Main Street

Roger Allen, publisher. “Rockford is the Humor Capital of the World”

Pushing it

Television ads for attorneys go too far. Their purpose seems obvious: to drum up lawsuits. If you play the game they want you to play, you start thinking about any time you got hurt in any kind of incident; you’re supposed to start thinking about someone you could blame and how much you po$$ibly could get in a $ettlement.

The lawyers who use TV hard sell often grab a big percentage of any settlement (part of which must go for those expensive TV ads). They prefer to sue big insurance companies or, in fact, any company or individual with lots of money. But they need clients. They want to excite suspicion and greed in the folks out there in TV land.

Okay, I’ll play. My toenails were giving me trouble and I went to a podiatrist. Maybe the hospital did something wrong when I was born. Maybe we can blame the company that made my shoes. Or my socks. (Oh, the pain, suffering and expense that goes with bad toenails!)

A quick glance down at my foot tells me I deserve a million dollars. Next time one of those lawyer ads comes on, I’m jotting down the phone number. Even if I have to split with the lawyer, I’ll still have lifetime care for my toes.

Another medical report

A man goes to the doctor and says he hasn’t been feeling well. The doctor examines him, leaves the room, and comes back with three bottles of pills.

“Take the green pill with a big glass of water when you get up,” says the doctor. “Take the blue pill with a big glass of water after lunch. Then, just before going to bed, take the red pill with another big glass of water.”

The man stares at all the pill bottles. “Gee, doc, exactly what’s my problem?”

The doctor says, “You’re not drinking enough water.”

Last words

The old Mother Superior was dying. Her nuns gathered around the bed, trying to make her comfortable.

They gave her warm milk to drink, but she refused it. When one of them took the glass back to the kitchen, she remembered some Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas. So she opened the bottle and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.

Back at the bed, the nun held the glass to the dying woman’s lips. Mother Superior drank a little, then a little more. Before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop. She closed her eyes.

“Please,” pleaded the nuns, “leave us some wisdom before you die.” The Mother Superior raised herself a little on the pillow and, with a pious look, she spoke: “Don’t sell that cow.”

Last words #2

A desperate pilot contacts the tower. “I’m in a bad fix up here – 400 miles from land, 500 feet over water and fast running out of fuel. Please give instructions!”

“Tower to pilot, tower to pilot. Repeat after me: ‘Our Father, which art in heaven…’”


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