The one about Le-A is the craziest yet!! Thank goodness she understands what she meant !
I handed the teller @ my bank a withdrawal slip for $400.00
I said “May I have large bills, please”
She looked at me and said “I’m sorry sir, all the bills are the same size.”
When I got up off the floor I explained it to her….
When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. ‘Hey,’ I announced to the technician, ‘it’s open!’ His reply: ‘I know. I already got that side.‘
This was at the Ford dealership in Canton,MS
We had to have the garage door repaired.
The Sears repairman told us that one of our problems was that we did not have a ‘large’ enough motor on the opener.
I thought for a minute, and said that we had the largest one Sears made at that time, a 1/2 horsepower.
He shook his head and said, ‘Lady, you need a 1/4 horsepower.’ I responded that 1/2 was larger than 1/4.
He said, ‘NO, it’s not..’ Four is larger than two.’
We haven’t used Sears repair since.
My daughter and I went through the McDonald’s take-out window and I gave the clerk a $5 bill.
Our total was $4.25, so I also handed her a quarter.
She said, ‘you gave me too much money.’ I said, ‘Yes Iknow, but this way you can just give me a dollar bill back.
She sighed and went to get the manager, who asked me to repeat my request.
I did so, and he handed me back the quarter, and said ‘We’re sorry but we could not do that kind of thing.’
The clerk then proceeded to give me back $1 and 75 cents in change.
Do not confuse the clerks at McD’s.
IDIOT SIGHTING IN FOOD SERVICE
My daughter went to a local Taco Bell and ordered a taco.
She asked the person behind the counter for ‘minimal lettuce.’
He said he was sorry, but they only had iceburg lettuce.
— From Kansas City
I was at the airport, checking in at the gate when an airport employee asked,
‘Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge?’
To which I replied, ‘If it was without my knowledge, how would I know?’
He smiled knowingly and nodded, ‘That’s why we ask.’
Happened in Birmingham , Ala.
The stoplight on the corner buzzes when it’s safe to cross the street.
I was crossing with an intellectually challenged coworker of mine. She asked if I knew what the buzzer was for.
I explained that it signals blind people when the light is red.
Appalled, she responded, ‘What on earth are blind people doing driving?!’
She was a probation officer in Wichita , KS
At a good-bye luncheon for an old and dear coworker who was leaving the company due to ‘downsizing,’
our manager commented cheerfully, ‘This is fun. We should do this more often.’
Not another word was spoken. We all just looked at each other with that deer-in-the-headlights stare.
This was a lunch at Texas Instruments.
I work with an individual who plugged her power strip back into itself
and for the sake of her life, couldn’t understand why her system would not turn on.
A deputy with the Dallas County Sheriffs office, no less.
How would you pronounce this child’s name?
Lee – A?? NOPE
Lay – a?? NO
Lei?? Guess Again.
This child attends a school in Kansas City, Mo.
Her mother is irate because everyone is getting her name wrong.
It’s pronounced “Ledasha”.
When the Mother was asked about the pronunciation of the name, she said, “the dash don’t be silent.”
SO, if you see something come across your desk like this please remember to pronounce the dash.
If dey axe you why, tell dem de dash don’t be silent.
They walk among us……
-Dry Bones- Israel’s Political Comic Strip Since 1973
Posted: 12 Feb 2013 10:47 AM PST
I was on my way to Haifa last night (from Ra’anana) with a friend who shall remain nameless (his wife gets upset when I mention his drinking online but many of our mutual friends will guess who he his anyways). And since I’ve been told drinking is legal in Israel in a car (for the passengers at least) and there’s no open container law (although flaunting it might still get you pulled over or hassled at a DUI roadblock) I often take a bottle for a long ride.
Also we were going to a favorite bar, ELi’s Pub on Jaffa Rd. in Haifa to listen to their Monday Night Jam sessions (no cover charge and great jazz/rock/blues musicians) that lets me bring my own wine (after paying a corkage charge).
