(Includes 17 jokes and articles, 15 1104n,3,cL4f,vYT5a7a,3)
Click "Here" for Stories-Supp
Story Book from
Also see ANIMALS-OTHER- 'Hamsters
Named Bert And Ernie'
ARTIST file - 'Man And His Son Collected Art'
ASIAN-SUPP - 'The Buddha And The Beggar' - Video/Story
BLACK1 file - 'Eyes On The Stars By StoryCorps' - Video
BANKING-SUPP - 'The Moneylender'
BIRDS file - 'A Man And An Eagle, A Love Story'
BODY PARTS - 'Boy Cries Over Freckles'
CARS2 file - 'Granny Stops Car Thieves'
CHRISTMAS1 - 'Lovable Louise'
CHRISTMAS4 - 'Buying The Christmas Tree'
JOBS-SUPP - 'Picking A New CEO'
JOB-STUFF-SUP- 'The Brewery'
KIDS5 file - 'It's Not Contagious, I Swear...'
MOVIES-ETC - 'The Man Who Had No Face'
MOVIES-ETC-S2- 'A Stranger Moved In Our Home'
MOVIES-SUPP - 'La Linea - Interactive' - Video (in yyPictures)
OTHER-SPORTS - 'Kickball: Where The XX Rules'
RAT-MICE - 'Mouse Story'
SCOTTISH file- 'Scottish Farmer Saves A Boy'
SUPERHEROES - 'Boy Becomes Superman'
Subj: Snoopy Writes A Best Seller (DU)
In Peanuts Sunday Comic Strip
By Charles M. Schulz in 2017
.......Click 'HERE' to see this Peanuts Sunday Comic Strip
Subj: Little Girl Buys A Miracle (S431b)
From: RFSlick in 2005
A little girl went to her bedroom
and pulled a glass jelly
jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured the
change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three
times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance
here for mistakes.
Carefully placing the coins back
in the jar and twisting on
the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6
blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief
sign above the door.
She waited patiently for the
pharmacist to give her some
attention but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted
her feet to make a scffing noise. Nothing. She cleared
her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster.
No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged
it on the glass counter. That did it!
"And what do you want?" the pharmacist
asked in an annoyed
tone of voice. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom
I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply
to his question.
"Well, I want to talk to you
about my brother," Tess answered
back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick...
and I want to buy a miracle."
"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.
"His name is Andrew and he has
something bad growing inside
his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now.
So how much does a miracle cost?"
"We don't sell miracles here,
little girl. I'm sorry but I
can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little.
"Listen, I have the money to
pay for it. If it isn't enough,
I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."
The pharmacist's brother was
a well dressed man. He stooped
down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does
your brother need?"
"I don't know," Tess replied
with her eyes welling up. I
just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an
operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to
use my money."
"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.
"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly.
"And it's all the money I have,
but I can get some more if
I need to."
"Well, what a coincidence," smiled
the man. "A dollar and
eleven cents---the exact price of a miracle for little
He took her money in one hand
and with the other hand he
grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live.
I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's
see if I have the miracle you need."
That well dressed man was Dr.
Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon,
specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed
free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home
again and doing well.
Mom and Dad were happily talking
about the chain of events
that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her Mom
whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would
Tess smiled. She knew exactly
how much a miracle cost...one
dollar and eleven cents. Plus the faith of a little child.
Subj: Two Men Share A Hospital Room (S477c, S677)
From: lubin100 in 2010
Two men, both very ill, were
in the same hospital room. One
man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each day to
help stretch his body. His bed was next to the room's only
window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his
back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their
wives and families, their homes, their jobs, vacations, and
about what life meant.
And every afternoon when the
man in the bed by the window
could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his
roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour
periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by
all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park
with a lovely lake. Ducks and
swans played on the water while children sailed their model
boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of
every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the land-
scape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in
the distance. As the man by the window described all this in
exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would
close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One morning, the day nurse arrived
only to find the lifeless
body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his
sleep. A few days later, the other man asked if he could be
moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the
switch. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow
to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he
would have the joy of seeing it for himself.
