Posts Tagged ‘Grandma’

Angels Explained By Children

April 15, 2010

I only know the names of two angels, Hark and Harold. Gregory, age 5

Everybody’s got it all wrong. Angels don’t wear halos anymore. I forget why, but scientists are working on it.   Olive, age 9

It’s not easy to become an angel! First, you die. Then you go to Heaven, and then there’s still the flight training to go through. And then you got to agree to wear those angel clothes. Matthew, age 9

Angels work for God and watch over kids when God has to go do something else. Mitchell, age 7

My guardian angel helps me with math, but he’s not much good for science. Henry, age 8

Angels don’t eat, but they drink milk from Holy Cows!!!

Jack, age 6

Angels talk all the way while they’re flying you up to heaven. The main subject is where you went wrong before you got dead. Daniel, age 9

When an angel gets mad, he takes a deep breath and counts to ten. And when he lets out his breath again, somewhere there’s a tornado. Reagan, age 10

Angels have a lot to do and they keep very busy. If you lose a tooth, an angel comes in through your window and leaves money under your pillow. Then when it gets cold, angels go south for the winter. Sara, age 6

Angels live in cloud houses made by God and his son, who’s a very good carpenter. Jared, age 8

All angels are girls because they gotta wear dresses and boys didn’t go for it. Antonio, age 9

My angel is my grandma who died last year. She got a big head start on helping me while she was still down here on earth.
Ashley, age 9

Some of the angels are in charge of helping heal sick animals and pets. And if they don’t make the animals get better, they help the child get over it.  Vicki, age 8

Letter from Granddad

February 22, 2010

John is 63 years old and owns his own business. He is a life-long Republican and sees his dream of retiring next year is now all but gone. With the stock market crashing and all the new taxes coming his way, John knows he will be working for a good number more years.

John has a Granddaughter. Ashley is a recent college grad. She drives a late model car, wears all the latest fashions, and also likes going out and eating out a lot. Ashley campaigned hard for Obama, and after he won the election she made sure her Grandfather (and all other Republican family members) received more than an earful on how the world is going to be a much better place now that Obama won the election.

Ashley recently found herself short of cash and cannot pay her bills, again. As she has done many other times in the past, she e-mailed her Grandfather asking for some financial help. Here is his reply:

Sweetheart,

I am replying to your request for more money. Ashley, you know I love you dearly and am sympathetic to your financial plight. Unfortunately, times have changed. With the election of President Obama, your Grandmother and I have had to set forth a bold new economic plan of our own….the ‘Ashley Economic Plan’. Let me explain. Your grandmother and I are highly productive, wage-earning taxpayers. As you know, we have lived a comfortable life and in return have forgone many things like fancy vacations, luxury cars, etc. We have worked hard and were looking forward to retiring soon. But this plan has changed. Your president is significantly raising our personal and business taxes. He says it is so he can give our hard earned money to other people. Do you know what this means, Ashley? It means less income for us. Less income means we must cut back on many business and personal expenditures. One example is, we were forced to let go of our receptionist today. You know her. She always gave you candy when you visited my office. Did you know she worked for us for the past 18 years? I can’t afford her anymore.

That is a taste of the business side. Some personal economic effects of Obama’s new taxation policies include none other than you. You know very well that over the years your grandmother and I have given you thousands of dollars in cash, tuition assistance, food, housing, clothing, gifts, etc., etc. By your vote, you have chosen another family over ours for help. Judging from your Email requesting more money, I recommend you call 202-456-1111. That is the direct telephone number for the White House. You yourself repeatedly told me I was foolish voting Republican. You said Mr. Obama is going to be the people’s president and is going to help every American live a better life. Based upon everything you have told me and things we heard from him as he campaigned, I am sure Mr. Obama will be happy to send a check or transfer money into your checking account. Have him call me for the transaction and account numbers, which by now I know by heart.

