One day there was a beach-comber walking at Grand Isle. He was a bottle floating toward land. He picked it up, wiped it clean and then uncorked it. Then, a small Genie came out and thanked the beach-comber for letting him out of the bottle. He told the beach-comber that for his reward for letting him out of the bottle, he could make two wishes.
So the beach-comber scratched his head and told the Genie that he would like to have a highway built from Grand Isle to London, because he didn’t want to fly or go by boat to London. Well, the Genie scratched his head and said, “That’s a big order; I don’t know if I can accommodate you.” So the Genie said, “What’s the second wish?” The beach-comber said, “I would like to know things about women.”
The Genie scratched his head a few times and then he asked the beach-comber, “What kind of highway do you want – a four lane or double lane?”
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Four ladies were having afternoon coffee and began bragging about their successful sons. The first, acting in a most cosmopolitan manner, tells her friends, “My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him ‘Father.'”
The second lady chirps in, not to be outdone, “My son is a bishop. Whenever he walks into a room he’s called ‘Your Grace.'”
The third lady says, very confidently, “My son is a cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, he’s called ‘Your Eminence.'”
The fourth just sipped her coffee in silence. The other three gave her a very subtle – “Well – ? look.” Finally, se replied, “My son is six-foot two, has broad shoulders, is terribly handsome and dresses exceptionally well. When ever he walks into a room, the women just say, ‘Oh, my God!'”
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Remember in the old days the remedies which people had for sickness? If you cut yourself, they would put spider webs over the cut to stop the bleeding. If you had fever, they would put a cool rag soaked with water and vinegar on your forehead. If you had a stomach ache, they would give you paregoric. But don’t ever step on a rusty nail. They didn’t know anything about tetanus shots. You had to drink roach tea – a cure for lock-jaw.
I’ll never forget the time that my oldest brother, Jake, stuck a nail in his foot and my mother made the rest of us each get a fly swatter and then she threw bread crumbs on the floor next to the cracks in the wall. We killed a cup full of roaches. My mother boiled some water and threw those roaches in the boiling water.
It took six people to hold my brother down and pour that roach tea down his throat.
* The End *