He strained to slowly turn to
look out the window beside the
bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what
could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described
such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse
responded that the man was blind and could not even see the
She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
Subj: Reopening The Brooklyn Church (S447)
From: Joke-Of-The-Day-Mail.com in 2005
The brand new pastor and his
wife, newly assigned to their
first ministry to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn,
arrived in early October excited about their opportunities.
When they saw their church, it was very run down and needed
much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time
to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews,
plastering walls, painting,
etc., and on December 18, were ahead of schedule and just
about finished. On December 19 a terrible tempest - a driving
rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days. On the 21st,
the pastor went over to the church.
His heart sank when he saw that
the roof had leaked, causing
a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off
the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit. The
pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what
else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way, he noticed that a local business was having a flea
market-type sale for charity, so he stopped in. One of the
items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory-colored, crocheted
tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors, and a Cross
embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size
to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and
headed back to the church.
By this time, it had started
to snow. An older woman, running
from the opposite direction, was trying to catch the bus. She
missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church
for the next bus 45 minutes later. She sat in a pew and paid
no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc.,
to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could
hardly believe how beautiful it looked, and it covered up the
entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking
down the center aisle. Her
face was as white as a sheet. "Pastor," she asked, "Where did
you get that tablecloth?" The pastor explained. The woman
asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials,
EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the
initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years
before in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe
it as the pastor told her how he
had just gotten the tablecloth. The woman explained that before
the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria.
When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was
going to follow her the next week. He was captured and sent to
prison. She never saw her husband or her home again. The pastor
wanted to give her the tablecloth, but she made the pastor keep
it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home, that
was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten
Island and had been in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they
had on Christmas Eve. The church
was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the
end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at
the door, and many said that they would return. One older man,
whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood, continued to
sit in one of the pews and stare... the pastor wondered why he
The man asked him where he got
the tablecloth on the front wall,
because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago
when they lived in Austria before the war. And how could there
be two tablecloths so much alike? He told the pastor how the
Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety, and
how he was supposed to follow her, but was arrested and put in
a prison. He never saw his wife or his home again.
Rex Barker C.S. saying that what
followed was the greatest
Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.
Subj: The Wooden Bowl (S307)
From: auntiegah in 2002
My dear friends,
This story touched my heart.
A frail old man went to live
with his son, daughter-in-law,
and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled,
his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.
The family ate together at the
table. But the elderly
grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating
difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When
he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The
son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We
must do something about Grandfather," said the son. I've
had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on
So the husband and wife set a
small table in the corner.
There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family
enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or
two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the
family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometime he had
a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words
the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he
dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it
all in silence. One evening
before supper, the father noticed his son playing with
wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly,
"What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded,
"Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your
food in when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went
back to work.
The words so struck the parents
that they were speechless.
Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no
word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took
Grandfather's hand and gently
and lovingly led him back to the family table. For the
remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family.
And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to
mind when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the table-
Subj: Cab Driver And The 80 Year Old Lady (S284, S618)
From: mombear1 in 2002
THE CAB RIDE
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab
for a living. When I arrived
at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light
in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many
drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then
I had seen too many impoverished
people who depended on taxis
as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation
smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger
might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute", answered
a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged
across the floor.
After a long pause, the door
opened. A small woman in her 80's
stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox
hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s
By her side was a small nylon
suitcase. The apartment looked
as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture
was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls,
no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner
was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to
the car?" she said. I took
the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked
slowly toward the curb. She
kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing", I told her.
"I just try to treat my
passengers the way I would want my mother treated".
"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.
When we got in the cab, she gave
me an address, then asked,
"Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said.
"I'm in no hurry. I'm on
my way to a hospice". I looked in the rearview mirror.
Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left,"
she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut
off the meter. "What
route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove
through the city. She
showed me the building where she had once worked as an
elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood
where she and her husband had lived when they were
newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture
warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had
gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow
in front of a particular
building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness,
As the first hint of sun was
creasing the horizon, she
suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address
she had given me. It
was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with
a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the
cab as soon as we pulled up.
They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the
small suitcase to the door.
The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers,"
I responded. Almost without
thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me
"You gave an old woman a little
moment of joy," she said.
