Main Street by Roger Allen, publisher

BP’s disaster—and ours

I’d like to say something about the oil gushing into the Gulf but nothing seems adequate. And others have said it all, anyway. Years ago, while working for FEMA, I was down there on a weather-related disaster. I’m sorry for those good people and for the wildlife. The oceans are irreplaceable and I’m sorry for all of us. The dim bright spot is that the Michigan Tourist Bureau is hoping to get vacation business away from the Gulf.

Roger Allen, publisher.

Eye of the beholder

A lady’s tale, sent in by my correspondent Michelle:

I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. On the wall, I noticed his DDS diploma which bore his full name. A tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name had been in my high school class 30-odd years ago. Could the dentist be the same guy I’d had a secret crush on way back then?

Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was far too old to have been my classmate. After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Rockford High School.

“Yes, I did,” he answered.

“When did you graduate?” I asked.

“In 1975,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“You were in my class!” I exclaimed.

He looked at me closely. Then that ugly, bald, wrinkle-faced, gray-haired, decrepit old guy asked, “What did you teach?”

Eye of the beholder #2

Hope the shopper in this tale isn’t the same lady on the same day:

I was at the local supermarket. My cart contained a half-gallon of 2% milk, eggs, a quart of orange juice, lettuce, a two-pound can of coffee and a pound of bacon.

As I unloaded my items on the conveyor belt to check out, a guy, definitely drunk, stood next in line, watching my order. While the cashier was ringing up the items, the drunk remarked, “You musht be single.”

I was a bit startled, but I was intrigued by the derelict’s intuition, since, indeed, I’d never married.

I looked at the six items on the belt and saw nothing unusual about my selections that could have tipped off the drunk to my marital status.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I said, “Yes you’re right. But how on earth did you know that?”

The drunk replied, “‘Cause you’re ugly.”

Another bad day for someone

This tidbit was sent by Jim Beach, another faithful correspondent:

The terrorist didn’t pay enough postage on a letter bomb. It came back with “Return to Sender” stamped across it. Forgetting it was the bomb, he opened it and was blown to bits.

Final comments

1. He who laughs last thinks slowest.

2. Remember, half the people you know are below average.

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