...  I looked over to my left and there was a woman in a brand new Mustang doing 65 miles per hour with her face up next to her rear view mirror putting on her eyeliner!

I looked away for a couple seconds and when I looked back, she was halfway over in my lane, still working on that makeup!!!

It scared me (I'm a man) so bad, I dropped my electric shaver, which knocked the donut out of my other hand. In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car using my knees against the steering wheel, it knocked my cell phone away from my ear which fell into the coffee between my legs, splashed and burned my legs, ruined the damn phone and DISCONNECTED AN IMPORTANT CALL!!!!!!!

DAMN WOMEN DRIVERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They each grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. Realizing what was happening, the donkey at first cried and wailed horribly. Then, a few shovels full later, he quieted down completely. The farmer peered down into the well, and was astounded by what he saw.

With every shovel full of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up on the new layer of dirt. As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and trotted off, to the shock and astonishment of all the neighbors!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to not let it bury you, but to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping-stone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up! Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

Free your heart from hatred. Free your mind from worries. Live simply. Give more. Expect less.

Finally, the donkey kicked the ‘’be-jesus’ out of the guy that tried to bury him. Which brings me the other moral of this story: When you try to cover your ass, it always comes back and gets you.

... he has foolishly squandered what money his parents gave him. "Hmmmm," he wonders, "How am I gonna get more dough?" Then he gets an idea. He calls his father. "Dad," he says, "you won't believe the wonders that modern education are coming up with! Why, they actually have a program here that will teach Fido how to talk!"

"That's absolutely amazing!" his father says. "How do I get him in that program?"

"Just send him down here with $1000," the boy says, "I'll get him into the course." So, his father sends the dog and the $1000. About 2/3 way through the semester, the money runs out. The boy calls his father again.

"So how's Fido doing, son?" his father asks.

"Awesome, dad, he's talking up a storm," he says, "but you just won't believe this - they've had such good results with this program, that they've implemented a new one to teach the animals how to READ!"

"READ!?" says his father, "No kidding! What do I have to do to get him in that program?"

"Just send $2,500, I'll get him in the class." And his father sends the money. At the end of the semester, the boy has a problem. When he gets home, his father will find out that the dog can neither talk nor read. So he shoots the dog. When he gets home, his father is all excited.

"Where's Fido? I just can't wait to hear him talk and listen to him read something!"

"Dad," the boy says, "I have some grim news. This morning, when I got out of the shower, Fido was in the living room kicking back in the recliner, reading the morning paper, like he usually does. Then he turned to me and asked, 'So, is your daddy still messin' around with that little redhead who lives on Oak Street?' "

The father says, "I hope you SHOT that lyin' dog!"

"I sure did, Dad!"

"That's my boy!"

"Hello?" said a little girl's voice.

"Hi, honey, it's Daddy," said Len.

" Is mommy near the phone?"

"No, Daddy. She's upstairs in the bedroom with Uncle Frank."

After a brief pause, Len said, "But you don't have an Uncle Frank, honey!"

"Yes, I do. He's upstairs in the bedroom with Mommy!"

"Okay, then. Here's what I want you to do. Put down the phone, runupstairs, knock on the bedroom door and shout in to Mommy and Uncle Frank that my car just pulled up outside the house."

"Okay, Daddy!"

A few minutes later, the little girl came back to the phone. "Well, I did what you said, Daddy. "

"And what happened?"

"Well, Mommy jumped out of bed with no clothes on and ran around screaming, then she tripped over the rug and went out the front window and now she's all dead."

"Oh my God! And what about Uncle Frank?"

"He jumped out of bed with no clothes on too and he was all scared and he jumped out the back window into the swimming pool, but he must have forgot that you took out all the water last week to clean it, so he hit the bottom of the swimming pool, and now he's dead too."

There was a long pause. Then Len said, "Swimming pool? Is this 555-7039?

The first worm was put into a jar of alcohol. The second worm was put into a jar of cigarette smoke. The third worm was put into a jar of soil.

After one day, these were the results:

• The first worm in alcohol - dead.
• Second worm in cigarette smoke - dead.
• Third in soil - alive.

