AssemblyBoard

Yesterday there were a few conversations about rehashing and rehashing the things that
happened while in the Assembly. I thought it would be nice to have a Thread that is en-
tirely free of any reference to the Assembly, where thoughts and short stories could be
shared about everyday life. I have a short story to share that happened in April when I
went to visit my Accountant for the tax season. He is a quirky guy and loves to tell stories
while punching out the numbers. His name is George Sisselman, and he has been my accountant
for several years. It's great to just be able to share things from everyday life and leave the
Assembly behind. I hope we can do that as we come to this thread.

I arrived at my accountant's office and then sat across from him. I handed him my envelope
filled with the paperwork from the year before--W2 forms, etc. He began to read through
the paperwork and then said "These are going to kill you this year Joe". I replied "What? I
thought everything would be fine".  "Gift Taxes" is all he said. "Gift Taxes, George? What do
you mean Gift Taxes?"I asked. "You received an inheritance last year, don't you remember? When your
brother passed away. And now you have become a slave to Gift Taxes. It's gonna cost you Joe."
I had forgotten about receiving a settlement from the State from my brother's retirement fund--
I had become a victim of Gift taxes, like so many others.

As my accountant contined to do my taxes I asked him how he had become an accountant. He replied "Oh, I'm not really sure. I just knew that I wanted to choose a different type of life than
my father had. You see, my father joined the Navy when I was young and became the steward
of a ship. He was the ship's steward, and very soon became the Head Steward. As a consequence
we often didn't see our father for weeks. But despite all of this we considered the man to be a
saint, because he often returned with his arms filled with gifts for us.

"We lived quite near the docks, and often visited an old destroyer that was stored there. On Sundays, my father and some of the other sailors would tell stories for much of the day. We called our visits there "Sunday Warship" because of the old destroyer, but I must admit that the
stories often would drag on, and I would become quite sleepy in the afternoons, and doze off. We
all sat on the deck, and if it started to rain we would just cover our heads, and continue to listen
to the stories regarding the sea.

"My father would arise very early, and go through a type of ritual we called "The cycle of the Ocean" because he would talk much about the cycle of life, and the Ocean being it's biggest part in the mystery of life. He would take me up to the window and look toward the ocean and ask 'What would you call that if it wasn't called the ocean? What name would you give it son? And son, what does the ocean teach you? What does it mean to you, my boy? But most importantly, what are you going to do about it son?' He would do this on almost a daily basis, and it annoyed the hell out of me, and that's when I decided to become anything but a ship's steward, and that's why I'm an accountant today", he said.

With that he was done with my taxes, and again I found out that I owed this year. Gift taxes had
done me in, but I knew I would survive, and maybe get some money back next year.

If you have a story to share that is "Assembly Free" please feel free to do so. We can all do with some everyday types of stories that speak of the normal trials of life, and how we are living today.

I'm having an ANOP this Saturday.

It's for people who are serious, who spend time every day, both in person, and online.  Most of the people who come are going through a book or two.

We'll get there about a half hour before the time begins, and hopefullly, everyone will have brought a friend.  We're hoping to see the time grow, with new ones coming out.

We'll have a few snacks, and beverages, but the main focus is our time together, which will go most of the night, until the less committed run out of committment.  I want to be known as the best one there, and I want the others to pay attention to me and fear me.  I hope to humilate them, deceive them, and ultimately defeat them.....and then I want them to be my friends.

It's for people who are serious, not for those who want a social time.  It's gonna be costly for some, which is good.  They'll learn alot. When the chips are down, we'll see who is bluffing.

Brent

I'll bring the Zinfandel and a bunch of little cups.

Praise the L......uhhhmmmmhmmm,

Super!

My name is Bob Mason.  I came to this town to investigate a cattle prod murder at
a Barnes and Noble Book Store. But instead I found one of the best Pizza Parlors
in the whole 3 block area of town I've investigated so far. Run by a gentleman named
Nguyen Linh; his pizza recipes are simply out of this world. I quite like this town, except
the habit this one old woman has of hitting me over the head with an umbrella every
time she sees me. But I can endure that as long as they keep the pizza's coming my
way.

I'm staying at a bed and breakfast just outside of town, that was built back in 1950 by
a fellow named Hossenfeffer. Famous for having gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel in the
40's, "Lumpy" as he is affectionately known, is quite a character. He eats bananas, peels
and all, and has a pet armadillo named Waldo, whom  he  has trained to shine his shoes.
He claims to be the person on the "Dutch Boy" paint can, but no one can be really sure, es-
pecially because he isn't from Holland.

He claims his father, a German, swam from England to the Massachusetts coast, where he
was rescued by Jewish lobster fishermen. The lobster fishermen gave his father to a group
of travelling Gypsies who made him dance for hours at a time for pennies a day. The female
Gypsies made him hold his fingers up for hours as they used them to spindle the yarn they
used to make their many dresses and sweaters. It was at this point that the theory of evolution
became a reality, and the much use of his fingers caused a sixth finger to grow on each hand.
This became very useful later as he became a typist for a major newspaper, and was able to turn
out stories faster than the other typists.

His father met his mother when he fell out of a second story window to the sidewalk below, landing
on a pile of apples and pummeling into the street and rolling to a stop just inches short of a woman's
pair of feet. These feet were clad in huge clowns shoes, and his father and "Chuckles" fell in love at first sight. They were married, and 5 months later Percy L. Hossenfeffer was born. His parents knew he was meant for great things. One day, he would go over the falls of Niagara, and then run a bed and breakfast in town. I'm not sure why, but he absolutely hates books about cattle, and especially those who read them. Perhaps after I solve this cattle prod murder in the book store I can delve a little futher into his problem. (ring!!! ring!!!) Oh, there goes the telephone, I'd better answer it, it might be a call.

Lumpy's dad is one lucky hombre!

Do have any idea how many Jewish Lobster boats run in the North Atlantic?  Not very many, that's how much!  To be rescued by one is amazing.  This guy should play the lottery.

