When we were visiting the library recently, a voice came over the public address system.

“The library will be closing in 23 minutes,” the voice informed us, “please bring your materials to the checkout desk now.”

My son, Joe, sensing the urgency in the PA announcer’s voice, said, “Mom, we have to check out now.”

“I’m looking for a book.  We’ll go in a minute,” I replied.

“But Mom....” Joe sputtered, “it said we have to go now!”

His older brother John reminded him, “Joe, you’re supposed to obey your mother, not the voice in the ceiling.”

Submitted by Lynn Silva

Additional reviews of Mischief from the Back Pew

Sometimes we like to sit down with our dad and discuss the differences between our careers. He is a pastor. We are comedians/humorists (Jedd at major comedy clubs nationwide, Todd at car wash openings and “celebrity roasts” for assistant managers at local fast-food outlets).

Dad tells us that he sometimes envies the comedy club atmosphere—the energy, and the fact that you usually get lots of free popcorn. He’s often fantasized about showing up for open-mike night at a comedy club, billed as “The Reverend of Revelry” or “The Vicar of Snickers.” Dad’s fantasy got us wondering: What would church be like if it were run like a comedy club? ...

[Booming voice of head deacon/elder]

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Buffalo Baptist Church! Please keep your pew conversations low and your spirituality high, because it’s time to be holy and happy! (And please observe the two-offering minimum.)

“You all know our feature act for this morning. You’ve seen him at Wednesday Night Bible Study and the weekly Elders’ Meeting. And you’ve probably seen him mowing the church lawn in sandals, black socks, and powder-blue polyester shorts. Let’s give it up for The Minister of Mirth—The Reverend Dellllll Haaaaaaa-fer!”

[Rocking intro music by organist]

“Helloooooo, Buffalo! How is everybody doing this morning? Let me tell you, it’s good to be here. And hey, let’s give it up for Florence “Backbeat” Schneider on the organ! By the way, Florence, Elton John called. He wants his suit back! Hey, just kiddin’, Flo! I love ya! Wow, it’s great to see my four sons in the congregation today. And to think that some pastors have only ONE pair of loafers!

“Okay, then. Enough about the usual suspects. Any people here from out of town?

“You all know our feature act for this morning. You’ve seen him mowing the church lawn in sandals, black socks, and powder-blue polyester shorts.”

“Great—the family in the front row. Where are you folks from? Texas, eh. Well, let me make you feel at home: Burrrrrrp! [loud belch] Nah, really, I’m just kidding. It’s great to have you here. You know, I just got back in town myself. I was at a district meeting for the Northwestern Baptist Convention. Boy, talk about a room full of stiffs! At first I thought I’d made a mistake and gone to the Arthritis Convention! Let me tell you, these people make Al Gore look like Little Richard!

“It was interesting, though—there was another convention in town the same week. It was a gathering of the Christian Men Without Thumbs. Anyway, they took a vote and everyone agreed—Amy Grant is definitely an ‘8.’

“Hey, are you people awake? [pounds on mike] Is this thing on? Are you an audience or an oil painting? Ha-ha-ha! Don’t make me come down there and ‘smite thee’! Anyway, I’ve been reading my Bible, and how about those Israelites, huh? You know why they wandered for forty years in the wilderness? All the men were too stubborn to stop and ask for directions! Am I right, ladies? Can I get a witness? And speaking of Israelites, that Moses was an interesting character, wasn’t he? I can just imagine him arguing with his wife: ‘Honey, why must I make all the sacrifices in this family?’

“Hey, look, I see a family just sliding into the back pew. Can I get you folks anything ... like a watch?!

“I have to tell you, I love this church. It’s a lot better than the one I grew up in. What a strict, fear-filled church. They had a sign on their lawn that said ‘BEWARE OF GOD.’ You want to talk uptight? The stair railings were made of OVER-wrought iron! And those people believed in giving till it hurts. Unfortunately for our pastor, they had a very low pain tolerance. Oh, somebody stop me!

“Hey, you’ve been great! But I see it’s almost time for the elders’ meeting. You don’t want to cross those guys. They make Clint Eastwood look like Mister Rogers. This is a group of guys who never saw a horse so dead that it didn’t deserve one more good beating! Ha! Just kidding. I love you guys. Really. Thanks for helping me make money the old-fashioned way. My salary is the same as it was back in 1968!

