http://board.jokeroo.com en Fri, 20 Nov 2009 22:11:14 GMT vBulletin 60 http://board.jokeroo.com/jokeroov2/misc/rss.jpg http://board.jokeroo.com http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137787-our-sons-first-birthday-heaven.html Thu, 19 Nov 2009 01:18:01 GMT Our Sons First Birthday In Heaven Fourteen and a half years, we were together; now it’s the fifteenth and you’re in heaven, We want you to know; we will love you forever. Each day without you, is one too many. There is no cake or party favors, no gifts hidden for your surprise; just tears for our angel, who left us behind. One day soon we will light some candles and release some balloons so everyone will remember, the young man that was loss and his loving legacy. So tonight I’ll say prayer in remembrance of thee, from our lips to God’s ears; you will always be; the love of our lives, for all eternity. Our Sons First Birthday In Heaven

Fourteen and a half years, we were together; now it’s the fifteenth
and you’re in heaven, We want you to know; we will love you
forever. Each day without you, is one too many. There is no cake
or party favors, no gifts hidden for your surprise; just tears for our
angel, who left us behind. One day soon we will light some candles
and release some balloons so everyone will remember, the young
man that was loss and his loving legacy. So tonight I’ll say prayer
in remembrance of thee, from our lips to God’s ears; you will always
be; the love of our lives, for all eternity. ]]> Chicken Soup akori http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137787-our-sons-first-birthday-heaven.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137786-your-birthday.html Thu, 19 Nov 2009 01:15:46 GMT On Your Birthday On that day our angel was born and I was there until the early morn. So excited I couldn’t eat, so I prepared a place for you too sleep; each tiny piece of your crib, I placed with care -- because I knew my son would soon be there. Everyday my heart beat a new, knowing how much I loved you. As a baby, you were a peaceful child; the one who always had a beautiful smile. You warmed my spirit and gave me hope and in your love I rejoiced. So precious the moments we have shared, and the books I’ve read as I sit by your bed. I would place a kiss on your cheek and say I love you before I went to sleep. Then one morning you left my life, I never thought it would be you in the light; although I know you are okay my soul hurts each and everyday, I miss you Lil James; always. On Your Birthday

