She called all of her Democrat neighbors together and said, ‘If we plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?’

‘Not I,’ said the cow.

‘Not I,’ said the duck.

‘Not I,’ said the pig.

‘Not I,’ said the goose.

‘Then I will do it by myself,’ said the little red hen, and so she did.   The wheat grew very tall and ripened into golden grain.

‘Who will help me reap my wheat?’ asked the little red hen.

‘Not I,’ said the duck..

‘Out of my classification,’ said the pig.

‘I’d lose my seniority,’ said the cow.

‘I’d lose my unemployment compensation,’ said the goose.

‘Then I will do it by myself,’ said the little red hen, and so she did.

At last it came time to bake the bread.

‘Who will help me bake the bread?’ asked the little red hen.

‘That would be overtime for me,’ said the cow.

‘I’d lose my welfare benefits,’ said the duck.

‘I’m a dropout and never learned how,’ said the pig.

‘If I’m to be the only helper, that’s discrimination,’ said the goose.

‘Then I will do it by myself,’ said the little red hen.

She baked five loaves and held them up for all of her neighbors to see.  They wanted some and, in fact, demanded a share. But the little red hen said, ‘No, I shall eat all five loaves.’

‘Excess profits!’ cried the cow. (Nancy Pelosi)

‘Capitalist leech!’ screamed the duck. (Barbara Boxer)

‘I demand equal rights!’ yelled the goose. (Jesse Jackson)

The pig just grunted in disdain. (Ted Kennedy)

And they all painted ‘Unfair!’ picket signs and marched around and around the little red hen, shouting obscenities.

Then the farmer (Obama) came. He said to the little red hen, ‘You must not be so greedy.’

‘But I earned the bread,’ said the little red hen.

‘Exactly,’ said Barack the farmer. ‘That is what makes our free enterprise system so wonderful. Anyone in the barnyard can earn as much as he wants. But under our modern government regulations, the productive workers must divide the fruits of their labor with those who are lazy and idle.’

And they all lived happily ever after, including the little red hen, who smiled and clucked, ‘I am grateful, for now I truly understand.’

But her neighbors became quite disappointed in her. She never again baked bread because she joined the ‘party’ and got her bread free. And all the Democrats smiled. ‘Fairness’ had been established.

Individual initiative had died, but nobody noticed; perhaps no one cared…so long as there was free bread that ‘the rich’ were paying for.

EPILOGUE

Bill Clinton is getting $12 million for his memoirs.

Hillary got $8 million for hers.

That’s $20 million for the memories from two people, who for eight years, repeatedly testified, under oath, that they couldn’t remember anything.

IS THIS A GREAT BARNYARD OR WHAT?

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, ‘Excuse me, where are we?’

‘This is Heaven, sir,’ the man answered.

‘Wow! Would you happen to have some water?’ the man asked.

‘Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.’

The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

‘Can my friend,’ gesturing toward his dog, ‘come in, too?’ the traveler asked.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.’

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.

As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

‘Excuse me!’ he called to the man. ‘Do you have any water?’

‘Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there, come on in.’

‘How about my friend here?’ the traveler gestured to the dog.

‘There should be a bowl by the pump.’

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

What do you call this place?’ the traveler asked.

This is Heaven,’ he answered.

‘Well, that’s confusing,’ the traveler said. ‘The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.’

Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s hell.’

‘Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?’

‘No, we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.’

Soooo ..Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word. Maybe this will explain.

When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes.

When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.

When you have something to say, but don’t know what, and don’t know how, you forward jokes.

Also to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get?

A forwarded joke.

So, next time if you get a joke, don’t think that you’ve been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you’ve been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.

You are all welcome at my water bowl anytime

An email I got from the Zolad:

Since you & I are pals, I wanted you to read a rather personal letter I’ve sent to my brother & his wife (who are awesome people).  My sister was upset with me because her kid is smoking pot and I should be able to help by talking to him …

Elias …I have composed a letter for you & Nina … the folks I love, and want to try to explain what this brain trauma is like. I have worked on this (on & off) for 2 days now.  The process is very, very slow for me.  I want Sally to understand why it is so difficult to talk with someone (like Johnny, which I love & care for).

This is for my therapist, Stephanie, who worked with me.   She is awesome and I want her to be able to read this to the parents of others who suffer severe head trauma.  Tell me what you think of this …

The Zolad

A husband walks into  Victoria ’s Secret to purchase a sheer negligee for his wife.  He is shown several possibilities that range from $250 to $500 in price, the more sheer, the higher the price.  Naturally, he opts for the most sheer item, pays the $500, and takes it home.

He presents it to his wife and asks her to go upstairs, put it on, and model it for him. Upstairs, the wife thinks, ‘I have an idea. It’s so sheer that it might as well be nothing.  I won’t put it on, but I’ll do the modeling naked, return it tomorrow, and keep the $500 refund for myself.’