Brent

No kidding. The "Memorial to Jewish Lobster fisherman who gave their lives at Sea" is on the west side of Boston town hall, on a plaque,  27 bricks up and 14 to the right. Look for the names Moishe Rosen and Daniel Goldstein(they are the only two names on the plaque), who were instrumental in saving Lumpy's Dad, before they drowned at sea later that year.

There's also a memorial in the Temple Beth Aaron, in Brookline.

A lot of people said,  "How can you call yourself Jewish, when you handle lobster all day! And on the Sabbath!?" 

Moishe's answer is somewhat of a proverb among the local congregation,  "One man's trash is another man's  treasure!  These aren't lobsters,  they're pure gold!"

And that's where we got that idiom.

Brent

I visited Moishe Rosen's grave while in Massachusetts. It was quite touching
as I read the epitaph the family put on his grave,  as a result of reading his
will after his demise. It reads "HERE LIES A SHELLFISH MAN". It was all I could
do to hold back the tears.

One of my cousins clerked at Horwap, Laventhal and Goldstein, the prestigious maritime lawfirm in Boston.  What many people don't know is that Lumpy's daughter, Golda, married Ishmael Goldstein, and so the circle is complete.

And that's where we get the proverb, "Not all that glitters is Goldstein."  Because everyone knows that it was Hossenfeffer money that got that law firm off the ground.

Brent

That's true, it was Hossenfeffer money that got that law firm going. Goldstein, before
his drowning, sold all rights to the lobster fishing company to Albert Gorton, who sold the
lobster traps and started a fishing company that sells frozen fish under that name. Ishmael
was left with almost nothing. Hossenfeffer, remembering how his life had been saved, gave
some of his dare-devil money from Niagara falls to Ishmael, who started a law firm.

If this hadn't happened we would have the "Goldstein Fisherman", complete with locks
of hair in front of his ears, and dressed as a rabbi, instead of the famous "Gorton Fisherman"
of today. Somehow I don't think frozen gefilte fish would have done too well anyway, so
maybe it's a good thing he sold the whole thing off.

And you know that every time there was a maritime incident that involved someone known by Hossenfeffer, Goldstein and Horwap would go all out to represent the friend of Lumpy in the matter.  Many a fisherman would find a damaged net, or the floats cut from their traps due to an unfair, illegal act from one of their competitors.  Then upon taking the fellow to court, much to their dismay they would find out that Horwap or Goldstein was the opposing council.

They were the victims of "Friends of Lumpy's" which is where we get the proverb,  "Take your lumps."  That's why people say that, instead of "paying your dues," because in the New England lobster business, you had to take your lumps.

Brent

I bet there's not too many people on this board who know the story of how Lumpy got Waldo, his pet Armadillo?

Suzie and I have a poker/dinner date tonite, so I'll tell the story of Aldo the gypsie some other time.  But, as you might have guessed Waldo is named after Aldo the gypsie.  Of course, this has tremendous bearing on the hedgehog control act of 1922, which was no more than a blatant act of discrimination against gypsies and their main source of income at the time...hedgehog breeding.

Until then, like Ishmael Goldstein used to say,  "Don't shalom me!  How would you like a nice candlestick across the back of your head!  Would that be peaceful enough for you?"

Brent

If anyone is reading along with this, I want you to know that it is all absolutely true.
For more information please go to www.jewishlobstermen.com  For more information
on Percy "Lumpy" Hossenfeffer, please go to www.lumpygravy.com

Thanks.

LOL Brent. Very funny ;D

Aldo Papajunio, the now famous gypsy, from Brookline MA, is the topic of considerable folklore.  One of the best stories related to Aldo has to do with the introduction of the Armadillo pet trade in New England.

As has been stated below, After Hossenfeffer was rescued out of the ocean by Daniel Goldstein, the Jewish Lobsterman.  Following his rescue, he was traded to a group of Gypsies, who made him dance all day, and hold yarn all night.  Year after year, Hossenfeffer plotted his escape.

At the time, the Aldo's main source of income was the breeding and selling of hedgehogs.  A good litter would bring in almost one hundred dollars, which on top of what the gypsies could steal from people, made quite a good living.  Hossenfeffer saw this, and upon realizing that his dancing and yarn spinning wasn't even necessary for survival, became quite bitter and dead set on bringing down Aldo and his hedgehog trade.

During a day of dancing, Hossenfeffer met a district attorney from Gloucester and told him about the way the hedgehogs were mistreated in the care of the Gypsies.  This sparked the now landmark legislation, the Hedgehog Control Act of 1922.  It was now illegal to own or breed hedgehogs in the state of Massachusetts. 

Aldo was enraged, and made Hossenfeffer dance even more, now that they were short on money.

Here's where Hossenfeffer's genious first began to shine.  He talked Aldo into shaving the hedgehogs, and selling them as Armadillos, which were perfectly legal to own.  The DA, upon learning this new thing, put Aldo in jail.  Hossenfeffer had tricked his captor into entering the illegal shaved hedgehog business, and gained his freedom as a result.

He got himself a real armadillo and visited Aldo in jail, for the purpose of gloating.  The Armadillo's original name was Aldo, but it was misprounounced by the guards, when they had to chase the beast all over the prison, when it got loose.  The guards would shout, "Here Waldo....Where's Waldo?  Where's Waldo!"

And that's how Aldo the armadillo got the name Waldo....and it's also where the "Where's Waldo" comic got it's start.  The comic was begun by none other than Abimelech Goldstein, son of Ishmael Goldstein.

Of course, Percy's armadillo  wasn't the original Waldo.  He got another one and just named it Waldo, in honor of Waldo Laventhal, who was nicknamed "Armadillo" in junior highschool.

If people are interested, Joe can tell some other non Assembly stories.