On that day our angel was born and I was there
until the early morn. So excited I couldn’t eat, so
I prepared a place for you too sleep; each tiny piece
of your crib, I placed with care -- because I knew my
son would soon be there. Everyday my heart beat a
new, knowing how much I loved you. As a baby, you
were a peaceful child; the one who always had a
beautiful smile. You warmed my spirit and gave me
hope and in your love I rejoiced. So precious the moments
we have shared, and the books I’ve read as I sit by your bed.
I would place a kiss on your cheek and say I love you before
I went to sleep. Then one morning you left my life, I never
thought it would be you in the light; although I know you are
okay my soul hurts each and everyday, I miss you Lil James;
always. ]]> Chicken Soup akori http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137786-your-birthday.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137631-my-second-doctors-visit.html Wed, 11 Nov 2009 12:53:02 GMT Ok, so I went to the Doctor the other day. I found out I was a borderline diabetic. There some scale that they use, below 6.0 and your good, if you’re above 6.0 you’re in trouble. I was a 6.9? However, I’m not really sure what that means. I mean how bad can a .9 be? I realize diabetes is not a laughing matter. I have a niece who has it and a very good friend who also has it. I have a regular customer at one of my stores who’s had both legs amputated because of it and I even know of a guy who recently died from it. And I will always say one of the saddest sights I’ve ever seen in my life was once watching my then six-year-old niece check her sugar level and then inject herself with insulin. She was such a tiny frail cute little girl and she had to stick herself with these needles daily in order to do what we take for granted everyday and that’s simply to live. So I know how debilitating this disease can be. It’s the term “Borderline” that throws me. It’s like I’m tiptoeing on this fence and if I eat the wrong thing, sneak a candy bar or chew a stick of gum, I’ll fall over into the full-blown diabetes side of the fence. My Doctor told me being that I’m male, slightly (I wish) overweight, a smoker and a person of age, these factors makes me a prime target for serious trouble from it. But I find it hard to get to upset about this news, I feel fine, maybe a bit sluggish and tired, I do have some numbing sensation in parts of my body but overall I still think I could kick the ass of most 20 year olds out there. The reason I went back to the Doctor in the first place was because they called me and said the Doctor wanted to review with me the results from my blood work that I had done after a visit a month ago. I had gone in then to get my prescriptions refilled another pet peeve of mine. I take a certain number of pills every morning. I’m told that if I don’t take them I’ll literally die. I have no clue what they do for me, I just know if I skip taking them for several days I become terribly moody, disorientated and close to being totally unable to function. So I know they affect me and that I need to take them. I won’t go into here, my opinion on being forced four times a year to go to the Doctor to get my prescription redone. They tell me if you don’t take them you’ll die, but they won’t give them to you unless you come in for a checkup. So much for that oath they take. It’s almost as if they’re blackmailing me for my prescription. Either you come in and we get out money or you get no pills. I once suggested, how about I just mail you my $10 co-pay, you charge my insurance for a visit, mail me my prescription and we’ll save each other a lot of time. I even went as far telling them I’ll lecture myself about eating right, exorcising and stop smoking. Lord knows I’ve heard that lecture enough that I know the speech by heart now. But no such luck, they still told me I’d have to come in. Something about they have to check to make sure the dosage I take doesn’t need adjusting. Which doesn’t make any sense to me either because I’ve been told I’m on the maximum dosage allowed already. But I go to make everyone happy including my wife. Anyway, while I was there to get my prescriptions refilled they ran their usual blood work, only this time the results weren’t good. They called me back in. My Doctor like I stated before on another blog (I got Superman’s dick.) is a female. She’s a cute little thing, kind of reminds me of a cross between Sandy Duncan and MaryAnn from Gilligan’s Island. She’s got short dark hair, is perky, cute and has this look of innocence about her. She became my Doctor, when the Doctor that I had before went on vacation and she was all that was available at another time in which my prescription had lapsed. We somehow developed a repore, I believe it started when my first comment to her was, “My aren’t you a cute little thing.” She wasn’t impressed and then preceded to abuse, poke and prod me into submission. She can be hard when she wants to be. But she’s fun, likes to joke around a bit but is very serious when it comes to her job and she takes no crap from me. Which is problematic because I enjoy dishing it out. But I like her she’s spunky. Also since I don’t get embarrassed easily, her being a female doesn’t bother me when it comes to removing my clothing. I know she’s seen it all before. She had me weighed in. Damn, I had gained four pounds since my visit a few weeks before. I did give her the excuse I had taken my wife out the night before and had eaten a big meal. (Which I actually had.) She smiled at me saying, “Nice try” but I could tell she wasn’t too sympathetic to my excuse for my weight gain. She also let me know of her disappointment. My blood pressure was 128 over 82, which means nothing to me, but she didn’t give me any grief, so I imagined that wasn’t too bad. She then told me the results from my blood work. My cholesterol level was over 300 and my triglycerides were over 900. Again these figures mean nothing to me but she wasn’t too happy about them. She tried to scare me by saying, “You’re just begging for a heart attack.” Especially since I actually already do have an enlarged heart. This was discovered years ago, they ran a battery of tests on me at the time to see why but came up with nothing. Some people have got big hands, I just happen to have a big heart. I don’t worry or fret about it. To my knowledge, no one in my family has died from a heart attack, so comments about my heart have never scared me and didn’t now. I got the watch what you eat, exorcise and quit smoking lecture that I always get. She knows I have my own personal gym in my house (my only stipulation when we built our house, my wife controlled the rest.) so she once again really nailed me to the wall for not using it. She then told me about this diabetes thing and that now was a good time for me to get a COMPLETE physical. With all of these bad test results lurking over me. She handed me a robe and told me to undress. I quickly responded, “Except for my underwear, right?” “Nope, I want you completely naked under that robe when I get back.” She left the room. Being she’s so cute, I’m sure many men have dreamed of her saying to them those exact words, “I want you completely naked.” Me being a very happily married man of numerous years and knowing nothing good comes from being naked in a doctor’s office, I was not particularly thrilled by her comment. But like I stated earlier, I’m not shy by any means and being naked in front of any woman doesn’t embarrass me (Ok my Mom would be an exception!) much less a Doctor. But I’m also a realist and damn if the lights in this room didn’t suddenly seemed awfully bright. I began to disrobe. While taking my clothes off I did come upon one awkward moment. For some reason I started having a short debate with myself in regards to my socks. Do I leave them on or take them off? Did her wanting me disrobed also include the socks? I had taken a shower before coming here so there was no foot odor or any disfigurement worries but for some reason I wasn’t clear on the getting undressed protocol in regards to the socks. Wearing nothing but the robe, I stood and glanced in the mirror first wearing my socks. It definitely was not a good look for me so I decided to remove them. Now totally naked except for the nice robe with the big opening in the back she had given me, I wrapped my clothes up being sure to hide my boxers in my pants. It’s a guy thing, at home we chunk them on the bedroom floor for all to see but in a doctors office they go inside the pants. She can see my naked ass but god forbid she see what I cover it with. Anyway when she returned the conversation turned ugly for me. We had the discussion that no man enjoys. “I think it’s time you had your prostate examined.” Both of my Grandfather’s died from prostate cancer, my Dad had prostate cancer, she knows this, so this is a discussion we have practically every visit. I quickly and as politely as I could told her NO that a guy must be in the right frame of mind for that particular exam and since when I was driving in, there wasn’t any romantic music playing on my radio, my mind frame currently did not include the tickling of my prostate. She even volunteered to have a male Doctor come in and do it. I let her know it wasn’t the fact she was a she that was causing me to decline the exam. My ass literally just wasn’t in the mood for some finger swimming time. She rolled her eyes at me and proceeded with my exam. She poked and prodded me. Had me take deep breaths as she checked my chest with her stethoscope. Looked into my eyes with that neat little light thingy they all have, made me cough numerous times for what reason I do not know, tapped her little rubber mallet on my knees, she felt for something under my chin she used both of her hands rubbing whatever it was back and forth and this whole time I either just sat or laid there unmoving not saying a thing to antagonize her. It was then she asked me to turnover and lie on my stomach. In my mind I was trying to figure out why. Now turned over and with my feet hanging over the edge of the table, I heard the snap of rubber gloves. That’s not a good sound for a guy in my position to hear. I had told her no, had I not I was thinking. When suddenly I felt one of her hands grab one of my butt cheeks while the other hand or more correctly a finger from her other hand went on with what I will call here an inward adventure. My eyes shot open wide. I guess in Doctor speak, no must means go for it, atleast in regards to a prostate exam. I was now a victim to prostate rape. Now Ladies out there, I know you go through an awful lot during your exams, but to us macho males our ass is a sacred vessel and not meant to be entered. Plus it’s hard for a guy to look someone in the eyes that just had their finger up your butt. It just isn’t right! Anyway she told me everything felt good and proceeded on to the next embarrassing chapter of the exam. I have to add a preface here. My Wife and I enjoy something called a “Fantasy night.” It’s a night that your partner must do anything requested from them. The one rule to this night is you can never say no. The weekend before my exam, we had done one of these nights. It was my Wife’s turn and she had a somewhat kinky request for me. She requested I plow the lower forty, or more correctly stated shave my lower region. I fulfilled her request. Two quick words of advice to men who may try this, one don’t use an electric razor. Your little boys will never forgive you and frankly band-aids just aren’t a good look own there. Trust me on this. Two use either a cream or lotion during and for several days afterwards. Otherwise you’ll spend the next several days acting like a baseball player. The itching will drive you crazy and you scratching will drive the people around you crazy! The reason for telling you about this is that at this point during my exam, my Doctor decided she would check the second most embarrassing thing a doctor can check on a man. As I sat at the end of the table, my legs hanging down, she wheeled herself over in front of me and I immediately knew what was coming next. She requested I stand and slowly lifted my gown. It was then the memory of my Wife’s Fantasy night request struck me. Before I could give her the warning of what she would see, I knew it was already too late. She first had this quizzical look in her eyes, and then I could see a smirk starting to form. She glanced up at me, look back down and then back up at me again and I could tell she was trying hard not to giggle. I gave her the best “What can I say” expression I could conjure up and then let out the required cough. Something told me I would be the talk of the break room that day. Later when I called and told my Wife about this experience, she roared with laughter. I told her just wait until our next Fantasy night. Then it would be my turn. So now the exam was over. My doctor told me she was very worried about me, she doesn’t feel I take her seriously. She again gave me the lecture on how serious diabetes can be, especially for someone like me. She gave me another prescription, just another pill for me to take daily, only this one I have to take four times a day. She wants me to lose twenty pounds before my next check three months from now. Well I’ll atleast work on that. Ok, so I went to the Doctor the other day. I found out I was a borderline diabetic. There some scale that they use, below 6.0 and your good, if you’re above 6.0 you’re in trouble. I was a 6.9? However, I’m not really sure what that means. I mean how bad can a .9 be? I realize diabetes is not a laughing matter. I have a niece who has it and a very good friend who also has it. I have a regular customer at one of my stores who’s had both legs amputated because of it and I even know of a guy who recently died from it. And I will always say one of the saddest sights I’ve ever seen in my life was once watching my then six-year-old niece check her sugar level and then inject herself with insulin. She was such a tiny frail cute little girl and she had to stick herself with these needles daily in order to do what we take for granted everyday and that’s simply to live. So I know how debilitating this disease can be. It’s the term “Borderline” that throws me. It’s like I’m tiptoeing on this fence and if I eat the wrong thing, sneak a candy bar or chew a stick of gum, I’ll fall over into the full-blown diabetes side of the fence. My Doctor told me being that I’m male, slightly (I wish) overweight, a smoker and a person of age, these factors makes me a prime target for serious trouble from it. But I find it hard to get to upset about this news, I feel fine, maybe a bit sluggish and tired, I do have some numbing sensation in parts of my body but overall I still think I could kick the ass of most 20 year olds out there.

