Chapter 269

Ever wonder what the feathers in an Indian’s headdress stood for?

A female reporter, interviewing an American Indian Chief, asked the significance of the varied number of feathers in Indian headdresses.

“Feathers show number of sexual partners,” the chief replied.

Pointing to a nearby young brave, he continued, “Him? One woman, one feather. Him?”, pointing to a second, older man, “Three women, three feathers.”
The reporter looked at the Chief’s headdress. “But you have so many feathers!”
The Chief proudly slapped his chest. “Me Chief. Sleep with all women. Big, small, fat, tall.”
Horrified, the female reporter said; “You ought to be hung!”
The Chief said, “Damn right. Me hung big like buffalo, long like snake”
The offended reporter said, “You don’t have to be hostile!”
The Chief replied, “Hoss-style, dog-style, wolf-style, any style!”
The reporter cried, “Oh, dear!”

“No deer,” said the Chief. “Ass too high; run too fast.”

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An Airbus 380 is on its way across the Atlantic. It flies consistently at 800 km/h in 30,000 feet, when suddenly a Eurofighter with Tempo Mach 2 appears.

The pilot of the fighter jet slows down, flies alongside the Airbus and greets the pilot of the passenger plane by radio: “Airbus flight, boring flight isn’t it? Take care and have a look here!” He rolls his jet on its back, accelerates, breaks through the sound barrier, rises rapidly to a dizzying height, only to swoop down almost to sea level in a breathtaking dive. He loops back next to the Airbus and asks, “Well, how was that?” The Airbus pilot answers: “Very impressive, but now have a look here!” The jet pilot watches the Airbus, but nothing happens. It continues to fly stubbornly straight, with the same speed. After five minutes, the Airbus pilot radioed, “Well, what are you saying now?” The jet pilot asks confused: “What did you do?” The other laughs and says, “I got up, stretched my legs, went to the back of the aircraft to the bathroom, got a cup of coffee and a cinnamon cake and made an appointment with the stewardess for the next three nights - in a 5 Star hotel, which is paid for by my employer.” The moral of the story is:

When you are young, speed and adrenaline seems to be great. But as you get older and wiser, comfort and peace are not to be despised either. This is called S.O.S.: Slower, Older, Smarter. Dedicated to all my friends who like me likes the S.O.S. approach!

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Compliments of timtam1from the land down under...

A man from northern NSW Australia recalls when the timing of his morning walk often resulted in him seeing the local funeral director in his front yard attending to his lawn and garden.

More often than not we’d exchange simple good mornings, g’days or something similar.

However, one morning I was greeted with: ‘How are you today?’ to which I replied: ‘Would that be a social or a business inquiry?’

We both had a good laugh.

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