YOU MUST FORWARD THIS NAO!

c

I just want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year. I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.




I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel or have them put lemon slices in my ice tea without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel.

I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.

I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking ones nose (although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot).

Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of trans fats I have consumed over the years.


I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.



I MUST SEND MY SPECIAL THANKS to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.




ALSO, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.



I no longer have any money, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's Novena has granted my every wish.


I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

THANKS TO YOU I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

BECAUSE OF YOUR CONCERN, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.


I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.




I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.


I no longer use Saran Wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face... disfiguring me for life.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or Fed Ex since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore , and Uzbekistan .


I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

THANKS TO YOU I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.


AND THANKS TO YOUR GREAT ADVICE I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!

I can't do any gardening because I'm afraid I'll get bitten by the brown recluse and my hand will fall off.


If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p.m. = tomorrow afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician . .



Oh, by the way.....


A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse.

Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.

A Blonde's Year in Review

January
Took new scarf back to store because it was too tight.

February
Fired from pharmacy job for failing to print labels.....
Helllloooo!!!.......bottles won't fit in printer!!!

March
Got really excited.....finished jigsaw puzzle in 6 months.....
Box said ' 2-4 years!'

April
Trapped on escalator for hours ...
Power went out!!!

May
Tried to make Kool-Aid.....wrong instructions....
8 cups of water won't fit into those little packets!!!

June
Tried to go water skiing.......
Couldn't find a lake with a slope.

July
Lost breast stroke swimming competition.....
Learned later, the other swimmers cheated, they used their arms!!!

August
Got locked out of my car in rain storm.....
Car swamped because soft-top was open.

September
The capital of California is 'C'.....isn't it???

October
Hate M & M's.....
They are so hard to peel.

November
Baked turkey for 4 1/2 days ...
Instructions said 1 hour per pound and I weigh 108!!

December

Couldn't call 911.
'Duh'.....there's no 'eleven' button on the stupid phone!!!

I used to be one.......

THE BEST BLONDE JOKE OF THE YEAR - SO FAR

A man was in his front yard mowing grass when his attractive blonde female neighbor came out of the house and went straight to the mailbox.

She opened it then slammed it shut and st ormed back in the house.

A little later she came out of her house again went to the mail box and again, opened it, slammed it shut again. Angrily, back into the house she went.

As the man was getting ready to edge the lawn, here she came out again, marched to the mail box, opened it and then slammed it closed harder than ever.

Puzzled by her actions the man asked her, 'Is something wrong?'

To which she replied, 'There certainly is!'

(Are you ready? This is a beauty....)


'My stupid computer keeps saying, 'YOU'VE GOT MAIL!'

Voice from the Funny Side

Recently, in a large city in France ,

a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym.

It said, "This summer,

do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?"

A middle-aged woman,

whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster,

responded publicly to the question

posed by the gym.


To Whom It May Concern,
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans.)

They have an active sex life,

get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp.

They play and swim in the seas,

seeing wonderful places like Patagonia ,

the Bering Sea

and the coral reefs of Polynesia .

Whales are wonderful singers

and have even recorded CDs.
They are incredible creatures

and virtually have no predators

other than humans.

They are loved, protected and admired

by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids don't exist.

If they did exist,

they would be lining up outside the offices

of Argentinean psychoanalysts

due to identity crisis. Fish or human?

They don't have a sex life

because they kill men who get close to them, not to mention how could they have sex?

Just look at them ... where is IT?

Therefore, they don't have kids either.

Not to mention,

who wants to get close to a girl who smells

like a fish store?

The choice is perfectly clear to me:

I want to be a whale.

P..S. We are in an age

when media puts into our heads

the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver, and a piece of chocolate with my friends.

With time, we gain weight

because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads

that when there is no more room,

it distributes out to the rest of our bodies.
So we aren't heavy,

we are enormously cultured,

educated and happy.
Beginning today,

when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, ¨Good grief, look how smart I am!¨

Voices from the UK

Listen to the dulcet tones of Dan Wood and his weekend morning show on Metro Radio. Free to listen, use Winamp or Windows Media Player.

