Back in the day I used to read Mad magazine. I mean that it was super popular with all us boys, and while I didn’t have a subscription, I would always beg my father buy me the latest issue as soon as it came out.
There was, you know, another magazine that I would sometimes buy from time to time. That magazine was called “Cracked”. It was very similar to Mad Magazine. We rarely hear about this magazine these days, but they were a “thing” back in the day.
Today is dedicated to that magazine.
And with that, let’s move forward today…
Why do people in their 60s think they are not old when they are about 85% through their lives?
I’m 65. I work out 5 days a week. My health is great. My financial situation is very good.
I’m very aware I might not have much time left.
I don’t feel old at all. Plenty of energy.
It’s true I could drop dead tomorrow. The again, so could anyone. I’ve lost friends to car accidents, violence, drug related, as far back as my twenties.
Every life expectancy calculator I go on says I have until 74. That’s 9:years away.
Am I old? Older than all those friends that passed already. I’m cool with making it 75. It’s been an incredibly good life.
What surprised me is my 65 old friends that don’t think their old are the ones sitting around doing nothing. They think they have forever. Delusion I guess
Crockpot Frito Pie
This cross between a taco salad and chili dip will deliver a cook-once-eat-twice meal or a convenient potluck dish for the backyard picnic crowd.
Yield: 10 to 12 servings
Try this recipe in tacos, burritos, and enchiladas or as a taco salad.
Ingredients
- 1 large onion, chopped
- 3 pounds lean ground beef*
- 3 cloves garlic
- 3/4 cup dry beans (or 15 ounce can pinto beans)
- 4 cups water (reduce to 1 1/2 to 2 cups if using canned beans)
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1 envelope taco seasoning or 2 tablespoons homemade Taco Seasoning
- 1 (15 ounce) package corn chips
- 3 cups shredded Monterey Jack and Cheddar cheese
- 2 tomatoes, diced
- 16 ounces salsa
- 16 ounces sour cream
- Sliced olives
Instructions
- Combine chopped onion, beef, garlic, beans, water, salt and taco seasoning in slow cooker. Stir well.
- Cover and cook on HIGH for 8 to 10 hours.
- Before serving, shred meat by pulling apart with two forks and mix with juices.
- Serve on a bed of chips.
- Top with chopped tomatoes, shredded cheese, salsa, a dollop of sour cream and sliced olives.
Notes
* Meat may be ground, stew meat or a roast. Try using pork, lamb or even game. If using a roast, cut the meat into 3 to 4 chunks. This will allow for easier shredding later.
If using this recipe as a cook-once-eat-twice, divide meat into convenient meal portions and refrigerate or freeze for up to 3 to 4 months. When ready to use, heat in microwave.
First Time Hearing DINOSAUR JR! Bass Teacher REACTS to “The Lung” (Live on KEXP)
Why do people in their 60s think they are not old when they are about 85% through their lives?
I was born on February 16, 1959, which means I turned 61 today. Twenty years ago, I remember saying,” in 2020, I’ll be 60.” Those twenty years blew by so quickly; it’s hard to wrap my head around it.
Twenty years ago, I wondered if I’d still enjoy sex. I wondered if I’d fall in love again. It’s funny to me now how I wondered such things as though sixty was old. Sixty is not old, at least not for me.
And yes, I fell in love and love sex, in fact, the person whom I’m in a relationship with is the love of my life, and with him, lovemaking is better than it’s ever been. I love my partner for who he is and don’t try to change him. I know what I want in a man, something I didn’t know when I was young. I don’t worry about contraception nor becoming pregnant. No kids Are bagging at my door, and I’m no longer self-conscious of my body.
In fact, I love my body. I appreciate my legs when they take me down the dirt path on my 5–10-mile hikes. I eat well (plant based diet with fish thrown in occasionally) and watch my weight, but I’m not a fanatic and do indulge in sweet treats on occasion. I Practice moderation in all things and enjoy the scenery along the path of life.
At 61, I see things as they are. There’s no need for me to pretend. I can be my true self. I accept myself for who I am, but I also respect your beliefs, and if we hit it off, great. If not that’s okay. You be you, and I’ll be me. No offense. I don’t need to have more than a few good friends.