Perhaps you now can understand what I have been saying for all my life: those who vote for the president should consider what the impact of an election will be on the nation as a whole, and not just be concerned with what they can get for themselves (welfare, etc.). What Obama voters don’t seem to realize is all of the “government’s” money he is ‘redistributing’ to illegal aliens and non-taxpaying Americans (deemed “less fortunate”) comes from tax money collected from income tax-paying families. Remember how you told me, “Only the richest of the rich will be affected”? Guess what, honey? Because of our business, your Grandmother and I are now considered to be the richest of the rich. On paper, it might look that way. But in the real world, we are far from it. But, as you said while campaigning for Obama, some people will have to carry more of the burden so all of America can prosper. You understand what that means, right? It means that raising taxes on productive people results in them having less money. Less money for everything, including granddaughters.

Congratulations on your choice for “change”. For future reference, I encourage you to attempt to add up the total value of the gifts and money you’ve received from us over the years, and compare it to what you expect to get over the next four years from Mr. Obama.

Remember, we love you dearly… but from now on you’ll need to call the number referenced above when you need help.

Good luck, sweetheart.
Love,
Grandpa

PS: How was your recent trip to Jamaica? I have never been there but I hear it is lovely this time of year.

PROFILING – Get a Clue Washington!

January 19, 2010

A lot of Americans have become so insulated from reality. Absolutely No Profiling!

Pause a moment, reflect back, and take the following multiple choice test.  These events are actual events from history. They really happened!  Do you remember?

HERE’S THE TEST

1. 1968 Bobby Kennedy was shot and killed by:

a. Superman
b. Jay Leno
c. Harry Potter
d. A Muslim male extremist between the ages of 17 and 40

2. In 1972 at the Munich Olympics, athletes were kidnapped and massacred by:

a. Olga Corbett
b. Sitting Bull
c. Arnold Schwarzenegger
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

3. In 1979, the US embassy in Iran was taken over by:

a. Lost Norwegians
b. Elvis
c. A tour bus full of 80-year-old women
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

4. During the 1980’s a number of Americans were kidnapped in Lebanon by:

a. John Dillinger
b. The King of Sweden
c. The Boy Scouts
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

5. In 1983, the US Marine barracks in Beirut was blown up by:

a. A pizza delivery boy
b. Pee Wee Herman
c. Geraldo Rivera
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

6. In 1985 the cruise ship Achille Lauro was hijacked and a 70 year old American passenger was murdered and thrown overboard in his wheelchair by:

a. The Smurfs
b. Davey Jones
c. The Little Mermaid
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

7. In 1985 TWA flight 847 was hijacked at Athens, and a US Navy diver trying to rescue passengers was murdered by:

a. Captain Kidd
b. Charles Lindberg
c. Mother Teresa
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

8. In 1988, Pan Am Flight 103 was bombed by:

a. Scooby Doo
b. The Tooth Fairy
c. The Sundance Kid
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

9. In 1993 the World Trade Center was bombed the first time by:

a. Richard Simmons
b. Grandma Moses
c. Michael Jordan
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

10. In 1998, the US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania were bombed by:

a. Mr. Rogers
b. Hillary Clinton, to distract attention from Wild Bill’s women problems
c. The World Wrestling Federation
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

11. On 9/11/01, four airliners were hijacked; two were used as missiles to take out the World Trade Centers and of the remaining two, one crashed into the US Pentagon and the other was diverted and crashed by the passengers. Thousands of people were killed by:

a. Bugs Bunny, Wiley E. Coyote, Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd
b. The Supreme Court of Florida
c. Mr. Bean
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

12. In 2002 the United States fought a war in Afghanistan against:

a. Enron
b. The Lutheran Church
c. The NFL
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

13. In 2002 reporter Daniel Pearl was kidnapped and murdered by:

a. Bonnie and Clyde
b. Captain Kangaroo
c. Billy Graham
d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40

No, I really don’t see a pattern here to justify profiling, do you? So, to ensure we Americans never offend anyone, particularly fanatics intent on killing us, airport security screeners will no longer be allowed to profile certain people… They must conduct random searches of 80-year-old women, little kids, airline pilots with proper identification, secret agents who are members of the President’s security detail, 85-year old Congressmen with metal hips, and Medal of Honor winner and former Governor Joe Foss, but leave Muslim Males between the ages 17 and 40 alone lest they be guilty of profiling.