The reason I went back to the Doctor in the first place was because they called me and said the Doctor wanted to review with me the results from my blood work that I had done after a visit a month ago. I had gone in then to get my prescriptions refilled another pet peeve of mine. I take a certain number of pills every morning. I’m told that if I don’t take them I’ll literally die. I have no clue what they do for me, I just know if I skip taking them for several days I become terribly moody, disorientated and close to being totally unable to function. So I know they affect me and that I need to take them. I won’t go into here, my opinion on being forced four times a year to go to the Doctor to get my prescription redone. They tell me if you don’t take them you’ll die, but they won’t give them to you unless you come in for a checkup. So much for that oath they take. It’s almost as if they’re blackmailing me for my prescription. Either you come in and we get out money or you get no pills. I once suggested, how about I just mail you my $10 co-pay, you charge my insurance for a visit, mail me my prescription and we’ll save each other a lot of time. I even went as far telling them I’ll lecture myself about eating right, exorcising and stop smoking. Lord knows I’ve heard that lecture enough that I know the speech by heart now. But no such luck, they still told me I’d have to come in. Something about they have to check to make sure the dosage I take doesn’t need adjusting. Which doesn’t make any sense to me either because I’ve been told I’m on the maximum dosage allowed already. But I go to make everyone happy including my wife. Anyway, while I was there to get my prescriptions refilled they ran their usual blood work, only this time the results weren’t good. They called me back in.