I meditate, practice Dzogchen (Buddhism), take walks, and listen to rock and roll. I still love Bowie and the Stones, but my music repertoire is eclectic. I love music and always have. It’s still a big part of my life.
My passion for writing hasn’t waned, and I completed a two-year writer’s program at UCLA-X. Something I always wanted to do.
In the last several years, I’ve traveled to India, Egypt, Jordan, Israel, Viet Nam, Laos, and Cambodia. Plus, a few states.
I camp with my daughter and grandson in the national parks of California. We pitch a tent, bring our food packed in a cooler, and set up camp. During the day we hike near rivers or climb boulders.
I still work full time at the job I’ve had for over 20 years.
My youngest daughter has a rare syndrome. She just turned 37 years old and moved out a few years go but I’m still active in managing her life.
My life is very rich. I love to learn new things, am more comfortable with myself, appreciate the small things in life, feel less need to impress others, and love to be with family and friends.
I feel young. I look young, or so I’m told. Sometimes I notice people half my age are so old! Their bodies are unhealthy; their minds are narrow- attitudes stink.
The most interesting part of being sixty is how young I feel!
Cathyheimer
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.… view prompt
Scott Christenson
Until that moment, Cathy had believed the future of the planet to was hopeless. Global warming, inequality, pollution, the mistreatment of animals–so many issues. And there was no way out. People were too driven by their own selfish desires.
But what if we received help from another race of intelligent beings? One that travelled the stars would know how to transform this planet into a truly sustainable ecosystem.
Following first contact protocol–each person at SETI kept it in a laminated binder on their desk–she alerted the US Air Force. A dozen F-16s were scrambled to protect the nation’s airspace.
The the other 98% of the earth’s surface area would have to fend for itself.
**
On The Hand of God, currently circling this system’s fourth planet, Booba leaned back in his chair and put all eight feet on the starship’s control panel. After the hard work of choosing which BlodChat reply to send to this planet—the AI had produced 27 different translations–he did the Bloderian equivalent of flipping a coin, and chose one randomly. Exhausted, he was ready to start another gaming session.
On the game menu, he selected a flamethrower and began poking his tentacles around corners, searching for two-legged pests to exterminate. Oh how he enjoyed first-bloderian-shooters. Perhaps it was the visceral thrill of blasting away at bipeds. He would try to get over his distate on the current assignment. Visualization was key. He would imagine them as normal creatures with shiny exoskeletons and multiple legs and tentacles.
**
Cathy, despite her gloomy views on the future of the planet, maintained a flowery disposition with people, one nurtured growing up in the beautiful pine covered foothills of Boulder Colorado. Far away from the ravages of the mining industry in the west and the blight of industrialization in the east.
She looked at the decoded alien message. The words were in English but they didn’t make any sense.
“There must be a coded message in this. The Taliban hid their messages into the pixels of jpeg photos,” she said to the large and growing team in SETI’s office.
Behind he loomed General Sputz. The military was now trying to muscle in on the action at SETI and capture the glory of first contact. “We need answers.” He looked around at everyone else. “No one slacks off until we get to the bottom of this.”
General Sputz grew up in Akron under the merciless eye of an abusive father. He lacked Cathy’s positive outlook. But he knew better than to blame his parents, so he blamed the toxic pollution in Ohio’s drinking water.
They both studied the message again:
Smoked like bacon
Feel our sound
All for taking
Lift your hands
Booba is your man
This friday night
Make my day
Cathy wondered why an alien race would communicate in meaningless nonsense.
Another man cleared his throat. Professor Hall, the linguist from Berkeley, spoke up. “78% of the radio transmissions from Earth that leave the solar system are music. This message looks like pop music, doesn’t it?”
Cathy groaned. “So…decades of SETI broadcasts sending earth’s knowledge to alien planets, was drowned out by Top 40 radio.”
“From the lyrics, I’d say the pop music of the 90s. Space travel has a time shift. If the aliens didn’t know anything else, they would think pop music was our main form of communication.”
“Sad,“ Cathy said. She was trying to stay composed while watching someone else uncover the mysteries of first contact. “What do you think it means?”
“His name is Booba, and he’s looking for a date Friday night.”
General Sputz was now staring at Cathy oddly. “Date night. You’re the best looking woman here. Are you willing to serve your country?”
“What do you mean by that?!” Cathy said incredulously.
“Save the world. Think about it?”
