Jag får sällan vidaresända skämt. Varje gång det händer blir jag varm och glad i hjärtat, kanske mest för att det alltid är samma avsändare.
Nu ska jag fortsätta lyssna på gårdagens Sommarpratare, tack för evigt, M.
”This explains why I forward jokes.”
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, ‘Excuse me, where are we?’
‘This is Heaven, sir,’ the man answered.
‘Wow! Would you happen to have some water?’ the man asked.
‘Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.’
The man gestured, and the gate began to open.
‘Can my friend,’ gesturing toward his dog, ‘come in, too?’ the traveller asked.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.’
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.
As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
‘Excuse me!’ he called to the man. ‘Do you have any water?’
‘Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there, come on in.’
‘How about my friend here?’ the traveller gestured to the dog.
‘There should be a bowl by the pump.’
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.
The traveller filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.
When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
‘What do you call this place?’ the traveller asked.
‘This is Heaven,’ he answered.
‘Well, that’s confusing,’ the traveller said. ‘The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.’
‘Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s hell.’
‘Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?’
‘No, we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.’
Soooo ..
Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word.
Maybe this will explain.
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes.
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.
When you have something to say, but don’t know what, and don’t know how, you forward jokes.
Also to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get?
A forwarded joke.
So, next time if you get a joke, don’t think that you’ve been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you’ve been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.
You are all welcome @ my water bowl anytime
Vägg i vägg med fabriksporten jag använder varje arbetsdag ligger det ett Systembolag. Som alla vet innebär det att ett visst klientel uppehåller sig i området. I samband med att butiken öppnar varje morgon går det att notera två olika sätt att förhålla sig. De allra flesta köar ihärdigt precis framför ingången, på måndagarna kan det till och med vara en riktigt stor folksamling.
Jag är inte speciellt känslig för miljön jag äter i. En falafel inne på en offentlig toalett är inget som lockar kanske, men det skulle inte vara några problem. Trots att jag är vegeterian sedan 14 år tillbaka är det inte heller några svårigheter att sitta till bords med folk som låter likdelar glida ner i strupen. Lukten av prickigkorv sticker en del i näsan, men inte mycket mer.