My Doctor like I stated before on another blog (I got Superman’s dick.) is a female. She’s a cute little thing, kind of reminds me of a cross between Sandy Duncan and MaryAnn from Gilligan’s Island. She’s got short dark hair, is perky, cute and has this look of innocence about her. She became my Doctor, when the Doctor that I had before went on vacation and she was all that was available at another time in which my prescription had lapsed. We somehow developed a repore, I believe it started when my first comment to her was, “My aren’t you a cute little thing.” She wasn’t impressed and then preceded to abuse, poke and prod me into submission. She can be hard when she wants to be. But she’s fun, likes to joke around a bit but is very serious when it comes to her job and she takes no crap from me. Which is problematic because I enjoy dishing it out. But I like her she’s spunky. Also since I don’t get embarrassed easily, her being a female doesn’t bother me when it comes to removing my clothing. I know she’s seen it all before.

She had me weighed in. Damn, I had gained four pounds since my visit a few weeks before. I did give her the excuse I had taken my wife out the night before and had eaten a big meal. (Which I actually had.) She smiled at me saying, “Nice try” but I could tell she wasn’t too sympathetic to my excuse for my weight gain. She also let me know of her disappointment. My blood pressure was 128 over 82, which means nothing to me, but she didn’t give me any grief, so I imagined that wasn’t too bad. She then told me the results from my blood work. My cholesterol level was over 300 and my triglycerides were over 900. Again these figures mean nothing to me but she wasn’t too happy about them. She tried to scare me by saying, “You’re just begging for a heart attack.” Especially since I actually already do have an enlarged heart. This was discovered years ago, they ran a battery of tests on me at the time to see why but came up with nothing. Some people have got big hands, I just happen to have a big heart. I don’t worry or fret about it. To my knowledge, no one in my family has died from a heart attack, so comments about my heart have never scared me and didn’t now. I got the watch what you eat, exorcise and quit smoking lecture that I always get. She knows I have my own personal gym in my house (my only stipulation when we built our house, my wife controlled the rest.) so she once again really nailed me to the wall for not using it. She then told me about this diabetes thing and that now was a good time for me to get a COMPLETE physical. With all of these bad test results lurking over me.

She handed me a robe and told me to undress. I quickly responded, “Except for my underwear, right?” “Nope, I want you completely naked under that robe when I get back.” She left the room. Being she’s so cute, I’m sure many men have dreamed of her saying to them those exact words, “I want you completely naked.” Me being a very happily married man of numerous years and knowing nothing good comes from being naked in a doctor’s office, I was not particularly thrilled by her comment. But like I stated earlier, I’m not shy by any means and being naked in front of any woman doesn’t embarrass me (Ok my Mom would be an exception!) much less a Doctor. But I’m also a realist and damn if the lights in this room didn’t suddenly seemed awfully bright. I began to disrobe. While taking my clothes off I did come upon one awkward moment. For some reason I started having a short debate with myself in regards to my socks. Do I leave them on or take them off? Did her wanting me disrobed also include the socks? I had taken a shower before coming here so there was no foot odor or any disfigurement worries but for some reason I wasn’t clear on the getting undressed protocol in regards to the socks. Wearing nothing but the robe, I stood and glanced in the mirror first wearing my socks. It definitely was not a good look for me so I decided to remove them. Now totally naked except for the nice robe with the big opening in the back she had given me, I wrapped my clothes up being sure to hide my boxers in my pants. It’s a guy thing, at home we chunk them on the bedroom floor for all to see but in a doctors office they go inside the pants. She can see my naked ass but god forbid she see what I cover it with.

Anyway when she returned the conversation turned ugly for me. We had the discussion that no man enjoys. “I think it’s time you had your prostate examined.” Both of my Grandfather’s died from prostate cancer, my Dad had prostate cancer, she knows this, so this is a discussion we have practically every visit. I quickly and as politely as I could told her NO that a guy must be in the right frame of mind for that particular exam and since when I was driving in, there wasn’t any romantic music playing on my radio, my mind frame currently did not include the tickling of my prostate. She even volunteered to have a male Doctor come in and do it. I let her know it wasn’t the fact she was a she that was causing me to decline the exam. My ass literally just wasn’t in the mood for some finger swimming time. She rolled her eyes at me and proceeded with my exam.

She poked and prodded me. Had me take deep breaths as she checked my chest with her stethoscope. Looked into my eyes with that neat little light thingy they all have, made me cough numerous times for what reason I do not know, tapped her little rubber mallet on my knees, she felt for something under my chin she used both of her hands rubbing whatever it was back and forth and this whole time I either just sat or laid there unmoving not saying a thing to antagonize her. It was then she asked me to turnover and lie on my stomach. In my mind I was trying to figure out why. Now turned over and with my feet hanging over the edge of the table, I heard the snap of rubber gloves. That’s not a good sound for a guy in my position to hear. I had told her no, had I not I was thinking. When suddenly I felt one of her hands grab one of my butt cheeks while the other hand or more correctly a finger from her other hand went on with what I will call here an inward adventure. My eyes shot open wide. I guess in Doctor speak, no must means go for it, atleast in regards to a prostate exam. I was now a victim to prostate rape. Now Ladies out there, I know you go through an awful lot during your exams, but to us macho males our ass is a sacred vessel and not meant to be entered. Plus it’s hard for a guy to look someone in the eyes that just had their finger up your butt. It just isn’t right! Anyway she told me everything felt good and proceeded on to the next embarrassing chapter of the exam.