“I am a scientist,” she said, looking at this General in his polyester uniform with even greater disdain than before.
**
The next day, they sent the message they laboriously wrote together:
‘Thank you for paying homage to our 1990s pop music. We would like to invite you to meet our leader at the White House on Friday.’
The reply was quick. The voice of an alien was heard by earth for the first time.
“I’m meeting Madonna? And why did it take you so long to reply?” spoke the deep, resonant voice.
“Sorry, it took us time to understand the message. And we have a new leader now.”
“A new leader, let’s celebrate. You should throw a party for Booba on Friday.”
The ground began shaking, an earthquake. SETI’s office was close to the San Andreas, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence.
“Did you do something?” she asked Booba the alien.
He chuckled.
Cathy glanced at General Sputz. His face was ashen. He leaned over and whispered, “Tell him yes. We’ll throw him a party on Friday.”
**
On The Hand of God, Booba tinkered with the control panel while thinking about what he should wear to the party. The earthquake he triggered in Northern California had gotten their attention. He wanted make an even grander entrance on Friday.
Booba had studied their history and wanted to give Hiroshima a break this time around. They were treated so unfairly in the past.
“How about we nuke Antarctica as our opening act?” he said to his assistant Zagbed. “The tidal wave would be 100 meters tall.”
His assistant found it challenging to disagree with his boss, but he mumbled, “The way they party might be different than yours, boss.” Zagbed cowered, prepared to dart from any weapon discharge in his direction.
“Just because you don’t know how to loosen up, doesn’t mean they don’t,” Booba roared. He believed he and Zagbed had the sort of friendly employee-manager relationship in which one could be utterly frank without any hard feelings.
Zagbed inched for the door.
**
After the alien caused an earthquake in California, General Sputz knew things on earth would never be the same again. It was an alien feeling to no longer be in charge of the world’s most powerful military.
He wondered what type of party Booba might be expecting. This was out of his wheelhouse. He would need to rope in the Pentagon’s cultural diversity team.
**
Cathy, at first repulsed by the General’s suggestion that she should be Earth’s alien dating escort, now toyed with the idea. She remembered her childhood aspiration to improve the planet. And, what would it be like to be the first wife of an alien race? This could be a historic act affecting future generations. A sea change in the perceptions of extraterrestrial marriage.
She made up her mind. But first, she needed to know what Booba looked like.
**
Booba received a request for a photo on a private radio frequency. But sending selfies was not the Bloderian way. Most non-Bloderians had only a millisecond to look a Bloderian in the eyes before they were exterminated.
But due to the labor shortage, the bureaucrats back home insisted Booba not get trigger happy, and he didn’t want to spend another 100 years doing community service. So as a compromise, he asked the ship’s AI–trained on signals received in the 1990s– to make a recommendation. A deep fake photo based on David Hasselhoff, with “From, Booba” handwritten in red lipstick on it.
**
The next day, the first thing the General noticed was Cathy dressed much nicer than usual. She smiled at the General as if she knew something that he didn’t.
“I’ll speak to the alien first. Quiet everyone!” Cathy said. When there was silence in the command center, she switched on her microphone. “Good morning, Booba. We are all looking forward to meeting you Friday. We would be eternally grateful for any help you could give us with the pressing needs of our planet, such as CO2 emissions—”
The deep, powerful voice of the alien cleared his throat.
“Excuse me. We can cover the nitty-gritty…“ Booba said, “After we get to know each other better. First, we need to agree on your nation’s unconditional surrender, so there will be nothing to ruin the mood on Friday.”
Cathay blinked furiously a few times. “Unconditional surrender?” she said. “I’m going to have to pass you to the General.”
The phrase ‘the buck stops here’ went through the General’s mind, and then panic set in. If he surrendered, his name could be attached to the most shameful event in United States history. Last century’s word for a traitor was Benedict Arnold. Would ‘General Spitz’ be next century’s eponym for being a shameful disgrace?
Sputz picked up the microphone. “We are prepared to…cooperate.”
“Cooperate, means surrender?”
“We will do what you want from us.”
“Unconditionally?”
General Sputz thought of something intelligent to say at this historical moment. Such as Douglas Armstrong’s famous quote from the moon. He thought some more, and then simply said, “We’ll try our best.”
