Pot of gold

Flash!
Stop! Stop everything! I know where the gold is!
It looks like it is buried in my garden, at the end of the rainbow that miraculously appeared yesterday.

IMG_9386 - Version 2

The leprechauns haunting my garden must have stashed their gold coins in my backyard, and all I need to do is to negotiate with them what is my fair share of the loot
Because possession is nine-tenths of the law, isn’t it? It is in my garden therefore what’s buried in it belongs to me. That’s what my Tinsel Town lawyer told me.

Even if they were not keen on sharing their gold with me, I could trap one of these little guys and in exchange for his freedom I could demand three wishes.
Because if ever captured by a human, the Leprechaun has the magical power to grant three wishes in exchange for their release. That’s the law.

Now, what would I do with my three wishes? Difficult question!

I would have to be very careful because once granted, wishes cannot be rescinded.
So what could I wish for? I am handsome, smart, talented, charming… What could a guy like me possibly want?
Broads? Booze? Boules?
Nah…

I could wish for making that *#&@* Fiskal Kliff fall off the surface of the earth.
I could wish for transforming all the guns of the world into spaghetti.
I could wish for transforming all hate-peddlers into comedians. In spite of themselves they could not help telling jokes and making people laugh.

So, what am I going to do may you ask?
Well, I am not going to tell you. For to come true, wishes cannot be divulged.

But you better be nice to me because if you cross me I could unload a nasty spell on you.
On the other hand, if you want to curry my favors, let it be known that I am fond of suckling pigs, Parma Hams and goose “rillettes”.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Alain

The gun problem in the US

There are not enough guns in circulation in the US. We must add some more.
This is in effect what Wayne LaPierre (French for Wayne the Stone) executive vice president of the National Rifle Association is saying.

To solve America’s killing epidemics we need to put armed guards just about everywhere. Especially in schools.
“The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun,” Mr. LaPierre said to reporters Friday.

School children will be required to wear body armor (helmets too) and be kept from harm by pistol packing mamas. Rocket Propelled Grenades might also be kept in schools’ arsenals.
It is only when everybody is armed to the teeth that killing epidemics will stop.

We should also start building personal bunkers and surround our properties with barbed wires and minefields.
We should all start to wear uniforms to distinguish us from the bad guys.
Black for the bad guys and white for the good guys.

And who is going to be in charge? Militias of course.

“A well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

Thank God for our good old Second Amendment. But shouldn’t you belong to a registered militia to have the right to bear arms?

And what about people who don’t like guns? What are we going to do with these bad Americans, these losers?
I suggest that we put them in internment camps, like our leaders did with the Japanese in World War Two.

Peace loving Americans should look up to the Afghanistan tribal areas where everybody carries guns and where nobody is killed, except  for good reasons. Like the audacity of some wenches who have the insolence to demand education.
Everybody knows that women should be kept barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen!

Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) said:

First they came for the communists, 
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a communist.
Then they came for the socialists, 
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, 
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a trade unionist.
Then they came for me, 
and there was no one left to speak for me.

And when the gun-wielding psychos will come for you, there will be nobody to speak for you.

Stop this insanity and shame your legislators into toughening our pathetically lax gun control laws.

Alain

 

Le rire

Après la paix, ce dont un homme a le plus besoin c’est le rire.
Le rire, ce don des Dieux, aide l’homme à endurer les situations les plus difficiles.
J’ai lu qu’en France, même sous l’Occupation Nazie les Français riaient. Ils riaient peut-être jaune, mais ils riaient quand même car le rire  est souvent un mécanisme d’autodéfense contre le désespoir.

TorquemadaSouvenez vous qu’un homme qui ne rit pas est un homme à craindre. Voir Torquemada et Hitler.

Défiez vous des personnes austères, car ce sont souvent des gens aigris (faute de rire bien sûr) qui bouillent d’une rage intérieure et qui un jour ou l’autre s’en prendront aux personnes qui les entourent.

Méfiez vous également des politiciens constipés qui pointent un doigt accusateur. Ils cherchent un bouc émissaire pour masquer leurs carences, et ce bouc bien souvent vous ressemblera.

Sans le rire, l’homme ne se différencie pas des animaux, quoique il me soit souvent arrivé de penser que certains animaux savent rire et qu’ils rient en secret de la folie des hommes.

Si vous voulez être heureux, cultivez le rire et vous récolterez le bonheur.
Pour avoir du charme, une femme n’a pas besoin d’être extrêmement belle, il suffit qu’elle sache rire.
Si vous voulez vivre vieux et être aimé, riez !

Pour terminer en riant, une petite histoire envoyée par mon compère Jacques Gautier.

Cela se passe dans une cuisine, tĂ´t le matin.
Madame, dans un peignoir lĂ©gèrement entrouvert, s’affaire Ă  prĂ©parer des oeufs Ă  la coque pour le petit dĂ©jeuner de Monsieur.
Monsieur passe tout près d’elle et l’effleure par inadvertance; elle se tourne alors vers lui et lui dit:
«Fais-moi l’amour, lĂ  de suite !».
Le gars se dit que c’est une journĂ©e pas comme les autres.
 Il embrasse sa femme, la retourne sur la table de la cuisine et lui fait son affaire illico-presto.
A peine terminĂ©, Madame remet un peu d’ordre Ă  sa tenue et retourne tranquillement vers ses oeufs qui cuisent.
Le mari toujours sous le charme la prend dans ses bras et lui demande :
“Qu’est-ce qui t’a pris comme ça, d’un coup ?”
“Oh rien chĂ©ri, le minuteur est cassĂ© !!!

Pour vos étrennes, à défaut de gros sous, je vous envoie à tous une grosse gerbe de rires! Partagez la avec vos amis.

Alain