So I opened the bottle along the way ( a mistake…I should have opened it before leaving my apartment) and on the road it became painfully obvious that the bottle I was opening (2007 Tishbi Single Vineyard “Petite Syrah”) had a bad cork. Now by a bad cork I don’t mean the cork was infected by bacteria TCA, trichloroanisole, that can infect a natural cork so that a wine ends up with a taste of wet newspaper but rather that probably by my own fault of storing the bottle standing up the cork had dried out. Typically I store a bottle horizontally instead of vertically so the wine keeps the cork moist but I had thought I would have drunk this wine much sooner and now I was suffering for my poor planning.
As I attempted to extract the cork with a conventional waiter’s corkscrew (which most professionals prefer particularly for its advantages for dealing with problem corks where some fancier gadgets prove useless in such a pinch) the cork started to crumble into flakes so much so I couldn’t get a grip on any of the cork. If I was somewhere I could stand up and was lit and I wasn’t afraid of spilling a little wine (unlike sitting down in a dark fairly new car) I could have extracted the cork remnants slowly and precariously with a likely probability of getting it open without much or any cork getting in the bottle. But this cork was a real SOB and I knew if I wanted a glass of wine in the car for the ride I was going to have to get creative if I didn’t want a mouthful of cork in each sip and swallow of a wine that retails for NIS 130 or about $40.
As a fan of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy I do recall the perfect item to carry if you have only one item to carry as you travel around the universe, a towel but I had no towel but I did have a clean kercheif which in this case was even more ideal of a tool for this situation.
I bit the bullet and forced the cork or what little was left into the bottle and I took my kerchief and draped it into my glass creating a nice filter as I poured myself a glass. Any cork that would have gone into the glass was caught by the kerchief and I poured myself and my friend a glass.
And we were both awarded by a great glass of 2007 Tishbi Petite Sirah Single Vineyard (91 points) that was fruit forward with bold blackberries and raspberries expressing integrated tannins and fragrant smokey oak and vanilla in a pleasantly lingering finish. The wine seemed at first like maybe I opened it just as it was starting to peak but as the wine decanted in the bottle as well as my glass the wine did still open up a bit showing it still might have aged for another few years.
Even better than enjoying the bottle of the course of the evening on the ride to and during a great jam session was knowing that I rescued a very good bottle of wine from being served in a way that would have diminished all the good craftsmanship that had been exercised in the vineyard and the winery to bring this wine to fruition.
Often a sommelier at restaurant isn’t merely judged for as much by how he can pair and suggest wines for diners but how he can handle problems with bad bottles and corks as they arise. Who knew this California trained sommelier would get to play MacGiver and overcome a serving mishap one day on the road to Haifa?
This is Cerabino’s best column ever! I particularly like the observation that neither a sound mind nor a sound body are necessary to enjoy the Florida Dream.
Cerabino: Pope would fit right in if he chose South Florida as his retirement spot
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
First of all, congratulations.
As a wise man once said: Nobody on his or her deathbed has ever said, “I wish I had spent more time at the office.”
So props to you, Benedict XVI, for being the first pope in 600 years to realize that.
When you become a retiree at the end of the month, you’ll need a new place to stay.
Have you considered moving to Florida? Everyone else has.
I read that the church is planning to move you to a fixer-upper monastery at the Vatican, where you will be downsized to Cardinal and made to live near your replacement.
That’s never a good idea. First it’s like, “Oh, we’re so glad to have you around for your counsel, blah, blah, blah …” and within a few months, your calls are going straight to voicemail and you’re getting all your papal news from Twitter.
Do yourself a favor and make a clean break.
And when you do, there’s no place better to land than a South Florida condo.
You’ll fit in. Trust me.
Half of the adults-only developments here have Italian-sounding names and were built in the style of the Vatican. And nearly all the landscaping work is done by Catholics.
So think about it. You don’t have to commit.
At first, just come for the season.
I guarantee you, once you get here and feel that warm sunshine radiating through your mitre, you’ll want to take off all your shmatas and sit by the pool in a bathing suit for deep reflection, a little contract bridge and maybe a late-night cigar.