Electronically Challenged Seniors

Things are spiraling out of control. I think I have become lost in a world of electronic madness.

One of my sons informed me this week that my cell phone has become obsolete and I must head down to the Cell Phone Store and get a phone that is contemporary with the time.

I pointed out that the fancy Razor/Slim line phone with camera built in that he made me trade my perfectly good flip-top Motorola cell phone for two years ago still works perfectly fine. Well, except for the camera thing. Never could figure that out.. Even the few times I actually did take pictures I couldn’t figure what to do with them and gave up.

That is except when I would push the wrong button and take a video of the ceiling or my feet.

Seems the issue is that I am unable to text with the tiny little 3-character buttons. "Hi, son," would come out looking like, "Gh, Qmo." My grandkids have even spoken to my wife about Poppa’s crazy text messages. Give me a break. Whatever happened to actually talking on a phone? Isn’t that what they were invented for?

They want me to get one of those phones that you can turn upside down and sideways and has a typewriter keyboard with keys about one-eighth the size of my pinky finger.

One of my four sons is a realtor whose real occupation is fly fishing.

"Way to go, son." Or in my text language, "Xbz um Io, rmo."

We were floating the Yakima River in his guide-quality

drift boat south of Ellensburg, Washington.

We were miles from anything remotely resembling civilization.

Rock canyon walls were on either side of us.

Bear with me as I try to explain this strange thing.

His "Blackberry" rang. It was blue and I asked him why it wasn’t called a Blueberry. He shook his head with that “dealing with an elder” despairing look I often get these days. It was another realtor who called to say that the sellers he represented had agreed to my son’s client’s changes and he had the signed documents in hand.

My son told him to FAX the papers to his office and he would get them signed and Faxed back, to close the deal that morning. A minute later the phone rang and he hit a few buttons and looked over the FAX, that was now on the Yakima River with us.

He then called his clients and told them he was Faxing the papers to them to sign and asked them to FAX them back to his office. While he was waiting, he hooked into a fat Rainbow and was just releasing this 22-inch beauty as his phone rang again with the signed FAX from his clients.

He called the other realtor and told him he was sending the signed papers back by FAX.

The deal was closed. He smiled and just said, "You are a little behind the times, Dad."

I guess I am.

I thought about the sixty-million-dollars-a-year business I ran with 1800 employees, all without a Blackberry that played music, took videos, pictures and communicated with Facebook and Twitter.

I signed up under duress for Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouses, 13 grandkids and 2 great-grand kids could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.

That was before one of my grandkids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree, Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twittererific, Tweetdeck, Twitpix and something called 'TWIT' that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program within the texting world.

My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.

The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the Blue Tooth [it’s red] phone I am supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line at Barnes and Noble, talking to my wife as everyone within 50 yards was glaring at me. Seems I have to take my hearing aid out to use it and I got a little loud.

The GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, "Re-calc-ul-ating." You would think that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Then when I would make a right turn instead, it was not good.

When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy, the GSP lady, at least she loves me.

To be perfectly frank, I'm still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house. We have had them for four years, but I still haven’t figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have to run around digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings.

The world is just getting too complex for me. They even mess me up every time I go to the grocery store. You would think they could settle on something themselves, but this sudden, "Paper or Plastic?" every time I check out just knocks me for a loop.

I bought some of those cloth re-usable bags to avoid looking confused

but never remember to take them in with me.

Now I toss it back to them. When they ask me, "Paper or Plastic?"

I just say, "Doesn’t matter to me. I am bi-sacksual."

Then it's their turn to stare at me with a blank look.

~Author, Unknown

For you, Lucya -- With Love

ARTIST: Trad and Anon
TITLE: Plastic Jesus


Well, I don't care if it rains or freezes,
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Through all trials and tribulations,
We will travel every nation,
With my plastic Jesus I'll go far.

{Refrain}
Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Through all trials and tribulations,
We will travel every nation,
With my plastic Jesus I'll go far.