**
Booba wondered why this man kept talking in circles. He was fairly certain he used the right words. Perhaps some things just don’t translate. It didn’t matter. The big decisions had already been made.
“Let’s move on. Surrender, Cooperate. It’s all the same to us.”
Bloderians had their own protocol to follow when conquering alien planets. He pulled up his 13-pages of notes and began going through the bullet points.
**
Cathy listened to Booba rattle off details about which documents needed to be signed by whom. The right order to shake all eight hands of the conquering General. How they would go about transferring the national savings to the Central Bank of Bloderia. Booba was speaking so fast, it was obvious, he was just trying to get this over with.
There was a pause, and then Booba said, “And, to make it all easier, you’ll soon be getting help from Bangladesh. We have been training their civil service in implementing our Bloderian regulations.”
“Implementing?”
“You know, collecting taxes, calculating the correct minutes of the day to show homage to the Bloderian Gods, enforcing the 29-day work week, special benefits for the 8-legged population, stuff like that…”
“A 29-day work week? Bangladesh is ok with this?”
“The first class of trainees finished our 3-year civil servant training program. They didn’t complain.”
How were people in Bangladesh being trained by an alien civilization without anyone knowing about it? Cathay wondered if the CIA had put so much effort into spying on Russia and China, they missed a spaceport in Bangladesh.
“Can we receive training too?” Cathy asked. She wondered if her plan for intergalactic marriage needed acquiring some new skills.
“Sorry. The training manuals have only been translated into Bengali. Their grammar for postpositions is similar to ours.” Booba said. “Moving on. The last item I’m obliged to inform you of today is…we will be extracting the iron from your earth’s core, so your planet may experience some shrinkage.”
“Shrinkage?”
“Yes. The earthquakes get a little rough. On the positive side, lower gravity is great for parties. Do you acknowledge our terms and conditions.”
Instinctively, Cathy said “yes”, before she had time to realize what she was signing up for.
Many have reported experiencing a sudden moment of clarity in their life. An instant when suddenly their entire perception changes. Cathy experienced that while watching the flickering neon dot of the alien spaceship orbiting Mars on her screen. Cathy switched allegiance. She now believed humanity was Earth’s only hope.
**
Epilogue:
Booba cancelled his RSVP to the party at the last minute, citing important political developments. In fact, he just wanted to finish the last level of the Battle of Lookai, the game he was currently playing.
The civil servants from Bangladesh arrived the next week. When there was push back on the 29-day workweek, Booba put in the time to launch anti-matter torpedoes at a dozen major military installations. After that, everyone fell into line. In coming years, the Bangladeshis would often remind others about their special communication line to the Bloderians upstairs. There was a theory they might be making it up and simply deciding things on their own, but no one wanted to test it. The people of earth learned to follow all the new Bloderian regulations according to the manuals coming out of Bangladesh.
After the entire planet’s surrender, the US military continued to spend trillions of dollars defending the nation against threats that didn’t exist except on Flox News. General Spitz proudly wore the same polyester uniform that he always had before. He and the military successfully denied that they had anything to do with the nation’s surrender.
Cathy’s life would set off on a different trajectory. She would relocate to the new planet’s capital of Dhaka, learn Bengali, and then over time, working within the system, build a resistance movement that would build the world’s first nuclear space laser. This weapon would one day free the planet from the ravages of the Bloderian mining industry and put it back into the hands of Australians.
Luckily for the Bangladeshis, by Independence Day 2065, the world’s population had become so used to following Bloderian regulations that, even after the roll back to a 5-day work week, they kept their iron grip on middle management positions for the centuries to follow.
What’s the funniest misunderstanding you’ve ever experienced with someone?
There’s been a lot of funny ones over the year revolving around different countries and languages.
This one probably takes the cake.
As you may notice my last name is Kasper.
I’ve found when making reservations it invariably gets me filed under C….Casper is what everyone defaults to.
I blame the cartoon.
So to avoid confusion when making a booking…It’s Kasper….with a K.
Sure enough I checked into a hotel. Only to find I’d developed a very British aristocratic double barreled hyphenated name.
Yup
Timothy Kasper-Withakay.
If it came with a Bentley and an Order of the British Empire…I’d be set.
My Golden Retriever Heals a Terrified Rescue Kitten in Just 3 Meetings!
