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Since 1940, the year Chuck Norris was born, round house kick related deaths have risen 13,000 percent.
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,303 ·
A little boy who wanted $100 very badly prayed and prayed for two weeks, but nothing happened. Then he decided to write a letter to God requesting the $100.

When the postal authorities received the letter to "God, USA," they decided to send it to President Clinton. The president was so impressed, touched, and amused that he instructed his secretary to send the little boy a $5 bill. Mr. Clinton thought this would appear to be a lot of money to a little boy.

The little boy was delighted with the $5, and immediately sat down to write a thank you note to God which read "Dear God, Thank you for sending me the money. However, I noticed that for some reason you had to send it through Washington D.C., and as usual, those bastards deducted $95."
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,304 ·
I had this idea that I could rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.
I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up-- 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold.
The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it, it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope, and then received an education. The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.
That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity. A deer-- no Chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined. The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals.
A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head. At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope.
I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn't want the deer to have to suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand...kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when ..... I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and slide off to then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head--almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.
The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective.
It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the tendons out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose.
That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.
Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp... I learned a long time ago that, when an animal -like a horse --strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.
This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.
Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.
I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away. So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope......to sort of even the odds!!
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,305 ·
A young woman was having a physical examination and was embarrassed because of a weight problem. As she removed her last bit of clothing, she blushed. "I'm so ashamed, Doctor," she said, "I guess I let myself go."
The physician was checking hers eyes and ears. "Don't feel ashamed, Miss. You don't look that bad."
"Do you really think so, Doctor?" she asked.
The doctor held a tongue depressor in front of her face and said, "Of course. Now just open your mouth and say moo."
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,307 ·
A woman has twins, and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt, and is named "Amal." The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him "Juan."

Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his mom. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Amal. Her husband responds, "But they are twins--if you've seen Juan, you've seen Amal."
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,308 ·
Information for Northerners Visiting the Southern States
If you are from the northern states and planning on visiting or moving to the south, there are a few things you should know that will help you adapt to the difference in life styles:

1. If you run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in a four-wheel-drive pickup truck with a 12-pack of beer and a towchain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them, just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.

2. Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store. Do not buy food at this store.

3. Remember: "Y'all" is singular, "All y'all" is plural, and "All y'alls'" is plural possessive.

4. Get used to hearing "You ain't from around here, are ya?"

5. You may hear a Southerner say "Oughta!" to a dog or child. This is short for "Y'all oughta not do that!" and is the equivalent of saying "No!"

6. Don't be worried about not understanding what people are saying; they can't understand you, either.

7. The first Southern expression to creep into a transplanted Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective "big ol'," as in "big ol' truck " or "big ol' boy." Most Northerners begin their new Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it.

8. The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.

9. Be advised that "He needed killin'" is a valid defense here.

10. If you hear a Southerner exclaim "Hey, y'all, watch this," stay out of the way. These are likely to be the last words he'll ever say.

11. If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It doesn't matter whether you need anything or not. You just have to go there.

12. When you come upon a person driving 15 mph down the middle of the road, remember that most folks here learn to drive on a John Deere, and that this is the proper speed and position for that vehicle.
 

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Information for Northerners Visiting the Southern States
If you are from the northern states and planning on visiting or moving to the south, there are a few things you should know that will help you adapt to the difference in life styles:

1. If you run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in a four-wheel-drive pickup truck with a 12-pack of beer and a towchain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them, just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.

2. Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store. Do not buy food at this store.

3. Remember: "Y'all" is singular, "All y'all" is plural, and "All y'alls'" is plural possessive.

4. Get used to hearing "You ain't from around here, are ya?"

5. You may hear a Southerner say "Oughta!" to a dog or child. This is short for "Y'all oughta not do that!" and is the equivalent of saying "No!"

6. Don't be worried about not understanding what people are saying; they can't understand you, either.

7. The first Southern expression to creep into a transplanted Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective "big ol'," as in "big ol' truck " or "big ol' boy." Most Northerners begin their new Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it.

8. The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.

9. Be advised that "He needed killin'" is a valid defense here.

10. If you hear a Southerner exclaim "Hey, y'all, watch this," stay out of the way. These are likely to be the last words he'll ever say.

11. If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It doesn't matter whether you need anything or not. You just have to go there.