I squeezed her hand, then walked
into the dim morning light.
Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of
I didn't pick up any more passengers
that shift. I drove
aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I
could hardly talk.
What if that woman had gotten
an angry driver, or one who
was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to
take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think
that I have done anything
more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that
our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments
often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others
may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY
WHAT 'YOU DID,
OR WHAT YOU SAID,
THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
In Sunday Morning Laughs, I always
have ten to fifteen
quotes. On several occasions the teachers at Benicia
High have discussed this quotation. We all believe this
this is the single most important quote I have ever sent
out. Tom A. includes it at the bottom of every letter
Subj: America: The Good Neighbor (S169)
From: icohen in 2000
Widespread but only partial news
coverage was given recently
to a remarkable editorial broadcast from Toronto by Gordon
Sinclair, Canadian television commentator. What follows is
the full text of his trenchant remarks as printed in the
"This Canadian thinks it is time
to speak up for the Americans
as the most generous and possibly the least appreciated people
on all the earth.
Germany, Japan and, to a lesser
extent, Britain and Italy were
lifted out of the debris of war by the Americans who poured in
billions of dollars and forgave other billions in debts. None
of these countries is today paying even the interest on its
remaining debts to the United States.
When the franc was in danger
of collapsing in 1956, it was the
Americans who propped it up, and their reward was to be insulted
and swindled on the streets of Paris. I was there. I saw it.
When earthquakes hit distant
cities, it is the United States
that hurries in to help. This spring, 59 American communities
were flattened by tornadoes. Nobody helped.
The Marshall Plan and the Truman
Policy pumped billions of
dollars into discouraged countries. Now newspapers in those
countries are writing about the decadent, warmongering Americans.
I'd like to see just one of those
countries that is gloating over
the erosion of the United States dollar build its own airplane.
Does any other country in the world have a plane to equal the
Boeing Jumbo Jet, the Lockheed Tri-Star, or the Douglas DC-10?
If so, why don't they fly them? Why do all the International
lines except Russia fly American Planes?
Why does no other land on earth
even consider putting a man or
woman on the moon? You talk about Japanese technocracy, and you
get radios. You talk about German technocracy, and you get
automobiles. You talk about American technocracy, and you find
men on the moon - not once, but several times - and safely home
You talk about scandals, and
the Americans put theirs right in
the store window for everybody to look at. Even their draft-
dodgers are not pursued and hounded. They are here on our
streets, and most of them, unless they are breaking Canadian
laws, are getting American dollars from ma and pa at home to
When the railways of France,
Germany and India were breaking
down through age, it was the Americans who rebuilt them.
When the Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central went
broke, nobody loaned them an old caboose. Both are still broke.
I can name you 5000 times when
the Americans raced to the help
of other people in trouble. Can you name me even one time when
someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? I don't think
there was outside help even during the San Francisco earthquake.
Our neighbors have faced it alone,
and I'm one Canadian who is
damned tired of hearing them get kicked around.
They will come out of this thing
with their flag high. And when
they do, they are entitled to thumb their nose at the lands that
are gloating over their present troubles.
I hope Canada is not one of those."
Stand proud, Americans
This is one of the best editorials
that I have ever read regarding
the United States. It is nice that one man realizes it, I only
wish that the rest of the world would realize it. We are always
blamed for everything, and never even get a thank you for the
things we do.
I would hope that each of you
would send this to as many people as
you can and emphasize that they should send it to as many of their
friends until this letter is sent to every person on the web. I am
just a single American that has read this, I SURE HOPE THAT A
LOT MORE READ IT SOON.
City of Oakland, CA
(510) 238-2187 office
(510) 220-0027 cell
(510) 238-2281 fax
Subj: Two Great Stories (S168, S422)
From: JCary in 2000
|Drawing from tom on 8/21/09|
World War II produced many heroes.
One such man was Lieutenant
Commander Butch O'Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to the
aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.
One day his entire squadron was
sent on a mission. After he
was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that
someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not
have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his
ship. As he was returning to the mother ship he saw something
that turned his blood cold, a squadron of Japanese aircraft
were speeding their way toward the defenseless American fleet.