“So, anyway, you’ve been a great congregation—thank you very much! Remember, I’m here every weekend—two shows, 8:30 and 11 a.m. Okay, I’m outta here! Good morning, everybody!”

------------------------------------------------
Excerpted from:
Mischief from the Back Pew
Copyright © 2003, Todd & Jedd Hafer
ISBN: 0764228005
Published by Bethany House Publishers
Used by permission. Unauthorized duplication prohibited.

"Mommy, I’m trying not to be bad, but bad is too much fun”

-- a 5 year old’s perspective.

Movies are moving...when the producers get it right!

Movie: Forrest Gump (1994)
Scene: In a sequence set around 1970, someone is shown reading a copy of USA Today.
Blooper: The newspaper wasn’t created until 1982

Movie: Camelot (1967)
Scene: King Arthur (Richard Harris) expounds on the joys of his mythical kingdom.
Blooper: The 6th century king has a 20th-century Band-Aid on the back of his neck.

Movie: Wild Wild West (1999)
Scene: After thwarting the plans of the evil Loveless (Kenneth Branagh), Jim West (Will Smith) and Artemus Gordon (Kevin Kline) ride off into the sunset heading back to Washington, D. C.
Blooper: A romantic notion, but impossible: Washington is in the east and the sun sets in the west.

From Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader 14th Edition

HUMPTY DUMPTY’S MOTHER:
Humpty, If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times not
to sit on that wall. But would you listen to me? Noooo!

MICHELANGELO’S MOTHER:
Mike, can’t you paint on walls like other children? Do you have
any idea how hard it is to get that stuff off the ceiling?

NAPOLEON’S MOTHER:
All right, Napoleon. If you aren’t hiding your report card inside
your jacket, then take your hand out of there and prove it!

CUSTER’S MOTHER:
Now, George, remember what I told you—don’t go biting off
more than you can chew!

ABRAHAM LINCOLN’S MOTHER:
Again with the stovepipe hat, Abe? Can’t you just wear a baseball
cap like the other kids?

ALBERT EINSTEIN’S MOTHER:
But, Albert, it’s your senior picture. Can’t you do something
about your hair? Styling gel, mousse, something...?

GEORGE WASHINGTON’S MOTHER:
The next time I catch you throwing money across the Potomac, you
can kiss your allowance good-bye!

JONAH’S MOTHER:
That’s a nice story, but now tell me where you’ve really been
for the last three days.

SUPERMAN’S MOTHER:
Clark, your father and I have discussed it, and we’ve decided
you can have your own telephone line. Now will you quit spending
so much time in all those phone booths?

THOMAS EDISON’S MOTHER:
Of course I’m proud that you invented the electric light bulb,
Thomas. Now turn off that light and get to bed!

from Parenting Funnies
Submitted by MemLok

You may be older… but are you wiser?

Now that I’m ‘older’ (but refuse to grow up), here’s what I’ve discovered:

1.  I started out with nothing, and I still have most of it.

2.  My wild oats have turned into prunes and All Bran.

3.  I finally got my head together; now my body is falling apart..

4.  Funny, I don’t remember being absent minded....

4.  Funny, I don’t remember being absent minded....

5.  All reports are in; life is now officially unfair.

6.  If all is not lost, where is it?

7.  It is easier to get older than it is to get wiser.

8.  Some days you’re the dog; some days you’re the hydrant.

9.  I wish the buck stopped here; I sure could use a few…

10. Kids in the back seat cause accidents.

11. Accidents in the back seat cause kids.

12. It’s hard to make a comeback when you haven’t been anywhere.

13. The only time the world beats a path to your door is when you’re in the bathroom.

14. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would have put them on my knees.

15. When I’m finally holding all the cards, why does everyone decide to play chess?

16. It’s not hard to meet expenses.... they’re everywhere.

17. The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.

18. These days, I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter..... I go somewhere to get something and then wonder what I’m here after.

19. I AM UNABLE TO REMEMBER IF I HAVE POSTED THIS TO TELEJOKE.COM OR NOT!

20. Funny, I don’t remember being absent minded....

"God grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones I do, and the eyesight to tell the difference.”

