Gynzer’s Musings

A New York boy was being led through the swamps of Louisiana by his cousin.

“Is it true that an alligator won’t attack you if you carry a flashlight?”

The cousin smirked and replied, “Depends on how fast ya carry the flashlight.”

1. More than 98 percent of convicted felons are bread users.

2. Fully HALF of all children who grow up in
bread-consuming households score below average on
standardized tests.

3. In the 18th century, when virtually all bread was baked
in the home, the average life expectancy was less than 50
years; infant mortality rates were unacceptably high; many
women died in childbirth; and diseases such as typhoid,
yellow fever, and influenza ravaged whole nations.

4. More than 90 percent of violent crimes are committed
within 24 hours of eating bread.

5. Bread is made from a substance called “dough.” It has
been proven that as little as one pound of dough can be
used to suffocate a mouse. The average American eats more
bread than that in one month!

6. Primitive tribal societies that have no bread exhibit a
low incidence of cancer, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s disease,
and osteoporosis.

7. Bread has been proven to be addictive. Subjects
deprived of bread and given only water to eat begged for
bread after as little as two days.

8. Bread is often a “gateway” food item, leading the user
to “harder” items such as butter, jelly, peanut butter,
and even cold cuts.

9. Bread has been proven to absorb water. Since the human
body is more than 90 percent water, it follows that eating
bread could lead to your body being taken over by this
absorptive food product, turning you into a soggy, gooey
bread-pudding person.

10. Newborn babies can choke on bread.

11. Bread is baked at temperatures as high as 400 degrees
Fahrenheit! That kind of heat can kill an adult in less
than one minute.

12. Most American bread eaters are utterly unable to
distinguish between significant scientific fact and
meaningless statistical babbling.

In light of these frightening statistics, we propose the
following bread restrictions:

1. No sale of bread to minors.

2. A nationwide “Just Say No To Toast” campaign, with
complete celebrity TV spots and bumper stickers.

3. A 300 percent federal tax on all bread to pay for all
the societal ills we might associate with bread.

4. No animal or human images, nor any primary colors
(which may appeal to children) may be used to
promote bread usage.

5. The establishment of “Bread-free” zones around schools.

Every Friday after work, a mathematician goes down to the Ice Cream Parlor, sits in the second-to-last seat, turns to the last seat, which is empty, and asks a girl, who isn’t there, if he can buy her an ice cream cone.

The owner, who is used to the weird, local university types, always shrugs but keeps quiet. But when Valentine’s Day arrives, and the mathematician makes a particularly heart wrenching plea into empty space, curiosity gets the better of him, and he says, “I apologize for my stupid questions, but surely you know there is NEVER a woman sitting in that last stool, man. Why do you persist in asking out empty space?”

The mathematician replies, “Well, according to quantum physics, empty space is never truly empty. Virtual particles come into existence and vanish all the time. You never know when the proper wave function will collapse and a girl might suddenly appear there.”

The owner raises his eyebrows. “Really? Interesting. But couldn’t you just ask one of the girls who comes here every Friday if you could buy HER a cone? Never know… she might say yes.”

The mathematician laughs. “Yeah, right. How likely is THAT to happen?”

A lawyer was well into a lengthy cross-examination when he stopped and said: “Your honor, a juror is asleep.”

The judge ruled: “You put him to sleep; you wake him up.”

One day, the pilot of a Cherokee 180 was told by the tower to hold short of the runway while a DC-8 landed. The DC-8 landed, rolled out, turned around, and taxied back past the Cherokee. Some quick-witted comedian in the DC-8 crew got on the radio and said, “What a cute little plane. Did you make it all by yourself?”

Our hero, the Cherokee pilot, not about to let the insult go by, came back with a real zinger: “I made it out of DC-8 parts. Another landing like that and I’ll have enough parts for another one!”

A mother enters her daughter’s bedroom and sees a letter
on the bed. With the worst premonition, she reads it, with
trembling hands:

Dear Mom,

It is with great regret and sorrow that I’m telling you
that I have eloped with my new boyfriend. I found real
passion and he is so nice, even with all his piercing and
tattoos, and I love riding on the back of his big
motorcycle. But it’s not only that mom, I’m pregnant and
Ahmed said that we will be very happy in his trailer in
the woods. He wants to have many more children with me and
that’s one of my dreams. I’ve learned that marijuana
doesn’t hurt anyone and we’ll be growing it for us and his
friends, who are providing us with all the cocaine and
ecstasy we may want. In the meantime, we’ll pray for
science to find the AIDS cure, for Ahmed to get better, he
deserves it. Don’t worry Mom, I’m 15 years old now and I
know how to take care of myself. Some day I’ll visit so
you can get to know your grandchildren.

Your daughter,

Judith

PS: Mom, it’s not true. I’m next door at Sandy’s. I just
wanted to show you that there are worse things in life
than my report card that’s in my desk drawer…I love you!

My son stayed up half the night studying for his English
Literature exam. He would drink coffee almost constantly
while attempting to read “The Canterbury Tales.” I awoke
at 4 A. M. and found him studying with mug in hand, and
asked him, “What have you got there?”

He answered… “Just my cup and Chaucer.”

Some “Senior” personal ads seen in Florida newspapers:

(Who says seniors don’t have a sense of humor?)

FOXY LADY: Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty, 80’s, slim, 5′4″ (used to be 5′6″), searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion. Matching white shoes and belt a plus.

LONG-TERM COMMITMENT: Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband, and am looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot. Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.

SERENITY NOW: I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation. If you are the silent type, let’s get together, take our hearing aids out and enjoy quiet times.

WINNING SMILE: Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser to share rare steaks, corn on the cob and caramel candy.

BEATLES OR STONES? I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights and still like to play the guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let’s get together and listen to my eight-track tapes.

MEMORIES: I can usually remember Monday through Thursday. If you can remember Friday, Saturday and Sunday, let’s put our two heads together.

MINT CONDITION: Male, 1932, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Isn’t in running condition, but walks well.

Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

A Marine stationed in Afghanistan recently received a
“Dear John” letter from his girlfriend back home. It read
as follows:

Dear Ricky,

I can no longer continue our relationship. The distance
between us is just too great. I must admit that I have
cheated on you twice since you’ve been gone, and it’s not
fair to either of us. I’m sorry. Please return the picture
of me that I sent to you.

Love,

Becky

The Marine, with hurt feelings, asked his fellow Marines
for any snapshots they could spare of their girlfriends,
sisters, ex-girlfriends, aunts, cousins, etc.

In addition
to the picture of Becky, Ricky included all the other
pictures of the pretty gals he had collected from his
buddies. There were 57 photos in that envelope, along
with this note.

Dear Becky,

I”m sorry, but I can’t quite remember who you are. Please
take your picture from the pile and send the rest back to
me.

Love,

Ricky