On another planet
The US senator who wailed about the death of internet freedom in Hong Kong is also the one who proposed to imprison American citizens for 20 years for downloading DeepSeek.
Shorpy
Is it safe to say that China is at least 30 years ahead of India?
Really just 30 years?
- You have an economy of 4 trillion and China has 19 trillion almost 5 times ahead.
- You are waiting for a fighter jet engine for a year to make your 4th gen fighter aircraft ready whereas China made the world stun by flying sixth-generation aircraft in the sky.
- You are making and promoting the Astro app where as China made Nividia share crash through its Deepseek AI model.
- Instead of the tag of the youngest country India failed to establish a manufacturing industry where as China is referred to as the world’s factory.
- China manufactures 50% world’s EV cars and operates more than 25% of EV cars on its roads where whereas India struggles to have even 2% of EV cars on Indian roads.
- India is still waiting for its first bullet train on track even though technically supported by Japan whereas China operates the world’s largest bullet train network.
- China produces world 50% smartphones and 70% lithium batteries whereas India produces? Do you still remember Micromax phone is being manufactured or not?
- China city can give a tough challenge to European developed country cities in terms of infrastructure whereas India lags basic needs.
- China won 91 total medals in the Paris Olympics where whereas India in the history of the Olympics managed just 41 medals.
Wait don’t get sad we are not behind in everything. We have bitten China and kicked them out of the top position. Any guess in what?
Yes correct population! Yes, we have more poor, unemployed, unskilled, and uncivilized people compared to them.
What is it like to be old?
I’m 67. And I can tell you this, there are times when I wake up in the morning and for some reason it will suddenly hit me how old I am, and I’ll think….wtf!! I was in high school, like, yesterday! As some have mentioned here, most of the time your brain simply doesn’t compute it; you’re still the same person you always were and any extra aches and pains etc. have usually come on so gradually that you assume they’re normal. My mother is 90 and she says the same thing.
Whenever I think about how old I am and that most of my life is behind me, I remind myself of this. When I was 17 years old my best friend was killed in a tragic accident; he drowned. I think about how, when he and I were talking the day before, little did we know that he was as old as he was ever going to get, ALL of his life was behind him.
The point I’m trying to make is that it doesn’t matter what age you’re at: 15, 60, or 90. You get up in the morning and you live that day just the same as you always have because just like everyone else you never know what the next one will bring. There’s no point fretting about it.
Here’s a little something I want all you young people out there to keep in mind. I went to bed one night when I was 21 years old and when I woke up the next morning… I was 67. Please believe me when I tell you that the time will soon come, much, much sooner than you can imagine, when you’ll know exactly what I meant by that. But don’t worry about it, enjoy the journey, and when you get here you’ll discover it’s not so bad.
Any story about adultery?
While stationed in Germany there was a senior operations NCO that went to the Community Commanders office to ask his wife(the secretaryfor the Community Commander) to lunch. Her desk was unoccupied. He heard sound from the Adjutants office. He looked in and his wife was on a coach with the Adjutant having sex. The Senior NCO went to the General’s office, and brought the General back to see. The General immediately stopped their sexcapades, and had the captain and the NCO’s wife report to him. He relieved the Captain, and ordered the wife to immediately leave Geramny. He had JAG fill out a sworn statement about the adultery, and sent it to the court where the NCO was from for an unconested divorce. The Generals wife cared for the children until other means coulds be found. That General was General Palmer, and his handling of the situation was outstanding.
What’s something you can’t believe you had to explain to another adult?
I was home on leave from the US Navy sitting in my mom’s kitchen with my 13yo sister. Sis was doing homework and asked “who won the civil war”.
I was kinda surprised and said some smart ass remark and tried some history to make her realize who won. She knew none of it. Finally my mom said “well I don’t know either”. I was floored. I finally said “well we’re not whistling Dixie”. That didn’t sit well with mom who said “just tell us the answer”. So I told them and went back to reading the paper.
Sir Whiskerton and the Great Tree Rescue
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another whisker-twitching adventure in the life of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves a tree, a series of increasingly ridiculous mishaps, and a rescue mission that will leave you grinning like a squirrel who just found a hidden acorn stash. So grab your sense of humor and let’s climb into The Great Tree Rescue.
