![]() On the other hand, we would not prohibit tramps from browsing, or testing the trampolines, unless a tramp's gyrations seemed to be getting out of control. ![]() If I ever opened a trampoline store, I don't think I'd call it Trampo-Land, because you might think it was a store for tramps, which is not the impression we re trying to convey with our store. But some other stuff could happen and it could be like ambition. The flytrap can bite and bite, but it won't bother the frog because it only has little tiny plant teeth. What do these words mean ? It's a mystery, and that's why so is mankind.ĭad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.Īmbition is like a frog sitting on a Venus Flytrap. Basically, it's made up of two separate words - "mank" and "ind". Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself: "Mankind". But the ride always ends, and you end up feeling lonely and bitter. Love can sweep you off your feet and carry you along in a way you've never known before. Somebody told me how frightening it was how much topsoil we are losing each year, but I told that story around the campfire and nobody got scared. If they have moving sidewalks in the future, when you get on them, I think you should have to assume sort of a walking shape so as not to frighten the dogs. That way, if anybody says, "Hey, can you give me a hand?"įor mad scientists who keep brains in jars, here's a tip: why not add a slice of lemon to each jar, for freshness? To me, it's always a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. And while you're doing that, I'll be over here, looking through your stuff. It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.Ĭonsider the daffodil. If God dwells inside us, like some people say, I sure hope He likes enchiladas, because that's what He's getting! Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead. Posts: 2843 | Registered: A Long Time Ago! Sometimes I think people wonder why God would let me run through their lawn, yelling and spinning around. Whenever I hear about a kid getting in trouble with drugs, I like to tell him this story. But suddenly, he jumped out of the way, and I went sailing through the second-story window behind him. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and ran to Dad's outstretched arms. "As long as you're pounding, why not use this?" I turned, and it was Dad, holding a brand-new solid-gold hammer. I pounded and pounded, until finally, behind me, I heard a voice. I ran into the house and flung myself onto my bed, pounding the bed with my fists. "What about your hammer?!" But I could not have cared less about hammering at that point. And I ran to the house, as fast as my legs could take me. And when I saw my hammer flying helplessly through the air like that, I just couldn't take it. That apparently didn't make any difference whatsoever to Dad, because he just grabbed my hammer out of my hand and flung it across the field. I was just letting the hammer swing lazily at arm's length, and maybe it tapped the fence once or twice, but that's all. I swear, what I did next was not hammering. ![]() "I'm afraid I have some news for you," he said. Then, he just grabbed my arm and made me stop. But I just kept on hammering, 'cause that's the way I am when I get that hammer going. Dad tried to physically stop me from hammering by inserting a small log of some sort between my hammer and the fence. Hammering away, happy as an old hammer dog. As soon as I heard "You can hammer," that's what I started doing. "Look," he said, "you can hammer later, but first-" Well, I didn't even wait to hear the rest. I think he felt bad for yelling at me, especially since it looked like he had bad news. I did stop hammering, but first I got a couple more hammers in, and this seemed to make Dad mad. Dad asked me to stop hammering, as he had some news. ![]() "I'm just hammering." With that, I returned to my hammering. "Son," he said, "why are you hammering on that fence? It already has plenty of nails in it." "Oh, I'm not using nails," I replied. I continued to hammer as he came toward me. He was carrying a letter or something in his hand, and he looked worried. I remember I was hammering on a fence in the backyard when Dad approached. Hatrack River Forum » Active Forums » Books, Films, Food and Culture » My Favorite Jack Handey My profile login | search | faq | forum home
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