I don't care if it rains or freezes
As long as I've got my Plastic Jesus
Glued to the dashboard of my car,
You can buy Him phosphorescent
Glows in the dark, He's Pink and Pleasant,
Take Him with you when you're travelling far

{Refrain}

I don't care if it's dark or scary
Long as I have magnetic Mary
Ridin' on the dashboard of my car
I feel I'm protected amply
I've got the whole damn Holy Family
Riding on the dashboard of my car

{Refrain}

You can buy a Sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
Pedestal of abalone shell
Goin' ninety, I'm not wary
'Cause I've got my Virgin Mary
Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell

{Refrain}

I don't care if it bumps or jostles
Long as I got the Twelve Apostles
Bolted to the dashboard of my car
Don't I have a pious mess
Such a crowd of holiness
Strung across the dashboard of my car

{Refrain}

No, I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
But I think he'll have to go
His magnet ruins my radio
And if we have a wreck he'll leave a scar

{Refrain}

Riding through the thoroughfare
With his nose up in the air
A wreck may be ahead, but he don't mind
Trouble coming, he don't see
He just keeps his eyes on me
And any other thing that lies behind

Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Though the sun shines on his back
Makes him peel, chip, and crack
A little patching keeps him up to par

When pedestrians try to cross
I let them know who's boss
I never blow my horn or give them warning
I ride all over town
Trying to run them down
And it's seldom that they live to see the morning

Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
His halo fits just right
And I use it as a sight
And they'll scatter or they'll splatter near and far

When I'm in a traffic jam
He don't care if I say Damn
I can let all sorts of curses roll
Plastic Jesus doesn't hear
For he has a plastic ear
The man who invented plastic saved my soul

Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Once his robe was snowy white
Now it isn't quite so bright
Stained by the smoke of my cigar

God made Christ a Holy Jew
God made Him a Christian too
Paradoxes populate my car
Joseph beams with a feigned elan
From the shaggy dash of my furlined van
Famous cuckold in the master plan

Naughty Mary, smug and smiling
Jesus dainty and beguiling
Knee-deep in the piling of my van
His message clear by night or day
My phosphorescent plastic Gay
Simpering from the dashboard of my van

When I'm goin' fornicatin
I got my ceramic Satan
Sinnin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
The women know I'm on the level
Thanks to the wild-eyed stoneware devil
Ridin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
     Sneerin' from the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
     Leering from the dashboard of my van

If I weave around at night
And the police think I'm tight
They'll never find my bottle, though they ask
Plastic Jesus shelters me
For His head comes off, you see
He's hollow, and I use Him for a flask

Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Ride with me and have a dram
Of the blood of the Lamb
Plastic Jesus is a holy bar

Voice from the Animals

Advice from a Squirrel:

Look both ways when you cross the road:

Plan ahead:

Stay Active:

Eat plenty of fiber:

Spend time in the woods:

Go out on a limb:

It's okay to be a little nuts

Voices of the Soldiers

“Merry Christmas, My Friend” by LCpl James M Schmidt, USMC, 1986

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,

In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give

and to see just who in this home did live

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,

no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.

On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,

a sobering thought soon came to my mind.

For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.

This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more,

so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.

And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,

Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,

Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.

Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?

Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.

I soon understood, this was more than a man.

For I realized the families that I saw that night,

owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,

And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,

because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,

on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.

Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.

I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,

"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice

I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more.

My life is my God, my country, my Corps."

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,

I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.

I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,

and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.

Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,

with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,

and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn't want to leave him so quiet in the night,

this guardian of honor so willing to fight.

But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,

said "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day, all secure."

One look at my watch and I knew he was right,

Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.

I think there's been a disaster.

Voices from the Past

**True Story of Rudolph**

A man named Bob May, depressed and brokenhearted, stared out his drafty apartment window into the chilling December night. His 4-year-old daughter Barbara sat on his lap quietly sobbing.

Bobs wife, Evelyn, was dying of cancer.

Little Barbara couldn't understand why her mommy could never come home. Barbara looked up into her dad's eyes and asked, "Why isn't Mommy just like everybody else's Mommy?" Bob's jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears.

Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger. It had been the story of Bob's life. Life always had to be different for Bob.

