunately, despite all that he had going for him, he was not too bright.
Nevertheless he applied for the job. The foreman could tell that he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack, and so he was not too sure. But the young man pleaded for the job so earnestly that the foreman finally gave way, and said that he would try him out in a probationary way. He could work at the job for a week, and depending on how he did, he could possibly earn a more permanent spot.
The young man’s work on the first day just blew the foreman away. He did about three times as much as any of the other workers, and the foreman almost gave him a permanent job right there. But the second day, his accomplishment was about the same as the other workers—he really tailed off. And the third day, he only painted about half the amount as the others.
The foreman called the young man in, and explained that this was going to be a problem. Then he said, “That first day was really something, though. Why didn’t you keep up that pace?”
“Well, I’m working just as hard, boss.”
“Yes, I don’t doubt that. But the first day . . . you did way more than I have seen anybody do. But now you are right in there with the others, and not keeping up with most of them.”
“Boss, I can’t help it. I’m working really hard. It is just that every day I get farther and farther away from the can.”
The Platonic Form of an Open Road Photo
And as I usually say, more here.
Featured Book
Letters on Homosexual Desire
In this series of (fictional) letters, a pastor is writing a young Christian with a homosexual background about how best to understand and resist his impulses and temptations.
As a member of the Dimwit-American community, your paint can joke is tasteless, offensive, and hurtful. Our organization plans to picket until you issue a public apology. We’ll be the ones with the misspelled signs.
Bad spellers untie!
A dyslexic guy walked into a bra…
Dyslexic insomniac agnostics lie awake at night wondering if there is a dog.