Brent

Your knowledge on the subject of Aldo Papajunio is truly quite amazing. You must be
quite an avid reader. His life and tragic death are well worth the study. Apparently, at
the age of 63, Aldo tripped over an armadillo and fell onto a skateboard a child had left
outside. The fall propelled the skateboard towards the steps which led up to the second
story. He fell down 16 stairs and flopped onto the pavement, where a little girl on a tri-
cycle ran over his neck. Standing up and groaning, he headed towards an open door in
the apartment complex with his hands out in front of him, since the blood flowing from
his head had gotten into his eyes, blinding him. A woman in the apartment, believing him
to be in the act of coming to attack her lifted up a large cauldron of boiling soup and threw
it on him, scalding him. Screaming, he began to run out into the street where he was
struck and run over by a Postal truck which dragged him for a half a block.

An ambulance was called and he was loaded into the back. The ambulance hit a large pothole
and the gurney fell out of the back and began rolling down the street with Aldo tied into it. As
he struggled the gurney gained momentum and then struck the back of a large Cadillac. Aldo
was thrown into the air, twirling head over feet, and then landed in a woodchipper some men
were using to cut down some trees. The death of his father had been even stranger, but we'll leave that story for another time.

The Curse of the Gypsies, as they call it. 

Both Aldo and his father, Valdabloc Papajunio, died bizarre, inconceivable deaths.  Of course, it was after Aldo's that we get the saying,

"A Chip off the old block."

Concerning the death of Valdobloc Papajunio, not everything is known, so I will only relate that which is generally accepted as true.

Valdo, being a gypsie, was always looking for a way to grift someone.  He became aware of a certain blind fortune teller, and went to visit her for advice.  The woman went into a trance, and told Valdo,  "Someday you will die by the hand of those you steal from. You and your firstborn."

Valdo took advantage of her blindness and robbed the old fortune teller, then went on about his business.  He sold retirement plans to mill workers' unions.  (The hedgehog business was to risky at this point.)

Of course, the plans he sold were total shams, and he merely stole money from the lumberjacks and mill workers, each and every time they made a contribution.


One day, Valdo was just sealing the deal on a retirement package, when three of the lumberjacks remembered him as the person who ripped them off at his last mill.  Their names were Gifford Lee, Neal Pert, and Alexander Leifson.  They were Canadians, and were only in New England for contract labor.  Pert, upon recognizing Valdo, shouted,  "He cheated me out of 2112 dollars.  Get him!"

Well, it wasn't long before the lumberjacks had hacked Valdo up into little pieces, exactly as the blind fortune teller had foretold. 

When Aldo ended up in the woodchipper, legend has it that the man who sold the chipper was none other than the mill worker who fingered Valdo.  When the mill closed down, he became a sales rep for a woodchipper company.  He needed the money for music lessons for his kid, Neal Jr.

So, you can see why Aldobloc was a chip off the old bloc.

Brent

Perhaps next I'll tell the story of how it came about that Daniel Goldstein named his two sons Ronald and Ishmael.

That story about Valdo really gave me a rush. I have a little more to share
myself, but there are still a few kinks in the story I need to work on. More
later.

Valdo went from living in the limelight, like some modern day Tom Sawyer, to being chopped up in little pieces.  I suppose that's what one gets when you run a fly by night operation like Valdo did.  It was his own free will, his own choice that got him there. 

There are other stories about Aldo and Valdo that are closer to the heart, but I haven't the time to tell them now.


Brent

Jerry Peranopolous loved Judo more than anything else in the world. He awakened
each morning, went to the bathroom,  and worked each day thinking of one thing
alone: Judo. One day a thought came to him. He began to smile broadly, and then
he began to laugh cheerfully. "Yes!! Yes!! That's it!!! That is why I am here on earth"
he cried out with great joy. "I love Judo, but to TEACH Judo, that is why I exist!!"
he cried out fervently.

"There are great Judo teachers for sure" he said, "but whom, may I ask teaches
Judo to parakeets?" he reasoned to himself loudly. "Imagine", he wondered out
loud, "little parakeets dressed in white, earning their black-belts under my instruction"
he said proudly. "It's truly a wonderful thought", he said, as he began to make some
grape Jello. "I don't think it would be too hard to teach parakeets Judo" he thought.

He put the Jello in the refrigerator to harden, and then he picked up the phone and
called a Pet Store. "Pets 4 U" a voice answered.  "Oh, Hi, this is Jerry Peranopolous,
and I was wondering if you had any parakeets for sale?" he asked. "Why yes, we do"
said an old woman's voice. "Did you want one for a pet, or were you going to barbecue?"
she asked quietly. "Barbecue!!??" asked Jerry loudly. "Why yes" said the quiet woman's
'matter-of fact' sounding voice, "Parakeet kabobs are wonderful this time of year, my dear.
Roast them slowly though, they're jucier that way."

"Put them on the grill right after you take them out of the cage...they'll chirp loudly for a
little while, but OH MY, you'll be rewarded with a meal that is scrumptious beyond your
wildest dreams" she added cheerfully. "I have a wonderful lemon basting recipe...."
"But I just wanted a couple of parakeets to teach the art of Judo to is all" interrupted
Jerry. "My dear" answered the woman, "parakeets abhor Judo..they are really quite
unteachable" she added quietly. "But why?" asked Jerry, "It always seemed to me that
parakeets were naturals for learning Judo" he added.

"Oh no" said the woman, "only meat-eating parakeets can be taught Judo, and they are
quite rare indeed."  "Well, where can I find a meat-eating parakeet that can learn Judo?"
asked Jerry forcefully. "Ask a shoe-salesman from Columbia, he'll know" she answered. "I've
got to go now" she said. "But wait!!" cried out Jerry.  ---CLICK---went the telephone, and
then a dial tone.

Jerry called back the next day but was told the old woman had died the night before--a freak
drowning in her own bathtub, while she was consuming New Zealand lamb on a hibachi she had
set up next to the tub. The police had found a book lying on the floor of the bathroom. It
was entitled "Meat-Eating parakeets and Judo, Advice from a Columbian Shoe-Salesman" by a
Francisco Rodriguez. This meant nothing to the police, but to Jerry it meant everything in the
world. He wondered if he might possibly be able to find another copy.

