CHEEM STUFF

Imagine you have an account in a bank that each morning places $86,400 in the account for you. However, the bank will not allow you to carry over any balance day to day, and each night cancels whatever part of that amount you have failed to use during the day. What would you do??

Draw out every cent every day of course!!

Well, everyone has such a bank. It's name is TIME. It is far more valuable than mere money. Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off as LOST, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft. Every day it opens a new account for you, every night it burns the records of the day. If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing against the "tomorrow".

You must live in the present on today's deposits. INVEST it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness, and success! The clock is running. Make the most of today ..........

To realize the value of ONE YEAR ....... ask a student who has failed his final exam.
To realize the value of ONE MONTH ........ ask a mother who has given birth to a premature baby.
To realize the value of ONE WEEK ....... ask the editor of a weekly newspaper.
To realize the value of ONE DAY ....... ask a daily wage labourer who has 6 children to feed.
To realize the value of ONE HOUR ....... ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.
To realize the value of ONE MINUTE ....... ask a person who has just missed the train.
To realize the value of ONE SECOND ....... ask a person who has survived an accident.
To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND ....... ask the Silver medalist at the Olympics.

TIME waits for no one .......

Investment banker

The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The banker complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied only a little while. The banker then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs. The banker then asked, but what do you do with the rest of your time?

The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life, senor."

The banker scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But senor, how long will this all take?" To which the banker replied, "15-20 years."

But what then, senor?
The banker laughed and said that's the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.

Millions, senor? Then what?
The banker said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."

The Golden Gift

Some time ago, a friend of mine punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight, and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the tree.

Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." He was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found that the box was empty. He yelled at her, "Don't you know that when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be something inside of it?"

The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty. I blew kisses into the box. All for you, Daddy."

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged her forgiveness. My friend told me that he kept that gold box by his bed for years. Whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there. In a very real sense, each of us as parents has been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.

The Theory of Building

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end his career.

When the carpenter finished his work and the builder came to inspect the house, the contractor handed the front-door key to the carpenter. "This is your house," he said, "my gift to you."

What a shock! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. Now he had to live in the home he had built none too well. So it is with us. We build our lives in a distracted way, reacting rather than acting, willing to put up less than the best. At important points we do not give the job our best effort.

Then with a shock we look at the situation we have created and find that we are now living in the house we have built. If we had realized, we would have done it differently.

Think of yourself as the carpenter. Think about your house. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Build wisely. It is the only life you will ever build. Even if you live it for only one day more, that day deserves to be lived graciously and with dignity. The plaque on the wall says, "Life is a do-it-yourself project." Who could say it more clearly? Your life today is the result of your attitudes and choices in the past. Your life tomorrow will be the result of your attitudes and the choices you make today.

A Harvard Story

A meaningful story and something to be learned..the ultimate lesson which people never learn... Appearances Vs Reality.

A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband, dressed in a homespun threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston, and walked timidly without an appointment into the outer office of the President of Harvard University. The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge. She frowned. "We want to see the president," the man said softly. "He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped. "We'll wait," the lady replied.

For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They didn't. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted to do. "Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they'll leave," she told him. And he signed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, but he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office. The president, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple.

The lady told him, "We had a son that attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus." The president wasn't touched; he was shocked. "Madam," he said gruffly, "We can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a cemetery."

"Oh, no," the lady explained quickly, "We don't want to erect a statue. We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard. The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard." For a moment the lady was silent. The president was pleased. He could get rid of them now.

And the lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a University? Why don't we just start our own?" Her husband nodded. The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment.

And Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California, where they established the University that bears their name, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about.

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Sometimes first impressions are wrong. Someone might look like a chunk of gold, and quickly rust. Or we might turn away someone with drive, loyalty, ambition, determination, etc. We hear that what goes around, comes around. Just in case that might actually be true and in case you have ever felt under appreciated, then you might consider taking advantage of the next opportunity to look a little deeper for the goodness in others.

[Note: I believe this story is untrue. It differs from the facts stated at the Stanford University homepage.]

The Girl With The Rose

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.

His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library.Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. the soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. On the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.

The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. Romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central station in New York.

You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.

Going my way, sailor?" she murmured.

Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle.

I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.

