Let’s hope the new direction will be out—of Afghanistan. Ever since our Navy Seals delivered Osama bin Laden his just desserts, it seems like the Taliban has been busy killing other Afghans. Sounds like a civil war to me. I’m not sure why, at this point, we’re in the middle. It seems time to pull out and let them fight it out among themselves. America isn’t winning any friends; we are getting our troops killed and spending a fortune to do it.
The buzzwords in Washington are “entitlement reform.” That’s an evasive term to mean that Social Security costs money that the government would like to spend on something else. Social Security is indeed an “entitlement,” because those drawing it paid for it and it was promised to them. Calling it “reform” just means taking away what has been promised.
Social Security and Medicare are valuable programs. They have transformed the formerly dismal circumstances of the majority of America’s elderly. If we have to raise taxes to pay those entitled, we should do it. And we should boot out the people in Congress who want to take away what was promised.
Father O’Malley joke
Father O’Malley was assigned from Ireland to a Texas diocese. He rose from his bed to a fine spring morning in his new Texas mission parish. He walked to the window for a deep breath of the beautiful day outside. In the middle of his lawn, a jackass lay dead. He promptly called the local police station.
“Good morning, this is Sergeant Jones, how might I help you?”
“And the best of the day te yerself. This is Father O’Malley at St. Bridget’s. There’s a jackass lying dead in me front lawn. Would ye be so kind as to send a couple o’ yer lads to take care of the matter?”
Sergeant Jones considered himself to be quite a wit. “Well now, Father,” he said, “it was always my impression that you people took care of last rites.”
There was silence on the line for a few moments. Father O’Malley then replied: “Aye, ‘tis certainly true, but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin.”
A wife, standing nude, looks in the mirror while her husband reads in bed.
“I feel horrible,” she says. “I look fat and ugly. Please pay me a compliment.”
The husband replies, “Your eyesight’s darn near perfect.”
He never heard the shot…
Vic stood over his tee shot on the 450-yard 18th hole for what seemed an eternity. He waggled, looked up, looked down, waggled again, but didn’t start his back swing. Finally his exasperated partner asked, “What the heck is taking so long?”
“My wife is watching me from the clubhouse balcony,” Vic explained. “I want to make a perfect shot.”
His companion replied, “You don’t have a chance in hell of hitting her from here.”