He did indeed find a copy at an old book store a few blocks away. He went to the counter to
pay for the book. "Meat-eating parakeets, huh?" asked the store owner, in a strong Spanish
accent. "You gonna teach them Judo? he asked. "Why yes, I am" answered Jerry, "how did you
know?" "Well, the book title naturally" he said, "but I am from Columbia and I used to sell shoes"
he added. "But it's actually better to barbecue them. I learned this from an old pet store owner,
and..."  "Oh yes" butted in Jerry, I spoke with her on the phone", he added. "Oh, they were
cooking parakeets on "Emeril Live" the other night, it was wonderful" said the book store owner.

"But I don't want to barbecue, I want to teach them Judo" said a flabberghasted Jerry. "You'll need
a chicken that speaks French" said the Columbian shoe-salesman, "but the chicken has to be from
Hong Kong" he added.  "A French speaking chicken form Hong Kong??" asked an exasperated Jerry,
where will I ever find one of those?"  "Well", said the store-owner, "This is all I have". He handed
Jerry an old book entitled "A French Speaking Chicken from Hong Kong on the Art of teaching
Meat-Eating Parakeets Judo, Based on the writings of a Columbian Shoe-Salesman". Jerry looked
at the title and then screamed out "Thanks!!!  Maybe now I can begon my divine calling on earth".
Jerry began to read voraciously, wanting to learn anything about meat-eating parakeets and Judo.

More later...

Sadly, the book offered little, and ended with the sentence "If French speaking chickens
from Hong kong who know how to teach parakeets Judo crave one thing, it's lamb prepared
on a Hibachi next to a bathtub."  "Lamb on a hibatchi?" cried Jerry, what has that got to do
with French speaking chickens from Hong Kong who teach meat-eating parakeets Judo based
on the writings of a Columbian Shoe-salesman?"

Jerry was disgusted and flipped on the television. He began to walk towards the refrigerator
and reached in for the grape Jello he had put in the day before. But he saw something on
television that angered him beyond belief.  CRASH!!!! Glass shattered everywhere, and the
grape Jello was now all over the walls and the floor. Jerry turned again towards the television
which had on the program "The Iron Chef". And tonight's special ingredient was parakeets--
but not just any kind of parakeet, these were meat-eating parakeets. There they lay, at least
50 of them, and they were the kind he needed, the only kind that could learn Judo.

And the IRON CHEF and his competitors were using them to make Parakeet soup, parakeet
kabobs, and even parakeet pudding. Jerry couldn't believe it. "What a waste!!" he screamed
at the top of his lungs. His windows were open and one of his neighbors stuck his head out
his own window and yelled "Pipe down you Jello makin' freak!!! Who cares about your parakeets!!"
Jerry stuck his head out the window and yelled back "You pipe down!! One day I'll be famous, and
then you'll regret what you've said this day!!! My parakeets will be the greatest Judo experts you've
ever seen!!"

Jerry turned again to the T.V. and the camera was scanning the judges and Jerry couldn't
believe his eyes. There was "Miyoki Tunaka, famous movie star", "Asaki Muntanabi, famous
fortune teller", but then there was "Ishi Francoisi, famous french speaking chicken from Hong
Kong". The chicken was definitely speaking French. The chicken held up a book he was pitching
"Meat-eating parakeets, recipes from Hong Kong, based on the recipes of a Columbian shoe salesman".  Jerry began to cry.

Joe,

Brother, I don't think this is edifying.  I'm not sure any of what you are saying is true. Please pray about whether you think you should do this, and then get back to me with answer.

I want to see you make the right choice....

Brent

ATTENTION!
THIS YEAR'S MIDWEST SEMINAR HAS BEEN CANCELLED! PERMANENTLY!
ENJOY YOUR MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND BY SPENDING TIME WITH YOUR FAMILIES.
CRY FREEEDOM!  :)
Verne

P.S. so much better than listening to a philandering windbag of an apostate like George Geftakys, doncha think?

Wow

 8)
No Midwest Seminar...Yes thats freedom. My wife & I will spend our first Memorial Day weekend celebrating our marriage and rejoicing in our first child this year.

Praise God for Freedom

Brent---

Just thought I'd share a couple of comments that were sent to me just recently:

"Dear Joe----

That story about the parakeets has a real ring of truth to it. I find it to be very
edifying. Thanks a lot.

--Steve"


"Dear Joe----

Thanks for a most edifying message about Judo and parakeets. Just ignore anyone
who says otherwise. Thanks so very much for your story.

--Helen"

These are just a couple of the many, many, e-mails I have received about how edifying
the parakeet story is--although a couple of people stated they did not like Jello being wasted as it
was in the story.

Thanks, Joe                       ;D

Hello. My name is Hasbro Kleck,  and I have a question for you. Have you ever
been on your way to Target to purchase an eraser,  and have been hit by an ice
cream truck, hurt badly, then picked up by an ambulance, which hit a pothole,
throwing you out the back still attached to the gurney, rolling downhill for two
blocks, and finally crashing through the front window of a Cambodian restaraunt,
landing face down in a bowl of hot soup? Neither have I, but I thought I'd ask.

I'm reading a book right now about Boll Weevils. Fascinating creatures really. Cotton
has always been one of my main reading subjects, though books about wool aren't
really quite as interesting. Martha Trusdell, esteemed author of the book "Cotton--
a fascinating subject", wrote several books, and her last was dedicated to the study
of Boll Weevils-- thus you understand my interest in the subject matter.

Before I go let me suggest something that is also quite fascinating. In the morning,
when taking a shower, take a kaleidascope in with you and look through towards
the water cascading down. Then begin to sing that old Mary Poppins classic "Just
a teaspoon of sugar makes the medicine go down", and you will experience a thrill
like no other you have known before. Martha Trusdell actually is the one who came
up with this idea, shortly before she wrote about the Boll Weevils.