Small when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by other boys. He was too little at the time to compete in sports. He was often called names he'd rather not remember. From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed to fit in. Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and was grateful to get his job as a copywriter at Montgomery Ward during the Great Depression. Then he was blessed with his little girl. But it was all short-lived. Evelyn's bout with cancer stripped them of all their savings and now Bob and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room apartment in he Chicago slums. Evelyn died just days before Christmas in 1938.

Bob struggled to give hope to his child, for whom he couldn't even afford to buy a Christmas gift. But if he couldn't buy a gift, he was determined a make one - a storybook! Bob had created a character in his own mind and told the animal's story to little Barbara to give her comfort and hope. Again and again Bob told the story, embellishing it more with each telling.

Who was the character? What was the story all about? The story Bob May created was his own autobiography in fable form. The character he created was a misfit outcast like he was. The name of the character? A little reindeer named Rudolph, with a big shiny nose.

Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little girl on Christmas Day. But the story doesn't end there.

The general manager of Montgomery Ward caught wind of the little storybook and offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book. Wards went on to print,_ Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ and distribute it to children visiting Santa Claus in their stores. By 1946 Wards had printed and distributed more than six million copies of Rudolph. That same year, a major publisher wanted to purchase the rights from Wards to print an updated version of the book.

In an unprecedented gesture of kindness, the CEO of Wards returned all rights back to Bob May. The book became a best seller. Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May, now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy from the story he created to comfort his grieving daughter. But the story doesn't end there either.

Bob's brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song adaptation to Rudolph. Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore , it was recorded by the singing cowboy, Gene Autry. "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was released in 1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of "White Christmas."

The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter so long ago kept on returning back to bless him again and again. And Bob May learned the lesson, just like his dear friend Rudolph, that being different isn't so bad. In fact, being different can be a blessing.

Computer Roll Call

Allyson Dell Dimension 8400 P4-3000HT
Keith DIY XP2800
Troy DIY XP2100
Jennifer Gateway CX210X Tablet T2050
Blair Dell Dimension 2400 P4-2400
Maureen Dell Inspiron 3500 PII-300
Talsyn IBM ThinkPad570 PII-366
Paladin IBM ThinkPad600X PIII-500
Miss Otis HP Omnibook 500 PIII-750
Dell Dimension 4100 PIII-933
Dell Dimension 4100 PIII-733
DIY XP2600
DIY XP2100
Motherboard Only Athlon64 3400 / PC Chips M861G
Motherboard Only Socket 462
DIY K6-2/500
Elvira DIY K6-3/450
Compaq PIII-600
Epson Apex Plus 8088
Aurora Dell Latitude C600 PIII-750

Christmas Village -- 2009

Here's some photos of my Christmas Village for 2009.



The fire department is responding to "cat in tree."


The choir is singing in the village center.


The Bedford Falls Express passes by the Kellison House and Santa getting ready to stop by another home on his yearly rounds.


The Mission and the Observatory both look up into the night sky for answers.
On the left, the fire department is next door to the tavern.


Father and son scan the night sky for Santa.


An admiring audience listens to the choir singing.


The postman and the flower lady meet on the street.


Santa making a stop, kids decorating the dog's house, the deer eating the snowman's nose.


The sleigh awaits it's driver.


People stopping to visit the Manger.


Time to rescue the kitteh!


The Village from on high.


The tree store at night.


The Mission welcomes those seeking answers.


Silhouettes against the darkness.


A townhouse, the Kellison House, and a country home look cozy waiting for Santa.


Another aerial view.


Catzilla (Zee) rests by the sledders after another romp through the Village.

Consumer Protection Infomation

The Consumer Action Website has the addresses, phone numbers and web sites for City, County and State consumer protection agencies. If you are haivng a problem with an item and the manufacturer won't help, this is the place to go for further info.

Windows 7 Keyboard shortcuts

These are from the Windows Secrets newsletter. If you run Windows, you need to be on this newsletter. Sign up at WindowsSecrets.com

Win7's Windows-key combinations speed up opening system tools, navigating between files and apps, and performing other common tasks. (Note that many of these shortcuts work in XP and Vista as well.)

• Win+Pause: Displays the System Control Panel applet.
  