Let’s hope the Lord honors this one!—Editors

I doubt if I’ll ever forget it. It was one of those images that burn in your memory like a scene from a low-budget horror film. I couldn’t sleep for days, and if I’ve ever been certain of anything, I’m certain of this: I never want to see it again.

It was early in the morning, an ordinary day—nothing much planned except a business meeting I had to attend in about an hour.

I curled my hair with my curling iron just as I do every morning, then began to brush it out. Having read somewhere that brushing your hair upside down gives it more body, I decided to give it a try. Fat hair should be everyone’s goal in life, right? So I bent over and brushed ... and brushed ... and brushed. I could feel my hair thickening with each stroke. Not being able to resist the temptation, I turned my head to the side and peeked at the mirror. I caught a glimpse of my hefty hair in all of its glory all right, but I also saw something else. I hadn’t bargained for this. It was a complete shock. To this day it sends shivers up and down my spine.

What the “Ambassador of Obese Hair” forgot to mention about upside-down brushing was the fact that a woman over the age of forty should never look at herself in the mirror with her head down. If you’re over forty and you bend over, all forty years bend with you, believe me. Gravity kicks in, and every fold of skin that has ever thought about becoming a wrinkle suddenly gets its wish. Your hair may look great, but your face looks like Methuselah’s mother on her second week without sleep—during allergy season.

This is why when an older movie star is interviewed she tilts her head back in an unnatural position. Notice this the next time you see one on a talk show. Her head is tipped back so far you could give her a sinus exam. No doubt she’s had the experience I had the day I bent over and then looked in the mirror. Stephen King may have gotten his inspiration for his last three novels after doing this himself.

I don’t recall this phenomenon occurring when I was younger. I could bend over and tie a shoe, bend over and scratch my leg, bend over and take the dishes out of the dishwasher, and my skin stayed pretty much in place. I’m sure I could look at myself in the mirror upside down or right side up and know beyond a shadow of a doubt who I was.

But the person I saw that day was someone else entirely. Someone who looked about fifty years older and a lot scarier than the right-side-up version. Thus, I’ve decided to stick with my anorexic hair.

I suppose it has something to do with the law of gravity. Gravity affects our whole body, skin included, and there’s not much we can do about it. Areas that used to hold their own now seem to be falling faster than the stock market after an interest hike. Gravity affects men and women alike. It strikes people of every race, creed, and regional setting. You may be a northerner, but by the time you hit middle age, your body will be heading south.

For all its negative effects on the body, though, gravity does have its advantages. For one thing, it’s what keeps us from floating off into outer space. And since there aren’t any outlet stores on Mars, that’s a good thing.

I can’t retire. Who’d support my mom and dad?
—George Burns
------------------------------------------------
Excerpted from:
Didn’t My Skin Used to Fit?
Copyright © 2000, Martha Bolton
ISBN: 0764221841
Published by Bethany House Publishers
Used by permission. Unauthorized duplication prohibited.

Twenty-five years ago a guy named Jerry taught me that the secret to really great barbecued food is simply this: Never clean the grill.

“Honest,” he said as he observed my wrinkled brow. “The flavor builds up on the metal, and as a bonus you get to avoid the messy job of getting all that grease off the grill.”

You’ll never read this helpful tip in Better Homes & Gardens magazine. But I have been following Jerry’s advice for more than two decades now, and I can personally attest to the fact that not cleaning the grill takes a lot less time than cleaning the grill. However, my grill has developed a nasty habit of erupting into flames moments after I ignite the propane. (Oddly, Jerry always seemed to have this problem as well.)

On one occasion, my neighbors called the fire department to report that a flaming meteorite had apparently crashed into the Meurer’s backyard—smack into a pile of pork ribs.

Many forest fires emit less smoke than my barbecue grill. Hostile researchers have begun to blame me for global warming.

“Why don’t you just clean it sometime?!!” Dale shouted one day above the roar of the flames as I sprayed water on the bellowing conflagration.

“You lose the flavor!” I called back to her through the smoke.