12. When you come upon a person driving 15 mph down the middle of the road, remember that most folks here learn to drive on a John Deere, and that this is the proper speed and position for that vehicle.
There should be a mandatory rest stop at the Mason-dixon line with these instructions written in red on a white billboard for all to read before going any further. Lol. :D :LOL: :ROFLMAO:
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,310 ·
Daddy's Rules for Dating
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them..
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a 'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: 'early.'
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge . Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like change the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi . When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight, speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, and then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is me.
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,311 ·
On the first day, she sadly packed her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases.
On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things.
On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table by candle-light; she put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of spring-water.
When she'd finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimps dipped in caviar into the hollow centre of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
On the fourth day, the husband came back with his new girlfriend, and at first all was bliss.
Then, slowly, the house began to smell.They tried everything; cleaning, mopping, and airing-out the place. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which time the two had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting. Nothing worked!
People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit.
Finally, they couldn't take the stench any longer, and decided they had to move, but a month later - even though they'd cut their price in half - they couldn't find a buyer for such a stinky house.
Word got out, and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls. Finally, unable to wait any longer for a purchaser, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
Then the ex-wife called the man and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely and said that she missed her old home terribly and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for having the house.
Knowing she could have no idea how bad the smell really was, he agreed on a price that was only 1/10th of what the house had been worth...but only if she would sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within two hours his lawyers delivered the completed paperwork.
A week later the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home........
and to spite the ex-wife, they even took the curtain rods!
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,313 ·
The Catholic parish was having its penitential rite in preparation for Christmas. The circus was in town and the tumbler decided to go to the service and make his confession. The priest he confessed to was sitting next to the communion railing. The tumbler confessed his sins and then told the priest what he did for a living. The priest was fascinated. Using the communion rail, the tumbler gave the priest a demonstration of his moves. Two women were in line, watching all this. Mable said to her friend, "If that is what the Father is giving for a penance, I had better go home and put on my pantsuit."-
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,314 ·
A judge in his golden years decided that retirement had become too boring. So he volunteered as a librarian at his local library branch. A week later, his supervisor, a stern woman in her sixties, called him into her office.
She cleared her throat and said, "You know, I appreciate that when you were a judge you were stern with lawbreakers. And you carry that with you to your new job, which is very commendable. But when someone owes an overdue fine, you can't just..."
"I had to throw the book at him," said the judge.
"I know," said the librarian, "but the Entire Encyclopedia Britannica?"
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,315 ·
Mary Clancy goes up to Father McGuire after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears. He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"
She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."
The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?"
She says, "That he did, Father."
The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary? "
She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun.' "
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,316 ·
A Woman's Week At The Gym

For my birthday this year, my Husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!
Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!
Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!
TUESDAY
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.
Chris was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Chris put me on the stair monster. Why the heck would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Chris told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other stuff, too.
THURSDAY
Butthole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes.
He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny witch to find me. Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
FRIDAY
I hate that turd Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world! Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.
Chris wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the stinkin barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
SATURDAY
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
SUNDAY
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband (the little terd) will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,317 ·
A cowboy rode into town and stopped at a saloon for a drink. Unfortunately, the locals always had a habit of picking on strangers, which he was. When he finished his drink, he found his horse had been stolen.

He goes back into the bar, handily flips his gun into the air, catches it above his head without even looking and fires a shot into the ceiling.

"WHICH ONE OF YOU SIDEWINDERS STOLE MY HORSE?" he yelled with surprising forcefulness. No one answered.

"ALL RIGHT, I'M GONNA HAVE ANOTHER BEER, AND IF MY HOSS AIN'T BACK OUTSIDE BY THE TIME I FINNISH, I'M GONNA DO WHAT I DUN IN TEXAS! AND I DON'T LIKE TO HAVE TO DO WHAT I DUN IN TEXAS!"

Some of the locals shifted restlessly. He had another beer, walked outside, and his horse is back! He saddles-up and starts to ride out of town. The bartender wanders out of the bar and asks, "Say partner, before you go...what happened in Texas?"

The cowboy turned back and said, "I had to walk home."
 

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Discussion Starter · #7,320 ·
It is important for men to remember that as women grow older it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.
My name is Jim ...... Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Sheila.
When I took "early retirement" last year, it became necessary for Sheila to get a full-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working I noticed she was beginning to show her age.
I usually get home from the Golf Course about the same time she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table.
I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home cooked grub when I hit that door....
She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now, it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed.
Now that she has gotten older, she does seem to get tired so much more quickly. Our washer and dryer are in the basement. Sometimes she says she just can't make another trip down those steps. I don't make a big issue of this; as long as she finishes up the laundry the next evening, I'm willing to overlook it. Not only that, but unless I need something ironed to wear to the Monday lodge meeting, or to Wednesday's or Saturday's poker club, or to Tuesday's or Thursday's bowling, or something like that, I will tell her to wait until the next evening to do the ironing. This gives her a little more time to do some of those odds and ends like shampooing the dog, vacuuming or dusting....
Also, if I had a really good day on the course and it was wet and muddy, my clubs are a mess, so I let her clean them, you know...get the grit off the grips and a little light Brillo on the club faces at a casual pace. My golf bag is heavy so I lift it out of the trunk for her. Women are delicate, have weak wrists and can't lift heavy stuff as good as men. But I did tell her I don't like to be wakened during my after-golf nap, so rather than bother me, she can put them back in the trunk when she's finished.
Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But boys, we take em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points.
When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too, and then take her break by my hammock. That way she can talk with me until I fall asleep.
I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Sheila. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other....
Signed, Jim
EDITOR'S NOTE: Jim died suddenly Thursday, Feb. 3. He was found with a Calloway extra long 50 inch Big Bertha Driver II rammed up his rump, with only 2 inches of grip showing.. His wife Sheila was arrested, but the all-woman Grand Jury accepted her defense that he accidentally sat on it, and she was released on Friday.
 
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