As Fathers Day approaches, celebrated in Oz on the first Sunday in September (3rd Sunday in June in the US and the UK), what better theme for Funny Friday than fathers.
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In honour of the day and my wife’s father, Noel, one of my favourite peeps, here is a story about him reprinted from Bytes on 25 June 2011. Sadly, Margaret is no longer with us but Noel’s story (as I said in that earlier post) has a salutary lesson for us all . . .
My mother in law, Margaret, has recently been in hospital with quite a severe spinal injury after taking a spill. She is home now and doing a lot better.
When Margaret was in hospital, Noel was making daily trips to and fro, trying as best as he could to look after Margaret’s hospital needs, home, business matters and also their cat, Pushkin.
One evening when the day’s activities and tasks had been completed and Noel was finally able to make himself some dinner, the house telephone rang. Notwithstanding that he had things on the stove and concerned that it might be the hospital, having been promised a call from Margaret’s specialist, he made his way to the phone and answered. An Indian voice started a sales pitch, the call being from a call centre operator trying to get him to change his phone plan.
Noel is a polite man in his mid 80's who grew up in an age when swear words were only found in the pub and in banned D H Lawrence books.
He politely declined and terminated the call.
Twice more this happened, each time when he was back at the stove.
When the telephone rang the fourth time and he answered, an Indian voice introduced himself.
By this time, Noel had had enough. He said “Look, FUCK OFF!” and hung up.
He found out the next day that Margaret’s specialist, a man of Indian background, had rung the house to speak with Margaret’s husband and that a male voice had told him to “Fuck off”.
Noel was too embarrassed to ring the specialist and too frightened of Margaret to tell her what had happened.
Noel at the nursery in Canberra
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Some of the following items are also reposts from earlier Bytes, oldies but goodies about fathers.
Warning, there is some risqué content . . .
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Old man Moskowitz was getting along in years. He decided to retire and let his 3 sons run the company (which manufactured a wide variety of nails). The sons thought they could increase market-share with some judicious billboard advertising.
Only a week later the old man was taking his usual Sunday drive in the country when he saw the first billboard ad. There it was - a picture of Christ on the Cross, with the caption: "Nails for Every Purpose. Use Moskowitz Nails."
The old man immediately met with his 3 sons to voice his concern. He explained that the backlash could be horrendous. The company could be ruined. The sons agreed to discontinue that ad.
A week later the old man was again taking his usual Sunday drive when he saw the second billboard ad. There it was - - a picture of the same cross, empty, with the caption: "Next Time Use Moskowitz Nails."
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As a continuation from the above, I don't know if the following ad is real but there Diamond nail guns do exist . . .
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An old father living alone in the country wanted to plant his pepper garden, but the ground was too hard and he was too old to do the work. His only son who use to help him was in prison for robbing a bank. The old man wrote a letter to his son and mentioned his situation: "Dear Jake, I've been very depressed lately because it looks like I won't be able to plant my peppers this year. You know how much your mother loved planting peppers this time of year, but I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would have been over. I know you would have been happy to dig the plot for me. Love, Dad."
A few days later he received a letter from his son: "Dear Dad, Don't dig up that garden! That's where I buried the THINGS! Love, Jake."
At 4am the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area looking for the THINGS. They apologized to the old man after not finding anything and left.
The next day the old man received another letter from his son. "Dear Dad, Happy Fathers Day! Go ahead and plant your peppers now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances. Love, Jake."
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You know that classic oldie about how Native Americans get their names. . .
A Native American lad asks the tribe’s chief how he names the tribe’s children. “When a papoose is born,” says the chief, “I enter the teepee and hold the child in my arms, then I walk outside and the first thing I see is what I name that child. That is why your brother is named Lone Eagle and your sister is Moonlight on Water. Why do you ask, Two Dogs Fucking?”
I came across a reference to a possible source for that joke, a book called Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett. Even if that book is not the origin of the joke, the variation in the book on the classic joke is quite witty:
"Why are you called One-Man-Bucket?"
"...In my tribe we're traditionally named after the first thing my father sees when she looks out of the tepee after the birth. It's short for One-Man-Pouring-a-Bucket-of-Water-Over-Two-Dogs."
"That's pretty unfortunate."
"It's not too bad. It was my twin brother you had to feel sorry for. He looked out ten seconds before me to give him his name."
"Don't tell me, let me guess. Two-Dogs-Fighting?"
"Two-Dogs-Fighting? Two-Dogs-Fighting? Wow, he would have given his right arm to be called Two-Dogs-Fighting."
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Gallery:
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Corn Corner:
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Son: For $20, I’ll be good.
Dad: Oh, yeah? When I was your age, I was good for nothing.
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Dear Dad,
$chool i$ great. I’m making lot$ of friend$ and $tudying hard. I $imply can’t think of anything I need, $o ju$t $end me a card, a$ I would love to hear from you.
Love, Your $on
Dear Son,
I kNOw astroNOmy, ecoNOmics and oceaNOgraphy are eNOugh to keep even an hoNOr student busy. Do NOt forget that the pursuit of kNOwledge is a NOble task, and you can never study eNOugh.
Love, Dad