Oh, there goes the doorbell. It might be the mailman. I'm expecting a 48,000 piece
Lego set and a clock that looks like Ross Perot. Gotta go.

No, but it is a typical scenerio for me to go to Wal-Mart in order to buy and eraser and end up spending over $100.00 before I leave.  "Oh, yes, we are out of these, too, aren't we?"

Now here are a couple of fellas who lost their way. It's time to get back to Wounded Pilgrims, guys. This is a classic example of spending your all, trying to erase those spots, when the white-out job has already been done for you at the cross between Walmart and Target: Office Max.

Or is this just the "got to look perfect" by removing eyebags instead of using cover-up mentality of CA seeping west over the Rockies?


Oops. I mean east, defiling those in the Midwest and beyond.

Moonie, the above quote is a classic example of why we end up with doctrinal disputes.  In my neighborhood, Target is located between Walmart & OfficeMax. :o ::)  Deception >:D is everywhere!  :P

Weird al ;)

Oh my!

Wierd al, I do wish someone were here to set you straight. It looks like you didn't give yourself enough time since the collapse of the Geftalonian Empire and headed straight into another jacket.

My recommendation is to take the latest religiosity test and see that the supremacy of the location of Office Max is of utmost importance, second only to the need for the use of it in your life! And unless you use it, will not be supreme in your life!  Hmmmm......here we go......

My, my. How sad.  :'(  You are missing out...........you need to be enlightened............don't buy anymore erasers..........give it up..........cling to Office Max...........there is a preacher there.........

Moonie

Hello. My name is Herbert Stoompftrotter and I work at OFFICE MAX. I want to tell you
there is no place better. So many other stores "think" they are selling the right things,
and headed in the right direction. But you see folks, there is a pattern to follow when
putting a store together. There is one OFFICE MAX per town which you should seek
out, and that is all you need. OFFICE MAX is an annointed place and I truly feel sorry for
those who shop elsewhere, because they are missing what is best for them.

Having said that, let me ask another question. Have you ever been riding your bike to go
see a movie called "Those Crazy Spiders", when you run into the back of a parked car, a
Volvo to be exact, and you are catapulted over the car right into the back of a slow moving
Ford truck with a wobbly back wheel, which suddenly careens to the right, and begins to roll,
casting you over a cliff downwards, where you fall into a slow moving barge filled with garbage,
which is burning, causing you to cry out "Help me!! Help me!!! I'm going to burn to death on
this barge!!!  Have you?    Neither have I, but I thought I'd ask.

Joe,

You said:

Wellll,  Tom Ludwig might have some interestingt things to say about this one.

I am reading and writing this from a library in Lubbock, Texas, btw.

Thomas Maddux

"Hello. My name is Zachary P. Wurnerfunf, and I am an atheist. I.."(a group of children begin
giggling in the back of the room). "As I was saying, I am an atheist. I came to this conclusion
after.."(The children are talking even louder, disrupting his speech). "Shhhh!! Children please,
I am trying to speak here!!" (Children become quiet once again). "As I was saying, I came to this
conclusion after repeatedly praying and never seeing an answer. Also, scientific proof showed
that..."(Children begin talking loudly once again)"..there is a case for evolution and.."(Children
get even louder, as one is telling a funny joke)"...For the love of God would you children please
be quiet!! Great God Almighty,  I'm trying to explain why I am an atheist here!!" (shakes his head
in disdain).

Having said that I have a question for you. Have you ever been chasing after the postman hoping
you can give him a letter you desperately want mailed, when an old woman rushes out into the
street and begins to hit you over the head with an umbrella, causing you to become dizzy, and
you walk into an open manhole cover and fall into the sewer, which swiftly carries you towards
the ocean, where you fall out of an open shaft onto a grill at a hot dog stand, whereupon you
jump up in extreme pain, and run out onto the sidewalk where you are hit by a bike, fall down,
and have your hands run over by rollerbladers?  This time I have to say I have, and it's happened
to me twice.

Joe,

You have GOT to stop letting every Hasbro, Herbert & Zachary post on your account!

W.a. ;)

Oh! So that was you who orchestrated that event?! Wow!

After three smoke-filled days, that barge took me right back to.........you guessed it! OFFICE MAX!!

I'll have the burn grafts to remind me of the time I left the covering of OFFICE MAX. :'(

Thanks, from the bottom of my scars, Mr. Snoopfarter

Mr. ZP Wansumfun,

I perceive that there is an OFFICE MAX near you. However, there is a problem with the busy tunnels in your area. They are overused and worn out. You may never make it thru them. Try skateboarding to your nearest OFFICE MAX to see what they have to offer you. Make it easy on yourself.

Do you know how to stand in doorways?

Do you have any children?

What is your current salary?

You could really become someone at OFFICE MAX!

I've been reading a lot lately about why people post on this BB. I find this to be
intriguing, and plan to write an expose' soon about this BB, and the people on
it, so that we can all better understand how crazy all of you are, and just how sane
I am. I was talking to my hamster about this just last night, and he agreed that it
would make a great article also. Look for the expose' soon.

Thanks, Joe

Thanks Joe. While your at it can you comment on the irony of the G8. Giving funding to the poor, sick and dying in Africa which is a good thing, the country has been ravaged by famine, drought, war disease's cheifly Aids, yet many other things. The problem is the corrupt officials who take the money for themselves, so peace-keeping and distribution are in order of course. Remember "Black Hawk Down" they had food wars, the food was there, but could'nt be distributed re: the corruption of offficials. They also need to teach birth-control or the orphan problem will go on for-ever, while the parents are dying of Aids. It's ironic some of  the funding is coming from a country that could care less about it's un-born with millions of American woman just aborting their children every year if a pregnancy is inconvenient, how long can this sympathy last from our murderous society? If you really look at this for what it is, this is whats crazy and this is what will ultimately bring God's Judgement to our door-steps! Who's kidding who? "Knowing the TERROR of the Lord we persuade men" II Cor 5. Just some thoughts on how hypocritical some of us Americans really are, so worried about a disruption of our precious lifestyle!  Summer. 

