A small synagogue was being audited by the IRS. The auditor was young and conniving, trying to make a name. The Rabbi was old and wise; been there, done that. After two days of toiling through the books, the IRS man was desperate.
"I've noticed you use a lot of candles," said the auditor. "What do you do with all of the wax drippings?"
"Oh," replied the Rabbi, "We collect all of the drippings and send them to the candle makers. Every so often, they send us a complete box of candles for free."
The auditor thought for a moment, unwilling to accept defeat. "I've noticed you use a lot of matzo here. What do you do with all of the crumbs?" he asks.
The Rabbi patiently replied, "We collect all of the crumbs, and send them back to the maker. Every so often, they send us a complete box for free."
The auditor became visibly agitated by the Rabbi's answers for everything. Finally, he thought he had something. "I've noticed you perform a lot of circumcisions here. What do you do with all of the foreskins?"
The Rabbi paused a while and said, "We collect all of the foreskins from the circumcisions. We send them to the IRS and, every so often, they send us a complete prìck."
So cheer up; today is Mittwoch. Halfway to Friday.
My dear fiend,
At last I am truly free again. My captors have been evicted from my castle and kingdom, back to where they came from; a thousand miles away. My former allies and I escorted them to the dragon pad and I felt a twinge of sadness when they got onto the white dragon that would fly them back to their kingdom. A strange thing; this dragon had cave paintings on his tail!
My captors had suggested that I place myself into voluntary captivity in their castle for two moons until I’m stronger, but I could not see my way open to be exiled from my kingdom at the time, but now I wonder if I should not reconsider.
Although I cherish my newfound freedom, I do not enjoy it. The castle is empty and quiet without them. I fear that I may have contracted that weird Stockholm Syndrome for I have bonded with my captors and yearn to be with them. I don’t know what to do with my freedom; I still abide by the restrictions they imposed upon me. I walk through the empty halls of my castle and cannot get myself back into my old routines.
The only remnant of the occupation that remains is the torture chambers, but that will also be coming to an end shortly. I will have to go there later today and once more in three days time. Then that will be over. I still cannot hold my sword nor can I ride my horse, but I hope that will soon be something of the past too.
My former allies have started drifting back into my life but even they cannot fill the emptiness inside.
I will not be writing to soon again as I now have assumed full control of my castle and have a kingdom to run.
Your friend
Pùss in Boots.
Ps We could plunder Iberia next for there are vast riches beyond the Pyrenees. I have some contacts in Andalusia who may attack our pursuers from the back as we escape with the loot.
Princess Diana was murdered by the British MI6 because of her relationship with Dodi Fayed; a Muslim. Or so would some believe.
It is said that the mother of the future head of the Church of England with her Muslim lover were an embarrassment to the throne. This is a plausible motive, but what about the evidence?
The most incriminating is a letter Princess Diana handed to her butler, Paul Burrell, which she had written by hand in October 1993.
In this letter Diana said: "This particular phase in my life is the most dangerous - my husband is planning 'an accident' in my car, brake failure and serious head injury in order to make the path clear for him to marry Tiggy. Camilla is nothing but a decoy, so we are all being used by the man in every sense of the word.”
The inquest to her death is riddled with inconsistencies and can aptly be described as controversial, but I guess we’ll never know who was speaking the truth and who was lying.
The sea is a cruel employer. The one day he will give in abundance; just to send you home empty-handed the next. And the day when he decides to call in his debts he will overlook nobody.
It is not my habit to dedicate blogs, but this one is dedicated to those brave souls who lost their lives at sea and especially to those who had lost a loved one to the sea.
At last!
It is Friday
Enjoy the day.
Are you one of those people who just don’t care a damn? Well, then you are at the right place! I have just started a club for us. If you’re not interested then I don’t care a damn.
I have applied for the registration of a club with internal revenue. I don’t care a damn if the reject it.
Constitution.The name of this club will be ‘The Don’t Care A Damn Club’. If you want another name for it I truly won’t care a damn.
We will be meeting on the first Wednesday of each month. I won’t care a damn if nobody rocks up.
Membership fees will amount to $20 per year. If nobody pays up I shall not care a damn.
I will be lifelong chairman, secretary, treasurer and frankly, I don’t care a damn if you’re not happy with it.