Which brings me to something else. You probably could use some sharpening of your leisure skills.
I’ve read that your plan for retirement is to pray. Which is like Tiger Woods saying he’s quitting the tour so he can play golf.
Seriously, your Holiness, coming to Florida may be God’s way of having you experience some of His most remarkable creations: Like the all-you-can eat buffet at Golden Corral followed by a musical review performed by the Kings Point Players.
We here in South Florida are living in the land of miracles, and I’m not just talking about hip replacements.
A lot of prayers have been answered here.
Which reminds me, you’re gonna have to watch out for the ladies.
The adults-only communities are teeming with them, and many are still on the prowl. It’s like being surrounded by an army of Mary Magdalene’s grandmothers.
So I wouldn’t flash a lot of that fabulous jewelry around the clubhouse, or mention your vow of celibacy in any way that might be misconstrued as a challenge.
As a last resort, you’ll be able to keep them away with your golden staff.
I know you’re feeling old and tired now. In your retirement announcement, you spoke of a recognition that you were losing the “strength of mind and body” to do your job.
Fortunately, you don’t need either to enjoy South Florida living. And after a few months in the condo, your immersion into shared experiences will rejuvenate you, even if it’s mostly just stimulation by agitation.
Instead of wasting away in that hush-hush monastery atmosphere, you’d be part of the hustle-bustle among other people, who like you, also consider themselves infallible.
Who knows? This might lead you to imagine that you still have some of that papal mojo left. If so, you might consider joining the condo board, where you can enforce rules that make the Inquisition look progressive.
So, think about it, Your Holiness. There’s no reason to feel cast aside and too old for the world.
That’s why God made Florida!
Innocents Abroad Build Foreign Armies
by Daniel Pipes
February 10, 2013
In the near-century that the United States has been a great power, it has developed some original and sophisticated foreign policy tools. Examples include the Marshall Plan, special forces, and satellite imaging. At the same time, the country’s naiveté remains firmly in place. For example, the notion persists that government staff are “particularly qualified to [handle a problem] because they knew nothing about it.” (For details, see my analysis at “American Know-Nothing Diplomacy.”)
The persistent belief that training and equipping foreign troops imbues them with American political and ethical values, making them allies of the United States, offers another sign of innocence. Some examples of this delusional policy in recent decades:
- Lebanon: On landing U.S. troops in 1982, the priority was to train a national army. Of course, this failed, with most members returning to their communal militias with new arms and training to use against rivals. Despite this failure, the effort was renewed just two weeks ago.
- Afghanistan: Training a national army was a action following the 2001 invasion; but the Afghan Local Police, a militia backed by the government, turned their guns against their international colleagues so often – 34 times in the first eight months of 2012, killing 45 persons – that the training was stopped.
- Mali: The latest disaster, where U.S. efforts to train the woebegone Malian national army to take on Al-Qaeda did not exactly work out. In the words of Der Spiegel, “American specialists did train four crack units, totaling 600 men, to fight the terrorists. But it backfired: Three of the elite units have defected en masse to the rebel Tuareg. Most of the commanders, after all, are Tuaregs. Captain Amadou Sanogo, trained in the United States, was one of the soldiers who didn’t defect. Instead, he inflicted even more damage when, last March, he and a few close supporters overthrew the government in Bamako and ousted the elected president.”
- Palestinian Authority: A disaster still in the making. The Dayton Mission has trained over 6,000 Palestinian Authority security personnel in the hope that they will become Israel’s partners for peace. To the contrary, I have predicted in writing that “these militiamen will eventually turn their guns against Israel.”
When will American politicians and military leaders eventually realize that training foreign soldiers does not allies make them? (February 10, 2013)
A TREASURY OF CLASSIC STORIES FOR KINDERLACH
Der Drei Kleiner Chazzeirimlach
Once upon a time there were three little pink kosher animals with curly tails named Shmuli, Tuli and Smartest-in-Schooli. Their mother, whose name is inconsequential, sent them to learn Torah and get an online degree in neuropsychology.
