Freebsd Fortunes 6

There was a man who enjoyed playing golf, and could occasionallly put up
with taking in a round with his wife.  One time (with his wife along) he
was having an extremely bad round.  On the 12th hole, he sliced a drive
over by a grounds-keepers' shack.  Although he did not have a clear shot
to the green, his wife noticed that there were two doors on the shack,
and there was a possibility that, if both doors were opened, he might be
able to hit through.  Without hesitation, he instructed his wife to go
around to the other side and open the far door.  Sure enough, this gave
him a clear path to the green.  He stepped up to his ball and prepared
to hit.  His wife had been standing by the far door waiting for him to
hit through.  After a moment, she became curious and stuck her head in
the doorway, to see what he was doing.  At that exact moment, the husband
cracked a three-wood that hit his wife square on the forehead, killing
her instantly.  A few weeks later, the man was playing a round at the same
course, this time with a friend of his.  Once again on the 12th hole, he
sliced his drive to the shack.  His friend suggested that he might be able
to hit through, if he was to open both doors.
        "Nah", replied the man, "Last time I did that I took a 7".

There was a phone call for you.

There was a plane crash over mid-ocean, and only three survivors were
left in the life-raft: the Pope, the President, and Mayor Daley.
Unfortunately, it was a one-man life-raft, and quickly sinking, so
they started debating who should be allowed to stay.  The Pope pointed
out that he was the spiritual leader of millions all over the world,
the President explained that if he died then America would be stuck
with the Vice-President, and so forth.  Then Mayor Daley said, "Look!
We're not solving anything like this!  The only fair thing to do is
to vote on it."  So they did, and Mayor Daley won by 97 votes.

There was a writer in 'Life' magazine ... who claimed that rabbits have
no memory, which is one of their defensive mechanisms.  If they recalled
every close shave they had in the course of just an hour life would become
insupportable.
                -- Kurt Vonnegut

There was a young man from Brazil,
And a lady who'd not take the pill,
        They lay on the sofa,
        And a <$H12{ot]{ok]{ob{o[]{oR{oK{oDpo~po~pot~poe~{ o!po~po~poq~
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There was a young man from LeDoux,
Whose limericks stopped at line two.

There was a young man from Verdunne.

        [Actually, there are three limericks in this series, the third one
         is about some guy named Nero.  If anyone has a copy of it, please
         mail it to "fortune".  Ed.]

There was an old Indian belief that by making love on the hide of
their favorite animal, one could guarantee the health and prosperity
of the offspring conceived thereupon.  And so it goes that one Indian
couple made love on a buffalo  hide.  Nine months later, they were
blessed with a healthy baby son.  Yet another couple huddled together
on the hide of a deer and they too were blessed with a very healthy
baby son.  But a third couple, whose favorite animal was a hippopotamus,
were blessed with not one, but TWO very healthy baby sons at the conclusion
of the nine month interval.  All of which proves the old theorem that:
The sons of the squaw of the hippopotamus are equal to the sons of
the squaws of the other two hides.

There was, it appeared, a mysterious rite of initiation through which,
in one way or another, almost every member of the team passed.  The term
that the old hands used for this rite -- West invented the term, not the
practice -- was `signing up.'  By signing up for the project you agreed
to do whatever was necessary for success.  You agreed to forsake, if
necessary, family, hobbies, and friends -- if you had any of these left
(and you might not, if you had signed up too many times before).
                -- Tracy Kidder, "The Soul of a New Machine"

There was this New Yorker that had a lifelong ambition to be an Texan.
Fortunately, he had an Texan friend and went to him for advice.  "Mike,
you know I've always wanted to be a Texan.  You're a *real* Texan, what
should I do?"
        "Well," answered Mike, "The first thing you've got to do is look
like a Texan.  That means you have to dress right.  The second thing
you've got to do is speak in a southern drawl."
        "Thanks, Mike, I'll give it a try," replied the New Yorker.
        A few weeks passed and the New Yorker saunters into a store dressed
in a ten-gallon hat, cowboy boots, Levi jeans and a bandanna.  "Hey, there,
pardner, I'd like some beef, not too rare, and some of them fresh biscuits,"
he tells the counterman.
        The guy behind the counter takes a long look at him and then says,
"You must be from New York."
        The New Yorker blushes, and says, "Well, yes, I am.  How did
you know?"
        "Because this is a hardware store."

There will always be beer cans rolling on the floor of your car when
the boss asks for a lift home from office.