He couldn't reach his squadron and bring them back in time,
nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.
Laying aside all thoughts of
personal safety, he dove into the
formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 calibers blazed
as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane after
another. Even after his ammunition was finally spent, he
continued to dive at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail
in hopes of damaging as many as possible.
Finally, the exasperated Japanese
squadron took off in another
direction. Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered
fighter limped back to the carrier. Upon arrival he reported
in and related the events surrounding his return. The film
from the gun-camera mounted on his plane showed the extent of
Butch's daring attempt to protect his fleet. He had in fact
destroyed five enemy aircraft.
The date was February 20, 1942,
and for his brave actions
Butch became the Navy's first Ace of W.W.II, and the first
Naval Aviator to win the Congressional Medal of Honor. A
year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of
29. His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II
hero to fade, and today, O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named
in tribute to the courage of this great man.
Some years earlier there was
a man in Chicago called Easy
Eddie. At that time, Al Capone virtually owned the city.
He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything
from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder. Capone's
lawyer was nicknamed "Easy Eddie."
Eddie's skill at legal maneuvering
kept Big Al out of jail
for a long time. To show his appreciation, Capone paid him
very well. Besides a large salary, he and his family occupied
an estate so large that it filled an entire block. Eddie
lived the high life and gave little consideration to the
atrocities that were going on around him.
Eddie did have one soft spot...
a son that he loved dearly.
He saw to it that his young son had the best of everything.
And, despite his involvement with organized crime, he even
tried to teach him right from wrong. Even with all his
wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn't
give his son... a good name and a good example.
One day, Easy Eddie reached a
difficult decision. He decided
to tell the truth about Capone, clean up his tarnished name
and offer his son some semblance of integrity. To do this,
he would have to testify against the Mob, and the cost would
be great. Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze
of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street.
He had given his son the greatest
gift he had to offer... and
paid the ultimate price. Police removed from his pockets
several items including a religious medallion and a poem
clipped from a magazine that read "The clock of life is wound
but once and no man has the power to tell just when the hands
will stop. Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil
with a will. Place no faith in time. For the clock may soon
I know what you're thinking.
What do these two stories
have to do with one another?
Well you see, Butch O'Hare was Easy Eddie's son.
Subj: Soldier's True Friendship
From: octagon999 in 1999
Horror gripped the heart of the
World War I soldier as
he saw his lifelong friend fall in battle. Caught in a
trench with continuous gunfire whizzing over his head,
the soldier asked his lieutenant if he might go out into
the "No Man's Land" between the trenches to bring his
fallen comrade back.
"You can go," said the lieutenant,
"but I don't think it
will be worth it. Your friend is probably dead and you
may throw your own life away."
The lieutenant's words didn't
matter, and the soldier went
anyway. Miraculously he managed to reach his friend, hoist
him onto hisshoulder, and bring him back to their company's
As the two of them tumbled in
together to the bottom of the
trench, the officer checked the wounded soldier, then looked
kindly at his friend. "I told you it wouldn't be worth it,"
he said. "Your friend is dead, and you are mortally wounded."
"It was worth it, though, Sir," the soldier said.
"How do you mean, 'worth it?'"
responded the Lieutenant.
"Your friend is dead!"
"Yes, Sir," the private answered.
"But it was worth it
because when I got to him, he was still alive, and I had
the satisfaction of hearing him say, 'Jim, I knew you'd
~ Author Unknown ~
Subj: The Story Of Taps (S119, S661)
From: RFSlick in 1999
It all began in 1862 during the
Civil War, when Union Army
Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near Harrison's
Landing in Virginia. The Confederate Army was on the other
side of the narrow strip of land.
During the night, Captain Ellicombe
heard the moan of a
soldier who lay mortally wounded on the field. Not knowing
if it was a Union or Confederate soldier, the captain decided
to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical
attention. Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the
captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him
toward his encampment.
When the captain finally reached
his own lines, he discovered
it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was
dead. The captain lit a lantern. Suddenly, he caught his
breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the
face of the soldier. It was his son.
