We often try to speak “truth.” What that “truth” turns out to be is a knee-jerk, reactionary response to words spoken with an entirely different agenda in the mind of the speaker. We compound the confusion with responses that relate to our own experiences instead of addressing what the other party is saying.
“Hey officer, how’s it goin’?”
“License? Yeah, I thinks I got one.”
“That last stop? Ya’ see, I didn’t roll that stop. I was doin’ my circus balancing act. That’s why ya’ didn’t see my feet touch the ground. I might try out for Cirque de Soliel.”
“My bike? Well, I’d say it’s got a lot more soul than that MotoGuzzi of yers'”
“Loud? Sorry I once worked in a steel mill, can’t hear a thing.”
“Oh, loud mufflers? Nah, them MotoGuzzi’s is quiet as a sewing machine.”
“A smart ass? Well, heh heh, it went through high school with me.”
“Do I want my ass in jail? Only if I can write it. Heh, heh.”
“Ouch, them cuffs is tight. I think there’s been a misunderstanding here, bro. Maybe it’s one of them ‘failure to communicate’ things my old lady’s been hollering about.”
“You married???.”
At our best, we endeavor to span the gap of our common but unique experience of existence. Our words, written or spoken, represent the symbolic abstraction of our being. Recent scientific research has opined that over 75% of our conversations involve gossip and trivia. If this is true, then what are we doing puking out this drivel?
Perhaps the answer is that an important part of our common dialogue is to establish a confirmation of our commonality. It is shared experiences and our shared interpretation of those experiences that bind us. “You can tell by my outfit that I am a cowboy, I can tell by your outfit that you’re a cowboy too,”- The Streets of Lorado.
Building up to St. Patty’s Day
A good Irish man, John O’Reilly, met regularly with his toastmasters club. One evening they were hitting the Guin! ness Stout and having a contest at who could make the best toast.
John O’Reilly hoisted his beer and said, “Here’s to spending the rest of me life Between the legs of me wife!”
That won him the top prize for the best toast of the night!
He went home and told his wife, Mary, “I won the prize for the best toast of the night.” She said, “Aye, what was your toast?” John said, “Here’s to spending the rest of me life Sitting in church beside me wife.”
“Oh that is very nice indeed, John!”, Mary said.
The next day Mary ran into one of John’s toasting buddies on the street corner. The man chuckled leeringly and said, “John won the prize the other night with a toast about you Mary.”
She said, “Aye ! and I was a bit surprised meself! You know, he’s only been there twice! Once he fell asleep and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come!”
Doctors Have Good Stories Too—
A man comes into the ER and yells, “My wife is going to have her baby in the cab!” I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady’s dress, and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly, I noticed that there are several cabs and I was in the wrong one.
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At the beginning of my shift, I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and slightly deaf female patient’s anterior chest wall. “Big breaths,” I instructed. “Yes, they used to be,” the patient said sadly.
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One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a “massive internal fart.”
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I was performing a complete physical, including the visual acuity test. I placed the patient twenty feet from the chart and began, “Cover your right eye with your hand.” He read the 20/20 line perfectly. “Now your left.” Again, a flawless read. Now both,” I requested. There was silence. He couldn’t even read the large E on the top line. I turned and discovered that he had done exactly what I had asked. He was standing there with both his eyes covered. I was laughing too hard to finish the exam.
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During a patient’s two week follow-up appointment with his cardiologist, he informed his doctor that he was having trouble with one of his medications. “Which one?” asked the doctor. “The patch. The nurse told me to put on a new one every six hours and now I’m running out of places to put it!” The doctor had him quickly undress and discovered what he hoped he wouldn’t see: The man had over fifty patches on his body. Now, the instructions also include removal of the old patch before applying a new one. And you always wondered why instructions always seemed to state the obvious!
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While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked, “How long have you been bedridden?” After a look of complete confusion she answered, “Why, not for about twenty years, when my husband was alive.”
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I was caring for a woman from Kentucky and asked, “So how’s your breakfast this morning?” “It’s very good, except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can’t seem to get used to the taste,” the patient replied. I then asked to see the jelly and the woman produced a foil packet labeled “KY Jelly.”
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And of course, the best is saved for last.
A lady walked into a pharmacy and spoke to the pharmacist. She asked, “Do you have Viagra?” “Yes,” he answered. She asked, “Does it work?” “Yes,” he answered. “Can you get it over the counter?” she asked. “I can if I take two,” he answered.
FISHING BUDDY—
After I retired, I met a new fishing buddy named Sam. Sam loves to fish as much as I do. The wife has never met Sam and always feels that I spend too much time fishing.
The other day I took a picture of Sam holding up two nice bass that we caught, I showed the picture to the wife.
Now the wife says that I can’t go fishing with Sam anymore and wants me to sell the boat. Guess the wife doesn’t like me enjoying myself with my fishing buddy!
Maybe it’s because Sam is a better fisherman than her, I don’t know.
What would you do? Tell the wife to forget it and continue fishing with Sam,
OR
Quit fishing and sell the boat?
Please help me out here. Have a look at the fish we caught.
A whipped egg does not, a souffl? make. A bubble-butt booty and big tits, a babe don’t make. And chopped Harley doesn’t make a biker.
Life is a constantly changing stream. We put a foot in that stream at a specific moment in time, but the stream continues to flow. Our opinions are usually based on our perspective, often with one boot stuck in the mud while life’s experiences rush by like spawning salmon.
Over and out,
Nuttboy–
