Greetings on this Friday in Advent Season. I’m starting to get into the spirit of Christmas. I light my scented candles as I sit down to compose an annual family letter and write the personal messages on them and print out the address labels and lick the Christmas stamps and apply them to the envelopes. Last week, I went out with Dianne and cut my own Christmas tree on the farm where I used to work 52 years ago. It’s up and the lights are on it. I just have to decorate it this weekend. I finally got the light strings that still work (for outside) up in the last days. I had to buy some new strings as the old ones have problems – like only half of the string lights. I think the Chinese are getting revenge on us! And I’m playing my Spotify Christmas playlist which I love and helps me get in the mood.
I don’t have a lot of new material for this edition. So, it all could be considered a TGIF Golden Classic. But I suspect you don’t really care. Especially all of you slackers who never contribute anything.
So, I’ve decided to use some material from a local journalist who writes a weekly column in a regional paper. I’ve been a big fan of Willem Lange for many years and I find that I share many of his interests. I liked his article this week about this time of year and the solstice. So, I’ve copied a bit of that below to give you my Vermont flavor this week.
Willem Lange – Wed. 12/11/2019
It’s a strange, confused, depressing, hopeful time of year; these weeks between Thanksgiving and our year-end holidays. Once again this year, we’ve got early snow; and though it’s hard to say from the vantage point of this keyboard right now, we don’t know if the snow will survive the current rain and warm days. What makes this chunk of the calendar so confusing is the confluence of so many yin and yang features. The shortest day of the year – and how we miss the sunlight – is about a week away; yet the almanac shows sunset just beginning to get later. It’s only a handful of seconds a week to begin with, but the days are on their way of reading the day’s mail on the back porch in late afternoon sunlight. The winter solstice brings us earlier sunrises, too, as the sun begins to creep north again, and I put bits of tape on the kitchen floor to mark the edge of an east window’s light as it creeps south. The coldest weather of the winter, though not any more the bugbear it once was, invariably follows the shortest day of the year by about four to six weeks. So, the meteorological middle of winter falls just about Groundhog Day (Feb. 2nd)(or Candlemas, if you are so inclined) About that time, daylight grows faster.
A Few Riddles:
Q: What do you call a lazy baby kangaroo?
A: A pouch potato.
Q: What’s the best thing about Switzerland?
A: I don’t know, but the flag is a big plus.
Did you hear about the mathematician who is afraid of negative numbers?
He’ll stop at nothing to avoid them.
Q. Why do Dasher and Dancer love coffee?
A. Because they’re Santa’s star bucks!
Q: What do you call Santa’s helpers?
A: Subordinate Clauses.
A: A pouch potato.
Q: What’s the best thing about Switzerland?
A: I don’t know, but the flag is a big plus.
Did you hear about the mathematician who is afraid of negative numbers?
He’ll stop at nothing to avoid them.
Q. Why do Dasher and Dancer love coffee?
A. Because they’re Santa’s star bucks!
Q: What do you call Santa’s helpers?
A: Subordinate Clauses.
* * * * * * * *
The Old Farmer
An elderly farmer had an old bull that lost its usual desire and no longer went near the cows. The farmer called the vet, who prescribed a pill to stimulate the bull’s interest.
A few weeks later, the farmer ran into a friend, who asked, “How’s that bull?”
“Great!” said the farmer. “The bull is back to his former frisky self.”
“That’s fantastic. What miracle drug did the vet prescribe?”
“I don’t know,” said the farmer. “But it tastes like licorice.”
* * * * * * * *
SENIOR PARACHUTE CLUB
Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me, again, asking why I didn't do something useful with my time. "like sitting around the pool, drinking wine isn't a good thing.
(Talking about my "doing-something-useful" seems to be her favorite topic of conversation.)
(Talking about my "doing-something-useful" seems to be her favorite topic of conversation.)
She is "only thinking of me," she said, and suggested, I go down to the Senior Center and hang out with the fellas.
So, I did and when I got home, decided to play a prank on her.
I sent her an e-mail saying that I had joined the Senior Parachute Club.
She replied, "Are you nuts? You're 88 years-old and now you're going to start jumping out of airplanes?"
I told her that I even had a Membership Card and e-mailed a copy to her.
Immediately, she telephoned me and yelled, "Good grief, Dad, where are your glasses?! This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club."
"Oh man, am I in trouble," I said, "I signed up for five jumps a week!"