Lesson: As long as you drink & smoke, you won't get worms.

• There was NO Taxes
• NO Debt
• Plenty of Buffalo
• The Medicine man FREE!
• Women did all the work
• Indian men got to hunted and fish all the time!

The Europeans were pompous enough to think they could improve on that system.

The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the next day.

The next day, the farmer drove up and said, "Sorry, but I have some bad news. The donkey died.

"Well den, just give me mah money back."

"Can't do that. I went out and spent it already."

"OK, then. Just unload da donkey."

"What ya gonna do with him?" asked the farmer.

"I'm gonna raffle ëem off."

"You can't raffle off a dead donkey!"

"Sure, I can. Watch me. I jest won tell anybody he dead." said the Cajun.

A month later the farmer met up with the Cajun and asked, "What happened with that there dead donkey?"

"Ah raffle ëem off. I sold 500 hundred tickets at two dollars apiece and made ah profit of $998."

"Didn't anyone complain?"

"Just da guy who won...So I give ëem his two dollar back."

The moral of this story...Marketing is everything!

A bit down the road the man from Idaho starts pulling out potatoes out of his bag and throwing them out on the road. The man from Iowa, says "What are you doing that for?"

The man from Idaho says, "We have so many of these, they are laying all over at home and I'm sick of looking at them".

A few more miles down the road, the Iowa man starts pulling husks of corn out of his bag and throwing them out the window.

The man from Oregon says, "Man what are you doing that for?" The man from Iowa says, "we have tons of these all over back home and I'm sick of looking at them!"

. . . and was greeted by a young woman with three small children running around at her feet. He said, "I'm doing some research for Vaseline. Have you ever used the product?"

She said, "Yes. My husband and I use it all the time."

"And if you don't mind me asking, what do you use it for?"

"We use it for sex."

The researcher was a little taken aback. He said, "Usually people lie to me and say that they use it on a child's bicycle chain or to help with a gate hinge. But, in fact, I know that most people do use it for sex.

I admire you for your honesty. Since you've been frank so far, can you tell me exactly how you use it for sex?"

The woman said, "I don't mind telling you at all. My husband and I put it on the door knob and it keeps the kids out."

This is to be her first time meeting the family and she is very nervous. They all sit down and begin eating a fine meal. The woman is beginning to feel a little discomfort, thanks to her nervousness and the broccoli casserole.

The gas pains are almost making her eyes water. Left with no other choice, she decides to relieve herself a bit and lets out a dainty fart. It wasn't loud, but everyone at the table heard the poof. Before she even had a chance to be embarrassed, her boyfriend's father looked over at the dog that had been snoozing at the woman's feet and said in a rather stern voice, "Skippy!"

The woman thought, "This is great!" and a big smile came across her face. A couple of minutes later, she was beginning to feel the pain again. This time, she didn't even hesitate. She let a much louder and longer fart rip. The father again looked and the dog and yelled, "Dammit Skippy!"

Once again the woman smiled and thought "Yes!" A few minutes later the woman had to let another one rip. This time she didn't even think about it. She let rip a fart that rivaled a train whistle blowing. Once again, the father looked at the dog with disgust and yelled, "dammit Skippy, get away from her before her farts kills on you!"

There was a sign on the cage that said $50.00. "Why so little," she asked the pet store owner.

The owner looked at her and said, "Look, I should tell you first that this bird used to live in a house of prostitution, and sometimes it says some pretty vulgar stuff." The woman thought about this, but decided she had to have the bird anyway.

She took it home and hung the bird's cage up in her living room and waited for it to say something. The bird looked around the room, then at her, and said, "New house, new madam." The woman was a bit shocked at the implication, but then thought "that's not so bad."

When her two teenage daughters returned from school the bird saw them and said, "New house, new madam, new girls." The girls and the woman were a bit offended but then began to laugh about the situation.

. . . when Sleepy rushes in and says, "Guess what guys, I've won a trip to see the Pope!"

Everyone gets all excited and chants, "We finally get to ask him! We finally get to ask him!!"