Confession time: for many years now, I have suspected that Jerry was wrong. Actually, to be perfectly honest, I am certain he was wrong. I think he was just looking for a minimally plausible reason to get out of cleaning a sooty, greasy grill. But because he gave me a reasonably decent excuse to avoid a task I’d prefer to avoid anyway, I have been clutching to his words like barnacles seize to the bottom of a boat.

Isn’t it amazing how we will kid ourselves, and even outright lie to ourselves, to have our own way?

Sometimes it starts out as wishful thinking—“Hey, it could be true”—but even when we suspect that the facts are otherwise, we often continue to believe what we want to believe. And we don’t just do this about fairly inconsequential issues like scrubbing a grill. Against a mountain of evidence to the contrary, we often hold on to all kinds of myths, because the myths frequently require less from us than the truth.

I recently heard a caller on a radio talk show who was hopping mad when she discovered that her son had been smoking pot with a friend for months in the friend’s house.

“Where were the friend’s parents?” asked the talk show host.

“Upstairs,” replied the unamused mom. “They said they had no idea.”

“They didn’t want to know,” replied the host.

And that is probably the case. For crying out loud, even Helen Keller would have at least smelled the stuff wafting up the stairs.

Parents lie to themselves about their kids because the truth is much more burdensome to deal with. Who needs the hassle of reality when denial is as close as the TV remote control or a cold beer in the fridge?

Wives will lie to themselves about their alcoholic husbands, and husbands will do the same about their wives’ excessive use of diet pills. Church people will lie to themselves about the multiple signs that their pastor is unfaithful to his wife. We’ll even lie to ourselves about our favorite president, because we want the myth of leadership if we can’t have the real thing.

Some of us have even been known to lie to ourselves about physics.

A few years ago, after procrastinating for weeks, I finally reached the last valid day of my burn permit for leaves and branches and assorted garden debris. I was raking and piling everything into a huge mound when I noticed ominous clouds moving in. It was looking suspiciously like rain. I was piling on the last few branches when a drop of water hit my nose.

The race was on.

I dashed to the garage to grab the bottle of charcoal lighter fluid and found it was virtually empty. DRAT!

I looked wildly around as the telltale tapping of rain sounded on the roof of the garage. The only flammable substance I could find was gasoline.

I grabbed the gas can and matches and ran toward the burn pile, but even as I ran I had a distinct recollection of my sixth grade science teacher telling us that gas fumes are heavier than air and they hug the ground as you fill up your car and that is why if someone tosses a cigarette down at a gas station the entire place could blow up.

“Fortunately, I don’t smoke,” I said to myself.

Plus, I would only use a little.

The rain increased.

Well, maybe just a quart.

I reasoned that I could dump the gasoline on the pile really fast, then stand waaaaay back before the fumes had time to spread out. It couldn’t be all that risky, and I needed to beat the rain before it really picked up or I would be stuck with the unsightly pile of debris until the next burn season.

So I doused the pile with gas, then stood back about eight feet and flicked a match.

If you have ever seen one of those old army films they made back in the 1950s when they still did above-ground nuclear bomb detonations, you’ll have a rough idea of what happened next, only with less radioactivity.

The flames roared outward with a huge “FOOOMP,” hugging the ground and surrounding me in vivid orange heat. The hair on my arms curled up and disappeared. Before I could even take a step back, the air rushed back into the pile and sucked burning leaves into the rising column of flames.

Quickly recovering my wits, I managed to stand there and shriek, “GAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!”

Dale took the matches away from me for an entire year.

Petty retaliation is so unbecoming to women. As if the loss of my eyebrows wasn’t punishment enough. For weeks concerned strangers in store aisles looked at me with the same pity they showed to chemotherapy patients.

The really terrible thing about this incident was that deep down I knew it was inherently dangerous. Assuring yourself, “Oh, it’ll be OK,” does not quite rise to the level of peer-reviewed science.

Reality is not dictated by what we wish were true.

Jesus once said, “You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” Fundamentally He was speaking about spiritual truth and specifically about the freedom that comes from knowing Him for who He really is. But I think His words have a broader application to all aspects of our life.

Quite simply, we need to look the truth in the face and believe it, no matter how unwelcome it may be. Jesus never said the truth would be easy, only liberating. Truth is often difficult, awkward, inconvenient, and demanding. But it is still the truth.