The line went dead.
Life as a Senior Citizen isn't getting any easier, but sometimes it can be fun.
* * * * * * * *
Butch the Rooster
Sarah was in the fertilized egg business. She had several hundred young pullets and ten roosters to fertilize the eggs. She kept records and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.
This took a lot of time, so she bought some tiny bells and attached them to her roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so she could tell from a distance which rooster was performing. Now, she could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.
Sarah's favorite rooster, old Butch, was a very fine specimen but, this morning she noticed old Butch's bell hadn't rung at all! When she went to investigate, she saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.
To Sarah's amazement, old Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job, and walk on to the next one.
Sarah was so proud of old Butch, she entered him in a Show and he became an overnight sensation among the judges. The result was the judges not only awarded old Butch the "No Bell Peace Prize" they also awarded him the "Pulletsurprise" as well.
Clearly old Butch was a politician in the making. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the unsuspecting populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention?
* * * * * * * *
A Small American Town’s Squirrel Problem
A band of squirrels had become quite a problem.
The PRESBYTERIAN church called a meeting to decide what to do about their squirrel infestation. After much prayer land consideration, they concluded that the squirrels were predestined to be there, and they shouldn't interfere with God's divine will.
At the BAPTIST church the squirrels had taken an interest in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a water-slide on the baptistery and let the squirrels drown themselves. The squirrels liked the slide and unfortunately, knew instinctively how to swim, so twice as many squirrels showed up the following week.
The LUTHERAN church decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God's creatures. So, they humanely trapped their squirrels and set them free near the Baptist church. Two weeks later the squirrels were back when the Baptists took down the water-slide.
The EPISCOPALIANS tried a much more unique path by setting out pans of whiskey around their church in an effort to kill the squirrels with alcohol poisoning. They sadly learned how much damage a band of drunk squirrels can do.
But the CATHOLIC church came up with a more very creative strategy!
They baptized all the squirrels and made them members of the church.
Now they only see them at Christmas and Easter.
And not much was heard from the JEWISH synagogue. They took the first
squirrel and circumcised him. They haven't seen a squirrel since.
At the BAPTIST church the squirrels had taken an interest in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a water-slide on the baptistery and let the squirrels drown themselves. The squirrels liked the slide and unfortunately, knew instinctively how to swim, so twice as many squirrels showed up the following week.
The LUTHERAN church decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God's creatures. So, they humanely trapped their squirrels and set them free near the Baptist church. Two weeks later the squirrels were back when the Baptists took down the water-slide.
The EPISCOPALIANS tried a much more unique path by setting out pans of whiskey around their church in an effort to kill the squirrels with alcohol poisoning. They sadly learned how much damage a band of drunk squirrels can do.
But the CATHOLIC church came up with a more very creative strategy!
They baptized all the squirrels and made them members of the church.
Now they only see them at Christmas and Easter.
And not much was heard from the JEWISH synagogue. They took the first
squirrel and circumcised him. They haven't seen a squirrel since.
* * * * * * * *
Deer Camp
We were all at deer camp. No one wanted to room with Bob, because he snored so badly. We decided it wasn’t fair to make one of them stay with him the whole time, so we agreed to take turns.
The first guy slept in the same room with Bob and comes to breakfast the next morning with his hair a mess and his eyes all bloodshot.
We said, “Man, what happened to you?” He said, “Bob snored so loudly, I just sat up and watched him all night.”
The next night it was a different guy’s turn. In the morning, same thing, hair all standing up, eyes all bloodshot.
We said, “Man, what happened to you? You look awful!” He said, “Man, that Bob shakes the roof with his snoring. I watched him all night.”
The third night was Fred’s turn. Fred was a tanned, older cowboy, a man’s man. The next morning he came to breakfast bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “Good morning!” he said. We couldn’t believe it. We said, “Man, what happened?”
He said, “Well, we got ready for bed. I went and tucked Bob into bed, patted him on the butt, and kissed him good night. Apparently, Bob sat up and watched me all night.”
With age, comes wisdom.
* * * * * * * *
Okay. I’ve just finished scraping the bottom of the barrel of potential TGIF material. If I don’t receive any new stuff in the next weeks, there will not likely be a TGIF until well into the new year 2020. So, I will wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and you’ll be hearing from me if I hear from you with some new material.
Have a great weekend!
TGI-Jeff