I have to add a preface here. My Wife and I enjoy something called a “Fantasy night.” It’s a night that your partner must do anything requested from them. The one rule to this night is you can never say no. The weekend before my exam, we had done one of these nights. It was my Wife’s turn and she had a somewhat kinky request for me. She requested I plow the lower forty, or more correctly stated shave my lower region. I fulfilled her request. Two quick words of advice to men who may try this, one don’t use an electric razor. Your little boys will never forgive you and frankly band-aids just aren’t a good look own there. Trust me on this. Two use either a cream or lotion during and for several days afterwards. Otherwise you’ll spend the next several days acting like a baseball player. The itching will drive you crazy and you scratching will drive the people around you crazy!

The reason for telling you about this is that at this point during my exam, my Doctor decided she would check the second most embarrassing thing a doctor can check on a man. As I sat at the end of the table, my legs hanging down, she wheeled herself over in front of me and I immediately knew what was coming next. She requested I stand and slowly lifted my gown. It was then the memory of my Wife’s Fantasy night request struck me. Before I could give her the warning of what she would see, I knew it was already too late. She first had this quizzical look in her eyes, and then I could see a smirk starting to form. She glanced up at me, look back down and then back up at me again and I could tell she was trying hard not to giggle. I gave her the best “What can I say” expression I could conjure up and then let out the required cough. Something told me I would be the talk of the break room that day. Later when I called and told my Wife about this experience, she roared with laughter. I told her just wait until our next Fantasy night. Then it would be my turn.

So now the exam was over. My doctor told me she was very worried about me, she doesn’t feel I take her seriously. She again gave me the lecture on how serious diabetes can be, especially for someone like me. She gave me another prescription, just another pill for me to take daily, only this one I have to take four times a day. She wants me to lose twenty pounds before my next check three months from now. Well I’ll atleast work on that. ]]> Chicken Soup Dangerously http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137631-my-second-doctors-visit.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137562-sad-pictures-us-soldiers-war-front-afghanistan.html Sat, 07 Nov 2009 07:41:32 GMT Sad Pictures Of US Soldiers from the War Front in Afghanistan



U.S. Marines from the 2nd MEB, 1st Battalion 5th Marines sleep in their fighting holes inside a compound where they stayed for the night, in the Nawa district of Afghanistan's Helmand province, Wednesday July 8, 2009. (AP Photo/David Guttenfelder)





U.S. Marines from the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit try to take shelter from a sand storm at forward operating base Dwyer in the Helmand province of southern Afghanistan Wednesday, May 7, 2008. (AP Photo/David Guttenfelder)

]]> Chicken Soup mazbut http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137562-sad-pictures-us-soldiers-war-front-afghanistan.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137484-lessons-can-come-least-likely-sources.html Wed, 04 Nov 2009 11:13:58 GMT My son plays baseball on his middle school team. He’s their starting second baseman and lead off hitter. While attending one of his away games at another school, I noticed a plaque attached their backstop. On the plaque was the name of player from a previous year at this school and a short little story. After reading it, I felt compelled to discover story behind it, so I approached a parent of a player on the other team. He told me a few years ago a player on the schools baseball team had been tragically killed in a freak car accident. He was a very well liked and thought of boy, so in his honor the school had decided to put up a plaque on the field in his honor. They had approached his Mother and asked her if there was anything special she would like put on the plaque. She then told them the story of a little boy, a baseball and a bat. She said it was one of her son’s favorite stories. It was this story the school decided to put on the plaque in his honor. After hearing of the details involving the plaque I went back and read it once more, suddenly it had so much more meaning for me, I share it with you now. A young boy walked out into his back yard carrying with him a baseball and bat. He came to a stop in the middle of the yard and gazing down at the ball in his hand, he whispered, as if to convince himself, “I am a great hitter” and while tossing the ball in the air, with all of his strength and might, he gave a powerful swing of the bat, but sadly his swing missed the ball and it fell softly to the ground. Picking the ball up and not one to give in, this time with a little more authority he glanced down at the ball and he said, “I AM the greatest hitter in the world.” Again, he tossed the ball up in the air and swung, only to miss it a second time. Undaunted, he picked the ball up, now while staring it down, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “I AM THE GREATEST HITTER OF ALL TIME!” tossing the ball high in the air, he swung with all of his might. But once more he missed it and the ball fell to the ground a third time. Disheartened the little boy bent down and once more picked the ball up. After a little time had passed, and while still peering down at the ball in his hand, a smile slowly crept over his face. Suddenly he broke into a thunderous roar. His hand now raised the ball high up over his head as if to display it for the whole world to see and with the biggest, of grins on his face he proudly exclaimed, “GOSH! Am I a GREAT Pitcher or what!” The Mother had them put on the plaque a story that she felt epitomized the way her son looked at and had lived his life, full of hope, eagerness and excitement. I love this story of the little boy with his ball and bat. Within it are so many lessons to be learned by us all. Never giving up on yourself being one. Another could be, life is all in how you look at things. The boy in this story took a negative situation and in just looking at it in a different light made it a very positive one. If only we all could possess this kind of courage and foresight about life. There are many lessons for all of us to be learned as we go through life, I learn so many each day. That day I discovered that sometimes these lessons can come from the least likely of sources, like a little boy playing with a baseball and a bat. I often need to hear and learn such messages. My son plays baseball on his middle school team. He’s their starting second baseman and lead off hitter. While attending one of his away games at another school, I noticed a plaque attached their backstop. On the plaque was the name of player from a previous year at this school and a short little story. After reading it, I felt compelled to discover story behind it, so I approached a parent of a player on the other team. He told me a few years ago a player on the schools baseball team had been tragically killed in a freak car accident. He was a very well liked and thought of boy, so in his honor the school had decided to put up a plaque on the field in his honor. They had approached his Mother and asked her if there was anything special she would like put on the plaque. She then told them the story of a little boy, a baseball and a bat. She said it was one of her son’s favorite stories. It was this story the school decided to put on the plaque in his honor. After hearing of the details involving the plaque I went back and read it once more, suddenly it had so much more meaning for me, I share it with you now.