The boy had been studying music
in the South when the war
broke out. Without telling his father, he enlisted in the
The following morning, heartbroken,
the father asked
permission of his superiors to give his son a full military
burial despite his enemy status. His request was partially
granted. The captain had asked if he could have a group of
Army band members play a funeral dirge for the son at the
funeral. That request was turned down since the soldier
was a Confederate.
Out of respect for the father,
they did say they could give
him only one musician. The captain chose a bugler.
He asked the bugler to play a
series of musical notes he
had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of his dead
son's uniform. This wish was granted.
This music was the haunting melody
we now know as "Taps"
that is used at all military funerals.
In case you are interested, these are the words to "TAPS":
Day is done
Gone the sun
From the lakes
From the hills
From the sky
All is well,
God is nigh.
Dims the sight
And a star
Gems the sky,
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise,
For our days,
Neath the sun,
Neath the stars,
Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.
Excerpted from "Encyclopedia
of Amazing But True Facts", by Doug
The above story is wonderful,
but only an urban legend as checked
25 Hottest Urban Legends (S827)
From: kgilmour2000 in 2012
Drawing from Snopes.com
This page compiles the 25 urban
legends currently circulating
most widely, as determined by frequency of access, user searches,
reader e-mail, and media coverage as of Sunday, November 11, 2012
Click 'HERE' to see the list.
Subj: The Ultimate Urban Legend
From: smiles in 1999
Envelopes' in BUGS_ETC
.and 'How Budweiser Handled 9/11' in DRINKING_BEER2
.and 'Cookies'in FACTS3
.and 'FCC Proposal To Charge For Internet Service' in FACTS3,
.and 'Urban Legend Exposed' in FACTS3
.and best of all 'Truth About FCC Proposal' in FACTS3
.and '"Plucking Yew" Is Urban Legend' in FACTS3
and 'Fake Stevie Wonder Atari Ad' - Photo in HANDICAPPED
.and 'Dead Man Works For A Week' in JOB-STUFF-SUPP
.and 'Man Collects For Insured Cigars' in JUDGE
.and 'Email-Forwarders' 12 Step Progra' in this file
.and 'Robin William's Peace Plan Is A Hoax' in NATIONAL2
.and 'Weatherman Predicts Snow' in PENIS3
.and 'Plastics In Microwave Urban Legend' in SCIENCE-SUPP
.and 'Ships Play Chicken' in SHIPS
.and 'S.H.I.T. Origin Is Urban Legend' in SHIT
.and 'The Lee Marvin Story Is An Urban Legends' in SOLDIER2
.and 'Urban Legend Soapbox Video' in this file
.and 'Zimbabwea Bus Driver Stops At Bar' in TRUCK-BUS
Go to Snopes.com to check for Urban Legends
Over the last three years, a
lot of stories have come along
via email. Many seemed plausible, but actually were not true.
These stories seem to take on a life of their own. They are
known as urban legends.
You may have seen this:
THE ULTIMATE URBAN LEGEND
I know this guy whose neighbor,
a young man, was home
recovering from having been served a rat in his bucket of
Kentucky Fried Chicken. So anyway, one day he went to sleep
and when he awoke he was in his bathtub and it was full of
ice and he was sore all over. When he got out of the tub he
realized that HIS KIDNEYS HAD BEEN STOLEN. He saw a note on
his mirror that said "Call 911!" But he was afraid to
use his phone because it was connected to his computer, and
there was a virus on his computer that would destroy his hard
drive if he opened an e-mail entitled "Join the crew!" He knew
it wasn't a hoax because he himself was a computer programmer
who was working on software to save us from Armageddon when the
year 2000 rolls around. His program will prevent a global disaster
in which all the computers get together and distribute Gates.
(It's true -- I read it all last week in a mass e-mail from
BILL GATES HIMSELF, who was also promising me a free Disneyworld
vacation, Nike sneakers and $5,000 if I would forward the e-mail
to everyone I know.)
