Pam prepared a pasta dish for a dinner party she was giving. In her haste, however, she forgot to refrigerate the spaghetti sauce, and it sat on the counter all day.
She was worried about spoilage, but it was too late to cook up another batch. She called the local Poison Control Center, and voiced her concern. They advised her to boil the sauce again.
That night, the phone rang during dinner, and a guest volunteered to answer it.
Pam's face fell as the guest called out, "It's the Poison Control Center. They want to know how the spaghetti sauce turned out."
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I had the MEANEST MOTHER IN THE WORLD!
While other kids had candy for breakfast, I had to eat cereal, eggs, and toast. While other kids had cakes and candy for lunch, I had a sandwich. As you can guess, my dinner was different from other dinners, too.
My mother insisted on knowing where we were ALL the time. You'd think we were on a chain gang or something. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing!
I am ashamed to admit it, but she actually had the nerve to break the child labor laws! That's right, She made us WORK! We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, and learn how to cook. That woman must have stayed awake at nights thinking up things for us kids to do. And she insisted that we tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
By the time we were teenagers, she was much wiser and our life became more unbearable. None of this tooting the car horn for us to come running; she embarrassed us to no end by insisting that friends come to the door and get us!
I forgot to mention that most of our friends were allowed to date at the mature age of 12 or 13. But our old fashioned Mother refused to let us date until we were 15 or 16. She really raised a bunch of squares. None of us were ever even arrested for shoplifting or busted for dope. And whom do we have to thank for this? You're right, our mean mother!
I am trying to raise my children to stand a little straighter and taller and I am secretly tickled to pieces when my children call me mean. I thank God for giving me the meanest mother in the world!
Our country doesn't need a good five-cent cigar. It needs more Mean Mothers like mine. Blessings on that wonderful woman for eternity!
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I gaze at the brilliant full moon. The same one, I think to myself, at which Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato gazed. Suddenly, I imagine they appear beside me.
I tell Socrates about the national debate over one's right to die and wonder at the constancy of the human condition.
I tell Plato that I live in the country that has come closest to Utopia and I show him a copy of the Constitution.
I tell Aristotle that we have found many more than four basic elements and I show him a periodic table.
Then I get a box of kitchen matches and strike one. They gasp with wonder.
We spend the rest of the night lighting farts.
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A widower who never paid any attention to his wife while she was alive now found himself missing her desperately. He went to a psychic to see if he could contact his late wife.
The psychic went into a trance. A strange breeze wafted through the darkened room, and suddenly, the man heard the unmistakable voice of his dearly departed wife.
"Honey!" he cried. "Is that you?"
"Yes, my husband."
"Are you happy?"
"Yes, my husband."
"Happier than you were with me?"
"Yes, my husband...much happier ! "
"Then Heaven must be an amazing place!"
"I'm not in Heaven, dear."
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