A young boy walked out into his back yard carrying with him a baseball and bat. He came to a stop in the middle of the yard and gazing down at the ball in his hand, he whispered, as if to convince himself, “I am a great hitter” and while tossing the ball in the air, with all of his strength and might, he gave a powerful swing of the bat, but sadly his swing missed the ball and it fell softly to the ground.

Picking the ball up and not one to give in, this time with a little more authority he glanced down at the ball and he said, “I AM the greatest hitter in the world.” Again, he tossed the ball up in the air and swung, only to miss it a second time.

Undaunted, he picked the ball up, now while staring it down, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “I AM THE GREATEST HITTER OF ALL TIME!” tossing the ball high in the air, he swung with all of his might. But once more he missed it and the ball fell to the ground a third time.

Disheartened the little boy bent down and once more picked the ball up. After a little time had passed, and while still peering down at the ball in his hand, a smile slowly crept over his face. Suddenly he broke into a thunderous roar. His hand now raised the ball high up over his head as if to display it for the whole world to see and with the biggest, of grins on his face he proudly exclaimed, “GOSH! Am I a GREAT Pitcher or what!”

The Mother had them put on the plaque a story that she felt epitomized the way her son looked at and had lived his life, full of hope, eagerness and excitement. I love this story of the little boy with his ball and bat. Within it are so many lessons to be learned by us all. Never giving up on yourself being one. Another could be, life is all in how you look at things. The boy in this story took a negative situation and in just looking at it in a different light made it a very positive one. If only we all could possess this kind of courage and foresight about life. There are many lessons for all of us to be learned as we go through life, I learn so many each day. That day I discovered that sometimes these lessons can come from the least likely of sources, like a little boy playing with a baseball and a bat. I often need to hear and learn such messages. ]]> Chicken Soup Dangerously http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137484-lessons-can-come-least-likely-sources.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137456-final-inspection.html Mon, 02 Nov 2009 20:54:29 GMT

The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you ?
Have you always turned the other cheek ?
To My Church have you been true?'

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

'Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well..
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'

]]> Chicken Soup mystical http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137456-final-inspection.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137418-im-thinking-happines-like-butterfly.html Sat, 31 Oct 2009 13:15:15 GMT I believe we all have as one of our goals to be happy. Me…I think about Happiness a lot! To me it is a very fickle emotion. I know what it is. I've felt it. It’s touched me before. But for the most part Happiness has dangled itself in front of me like a carrot, teasing me. It’s always just barely out of my reach. I often try to grasp it, only to have it slither through my fingers and escape. No matter how hard I tried, it always manages to elude me.

So I began looking at all I had to possibly to trap happiness with, my Family, the numerous friends I have, the place where I live, my job and all of the toys I have. You’d think with all of these blessings I could seduce happiness, ensnare it, and trick it to come to me. But no happiness isn’t so easily fooled, it would simply wink at me, point its finger, shake its furry head sideways, no not today, not for you, then it would laugh at me and run away. It always seemed to want more from me than what I had. I just couldn't for the life of me catch it and that frustration often led to more unhappiness building inside me.

So in my frustration I began to look at the times it teased me by letting me touch it, hold it and caress it. Perhaps there would be a clue. Like on Christmas morning, time with my boys, while they opened their presents. Then happiness would sit on my lap and we'd smile together, watching as they played. I volunteer at our local homeless shelter and God's pantry. Don't get me wrong. I'm no saint. It's for a couple hours a month on Sunday afternoons. I figure I've befriended all of the seven deadly sins at some point in my life. So I'm definitely no one special. But, I noticed while working at these places and passing out food, listening to the people tell their stories that happiness would sneak up behind me and lay his hand on my shoulder. I also cook a meal once a month at our cities Ronald McDonald house, for the people staying there. Again, it's a minimal effort by me compared to what these people are going through. Their lives are daily full of struggle and often sadness. There was a little boy staying there that had cancer. I became a friend to him. We played on the floor. We laughed and giggled together and as the months passed by, I sadly had watched him dwindle down to close to nothing. The last time I saw him, he ran to me and jumped in my arms, all frail, hairless, he looked at me and with a smile on his face and excitement in his voice, he told me he was finally going home! And even though I knew I would never see my little buddy again, it was then that happiness came to me and we hugged and we cried together.