Footnote: Fort Hood Texas,2009: another Muslim, 39 years old killed 13 people and wounded 30 some odd others. Does this fit the profile!

NOW OUR COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF IS TELLING EVERYONE THAT THE YOUNG MUSLIM THAT ATTEMPTED TO BLOW UP A NORTHWEST/DELTA JET AS IT APPROACHED DETROIT ON CHRISTMAS DAY WAS (QUOTE) “AN ISOLATED INCIDENT”.

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SH*TTING ME!  MY FRIEND’S FATHER USED TO SAY: “PLEASE DON’T PISS ON MY LEG AND TELL ME IT’S RAINING.”

We have had our American rights to enjoy an airline trip taken away because of a couple of Muslim fanatics with a death wish! We must now subject ourselves to ridiculous delays at the checkpoints, removing our shoes, belts etc.  We can no longer carry a bottle of water or a soda with us to enjoy on our flight. We can’t have shampoo or aftershave in our bag unless it’s in a microscopic bottle.  And so much for grandma and her talent for needlepoint or crocheting! No crochet hooks or 1/4″ sewing scissors – God forbid – 86-year-old granny might highjack the plane to Barstow!

If only the government agencies could only work together and share information between themselves (what a concept), instead of thinking they are so self-important, that they are the only one that can protect the public.  This includes the allied security agencies and in other countries too. This one fact alone could have prevented the Christmas incident with the tighty-whitey terrorist! I suppose next we’ll be either stripping down or being subjected to dogs sniffing everyone’s butt before boarding a flight.

When is the government going to wake up and get a clue! It’s time to call a spade, a spade! Or a terrorist a terrorist! Get over yourselves, find some cojones and quit being afraid of being called a profiler! It’s the Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40 that are the terrorists, not grandma, not the girl’s volleyball team, and certainly not the 8-year-old boy who happens to have the same name as someone on the watch list.  And the Muslim Imams that were removed from a flight for suspicious behavior; if they can’t sit in their assigned seats and be quiet during the flight and not cause a commotion, too bad! They can take a bus to their destination, or go back to whatever middle-east country they came from. We as an American people are tired of your crap. Either you behave and act in a civil manner or get the heck out of here.

To Bobby, From Santa Claus

December 23, 2009

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns… I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” she snorted…. “Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second World-famous cinnamon bun. “Where” turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything.

As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he didn’t have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

“Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.” The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn’t get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, “To Bobby, From Santa Claus” on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa’s helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus,” she whispered, “get going.” I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.  Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker’s bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were, ridiculous.  Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care. And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

Retarded Grandparents… (Humor)

December 11, 2009

(This was actually reported by a teacher)

After Christmas, a teacher asked her young pupils how they spent their holiday away from school.

One child wrote the following:

We always used to spend the holidays with Grandma and Grandpa.

They used to live in a big brick house but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Arizona…

Now they live in a tin box and have rocks painted green to look like grass. They ride around on their bicycles and wear name tags because they don’t know who they are anymore.

They go to a building called a wreck center, but they must have got it fixed because it is all okay now, they do exercises there, but they don’t do them very well.

There is a swimming pool too, but they all jump up and down in it with hats on.

At their gate, there is a doll house with a little old man sitting in it… He watches all day so nobody can escape.

Sometimes they sneak out, and go cruising in their golf carts.

Nobody there cooks, they just eat out.

And, they eat the same thing every night — early birds.

Some of the people can’t get out past the man in the doll house.

The ones who do get out, bring food back to the wrecked center for pot luck.

My Grandma says that Grandpa worked all his life to earn his retardment and says I should work hard so I can be retarded someday too…

When I earn my retardment, I want to be the man in the doll house.

Then I will let people out, so they can visit their grandchildren.

PRICELESS….
Forward to all your “retarded grandparent” friends


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