Echo’s Treetop Trouble
It all began on a breezy afternoon when Sir Whiskerton was enjoying his usual spot on the barn roof, sipping Earl Grey tea with a dash of cream. The peace was shattered by the sound of Echo the kitten’s panicked meows.
“Help! Help! I’m stuck!” Echo cried from the top of the old oak tree near the pond.
Sir Whiskerton adjusted his monocle and peered down at the scene. “Echo, what on earth are you doing up there?”
“I was chasing a butterfly!” Echo wailed. “And now I can’t get down!”
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Well, this is a fine tree-mendous predicament.”
Ditto to the Rescue
Before Sir Whiskerton could devise a plan, Ditto the kitten sprang into action. “I’ll save you, Echo!” Ditto declared, puffing out his tiny chest.
“Ditto, wait—” Sir Whiskerton began, but it was too late. Ditto scampered up the tree with the enthusiasm of a kitten who had just discovered catnip.
At first, it seemed like Ditto might succeed. He reached Echo and gave her a reassuring nudge. “Don’t worry, Echo! I’ll help you down!”
But then Ditto looked down. And down. And down.
“Uh-oh,” Ditto said, his bravery evaporating faster than milk in a sunbeam. “I think I’m stuck too.”
Bacchus’s Branchy Blunder
Meanwhile, Bacchus the goat had been watching the drama unfold. Never one to miss an opportunity for adventure (or mischief), he trotted over to the tree.
“Stand aside, felines!” Bacchus declared. “I, Bacchus, shall rescue you both!”
“Bacchus, no—” Sir Whiskerton tried to intervene, but Bacchus was already charging at the tree. With a mighty leap, he launched himself into the lower branches.
For a moment, it seemed like Bacchus might actually succeed. He clambered higher and higher, his hooves scraping against the bark. But then something strange happened.
“Where… am I?” Bacchus muttered, looking around. Somehow, he had managed to get himself tangled in the branches, completely disoriented.
“Bacchus, you’re in a tree!” Echo called down.
“A tree?!” Bacchus bleated. “But I’m a goat! Goats don’t belong in trees!”
Sir Whiskerton’s Rescue Plan
Realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, Sir Whiskerton sprang into action. He gathered the farm’s animals for an emergency meeting.
“Alright, everyone,” Sir Whiskerton said, addressing the group. “We have three stranded souls in that tree: Echo, Ditto, and Bacchus. We need to get them down safely.”
“Safely! But also so… tree-mendous!” Harriet the hen clucked.
“Tree-mendous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Gertrude the goose honked, collapsing into a dramatic heap.
Sir Whiskerton’s plan was simple: they would use a ladder, a rope, and a bit of teamwork to rescue the stranded trio. The cows would steady the ladder, the pigs would hold the rope, and Sir Whiskerton would supervise (because someone had to maintain order).
The Great Descent
The rescue mission began with Sir Whiskerton climbing the ladder to reach Echo and Ditto. “Alright, kittens,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “One at a time, please.”
Echo went first, clinging to Sir Whiskerton’s back as he carefully descended the ladder. Ditto followed, his tiny paws trembling with every step.
Next came Bacchus. This proved to be more challenging, as goats are not known for their ladder-climbing skills. After much coaxing (and a few well-placed nudges), Bacchus finally made it down, landing with a thud in a pile of hay.
“I’m never climbing a tree again,” Bacchus muttered, shaking leaves out of his fur.
A Happy Ending
With everyone safely on the ground, the farm returned to its usual peaceful rhythm. Echo and Ditto curled up for a nap, Bacchus wandered off to find a snack, and Sir Whiskerton returned to his sunbeam.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Sometimes, the best way to solve a problem is to work together and keep a cool head. And while adventure is fun, it’s always good to know your limits—especially when it comes to climbing trees.
As for Sir Whiskerton? He sipped his tea, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day—and spared the farm from further tree-related chaos.
Until next time, my friends.
The End.
What’s the funniest misunderstanding you’ve ever experienced with someone?
I thought he spoke English.
I had had a blowout, so I bought a tire and had it mounted at a tire shop in Virginia. The young guy mounting and balancing my new spare had his name on his shirt, Yuri, so I assumed he understood Russian.
I told him that I took Russian in high school, but didn’t remember much of what I had learned. I did however, remember the most important thing I had learned, which was (in Russian) “I don’t understand what you said. Repeat, please, in English”.