Each one went out to build a beis medrashel. To leave more time for learning Torah, Shmuli built his beis medrash of straw. Tuli collected leftover schach after Sukkos and built his beis medrash from sticks. Smartest-in-Schooli received a loan from the Small Business Administration, collected Section 8 vouchers, obtained Pell Grants and guaranteed student loans, and built a beis medrash from bricks.
Along came the Big Bad Feminist and banged on Shmuli’s door. “Little prig, little prig, let me lead the hakofos!” Shmuli answered, “No, you can’t. It’s against the Torah’s hashkafos!” “Then I’ll hora with the Torah, and force my way in.” And she did.
The Big Bad Feminist banged on Tuli’s door. “Now I want to learn Gemara. Little prig, little prig, let me start reden in lernen!” Tuli answered, “No, no. It’s assur for women to have that yearning!” “Then I’ll learn at Stern, and I’ll argue my way in.” And she did.
The Big Bad Feminist banged on Smartest-in-Schooli’s door. “Now I want to be a rabbi. Little prig, little prig, let me learn Yoreh De’oh!” “Not on your life, you Apikoyres, you Cholerya! “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your walls down.”
But the brick walls were too strong. Shmuli, Tuli and Smartest-in-Schooli continued to learn Torah undisturbed. Furious, the Big Bad Feminist climbed onto the roof of the beis medrash and jumped down the chimney. She fell straight into a fiery pan of gribenes. This caused her cholesterol level to skyrocket, and she was never heard from again.
The Pea and the Not-Princess
Malka Feldensteinowitz was desperate to find her son Mendel a kalloh. Only she couldn’t be one of those spoiled JAPs, a princess. But how to make sure? Malka instructed her son to go to the hotel lobby before the date, locate the plushest, softest chair in the room, and place a small dried pea under the cushion. During the date, the girl would sit on the chair. If she felt the pea, the verdict was clear – no shidduch! The plan worked. Date after date, every girl sat in the chair and complained how uncomfortable she was.
Then Mendel took out a girl named Shprintze Rochel. She sat on the chair with the pea. “Does it feel okay?” he asked. “Just fine,” she replied. An hour later, Mendel asked her, “Is the chair comfortable?” “Couldn’t be better,” answered Shprintze Rochel. After another hour, he inquired, “How’s the chair?” “Great,” she said. At the end of the date, Mendel was bursting with excitement. He rushed home to tell his mother that he had found his true bashert!
Sadly, Shprintze Rochel was not interested in Mendel. “He spent the whole evening talking about furniture, staring at my seat, and muttering about pea.”
The Matzo Brei Man
Once upon a time, on Paysach, a kindly balabusta made matzo brei for her husband, who learned part-time in Kollel and worked part-time as a coat rack. She fried the matzo brei in butter, then shaped it into the figure of a person, adding raisins for eyes, a fruit slice for a mouth, and strands of bean sprouts for tzitzis.
Suddenly, the Matzo Brei Man jumped up and ran out the door, shouting, “Run, run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Matzo Brei Man!” “Never mind,” said her husband. “He is gebrokts, so we can’t eat him any way.” So they did not run after him.
He ran past a cow. “Run, run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Matzo Brei Man!” “Looks tasty,” thought the cow. “But matzo makes me constipated.” So the cow did not run after him.
He ran past a horse. “Run, run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Matzo Brei Man!” The horse licked his lips at the sight of the Matzo Brei Man. “I love fried foods, but the trans fats will give me a heart attack.” So the horse did not run after him.
He came to a river. “If I get wet, I will fall apart,” said the Matzo Brei Man. A fox appeared and said, “I will help you across the river. Ride on my back and you won’t get wet.” Halfway across the river, the Matzo Brei Man heard the fox making the berocho of “Borei Minei Mezonos”. “He probably brought along a snack to eat,” thought the Matzo Brei Man, who was fast, but wasn’t very quick. Before he could even say “Omen,” the Matzo Brei Man felt himself thrown in the air, and the fox gobbled him up. After savoring his yummy snack, the fox realized he had behaved badly. “I just remembered – I’m still fleishig!”