Hey cool.
What is your hamster's name?
Does he know how to type?
Is he pre-, mid-, or post-tribulationist?
Does he believe in purgatory?
He could fit right in here if he can find all kinds of new pathways and go round and round in them.

I heard a duck's quack doesn't echo. So I decided to test out that theory. I asked a brave
young man to hold a duck near the edge of a ravine which I knew had fantastic acoustic
qualities. I then pushed the young man over the edge. The duck began quacking furiously,
and sure enough it's quack did not echo. This was in sharp contrast to the young man's
screams, which indeed did echo very loudly throughout the ravine, as he fell.

Later, in the hospital, I visited the young man and thanked him for aiding me in my test. He
shook my hand with his good arm, the other one being in a sling, making it impossible to use.
I wished I could have heard his comments, but as luck would have it, his face was covered
in bandages also. I hope to visit him again soon. I have another theory to put to the test---
apparently it is said that a sparrow with wet wings cannot fly, and I have the perfect building
in mind to use. I just need a young man to hold the sparrow, and I'm sure he would suit the
task just fine. I'll let you know how the experiment went very soon.

Joe,

I find the nature of your posts on this thread perplexing in that they have little or nothing to do with the topic heading.  To demonstrate what I mean, I'm including, below, a short paragraph which I received just today via e-mail that illustrates perfectly the kind of material this thread calls for:

---

"'Tis said that Hitler, disturbed by nightmares, called in a soothsayer.  The seer consulted a crystal ball and said, 'Ah, mighty Fuhrer, it is foretold that you will die on a Jewish holiday.'  'Which one?' scowled Hitler.  'Any day you die will be a Jewish holiday.'" 
                                    -- from The Joys of Yiddish by Leo Rosten.

---

Do you get it now, Joe?  Wake up & smell the coffee!  And remember, it's for drinking!!!

al ;)

P.S.-- Is the duck OK?

Hi. I'm Rudy. I'm about as happy as a Dachshund at a Clowning convention. I say this because I'm at  a point in my life where I can say that at days end I feel about as satisfied as a gopher in a radiator
factory on Saturday. Things have been going very well for me. I feel about as lucky as a Bumble Bee at a Used Car dealership on a rainy day.

Things haven't always been this way. One morning I awoke to the sound of a baby crying. But then I looked in the mirror and it was really me who had been crying---just like a baby. I was even wearing a bib for Pete's Sake. It was as strange as Brown Bread in an elevator. I didn't have a beaver's chance in Argentina of finding out why this had all happened. But as my Dad used to say "Never give up what you can't forget to forgive twice later on". This has always made a lot of sense in a senseless sort of way to me. I live by the book. I really do though---the house I live in is right next door to another house shaped like a giant book.

I'm about as giddy as a stork in a foggy parking lot. Let freedom ring,  I always say--well not always, because most of the time I'm saying something else--I mean I'm not always talking about freedom ringing and all that--sometimes I talk about goldfish.

 ;D ;D Ahh...Rudy....are you a hamster?  ;D ;D

Hi Moon,

     I was thinking that Rudy may be the duck ??? ??? ???

 ;)al ;D

Hey Rudy!

   Have you ever heard of the comedy group "Firesign theatre?"

Boy, that sure takes me back to my ol' log rolling days and makes me as bout as happy as a flea in Saddam's beard just before they pulled him out of the Spider hole that they found him in! ;D

  Your sharp and probing commentary has been a great blessing to me, and though some may see your wisdom as just silly cliche, I too stand with you and say,"let freedom ring", in all it's ring-a-dingness!!!

                                         God Bless,  Mark C

Oh basking shark, oh basking shark
What do you think about?
Do you contemplate world events
Or think up poems in your head?
While you're eating up that plankton
Do you mull over what great philosophers
have said?

Oh basking shark, Oh basking shark
You're one  great big lazy fish.
All you do is eat and sleep
And do anything you wish.
You float and float and absorb the sun
And you weigh well over a ton.

Oh basking shark, oh basking shark
I like Whale sharks much, much more
You don't do anything but lay around,
To me you're one great big bore
Oh basking shark, Oh basking shark
Why'd I even think of writing a poem about you?
What a total waste of time
I have better things to do.

by Leo P. Orkney

   ...undoubtedly the inspiration for "Sherman's Lagoon!"

 ;D al ;)

 ;D Very good. I'd like to see Spielberg take this one out, too.  ;D

My name is Professor Willard Allen Wordsworth, chief Ichthyologist at Woburn State
University in Massachusetts. I find the poem below concerning basking sharks to be
both destestable, and filled with great ignorance to say the least. Mr. Orkney, who
most likely didn't make it past Junior College, makes statements that villify an animal
that is most intelligent, and has suffered at the hands of men for centuries.

The basking sharks' tendency to "bask" near the surface is not due to "laziness" as Mr.
Orkney so ignorantly states, but due to it's feeding habits. Basking Sharks(Cetorhinus
Maximus) are one of the few sharks who feed on plankton alone. The Whale shark and
the Megamouth shark being the other two species who do the same.

The basking shark was hunted for centuries for it's unusually large liver, and high concentration
of Vitamin A held therein. Mr. Orkney should write poems about people who write poems about
things they know nothing about, as he is a prime example of this. In my opinion Mr. Orkney
should be horse-whipped, then dipped in salt water. Maybe then he would have an appreciation
of shark habitat, and would keep his sorry mouth shut.  This is just an opinion of course. Have
a nice day.


Willard Allen Wordsworth, PHD

Wid all da doo rethpekt you ditherv, Herr Worthleth Wordth, whereth a terroritht when ya need one?
Thomeone take out da thark before he replicateth and hoardth all the plankton.