There are 20 other stipulations to go in here, but I really don’t care a damn about it.
And if you care a damn about any of this then you don’t belong in the club. This club will probably never get off the ground, but then who cares.
Don’t worry; be happy!
Whereas the number 666 is very explicitly referenced in the bible, 777 is never mentioned. When trying to find an explanation, these were the most popular:
1. 777 represent the Trinity.
2. 7 Churches, 7 Stars/Angels and 7 Lamp stands.
3. 7 Horns, 7 Eyes and 7 Spirits of God.
There are many other instances of 7 being used. 7 is a very popular number in the bible; probably derived from the creation. So is 12; probably initiated by Jacob’s 12 sons. And 40; like the 40 days and 40 nights of rain during the deluge. 430 is another such number. And 5.
Mathematically there is nothing special about the number 7. It is the fourth prime number. Preceded by 2, 3 & 5 and followed by 11, 13, 17 etc. The factors for 777 (3 X 7 X 37) are equally unimpressive. From a pure mathematical viewpoint 666 is a much more interesting number.
I might be wrong, but as a lifelong biblical scholar, my conclusion is that 777 is a man made number without any foundation in the bible; therefore not holy at all.
So my question is: Who had the audacity to assign a number to God?
To assign a number to a god was a Babylonian practice. Could it be that 777 was ‘invented’ to get the attention to away from the pointing finger of 666 and its Babylonian origin? Remember, the Babylonian religion was amalgamated with the Christian Church in 425 ADE by command of the Roman emperor Constantine.
Read more about 666.
Life is not like in the movies. Here in the real world things don’t happen that way. I’m afraid cowboys do cry and heroes do die.
Life is not easy; rougher for some than others; but sitting on your butt complaining about the unfairness of life is not going to improve your lot in the least.
Life offers plenty of opportunities. Be on your feet when they present themselves for by the time you have raised onto your feet the opportunity will be gone!
Make the best of your life as it is now. Enjoy what you can and accept that there are things that you will never be and things you will never have.
You were created with two ends. One to think with and one to sit on. Your success depends on which end you use most. It is like spinning a coin.
Heads you win and tails you lose.
Think about it. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
A man was sent to jail for life. He was kept at a facility without a sickbay. Inmates needing medical care were treated at the hospital in a nearby town. Any major surgery required special permission by the chief warden.
After six years this man applied to have his right arm amputated. The chief warden refused permission for such a procedure to be performed.
When asked about this by the luckless inmate, who was wheeled into the office on a wheel chair, the chief warden replied:
“Shortly after you came here you had all your teeth extracted. Then your appendix was removed. Next thing your testicles were gone. Then your tonsils went. Part of your stomach and intestines were removed next; followed by one of your kidneys.”
The warden paused for a while and went on:
“Your left eye was removed two years ago. During the last year both your legs were amputated. And you have donated gallons of blood while here. I think you’re busy escaping!”
Enjoy this monday, I hope it is not blue for you.
Cyrano, my dear friend,
Times have changed. Since the revolt my captors had been transformed into more reasonable wardens and we have drafted a new constitution granting me more civil freedom even though I’m still under constant surveillance and often confined to my cell.
In the new, more democratic setup I was granted executive powers in own affairs, but I am often overruled with a threat of suspending the constitution. I fear the enemy have a two thirds majority in both the lower and higher houses of government. New laws are simply steamrollered through parliament and approved by the senate without convention.
I have regained the support of my castle guards, but I fear they have no representation in either house; therefore no vote to support me.
This is the tenth day since the skirmish with that goat like creature from down below that I had described to you in my previous letter.
My rations have improved drastically, but I still don’t have free access to my larder while my cellars are still out of bounds. Foods are prepared with more taste, grilled and not steamed; while basic things like low fat butter, cheddar cheese, olives, ham and roasted red meat were re-introduced into my diet. I am allowed a boiled egg every second day. Last night, for the first time I was allowed a goblet of wine with my rations.
I am still being drugged from time to time and now refuse to drink anything unless prepared by myself.
Since we last spoke I was dragged off to their torture chambers twice. They no longer seek answers. It seems that they are just out to wear me down, but I fight them valiantly and my arm and leg seems to benefit from the struggles.