Any counselor or psychiatrist worth his degree will tell you that much mental illness, self-destructive behavior, and even uncontrolled flames stem from people trying to avoid the truth.

So let us embrace the truth, whatever the cost.

For some of us, that resolution will mean cleaning the barbecue grill for the first time since our national bicentennial. It could also mean a painful conversation with a loved one. It could mean a brutally honest confession to God. But in every case, it ultimately means freedom.

Study Guide Questions
1. Yes, my eyebrows have grown back.

2. Have you ever done something that stupid with flames? Discuss in your small group and invite your children to listen.

3. I recently read a newspaper account about a guy who used gasoline in an attempt to “restart” the embers in his wood stove. I think the fire department was able to salvage at least part of his home. On the downside, I believe his wife also took away his match privileges. What is it about women that makes them so uptight about these little learning episodes?

4. Do you ever find yourself deliberately avoiding any unpleasant truths?

------------------------------------------------
Excerpted from:
“OUT ON A WHIM: A Somewhat Useful Guide to Marriage, Family, Culture, God and Flammable Household Appliances” by Dave Meurer
Copyright © 2001, Dave Meurer
ISBN: 0764225456
Published by Bethany House Publishers
Used by permission. Unauthorized duplication prohibited.

An Amish boy and his father were in a mall. They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny, silver walls that could move apart and then slide back together again.

The boy asked, “What is this Father?” The father (never having seen an elevator) responded, “Son, I have never seen anything like this in my life, I don’t know what it is.”

While the boy and his father were watching with amazement, a fat old lady in a wheel chair moved up to the moving walls and pressed a button.  The walls opened and the lady rolled between them into a small room. The walls closed and the boy and his father watched the small circular numbers above the walls light up sequentially. They continued to watch until it reached the last number and then the numbers began to light in the reverse order.

Finally the walls opened up again and a gorgeous 24-year-old blonde stepped out. The father, not taking his eyes off the young woman, said quietly to his son . . .

“Go get your mother.”

Two blondes were playing golf at a foggy par three, and could see the flag, but not the green.

Each hit their ball anyway. When they walked to the green, they discovered one about three feet from the cup, while the other somehow had gone directly in. 

They tried to figure out which ball belonged to who, since they were both using Titleist number threes.

Unable to decide, they returned to the Club House and asked the golf pro for a ruling. 

After hearing their story and congratulating them both on their superb shots under such adverse conditions he asked, ‘OK, so who was playing the yellow ball ?’

In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual label instructions on consumer goods.

On a Sear’s hairdryer:
Do not use while sleeping.

(dang, and that’s the only time I have to work on my hair).

On a bag of Fritos:
You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside.

(the shoplifter special)?

On a bar of Dial soap:
“Directions: Use like regular soap.”

(and that would be how???....)

On some Swanson frozen dinners:
“Serving suggestion: Defrost.”

(but, it’s “just” a suggestion).

On Tesco’s Tiramisu dessert (printed on bottom): 
“Do not turn upside down.”

(well...duh, a bit late, huh)!

On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding:
“Product will be hot after heating.”

(...and you thought????...)

On packaging for a Rowenta iron:
“Do not iron clothes on body.”

(but wouldn’t this save me more time)?

On Boot’s Children Cough Medicine:
“Do not drive a car or operate achinery after taking this medication.”

(We could do a lot to reduce the rate of construction accidents if we could just get those 5-year-olds with head-colds off those forklifts.)

On Nytol Sleep Aid:
“Warning: May cause drowsiness.”

(and...I’m taking this because???....)

On most brands of Christmas lights:
“For indoor or outdoor use only.”

(as opposed to...what)?

On a Japanese food processor:
“Not to be used for the other use.”

(now, somebody out there, help me on this. I’m a bit curious.)

On Sunsbury’s peanuts:
“Warning: contains nuts.”

(talk about a news flash)

On an American Airlines packet of nuts:
“Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts.”

(Step 3: maybe, uh...fly Delta?)

On a child’s superman costume:
“Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly.”

(I don’t blame the company. I blame the parents for this one.)

Originally submitted by Anne Lowell