The poor man then tried to call
911 from a pay phone to report
his missing kidneys, but reaching into the coin-return slot he
got jabbed with an HIV-infected needle around which was wrapped
a note that said, "Welcome to the world of AIDS." Luckily he was
only a few blocks from the hospital-the one, actually,
where that little boy who is dying of cancer is, the one whose
last wish is for everyone in the world to send him an e-mail and
the American Cancer Society has agreed to pay him a nickel for
every e-mail he receives. I sent him two e-mails and one of them
was a bunch of x's and o's in the shape of an angel (if you get
it and forward it to twenty people you will have good luck but
ten people will only have OK luck and if you send it to less than
ten people you will have BAD LUCK FOR SEVEN YEARS). So anyway
the poor guy tried to drive himself to the hospital, but on the
way he noticed another car driving along without his lights on.
To be helpful, he flashed his lights at him and was promptly shot
as part of a gang initiation.
And it's a little-known fact
that the Y1K problem caused
the Dark Ages.
Subj: The Soapbox Guy (S306b,d-iFrame)
From: ICohen in 2002
.........Click 'HERE' to see Urban Legend Soapbox Video.
Subj: Email-Forwarders' 12 Step Program (S264c)
From: Joke-Of-The-Day in 2002
(See 'Ultimate Urban Legend' above)
"FORWARDER'S" 12 STEP PROGRAM - EVERYONE SAY IT WITH ME ...
I will NOT get bad luck, lose
my friends, or lose my
mailing lists if I DON'T forward an email!
I will NOT hear any music or
see a taco dog, if I do
forward an e-mail.
Bill Gates is NOT going to send
me money, Victoria Secret
doesn't know anything about a gift certificate they're
supposed to send me.
Ford will NOT give me a 50% discount
even if I forward
my e-mail to more than 50 people!
I will NEVER receive gift certificates,
freebies from Coca Cola, Cracker Barrel, Old Navy, or
anyone else if I send an e-mail to 10 people.
I will NEVER see a pop-up window
if I forward an e-mail ...
NEVER --NEVER !!
There is NO SUCH THING as an
e-mail tracking program, and
I am not STUPID enough to think that someone will send me
$100 for forwarding an e-mail to 10 or more people!
There is NO kid with cancer through
program in England collecting anything! He did when he
was 7 years old. He is now cancer free and 35 years old
and DOESN'T WANT ANY MORE POST CARDS, or GET-WELL CARDS.
The government does not have
a bill in Congress called
901B (or whatever they named it this week) that, if
passed, will enable them to charge us 5 cents for every
e-mail we send.
There will be NO cool dancing,
singing, waving, colorful
flowers, characters, or program that I will receive
immediately after I forward an e-mail. NONE, ZIP, ZERO,
The American Red Cross will NOT
donate 50 cents to certain
individual dying of some never-heard-of disease for every
e-mail address I send this to. The American Red Cross
And finally, I WILL NOT let others
guilt me into sending
things by telling me I am not their friend or that I don't
believe in Jesus Christ. If God wants to send me a message,
I believe the bushes in my yard will burn before He picks
up a PC to pass it on!
Now, repeat this to yourself
until you have it memorized,
and send it along to at least 5 of your friends before the
next full moon or you will surely be constipated for the
next three months and all of your hair will fall out!
Subj: Tired Carpenter Gets Ride Home (S620b)
From: rlr29 on 98-09-28
and From: darrellvip in 2008
The carpenter that I hired to
help me restore an old
farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job.
A flat tire made him lose an
hour of work, his electric saw
quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.
While I drove him home, he sat
in stony silence. On arriving,
he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward
the front door, He paused briefly at a small tree, touching
tips of the branches with both hands.
When opening the door, He underwent
transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles
and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a
kiss. Afterward he walked me to the car.
We passed the tree and my curiosity
got the better of me.
I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier. Oh, that's
my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having
troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, troubles don't
belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just
hang them up on the tree every night when I come home.
Then in the morning I pick them
up again.", "Funny thing is"
he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick'em up,
there ain't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the
Subj: Short Cute Stories
Subj: Book-A-Minute-SF/F (S383)
From: igiggle in 2004
We've taken several great speculative fiction novels and
extracted the important stuff, cutting out all the filler.
(With our ultra-condensed versions of your favorite speculative
fiction, you can read entire books in just one minute!
Even though it sounds pretty dumb, I got a great list of
good books - www.rinkworks.com/bookaminute/sff.shtml