Goldenlutz and the Three Baers
One Shabbos a boy named Goldenlutz went to visit his friend, Laibie Baer. He knocked on the door. No one answered. Goldenlutz entered the kitchen and found three boxes of cereal on the table. He examined the first box. “This hechsher is too permissive.” He read the second box. “This hechsher is too chassidish.” He checked the third box. “This hechsher is just right.” And he finished the entire box.
Goldenlutz walked into the Baers’ living room. He saw three shtenders with an open Gemara on each. Goldenlutz started learning from the first Gemara. “This sugya is too hard.” He tried the second Gemara. “This sugya is too easy.” He looked at the third Gemara. “This sugya is just right.” Goldenlutz started shuckling vigorously, until the shtender broke. “Now it’s muktzeh,” he said and went to take a nap.
He went upstairs and found three beds. The first bed was pointed East-West. “That’s against the Shulchon Oruch,” Goldenlutz said. The second bed was pointed South-North. “That’s against the Zohar,” he said. The third bed was pointed North-South. That’s the pesak of the Mishnoh Beruroh,” he said and went to sleep.
Papa Baer and his sons Chezkie and Laibie came home. “Someone’s been touching my cereal box,” said Papa Baer. “Someone’s been touching my cereal box,” said Chezkie Baer. “Someone’s been touching my cereal box,” said Laibie Baer, “and it’s all gone.” Papa Baer smiled. “Interesting choice,” he said.
The Baers went into the living room. “Someone’s been learning my Gemara,” said Papa Baer. “Someone’s been learning my Gemara,” said Chezkie Baer. “Someone’s been learning my Gemara,” said Laibie Baer, “and they broke my shtender and left the pieces all over.” Papa Baer smiled some more. “Yes they did,” he agreed.
The Baers went upstairs. “Someone’s been looking at my bed,” said Papa Baer. “Someone’s been looking at my bed,” said Chezkie Baer. “Someone’s been looking at my bed,” said Laibie Baer, “and he’s sleeping in it.” Papa Baer smiled even more. “Yes he is,” he agreed.
Goldenlutz woke up and saw the Baers. “I am really sorry,” he said. Papa Baer said, “Never mind, my boy. You ate Laibie’s cereal with the right hechsher. You left the muktzeh pieces of shtender on the floor. You chose the only bed that follows the Mishnoh Beruroh. You passed the test. Would you like to marry my daughter?”
“Help!” Goldenlutz screamed, and he ran out the door and never came back.
The Little Red Socialist
Once upon a time, there was a Little Red Socialist, who lived in Eretz Yisroel with a Mekubal, a Chossid, and a Misnaged. One day, the Little Red Socialist decided to build a kibbutz. “Who will help me?” asked the Little Red Socialist.
“Not I,” said the Mekubal. “Not I,” said the Chossid. “Not I,” said the Misnaged. “We’re too busy learning Torah. “Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Socialist. And he did.
When the Arabs attacked, the Little Red Socialist asked, “Who will help me fight?” “Not I,” said the Mekubal. “Not I,” said the Chossid. “Not I,” said the Misnaged. “We’re too busy learning Torah. “Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Socialist. And he did.
When the fighting subsided, the Little Red Socialist asked, “Who will help me build the economy?” “Not I,” said the Mekubal. “Not I,” said the Chossid. “Not I,” said the Misnaged. “We’re too busy learning Torah. “Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Socialist. And he did.
After 60 years, the Little Red Socialist asked, “Who will help me enjoy the bounty?” “I will,” said the Mekubal. “I will,” said the Chossid. “I will,” said the Misnaged. And they did.
Copyright © 2013 by Eli D. Clark
All Rights Reserved
Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream is now available in Israel in the following flavors:
Berry Pr’i Hagafen
It should be noted that all of these flavors come in either a cup or a
-Dry Bones- Israel’s Political Comic Strip Since 1973