Now looking back at all of this, I’m starting to realize that maybe all this time I’ve been going about this trapping of happiness all wrong. Maybe you can't purposely catch happiness because it isn’t meant to be caught. I’m beginning to think happiness is more like a butterfly, that when trying to catch it, it’s always just barely out of your reach but if you sit down softly, patiently, quietly it soon may alight upon you. So now I’m thinking, maybe I should quit chasing it and start experiencing more of life… softly…patiently… quietly, with hope and compassion, then maybe happiness will come to me on its own and embrace me. I know happiness is out there for me and I know it’s also out there for everyone else that’s seeking it. It’s out there, watching for us, waiting to embrace us. So the question no longer is, happiness can you catch it but more like can it catch you? ]]> Chicken Soup Dangerously http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137418-im-thinking-happines-like-butterfly.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137394-youve-got-meet-molly.html Fri, 30 Oct 2009 09:53:24 GMT

Meet Molly.She's a grey speckled pony who was abandoned by her owners when Hurricane




Katrina hit southern�Louisiana.




She spent weeks on her�own before finally being rescued and taken to



a farm where abandoned animals were stockpiled.



While there, she was attacked by a pit bull terrier



and almost died. Her gnawed right front leg became



infected, and her vet went to LSU for help, but



LSU was overwhelmed, and this pony was a welfare



case. You know how that goes.



�


But after surgeon Rustin�Moore�met Molly, he



changed his mind.He saw how the pony was



careful to lie down on different sides so she didn't



seem to get sores, and how she allowed people to



handle her.She protected her injured leg.�She



constantly shifted her weight and didn't overload




her good leg. She was a smart pony with a serious




survival ethic.




�



Moore�agreed to remove her leg below the knee,




and a temporary artificial limb was built. Molly




walked out of the clinic and her story really




begins there.




�



'This was the right horse and the right owner,'




Moore�insists. Molly happened to be a one-in-a-million patient. She's tough as nails,�






but�sweet, and she was willing to cope with pain.




She made it obvious she understood that she was




in trouble..The other important factor, according




to�Moore, is having a truly committed and compliant




owner who is dedicated to provid ing the daily care




required over the lifetime of the horse.




�



Molly's story turns into a parable for life in




Post-Katrina�Louisiana....The little pony gained weight,�




and her mane finally felt a comb.




A human prosthesis designer built her a leg.




The prosthetic has given Molly a whole new life,




Allison Barca DVM, Molly's regular vet, reports.




And she asks for it. She will put her little limb out,




and come to you and let you know that she wants




you to put it on. Sometimes she wants you to take




lt off too. And sometimes, Molly gets away from




Barca. 'It can be pretty bad when you can't catch




a three-legged horse,' she laughs.




�



Most important of all, Molly has a job now. Kay,




the rescue farm owner, started taking Molly to




shelters, hospitals, nursing homes, and rehabilitation




centers. Anywhere she thought that people needed




hope. Wherever Molly went, she showed people




her pluck. She inspired people, and she had a




good time doing it.




�



'It's obvious to me that Molly had a bigger role to




play in life,'Moore�said. She survived the hurricane,




she survived a horrible injury, and now she is giving




hope to others.'






Barca concluded, 'She's not back to normal, but




she 's going to be better.To me, she could be a




symbol for�New Orleans�itself.'


This is Molly's most recent prosthesis. The bottom




photo shows the ground surface that she stands on,




which has a smiley face embossed in it.. Wherever




Molly goes, she leaves a smiley hoof print behind.




�

Forward this and share it with all of the




animal lovers that you know.






God's creatures often reflect the




character we aspire to.
















]]> Chicken Soup brilor http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137394-youve-got-meet-molly.html http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137361-we-all-need-have-5x7-crayon-cell-phone.html Wed, 28 Oct 2009 11:37:57 GMT I was sitting at my desk, feeling somewhat overwhelmed and quite a bit alone. I’d taken a few days vacation time and somehow over that short period of time, it appeared a month’s worth of work had found its way to my desk. This always seems to happen when you try to take some time off. The store we’re rebuilding and is scheduled to open in mid-July was having a ton of construction problems that “required” my immediate attention, my cell phone all morning already had been “ringing off the hook” (Can you still say this with cell phones?) “God, I’m so glad your back! I have this problem.” Seems to be the proper way to greet me on the phone this day, and while I appreciated the God inference, I definitely didn’t need any more dilemma’s today. Yet more problems seemed to be finding their way in to my world this day. And on top of all this, my wife and I have been arguing over something that I still don’t understand. I love her madly, she makes me smile, she completes my life, but sometimes even with the people you love you don’t see eye to eye. Again, feelings of being overwhelmed, frustrated and all alone against the world were starting to set in and grab hold of me.