I’m not allowed to do much for myself. I think they fear that I may get strong enough to evict them from the castle. I have learned though that they plan to withdraw from my castle 8 days from today, so I pretend to collaborate lest they change their minds.
Your old comrade in arms,
Pùss in Boots.
To know what you don’t know is a far greater asset than knowing what you’re talking about. True, it will give you a much shorter range of topics to talk about, but much safer.
What we are taught about life and what we learn in life are often two different things. For instance: I was taught that age comes with maturity and wisdom; yet I have learned that age sometimes walks alone.
I was taught that silence is the only substitute for brains, but I have learned that even a fool can be mistaken for wise; as long as he keeps his mouth shut.
It takes considerable wisdom to realise the magnitude of our own folly.
Enjoy your day.
My dear friend, this is day six of my captivity. I live under most appalling conditions and I’m starved to death. Two impostors, posing as my daughter and grandson, are keeping me prisoner in my own castle.
Cyrano, please come to my aid. Also bring D’artagnan and Monsieur De Treville along. I believe they are presently in Gascony as well. If Monsieur Delatude still wears that fear inspiring helmet with the horns, bring him too. It will require a formidable force to secure the release from my captors.
During the first two days of my captivity I was kept in a white castle, guarded by creatures resembling penguins, sticking needles and tubes into my body, attaching probes to my head; trying to make me talk, but I had admitted to nothing.
I am under close guard all the time and have to suffer the indignity daily of having to shower in the presence of that young man posing as my grandson. I think they are scared that I might escape through the drain pipe, which will soon be possible with the meagre rations I receive while they eat like kings.
All I get is serials, skimmed milk, rye bread, weak tea, steamed fish, salad, feta, low fat cottage cheese, pork chops (no fat), cooked chicken (no skins), boiled veggies and a bit of rice. The entrances to my larder and cellar are blocked by a hooded axe man with a body like a woman. No sugar, no salt, no fat, no butter, no wine, no coffee.
To entertain myself I have a soft rubber ball, a broken computer keyboard and a boring half-read novel – The key to Rebecca - while they watch satellite TV all day. I am permitted to watch TV with them for one hour every night, but so far I have declined. I refuse to fraternise with the enemy.
I fear that they drug me, for I sleep much more than usually. Whenever I’m awake I use the rubber ball and the keyboard to exercise my hand that I had injured in a duel with a goat-clawed creature last week. I’m sure he had horns. My skills are returning one by one and my typing is improving slowly, but surely.
Yesterday they took me to their torture chambers where they worked my injured hand to a point where I was prepared to sign any confession; except for being gay. They plan to take me there tomorrow again. It is imperative that I escape soon.
I beseech thee to hurry my friend, as I fear for my sanity if this is to prevail for much longer!
Your comrade in arms.
Pùss In Boots.
Ah, my dear CS friends, thank you for all the well wishes. It is very much appreciated. As for the two or three remarks with the hidden barbs in it, thanks too. It helped me to form a clearer definition of you.
I am ok; as the quack said, very lucky! Although I still talk ‘funny’, my face is almost back normal. It is my arm I’m most worried about, but I will be receiving therapy as from next week. I also walk with a limb; not too bad though.
Somebody is helping me to type this.
The old quack said very little or no permanent brain damage. Luckily there was not much up there to get damaged in the first place; you cannot damage what you don’t have!
He also said no laptop for the next week or two. Luckily the old coot said nothing about my desktop computer; I forgot to tell him about it. Only now I see what I’ve been missing for the last few months. It is bigger, better and faster.
Needless to say, my daily routine had been drastically altered; mostly because of my dumb hand, but even that is improving.
I cannot drive my car and I battle with my PC. Otherwise I have most under control. And I practise typing as much as I can.
To my friend, the aspiring doctor, here on CS: Eishh, you should have spoken earlier. I could have saved myself a small fortune consulting with you. For the cost of this little outing I could have stayed in a five star hotel for a week. I’m flattered that you humbled yourself to giving your opinion.
Then lastly a bit of advice; don’t ever read old novels in bed. It could be detrimental to your health. I was snugly tugged in bed reading ‘The key to Rebecca’ when it happened. Just as well; I might have had a hole in my head too.
Thanks again for all those good wishes, eCards, flowers and private messages.
Catfoot Blog (616)