So she appears naked on the balcony and strikes a pose.

The husband says, ‘Good Grief! You’d think for $500, they’d at least iron it!’

He never heard the shot.

Funeral on Thursday at Noon.

Closed coffin.

I’m sure that upon reading this, you’ll nod your head in agreement as you will all have experienced most, if not all of the scenarios listed. If you haven’t you need more fiber…..

The Perfect Dump
Every once in a while everyone experiences the perfect dump. It’s rare but a real thing of beauty. You sit down expecting the worse, but what you get is a smooth sliding, fart-less masterpiece that breaks the water with the splash-less grace of an Olympic high-diving champion. You use the toilet tissue to find that it was totally unnecessary. It makes you feel that all is right in the world and that you are in perfe ct harmony with it.

The Beer Dump
Nasty! Depends upon the dumper’s tolerance and is the result of too many beers - doesn’t matter if it was 2 or 22. What you get is a sinister, lengthy, noisy dump accompanied by an odious malevolent fog that could close the bathroom for days. Naked flames are ill advised…..

The Chilli Dump (aka The Japanese Flag)
Hot when it goes in and napalm when it comes out. It stays with you all day stinging yer ring and generally making your choccie starfish feel like the Shuttle’s heat shield. Also makes your ass look like “a Japanese Flag”.

The Empty Roll Dump
Relief - you’ve finished and reach for the tissue only to find an empty cardboard cylinder staring back at you. Panic overcomes you. You could use the curtains but then someone would ask “where are the curtains?” Use the rug? Nah, too bulky and cumbersome. You then come to the same conclusion that every “empty roll dumper ” must face…..pull up yer kecks tigh ten yer cheeks and shuffle yourself to the nearest loo roll. Failing that you could always use your shirt-tail or one of your socks!

The Splash Back Dump
This one drops like a depth charge creating a column of cold water that washes your sphincter with a startlingly unpleasant shock. Now your wet - and embarrassed if the column of water went half way up your back. Tip of the day: blot instead of wiping.

The Childbirth Dump
This one is just too big to go through the aperture provided by nature for this purpose. You sit there thinking over your dilemma. First it hurts, and then gets no better. You sweat violently and wonder if you’ll ever see your loved ones again. You imagine the newspaper headlines screaming “Man dies trying to hatch monster loaf!” There are only three things you can do: 1. Scream 2. Call an Obstetrician 3. Hope to hell you’ve got some Vaseline to help you get through it.

The Machine Gun Dump
Best utilized in public conveniences. You sit there in sublime peace when suddenly you emit a group of noisy gassy bursts that break the tranquility like machine gun fire. The guy in the next cubicle hits the floor like a Vietnam veteran, cradling his umbrella like a M16….damn commies.

The Sound Effect Dump
You feel a noisy one coming on but relatives, friends or work mates are within earshot. So, you must employ some clever techniques to cover the disgusting sounds you are about to emit. Timing is of the essence. At the precise moment of release, try the following: 1. Flush the toilet 2. Drop loose change on the floor, 3. Sing the first two stanzas of your favorite opera.

The Cling-On Dump
You’ve finished but there’s one damn morsel that refuses to drop. You grip the seat with both hands and wriggle. You twist and pump but the little bastard just hands there, suspended, clinging like a canned peach between you and the water below. If only you had some scissors…….

The Whole Roll Dump
No matter how much you wipe, it just isn’t enough. You blow the whole roll and have to flush at least a dozen times. The whole episode is consumer waste. Eventually if your toilet paper runs into minimal supply anything will do, towels, wash clothes, carpet, walls, whatever it takes.

The Encore Dump
Ahhh, you’ve done, so you wipe, dress, flush, wash hands and are about to leave the auditorium when you feel another dump coming on. You must therefore return for a curtain call. The world record is seven encores…..

The Houdini Dump
You go, you stand to flush and it has disappeared! Did it creep down the pipe or did you dream the whole thing? Should you flush? Oh yes as you can guarantee that if you don’t, it will reappear and smile at the next person who comes in.

I was talking to a friend of mine’s little girl, and she said she wanted to be President some day.  Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, “If you were President what would be the first thing you would do?”

She replied, “I’d give houses to all the homeless people.”

“Wow - what a worthy goal.” I told her, “You  don’t have to wait until you’re  President to do that. You can come over to my house and mow, pull weeds, and  sweep my yard, and I’ll pay you $50.

Then I’ll take you over to the grocery  store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward a new house.”

She thought that over for a few seconds ’cause she’s only 6. And while her Mom glared at me, she looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Why doesn’t the homeless guy come over and do the work, and you can just pay him the $50?”

And I said, “Welcome to the Republican Party.”  Her folks still aren’t talking to me.