Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks in the Dust 12-20-10 |

Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks in the Dust 12-20-10

The Sunday morning before Christmas, an old cowboy entered a church just before services were to begin. He was on a holiday visit to see his daughter. Although the old man and his clothes were spotlessly clean, he wore jeans, a denim shirt and boots that were worn and ragged. His Stetson hat was sweat stained from hard work on his ranch. In his hand he carried a worn-out, dog-eared Bible. Outdoors in the parking lot was his beat-up old ranch pickup truck.

The church was in a very upscale and exclusive part of the city where his daughter lived. It was the largest, most beautiful, most lavish church the old cowboy had ever seen. The people of the congregation were all dressed with expensive clothes and fine jewelry. As the cowboy took a seat, the others moved away from him. No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were all appalled by his appearance and did not attempt to hide it.

As the old cowboy was leaving the church, the preacher approached him and curtly asked the cowboy to do him a favor. “Before you come back in here again, have a personal talk with God and ask him what he thinks would be appropriate attire for worship in our fine church.” The old cowboy assured the preacher he would.

The next Sunday, after Christmas Day, he showed back up for the services wearing the same ragged jeans, shirt, boots, and hat – carrying the same old dog-eared Bible. Once again he was completely shunned and ignored. The preacher approached the cowboy and said, “I thought I asked you to speak to God before you came back to our church.”

“I did,” replied the old cowboy with a sad, wry smile on his wrinkled face.

“And what was his reply?” asked the preacher.

“Well, sir, when I had my talk with God, he told me that he didn’t have a clue what I should wear. He said he’d never been in this church.”


Boudreaux lived down in the Mississippi Delta of Louisiana, living the happy, carefree Cajun life.

Suddenly, a week or so before Christmas, Boudreaux quit drinking, took a bath, quit chasing women, quit his poker games and stopped his lazy ways. He cut the grass around the church, even painted the fence and the shutters. Then, he was the first to show up for the Christmas services – even sat in the front row!

Father Thibodeaux asked Boudreaux, “What brought about dis wunnerful change dat done overtook you.”

Boudreaux explained, “I heard on the news ‘Crisis in the Gulf’ and if He’s dat close, I wanna be good to go!”


My e-mails are a never-ending source of good column material. My thanks for this good story:

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December.

Female reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring. Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting Santa’s reindeer, every single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen, had to be female.

We should have known … only females would be able to drag a fat man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.


On Christmas Eve, a down-and-out farm hired man thought he should at least try to buy his wife a little gift for the next day. Always short of money from the meager spot work he got, the guy thought long and hard about what her present might be.

He finally entered an upscale lady’s shop and went to the handbag section. He asked the sales girl, “I’d like to buy my wife a handbag for Christmas?”

She naturally showed him her most expensive brand – over $100 for a little engraved leather one.

“That’s too expensive,” muttered the hired man.

The sales gal returned with a smaller cloth handbag priced at $50.

Taking a look at the price tag, the hired man replied, “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s still far too much.”

Growing rather annoyed at what she perceived as the guy’s chintziness, the sales girl brought out a tiny plastic Chinese handbag and showed it to him. The price was $25.

The hired man became really agitated, “What I mean,” he clarified, “is I need to see something really cheap.”

The sales girl handed him a mirror.

“You’re right,” he said, turning to leave the store. “She’s got me and that’ll have to do. At least I’m full of love.”


Well, with that, I’m empty of stuff for this column. I’ll close with a hearty Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to one and all of you wonderful readers. Know that to me you are a treasured gift that keeps on giving. I’m thankful for that.

Have a good ‘un.

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