Hello. My name is Monroe the Jackass and I have no idea why I visit this
board. I just came back from a wonderful two week vacation, in which
I fished quite a bit and did some reading( I know you probably are having
a hard time believing a jackass can cast a lure, but I truly have become quite
proficient at it).

I had the time to read "The Age of Alexander" by Plutarch, and "The Picture of
Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde, which I had never read before, and found to be
quite interesting(Wilde had a very humorous way of attacking politicians and
elitists in his writings).

Jackasses are interesting creatures actually. Jesus rode one of them into Jerusalem
during his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, and it took a jackass to warn Balaam of
the awful crime he was commiting against Israel. Jesus is the great shepherd of the
sheep, but at times he needs to herd jackasses also, because sheep can turn into
them when they become stubborn and think they know it all. I should know. Jesus
knows his sheep and calls them by name. I used to have quite a beautiful name, until
I began to think I knew it all and turned into a jackass. Monroe the Jackass to be more
precise. Jesus said that when I learn to be nicer to the other sheep he'll let me be one
once again. Actually, I still am a sheep, but I act and speak just like a jackass.

There are other jackasses, and we all "hee-haw" at each other all day. The sheep drink
cool, delicious water, and lay down on green grass, while we jackasses feel the need to
hee haw at the sheep and at the other jackasses also. It's amazing though to watch how
a sheep who starts to call other sheep jackasses immediately turns into a jackass himself. I
should know. Well. here comes my clump of hay for the day. Look at those stupid sheep
laying over there---what a bunch of jackasses.

Monroe the Jackass

This was a pretty good clump of hay for my day.  ;D ;D

...which raises the obvious question, Moonie:  exactly when was your day?!! ;D

al  ;)

in my post assembly life i have discovered the amazing power of music---thank you, iTunes!

can i even tell you how much discovering the "Black Eyed Peas" has rocked my psyche? talk about instant pick-me-up.

current favorite: "Don't Lie" followed closely by "Where is the Love?"

i have also downloaded practically everything Bob Dylan.

always looking for a good, new song. so, hit me with an recommendation....

Elizabeth

Hi Elizabeth,

I think you are about the ages of my kids (21 & 22) and they are always shocked when I end up liking the same music they do...well, at least some of the same music.  My son is in a metal band and that's a bit on the hard side for me.
My recommendations are: anything by Casting Crowns and also Jeremy Camp. FFH is good too as well as Big Daddy Weave.  For older stuff I like Credence Clearwater Revival and Jim Croce.

Enjoy  ;D
Gay

Older stuff?!!  Gay, I think you are about the age of my kids!  The "oldies" stations play the stuff that was popular when they were in school!

When I think "older stuff," I'm thinking pre- rock 'n' roll; big band era...

al 

P.S.-- I just caught up with Herr Maddux-- we'll be the same age for about a month! ;D

[/size]

  ...ever seen the animated feature (Disney, I think) Toot, Whistle, Plunk and Boom?  I was there for the discovery of each...

al ;)

"Hi there. My name is Sylvester Bernfeinbergstein, and I am a Christian who is studying
to be an astronaut".(takes a large bite out of a runny chili-cheese dog, then wipes his
hand on his white T-shirt leaving a chili smudge). "Boy, I really need something to wash
this down with---are you thirsty?"( Holds out a can of Coors Light) "Oh, you look surprised.
Don't worry I always drink in moderation"(he belches and takes another bite off the chili-
cheese dog, again wiping his hand on his shirt) "Oh, where are my manners? You probably
would like a glass to pour your beer into"(reaches into the cupboard). "Whenever I have
guests over I always use the best"(places a couple of jelly jar glasses with Flintstones characters
on them onto the table).

"Anyways, like I was saying, I'm studying to be an astronaut. I haven't gotten that far yet
in my training. But I have managed to make myself drink a glass of TANG everyday, and that's
hard because I hate TANG. I also go outside and stare at the moon for 15 minutes each night
and try to memorize it's location in the sky. I can't wait to go there and drive one of those
buggies they got up there, and maybe play some golf. You don't hear about too many Christian
astronauts, so I figured I'd give it a shot. (opens up a pack of Skittles and start rifling them down
quickly). Well, gotta go now. I'm watching "Alien" twice a day now to kind of prepare--you never
know what you're going to run into up there".

"Hello, Laslo Merriwether here with another insane tirade about things as dissimilar as
vehicular manslaughter and pasteurized cheese. The other day in fact I was attempting
to do a backflip off of a diving board, and the thought hit me "why isn't there a better
way to make sandwiches?" I know that sounds a bit silly, but so is wearing a scuba mask
while cooking ravioli.

I also thought...(looks to his right and begins to stare)...why, what is a green Toyota Corolla
doing parked in this thread with it's lights left on? There doesn't appear to be a driver. Boy
are they going to be mad when they come to get it and the battery's gone dead. I'll post
more later...I better go report this to the "Assembly Board Information Center". Be back soon...."

How many miles are on it?

Well, back to Assembly Free where nonsense is the rule of the day. I had to take a break
from some of the other threads for a while. Let's get back to the nonsense. I'll let my friend
Roscoe tell us a rather humorous story. Roscoe?

"Hello. My name is Roscoe Viceroy and I'd like to share what happened to me just yesterday. I visited the BB and then got on my bicycle to leave the premises. I mounted the bicycle backwards,
looking towards the rear of the bike, and began pedalling forward. As you can imagine, it is rather difficult to see where you are going when you are facing backwards, but moving forward. I was on the sidewalk, when an old woman ran out from her house holding an umbrella, and began to move
as if she were about to hit me with it. She shouted something about "her daisies"--apparently I had
run over a couple of them as I swerved back and forth in my backward trek.

