Maggie's Farm

We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.

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Friday, March 3. 2006

Ice Fishing

A blonde wanted to go ice fishing. She'd seen books on the subject, and finally, getting all the necessary tools together, she made for the ice.

After positioning her comfy footstool, she started to make a circular cut in the ice. Suddenly, from the sky, a voice boomed,

"THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."

Startled, the blonde moved further down the ice, poured a thermos of cappuccino, and began to cut yet another hole. Again from the heavens the voice bellowed,"THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."

The blonde, now worried, moved away, clear down to the opposite end of the ice. She set up her stool once more and tried again to cut her hole.

The voice came once more, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."

She stopped, looked skyward, and said, "IS THAT YOU LORD?"

The voice replied, "NO, THIS IS THE MANAGER OF THE HOCKEY RINK"

Posted by Bird Dog at 07:56 | Comments (0) | Trackbacks (0)

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