• Win+D: Shows the desktop.
  
• Win+Spacebar: Shows the desktop without minimizing open windows (Aero Peek).
  
• Win+E: Opens Windows Explorer with Computer selected.
  
• Win+F: Opens a Search window for finding files or folders.
  
• Win+Ctrl+F: Opens a Search window for finding computers on a network.
  
• Win+G: Cycles through Gadgets (if any are installed).
  
• Win+L: Locks your computer or switches users.
  
• Win+M: Minimizes all windows.
  
• Win+Shift+M: Restores minimized windows.
  
• Win+P: Chooses a presentation display mode.
  
• Win+R: Opens the Run dialog box.
  
• Win+T: Cycles through and previews programs on the taskbar.
  
• Win+U: Opens the Ease of Access Center (Utility Manager in XP).
  
• Win+X: Opens the Windows Mobility Center (which isn't installed by default on desktop PCs).
  
• Win+(numbers 1 to 5): Starts the program pinned to the taskbar in the position indicated by the number. If the program is already running, it switches to that program.
  
• Win+Shift+(numbers 1 to 5): Starts a new instance of the program pinned to the taskbar in the position indicated by the number.
  
• Win+Ctrl+(numbers 1 to 5): Switches to the last active window of the program pinned to the taskbar in the position indicated by the number.
  
• Win+Alt+(numbers 1 to 5): Opens the Jump List of recently accessed items for the program pinned to the taskbar in the position indicated by the number.
  
• Win+Tab: Cycles through open programs by using Aero Flip 3-D. (You must have Aero working; Win7 Home Basic and Starter don't use Aero.)
  
• Win+Ctrl+Tab and then Left or Right Arrow: Opens Aero Flip 3-D to cycle through open programs.
  
• Win+Ctrl+B: Switches to the program that displayed a message in the notification area.
  
• Ctrl+click: Pressing Ctrl while clicking a taskbar icon will scroll through multiple windows of that icon's application.
  
• Win+Up Arrow: Maximizes the window.
  
• Win+Left Arrow: Docks the active window to the left half of the screen.
  
• Win+Right Arrow: Docks the active window to the right half of the screen.
  
• Win+Down Arrow: Minimizes the window.
  
• Win+Shift+Up Arrow: Stretches the window to the top and bottom of the screen.
  
• Win+Shift+Left or Right Arrow: Moves the window from one monitor to another.
  
• Win+Home: Minimizes all but the active window.

Joke Time

A man was leaving a convenience store with his morning coffee when he
noticed a most unusual funeral procession approaching the nearby
cemetery
~
A long black hearse was followed by a second long black hearse about 50 feet behind the first one.
Behind the second hearse was a solitary man walking a dog on a leash.
~
Behind him, a short distance back, were about 200 men walking single file.
~
The man couldn't stand the curiosity. He respectfully approached the man

walking the dog and said, 'I am so sorry for your loss, and this may be

a bad time to disturb you, but I've never seen a funeral like this. Whose funeral is it?'
'My wife's.
~
''What happened to her?'
The man replied, 'My dog attacked and killed her'
~
He inquired further, 'But who is in the second hearse?'
The man answered, 'My mother-in-law. She was trying to help my wife
when the dog turned on her.'
~
A poignant and thoughtful moment of silence passed between the two men.
~
'Can I borrow the dog?'
~
The man replied, 'Get in line.'

Voices from the Inside

MENTAL HOSPITAL PHONE MENU

Hello and thank you for calling The State Mental Hospital.

Please select from the following options menu:

If you are obsessive-compulsiv e, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want, stay on
the line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be forwarded to the
Mother Ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell
you which number to press.

If you are manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press,
nothing will make you happy anyway.

If you are dyslexic, press 9696969696969696.

If you are bipolar, please leave a message after the beep or before
the beep or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term
memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up our operators are too busy
to talk with you.

If you are menopausal, put the gun down, hang up, turn on the fan, lie
down and cry. You won't be crazy forever.

If you are blonde, don't press any buttons, you'll just mess it up.

This coming week is National Mental Health Care week You can do your
part by remembering to contact at least one unstable person to show
you care.