He grinned at me and said (in Russian) “I don’t understand English”. We both cracked up!
7 Words You Can’t Say On TV – George Carlin Reaction
What is the funniest joke you’ve been told that you still think about to this day?
Man asks his wife: “if I die, would you consider getting married again?” The wife shot back rather quickly, “Sure.”
The man digs. “Well would you let him live in this house?” “Well sure. I love this house.” Feeling more upset he continues, asking, “Would you let him use my golf clubs?”
“Oh no. Never.” he gets some comfort. Until she says, “He’s lefthanded.”
What is the funniest joke you’ve been told that you still think about to this day?
An old man and his wife of 60 years are sitting on their rocking chairs on their porch of many years.
The wife gets up from her chair and smacks her husband hard in the face to where he falls our of his chair.
As the old man gets up and gets back into his chair, the wife sits back into hers.
He asks” What the hell was that for?”
She states “For 60 years of terrible sex.”
The old man sits and thinks for a bit, gets up and slaps his wife hard enough for her to fall out of her chair, and he sits down as she gets back up into her chair.
She asks “What the hell was that for?”
He states “For knowing the difference!”
French Dip Roast
Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients
- 1 large onion, quartered and sliced
- 1 (3 pound) beef roast, fat trimmed
- 1/2 cup water
- 1 (1 ounce) packet au jus mix
- 1/8 teaspoon seasoned pepper
Instructions
- Place onion in slow cooker. Place meat on top of onion.
- In a small bowl, stir water, au jus mix and seasoned pepper until blended. Pour over roast. Cover and cook on HIGH for 5 to 6 hours or on LOW for 10 to 12 hours, or until tender.
- Remove meat from liquid. Let stand for five minutes before thinly slicing across grain.
- Strain liquid and make gravy.
Your Point Is?
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.… view prompt
LeeAnn Hively-Insalaco
Hardly a single head in Tequila Mockingbird, the high-class bar in a dead-end town, stirred an inch in response. The President had stopped mattering much to anyone in this area many moons ago. Across the country, there was a similar non-response wherever the TV programming could be interrupted.
Ladies and Gentlemen of this fine nation, I stand before you to bring groundbreaking information that may initially seem frightening. Still, I want to assure each and every one of you that your government has everything under control and has for many decades.
A few eyes cast a quick glance at the screen perched high above the multi-colored bottles of liquid distraction before looking away again, and the automated jukebox in the corner switched from playing Don’t Stop Believin’ to I Know You Want Me (Calle Ocho). Pammy sent the eight ball flying into the corner pocket, Greg missed his shot on the dartboard, Rhonda let out a belch at the end of her beer, and the President looked around as if he actually stood six feet above the bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam and peered down at them all.
What I’m about to tell you will surely come as a shock, but we are all in this together, and I can confirm that there is nothing to fear.
A few eyes at the bar looked up and remained trained on the television this time. “Hey!” Bobby Burgner belted over his broad, dusty shoulder, “Pipe the hell down! I’m tryin’ to hear the news!” Several eyes turned their glare to Debra, who was apparently training to audition on both American Idol and Dancing With The Stars with her partner, the bar stool. It was a relief to everyone when she tripped over her partner’s two left feet and stopped singing in her version of Spanish.
The President gave a dramatic pause as if he knew the murmurs would start up, his knuckles white and bony and mottled with a mass of purple veins beating in rhythm to his eighty-eight-year-old heart that fallaciously believed he’d never be required to give this speech. His face was the oddest combination of sickly pale and girlish pink, and the patrons of Tequila Mockingbird began to take notice that something just wasn’t right. “What’d he say before? What are we not supposed to fear??”
“I said, pipe the hell down! Don’t you understand English?”
Behind the bar, Barry grabbed the remote to the highfalutin jukebox in the corner that took bank cards online instead of quarters from pockets. Silence descended upon them all, the President still hovering above them, their necks straining as their heads pushed back to watch and wait and stare at the sweat starting to run down to the jowls of this geriatric wonder telling them they were safe with him. They watched him inhale a long, shaky breath, his watery blue eyes taking on a steely determination, the blue tinge to his lips momentarily easing into a shade somewhere between gutted pig and overly zealous blush application.