I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.

I' m Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.

Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are."

Parable of a Mule

A parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer's well. The farmer heard the mule 'braying' - or - whatever mules do when they fall into wells. After carefully assessing the situation, the farmer sympathized with the mule, but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth the trouble of saving. Instead, he called his neighbors together and told them what had happened...and enlisted them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery.

Initially, the old mule was hysterical! But as the farmer and his neighbors continued shoveling and the dirt hit his back...a thought struck him. It suddenly dawned on him that every time a shovel load of dirt landed on his back...HE SHOULD SHAKE IT OFF AND STEP UP!

This he did, blow after blow. "Shake it off and step up...shake it off and step up...shake it off and step up!" he repeated to encourage himself. No matter how painful the blows, or distressing the situation seemed the old mule fought "panic" and just kept right on SHAKING IT OFF AND STEPPING UP!

You're right! It wasn't long before the old mule, battered and exhausted, STEPPED TRIUMPHANTLY OVER THE WALL OF THAT WELL! What seemed like it would bury him, actually blessed him...all because of the manner in which he handled his adversity. THAT'S LIFE

If we face our problems and respond to them positively, and refuse to give in to panic, bitterness, or self-pity...THE ADVERSITIES THAT COME ALONG TO BURY US USUALLY HAVE WITHIN THEM THE POTENTIAL TO BENEFIT AND BLESS US! Remember that FORGIVENESS-FAITH-PRAYER-PRAISE and HOPE...all are excellent ways to "SHAKE IT OFF AND STEP UP" out of the wells in which we find ourselves!

Mrs Thompson

There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs.Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs.Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records, and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well-liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem, and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing and a bottle of perfume that was one quarter full.

But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day, just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."

After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs.Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy.

As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago, and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what?

She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs.Thompson's ear, "Thank you, Mrs. Thompson, for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

Start Living For Today

The old man opened the drawer of his wife's chest and took a packet wrapped with rice paper: "This," he said, "is not any packet, it is lingerie".

He threw away the paper and he observed the beautiful silk and embroidery. "We bought it the first time we went to New York, 8 or 9 years ago. She never used it. She was keeping it for a special occasion. Well I think this is the right occasion"

He went close to the bed and he put it next to the other things he was going to bring to the funeral home. His wife had just died.

Turning towards me he said: "Do not keep anything for a special occasion, everyday that you live is a special occasion."

I am still thinking of his words...they have changed my life.

Now I read more and clean less. I sit in the terrace and admire the view, without noticing the weeds in the garden. I spend more time with my family and friends and less time working. I understood that life is a succession of experiences to be enjoyed, not survival.

I do not keep anything anymore. I use my crystal glasses every day. I wear my new jacket to go to the supermarket, if I so decide or if I feel like it.

I no longer keep my best perfume for special events, I use it every time I want to. The word someday...has disappeared from my vocabulary. If it is worth to listen, see or do, I want to listen, see or do it now.

I am not sure what my friend's wife would have done if she had known that she would have not been here for that tomorrow that every one takes so much for granted. I think she might have called all her relatives and intimate friends.

Maybe she would have called some old friends to make amends for an old dispute. I like to think she might have gone to eat some oriental food, her favourite. It is these few things not done that would bother me if I knew these were my last hours.

I would be upset because I stopped seeing good friends that I meant to contact someday ... Upset because I did not write those letters I meant to write one day.......Upset and sad because I did not tell often enough to those close to me, how much I love them.

Now I try not to postpone, keep or not do anything that would add laughter and fun to our lives. And every day I tell myself that this day is special.......everyday, every hour, every minute is special.

If you have received this message it is because someone cares for you and because they're most likely people that you love.

If you are too busy to send it to other people and you tell yourself that you will do it sometime...this time may be very far....and you may never do it....

Yesterday is history
Tomorrow is a mystery
Today is a gift
That is why we call it the Present.
Live everyday to the fullest.

Set Your Priority Right

I ran into a stranger as he passed by.
"Oh, excuse me please" was my reply.
He said, "Please excuse me too; I wasn't even watching for you."
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said good-bye.

But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My daughter stood beside me very still.

When I turned, I nearly knocked her down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.
She walked away, her little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.

While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the children you love, you seem to abuse.