The next day, they are standing in front of the Pope, Dopey out in front of the other six. All the other six start pushing Dopey and saying, "Go ahead, Dopey, ask him, ask him!"

The Pope looks at Dopey and asks, "Do you have a question to ask me, young man?"

Dopey looks up shyly and says, "Well, yes."

The Pope tells him to go ahead and ask.

Dopey asks, "Well, do....do they have nuns in Alaska?"

The Pope replies, "Well, yes, I'm sure we have nuns in Alaska."

The others all keep nudging Dopey and chanting, "Ask him the rest, Dopey, ask him the rest!"

The Pope asks Dopey if there's more to his question, and Dopey continues, "Well, uh, do they have, uh, black nuns in Alaska?"

To which the Pope replies, "Well, my son, I think there must be a few black nuns in Alaska, yes."

Still not satisfied, the others keep saying, "Ask him the last part, Dopey, ask him the last part!"

The Pope asks Dopey, "Is there still more to your question?"

To which Dopey replies, "Well, uh, yeah.....are there, uh, are there any midget black nuns in Alaska?"

The startled Pope replies, "Well, no, my son, I really don't think there are any midget black nuns in Alaska."

. . . and, clearing his throat, asked, "............ah, err, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?"

A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers, his body hair growing out through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man and said, "IT'S *MY* DOG. WHY?"

"Well," squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous, "I believe my dog just killed it, sir."

"WHAT?" roared the big man in disbelief. "WHAT KIND OF @&*! DOG DO *YOU* HAVE?"

"Sir," answered the little man, "It's a four week old puppy."

"^%#^$&* !" roared the biker, "HOW COULD YOUR *&)@%#!! *PUPPY* KILL MY &*X#@%$! DOBERMAN ?"

Lately I've been getting flamed by people telling me I shouldn't put my political opinions in the comic strip. This surprised me because I didn't know I had any political opinions.

In one recent comic I depicted an Elbonian oil worker drilling through the back of a unicorn. Apparently something about that psychotic mess looked like an opinion about drilling in the Alaskan Wildlife Preserve. It's hard to have a righteous opinion on the environment when you're as selfish and uninformed as I am.

On one hand, I'm a cat-loving vegetarian who ought to care deeply about the caribou or koala bears or bats or whatever they have in Alaska. On the other hand, I live in California so I'd be willing to squeeze schoolchildren to death if I thought some oil would come out. I might feel different if I planned to visit the Alaskan Wildlife Preserve anytime soon. But I don't know what I would do once I got there, aside from praying that I froze to death before I got eaten by a caribou, or a koala bear, or a bat.

I've seen pictures of the Alaskan Wildlife Preserve and I can sum it up in just two words: North Dakota. Do we really need two North Dakotas? I mean, we already have South Dakota as an emergency spare. I don't know whom to believe about the number of critters that will get hurt by drilling in Alaska. The oil companies want me to believe that the drilling crews will be giving backrubs and chocolate to the penguins, possibly taking them to formal dances.

The environmentalists want me to believe that herds of caribou will be squeezed into a single windowless igloo and forced to make sneakers out of their own hide for ten cents an hour.

My confusion is compounded by the fact that I ran over a squirrel yesterday while taking my car into the shop. I don't know how that's related, but it seemed worth mentioning.

Many questions remain. Will more animals die during, a) oil drilling in the Alaskan Wilderness Preserve, or b) production of footwear for the protesters? How much oil is in the ground up there in Alaska anyway? In your heart you know that somewhere there's a guy in a cubicle who had to come up with an estimate for his boss. He probably didn't have the budget to do the kinds of tests he wanted to do so he just flew up there, stomped around in a big furry outfit, stuck some poles in the ground, and proclaimed it to contain five billion barrels of oil. He knew he'd be working someplace else before anyone was the wiser.

As the data worked its way up the chain of management, every manager tacked on a few billion barrels to puff up his own importance. Now we're pretty sure that the entire planet Earth is comprised of nothing but two inches of topsoil covering a huge ball of oil.

To summarize my political opinions:

1. I don't like unicorns
2. There is no oil in schoolchildren
3. Everyone on earth is a lying weasel