I heard the outer door to our office open and June our bookkeeper, secretary, phone answerer and the one person who keeps us all in the office organized and on tilt was coming in. Beside her I also heard some tiny giggling in the background and I immediately knew she had brought her two granddaughters with her. “Leave Dangerous alone,” (Sounds much better than, “leave Mr. Ignorant alone!”) I heard her shout above the sound of oncoming running feet and laughter. I then looked up to see these two cute little smiling faces sneakily peeking in at my door. I don’t know why but it always seems when kids visit our office they gravitate to my room. Whether it is our secretary and her two twin boys, Tony, my best friend and co-workers two daughters or June’s granddaughters, my office seems to be the popular spot for kids when they visit here. Ok, maybe the candy bowl that I always have filled for visitors on my desk or the toys I keep on my bookshelf that I’ve collected over the years might have something to do with it, but I prefer to think it’s my Santa like charm that brings them back. With two almost blinding grins they asked if they could come in, much to the protest of June. “Girls, I said leave Dangerous alone.” She once again shouted. “It’s ok! “ I told June and with a smile that was now impossible to suppress looking at those two darling little faces, I invited them in.

It always amazes me the conversations you can have with kids. Their little minds seem to go a mile a minute, what’s this? Why is that? Can I have a piece of candy? Do you have a pet? I’ve got a dog. We’re going to a fireworks show tomorrow. Do you like fireworks? I don’t like the things that go off and make loud noises. How old are you? I’m four. I was hit with a barrage of subjects, my head going back and forth from one little girl to the other.

After conversing for a while and laughing a lot, I started to settle back in and began doing a job on my laptop. One of the little girls had gone back over to be with June while the other stayed in my room. She sat intently, the chair way too big for her, swinging her legs back and forth, playing with her fingers and watching me pound away on my keyboard. Suddenly she jumped from her chair and came over, she stood beside me, her little hand on my shoulder and peering at my monitor screen, “Whatcha doin?” she asked. In the best 5 year old speak that I could muster up I tried explaining it to her. “That sounds like too much work,” she said, “Don’t you want to play?” She sweetly asked. “Yep, but what can you do?” I told her, not realizing that a 5 year old doesn’t know about the struggles of working and the demand from bills. With a quizzical look, she patted me on my shoulder, smiled and sat back down.

On my desk I keep a stack of 5x7 cards. I keep a few of these in my breast pocket so as I make my daily rounds I write reminders on these cards so I won’t forget things. Age has done this to me, increased my ability to forget things. Anyway, she picked up a few and using the markers I had given her began to draw on them. After a while she handed me one that she had drawn on. “Do you know what it is?” she asked. I immediately went into a panic. Will it break her heart if I guess wrong? I quickly thought back over our previous conversations for clues as to what it might be. Earlier, she had asked me why our secretary had a bow taped to her PC monitor. I told her I didn’t know, that perhaps it was to make it look pretty. She then asked me why I didn’t have a bow on my laptop to make it look pretty. “Because I don’t have a bow to put there” I had told her. Perhaps this was a picture of a bow I thought, she's drawn me a bow. “It’s a pretty bow.” I guessed. “NO! Silly goose, it’s a cell phone.’” She told me. I can’t explain why, I guess you’d have to be there, but being called a “silly goose” made me suddenly break out in a roarous laughter. She smiled at me again, happy I could tell that she had made me laugh and sat back down. Grinning at her, I put my “new cell phone” down on my desk and began working once more. “Ring, ring, ring,” I heard over my laptop. Turning sideways to look around my screen at this cute little girl, who was staring at me intently, I heard “Well? Aren’t you going to answer your phone?” “Oopps, my bad!” I told her as I picked up my new 5 x 7 card cell phone. “Hello?” We then proceeded to converse once more, covering such important worldly topics as our favorite colors, why boys can be mean, especially one named Billy and strangely enough the fit and feel of newly bought tennis shoes. The conversation flowed naturally and once more it kept me giggling the whole time.

Soon June was calling out it was time for them to go. I taped my new “cell phone” to my laptop for all to see. She proudly watched and smiled at me as I did this. I mean really, isn’t a cell phone on a laptop much cooler than a bow on a PC monitor. And handing them both a few pieces of candy for the road, I gave June a little grin, a wink and then waved good bye to the three of them from the door as they left.

Upon returning to my desk with a sigh, I saw the workload had somehow not miraculously decreased during the past hour and a half or so. But at least now I felt much less overwhelmed and not so frustrated. Somehow my little visitors had relieved my stress. And as I leaned back sitting in my chair I couldn’t help but think to myself, maybe I should do that more often. Say to myself, “Dangerous, this is too much like work, don’t you want to play?” And then actually go out and do it! Perhaps the things that life can throw at you would be so much easier to deal with and much less stressful to handle if we just played a little more often. Tomorrow I think I’ll start my day by taking my new 5x7 cell phone and making a few calls, I wonder if those two precious little girls are going to be busy. ]]> Chicken Soup Dangerously http://board.jokeroo.com/chicken-soup/137361-we-all-need-have-5x7-crayon-cell-phone.html