Look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers she brought for you.
She picked them herself, pink, yellow and blue.
She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise,
And you never saw the tears in her eyes."

By this time, I felt very small and now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by her bed;
"Wake up, little girl, wake up," I said.
"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
She smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."

I said, "Daughter, I'm sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
She said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay.
I love you anyway."
I said, "Daughter, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."

Are you aware that:
If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days.
But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives.
And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our family - an unwise investment indeed.

The Paradox Of Our Age

We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less common sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom and lie too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.
We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've done larger things, but not better things; we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; we've split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes; but lower morals; more food but less appeasement; more acquaintances, but fewer friends; more effort but less success.

We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; we've become long on quantity, but short on quality.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men and short character; steep profits and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one-night stands, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.

It is a time when there is much in the show window, and nothing in the stockroom.

Definitions of man and woman

A man is a person who, if a woman says, "Never mind, I'll do it myself;" lets her.

A woman is a person who, if she says to a man, "Never mind, I'll do it myself," and he lets her; gets mad.

A man is a person who, if a woman says to him, "Never mind, I'll do it myself," and he lets her and she get mad; says, "Now what are you mad about?"

A woman is a person who, if she says to a man, "Never mind, I'll do it myself," and he lets her and she get mad, and he says, "Now what are mad about?" says "If you don't know I'm not going to tell you."

Have You Ever Wondered?

If a parsley farmer is sued, can they garnish his wages?
Can you be a closet claustrophobic?
If the funeral procession is at night, do folks drive with their lights off?
If a stealth bomber crashes in a forest, will it make a sound?
When it rains, why don't sheep shrink?
If the cops arrest a mime, do they tell her she has the right to remain silent?
Why is the word abbreviation so long?
Do cemetery workers prefer the graveyard shift?
What do you do when you discover an endangered animal that eats only endangered plants?
Do hungry crows have ravenous appetites?
Is it possible to be totally partial?
What's another word for thesaurus?
Why do they sterilize the needles for lethal injections?
Why is there an expiry date on sour cream?
Why do kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
Is it true that cannibals don't eat clowns because they taste funny?
When you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn?
Do radioactive cats have 18 half-lives?
If you shoot a mime, should you use a silencer?
What was the best thing before sliced bread?

What is the speed of dark?
Why are there Braille signs on drive-up ATM's?
If women wear a pair of pants, a pair of glasses, and a pair of earrings, why don't they wear a pair of bras?
How come you never hear about gruntled employees?
After eating, do amphibians have to wait one hour before getting out of the water?
If white wine goes with fish, do white grapes go with sushi?
What's another word for synonym?
Why isn't there mouse-flavored cat food?
Why do we play in recitals and recite in plays?
Why isn't phonetic spelled the way it sounds?
When your pet bird sees you reading the newspaper, does he wonder why you're just sitting there, staring at carpeting?
Why does your nose run, but your feet smell?
If olive oil comes from olives, where does baby oil come from?

Things to Ponder

If you mixed vodka with orange juice and milk of magnesia, would you get a Philip's Screwdriver?
Why do we say something is out of whack? What is a whack?
Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
Why do women wear evening gowns to nightclubs? Shouldn't they be wearing night gowns?
If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
When someone asks you, "A penny for your thoughts," and you put your two cents in, what happens to the other penny?
Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
Why do croutons come in airtight packages? It's just stale bread to begin with.
When cheese gets it's picture taken, what does it say?

Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist, but a person who drives a race car not called a racist?
Why are a wise man and a wise guy opposites?
Why do overlook and oversee mean opposite things?
If horrific means to make horrible, does terrific mean to make terrible?
Why isn't 11 pronounced onety one?
"I am " is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that "I do " is the longest sentence?
If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged, models deposed, tree surgeons debarked and dry cleaners depressed?
Do Roman paramedics refer to IV's as "4's"?
Why is it that if someone tells you that there are 1 billion stars in the universe you will believe them, but if they tell you a wall has wet paint you will have to touch it to be sure?
If you take an Oriental person and spin him around several times, does he become disoriented?
If people from Poland are called "Poles," why aren't people from Holland called "Holes?"

A bit of philosophy

The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A death. What's that, a bonus?

I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating... you finish off as an orgasm.