Her screaming caused me to veer to the left, just missing a young boy on a tricycle. I then ran full force into a mailbox, catapulting me into the air and down upon my back. The pain was excruciating to say the least. I began to arise, rubbing my horribly aching back, filled with pain and anger at my mishap. A small crowd began to gather around me to make sure I was alright. I was so angry, that I began to address the crowd:

"That Tom Maddux is one detestable person. Why doesn't he just admit that he is wrong? He is so pompous and arrogant, and he never apologizes to anyone for Pete's sake!! So what if he graduated
with a degree in Theology, and logically states what he believes!! He's wrong I tell you!! And he should listen to the more enlightened ones who are trying to teach him "correct" Theology. He just doesn't get it, and he just won't give in, that sorry soul. He wants to stay down on the ground with his lame and shallow theology, when he could be soaring high with the..."

ROSCOE!!!!!!

Roscoe: "Yes sir"?

What in heavens name are you doing?

Roscoe: "Well sir, you asked me to tell a story filled with a lot of nonsense, and I sort of went into
a trance, and this is what I came up with sir."

This is not the type of nonsense I was referring to Roscoe. I wanted pure nonsense, not
propagandized nonsense!! Now get on the floor and give me a hundred push-ups!!

Roscoe: "Yes sir. Sorry sir".(begins to do his push-ups).

Sorry about that folks. Apparently Roscoe should not visit the BB on his bicycle for a while. I'll have
a talk with Roscoe, and maybe he can tell another story sometime.

Oh! Can it be
That I should be
Assembly Free, Assembly Free?

Oh! Can it be
That I should see
My green toyota gone from me?

Oh! Can it be?
Oh! Can it be?
The drivers are Verne and Frankie?!

Roscoe: "What are you doing sir? Why are you putting all of your things in boxes?"

I'm vacating the Assembly Free thread Roscoe.

Roscoe: "But why sir? Why are you leaving the thread?"

Roscoe, The "General Mayhem" area used to be quite busy. It was a place where
people came and created wacko threads and had a lot fun. But now it is virtually
hidden, and called a "child's board". I believe when people see "child's boards" they
have a tendency to avoid them. True, what we do here really is quite childish, and
filled with nonsense too. But lately, a lot more childish nonsense has been going on
on the "adult boards" than on this Assembly Free thread.

Roscoe: "But sir, spouting off nonsense and silliness is really quite fun."

Yes, it is Roscoe--it is a lot like being a little kid at heart--but this Bulletin Board has
changed quite a bit lately. General Mayhem is kind of a hidden area
of the bulletin board. When they split off something that is controversial, an
argument, etc., it goes to General Mayhem to kind of get swept under the
rug so to speak.

Roscoe: "Sir, please don't go, but what about the characters?"

You'll do just fine Roscoe. But could I ask you one last thing?

Roscoe: "Yes sir, anything sir".

I want you to get down and give me a hundred push-ups, run a mile and then come back
and shine my shoes.

Roscoe: (rolls his eyes and groans) "Yes sir". (He steps outside the door and begins doing push-ups
on the grass outside the Thread entrance).

Skippy!!! (from another room the pudgy, near-sighted, 12 year-old walks in holding a Baby Ruth
candy bar that is melting all over his hands.)

Skippy: "Yeth thir?"

Come on Skippy, were leaving now.

Skippy: "Leaving thir? But why would we want to leave?"

I'll explain later. But before we go, do you have that backpack that you used all through your journey in "Geftakylypse Now"?

Skippy: " Yeth. Here it ith.(hands it to the author).

Let's open this thing one last time and see what's there. I remember this thing having some type
of magical power and giving you just what you need. (opens the backpack).

Skippy: "Aw.... I wath hopin' for a cheetheburger, but all it ith ith a little book.

More than a book, Skippy, this is the Holy Bible. You do know what a Bible is don't you?

Skippy: "Yeah, I gueth tho. Noah and the Ark and all that thtuff".

Much more than Noah and the Ark Skippy. Do you know that God has said that He has "Magnified His Word above ALL of his Name"? Do you understand that Skippy?

Skippy: "I don't underthtand a word you're thaying."

Well, it means that God has put so much importance in his Word, that He backs every word with
all of his character. It means you can trust every single word that is spoken in it to be faithful and
true. God has staked his very character and honor and being in the Word of God. I may not be defining it exactly as it should be defined Skippy, but it means that this little book is huge in importance, and is the final say in all that we do. You need to read this book and study it Skippy,
and listen to good teachers, and get firmly grounded in it. Even on this Bulletin Board there are
certain people who think they understand it, but then make posts that sound like discourses from
a Guru.

Skippy: What's a dithcourthe? And what'th a guru?

I'll explain that to you later. Let's just say they are so puffed up about their own spirituality that
they try to teach the teachers, and they mock the learned. They believe they are walking on
higher ground than we miserable wretches, and they come to set everyone straight. The problem is that they give themselves away very quickly by their attitude, and the way they treat the others on the board. You need to avoid them Skippy, and avoid them like the plague. They are proud to tell us all about how humble they are, and the wondrous walk they have with the Lord.


Skippy: Plague? Oh, like those rapperth that thowed up in "Geftakylypthe Now"?

Something like that. Let's just say that there is nonsense everywhere. There is nonsense in
this thread, and there is nonsense that can be attempted to be written into heavenly dis-
courses given by those who are self-important also.

Skippy: "I thtill don't underthtand a word you juthd thaid. Wath it thuppothed to be thilly? 'Cause
ath you can thee, I'm not laughin'. Want a bite of thith Baby Ruth?"(holds out a badly melting half-
eaten candy bar).

Maybe later. Well, that's about it. (Looks around the empty room). Roscoe!!! Are you done doing
those push-ups yet?

(voice from outside): "ninety-seven, ninety-eight...."

Skippy: "Thir, why ith Rothcoe thitting in a lawn chair and counting out loud?"

Let's go. ( Looks around one last time).

<Click> the lights go out.   (sound of a door closing shut).

voice muffled outside: "Thir, wherever we're goin', could we thtop and get a cheetehburger firtht?"