It is a momentous time in our history as Americans, nay, as people from this great planet, when we can finally answer the question, ‘Are we alone in this vast universe?’. And the answer is a resounding no.
There was a lengthy pause as every eye stared at the President, who had once again paused and stared into the camera with a doddering glance that appeared as if his eyes were following the people at home, a Mona Lisa trick that missed the mark. Then, in almost perfect unison, each patron of the Happy Hour crowd erupted into hysterical laughter.
Bobby Burgner, resident of this town since he was a child who crash-landed with his parent’s tour group in the preacher’s backyard, was from the little planet hiding on the other side of Mars, never captured by the telescopes and probes, a beach resort for most of the galaxy who coveted their pearly sands and pristine waters. They’d had a great time getting to know each other as his parents were proselytizing the good word of The Prime, and Preacher Joe was determined to share the faith of American Christians from sea to shining sea and beyond. Soon, the entire town accepted the tour group, who shared the pews with them at Mulberry Methodist and the stands at every Friday night high school football game.
Now, I know what you might be thinking, but you need to understand that they have been here since the dawn of humankind. We have never been alone. They aren’t here to start an invasion; they are our caretakers. It turns out we’re pretty darn stupid as a species, and without them… well… humanity would have never even begun. We’re just a little too prone to violence and a little too resistant to progress.
Everyone here knew it was true. They’d all been warned about their missionary work on this planet. Some came as scientists trying to undo the damage of this species. Some came as tourists who just really loved the culture. Others were family of diplomats who were employed here to continue to negotiate and guide the human race away from self-destruction so that brighter minds could continue to develop in the hopes that, one day, this Earth would be as great as any other developed planet in the tri-galaxy area. High-ranking officials could (and would) relocate their immediate family for their stay, which was often a life-long commitment and not to be taken lightly. Half of this town was from somewhere far, far away, and everyone knew it. The only way to keep a secret is to ensure only one person knows that secret; once you include a second person, word will get out sooner than later.
Barry flicked the remote towards the jukebox again, Pammy racked up the pool balls, Greg missed the target on the dartboard again, Rhonda ordered another beer, Bobby asked for salted nuts, and Debra dug into her nachos that had magically appeared when she wasn’t paying attention.
No one was surprised that this groundbreaking information went by without notice or much commentary. Inflation was at an all-time high. Gas prices jacked up twenty-five cents per gallon overnight. School shopping started in earnest, and the stores had limited bulletproof backpacks. Alien or not, the nation had more significant concerns. As the President said – they’d always been here. Barry poured a drink, and the jukebox played Tubthumping.
Why do people in their 60s think they are not old when they are about 85% through their lives?
I will be turning 60 in eighteen months. I don’t think that I’m old now, and I can’t imagine that I will be thinking that I’m old in the foreseeable future, regardless of what percent of the way through life I am.
Sometimes I forget that I’m not a teenager anymore. But, in reality, I’m no spring chicken. I can’t paddle my kayak as fast, or as far as I used to, and sometimes my lower back starts to ache after a hard days work. But it’s not that bad.
It could be that random children in the supermarket checkout line see me as an old man. I don’t know.
But I feel younger now than I did 20 years ago. I feel great as a matter of fact. Maybe that’s because I’ve been living a healthier lifestyle for the last ten years.
“Old” is a state of mind, although physical health has a lot to do with it. How do we know how long we will live? How do we put a percentage on it? My father, who was apparently healthy, died quite unexpectedly at the age of 32, with no warning whatsoever.
Mistakenly believing that my fate was sealed as well, I lived much of my life as if there was no tomorrow; not caring for myself.
At one point when I was younger, I was drinking night and day, half strung out on cocaine, oxycontin and xanax. I felt decrepit most of the time. Very old. It’s a miracle I held my career together, but somehow I managed to survive relatively intact.
It’s a good thing I straightened out because I was on a fast track to pushing up daisies.
Do I now think I’m 85% of the way through my life? Maybe. Who knows? One thing is for sure, if I die tomorrow then I’m 99.995% the way through my life as I write this. At least I will not go out thinking that I’m old.
Lately, I make sure to appreciate life; to not take it for granted. We should take care of ourselves and our loved ones. No matter what age we are, we should enjoy life, explore new places, watch a sunrise, live in the moment, feel as young as we can, because it’s the only life we’ve got, and we certainly can’t turn back the clock.