Milo Yield: Laugh Tracks In The Dust 9-3-12
An aging Arkansas farmer, who never once had been out of his home community, wuz suffering from aching feet from all the years that he’d been tromping around the Ozark Mountains barefooted. So, he decided to go to a podiatrist for the first time in his life. The foot doctor examined him and said, “It’s pretty plain that your feet are wearing out from going barefooted all your life. You need a vacation. I’d suggest going to Miami, Fla., and soaking your feet in ocean water. A few days of that treatment and I’m confident you’ll feel better.”
So, the farmer got into his old pickup truck and drove to south Florida. When he got to Florida, he immediately went into a hardware store and bought two large five-gallon buckets and headed for the beach. He wuz simply amazed at the size of the Atlantic Ocean.
“How much for two buckets of that seawater?” he asked the lifeguard.
“A dollar a bucket,” the fellow replied with a straight face.
The farmer paid the lifeguard, filled his buckets, toted them to his hotel room, rolled up his overall cuffs, and soaked his feet. His feet felt so much better he decided to repeat the treatment that afternoon.
Again he handed the lifeguard two dollars. The young man took the money and said, “Help yourself.”
The Arkansan started for the water, then stopped in amazement. The tide was out.
“Wow,” he said, turning to the lifeguard. “Some business you got here!”
This is an old drought story with a new twist. An Oklahoma friend of mine who loves to trail ride on his mule wrote. “Milo, here’s a sad story. I lost my mule yesterday. It’s been so hot here — very hot. Grass all dead so I turned my mule into the corn field for something to eat. It got so hot in the afternoon that the corn kernels started popping. The mule saw all the white stuff on the ground, thought it was snow and froze to death.”
And, from Colorado comes this story. Every morning for years, at about 11:30, the telephone operator in a small mountain sawmill town received a call from a man asking the exact time.
One day the operator summed up nerve enough to ask the man about the regularity of his calls for the time.
“I’m the foreman of the local sawmill,” he explained. “Every day I have to blow the whistle at noon so I call you to get the exact time. A lot of people are counting on that!”
The operator giggled, “That’s really funny,” she said. “All this time we’ve been setting our clock by your whistle.”
And, from Yates Center, Kan., comes these classic little stories about religion.
The Good Samaritan — A Sunday school teacher was telling her class the story of the Good Samaritan. She asked the class, “If you saw a person lying on the roadside, all wounded and bleeding, what would you do?”
A thoughtful little girl broke the hushed silence, “I think I’d throw up.”
Did Noah Fish? — A Sunday school teacher asked, “Johnny, do you think Noah did a lot of fishing when he was on the Ark?”
“No,” replied Johnny. “How could he, with just two worms?”
Unanswered prayer — The Lutheran preacher’s young granddaughter noticed that her grandpa always paused and bowed his head for a moment before starting his sermon.
One day, she asked him why. “Well, Honey,” he began, proud that his granddaughter was so observant of his messages. “I’m asking the Lord to help me preach a good sermon.”
“How come He doesn’t answer it?” she asked.
Being thankful — A priest bent to talk to a precocious 6-year-old boy from the parish. “I understand your mother says a prayer for you each night? That’s very commendable. What does she say?”
The little boy replied, “Thank God, he’s in bed!”
All men, all girls — When saying her bedtime prayers, a young farm girl would bless every family member, every friend, and every animal (current and past) on the farm. Every time she finished her nightly prayer, the little girl would say, “And all girls.”
Her mother’s curiosity got the best of her and she asked her daughter, “Why do you always add the part about all girls?”
Her daughter’s response, “Because everybody always finish their prayers by saying ‘All Men!’”
Meal Prayer — Little Johnny and his family were having Sunday dinner at his Grandmother’s house. Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served.
When Johnny received his plate, he started eating right away. “Johnny! Please wait until we say our prayer,” said his mother.
“I don’t need to,” Johnny replied.
“Of course, you do,” his mother insisted. “We always say a prayer before eating at our house.”
“That’s at our house,” Johnny explained. “But this is Grandma’s house. It’s safe because she knows how to cook.”
I’ll try to be more original next week. I had mental constipation this week on column ideas. So, I found a suitable few words of wisdom to end the column with. Some dude named John Ottesen said, “Some people are just mentally constipated and could really use a brain enema.” That’s me. Have a good week. ❖
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