missed and hit the anthill. Ants went flying all over the place.
One ant turned to another and said, “If we are going to survive, we had
better get on the ball.”
FYI It won’t bother me a bit that David Letterman is no longer on TV. I didn’t watch him anyway – barely tolerated his commercials. I muted them and went to the fridge for a snack. I might miss the snacks though.
I was driving along and kept missing our turns. I told Katie, “I just keep missing our turns, right and left.” She just sighed.
As we Silver Surfers know, sometimes we have trouble with our computers. Yesterday, I had a problem, so I called Georgie, the 11-year-old next door, whose bedroom looks like Mission Control, and asked him to come over. Georgie clicked a couple of buttons and solved the problem.
As he was walking away, I called after him, “So, what was wrong?”
He replied, “It was an ID ten T error.”
I didn’t want to appear stupid, but nonetheless inquired, “An ID ten T error? What’s that? In case I need to fix it again.”
Georgie grinned, “Haven’t you ever heard of an ID ten T error before?”
“No,” I replied.
“Write it down,” he said, “and I think you’ll figure it out.”
So I wrote down:
Three guys are trying to sneak into the Olympic Village to scoop souvenirs and autographs. The first says, “Let’s watch the registration table to see if there’s a crack in the security system that we can utilize to scam our way in.”
Immediately, a burly athlete walks up to the table and states, “Angus MacPherson. Scotland. Shotput.” He opens his gym bag to display a shotput to the registration attendant.
The attendant says, “Very good, Mr. MacPherson. Here is your packet of registration materials, complete with hotel keys, passes to all Olympic events, meal tickets, and other information.”
HOT DOG! The first guy grabs a small tree sapling, strips off the limbs and roots, walks up the registration table and states: “Chuck Wagon. Canada. Javelin.”
The attendant says, “Very good, Mr. Wagon. Here is your packet of registration materials, hotel keys, passes, meal tickets, and so forth. Good luck!”
The second guy grabs a street utility manhole cover, walks up the registration table, and states: “Dusty Rhodes. Australia. Discus.”
The attendant says, “Terrific, Mr. Rhodes. Here is your packet of registration materials, hotel keys, a full set of passes, and meal tickets. Enjoy yourself.”
They scamper in, but suddenly realize the third guy is missing. They forgot to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid and blow their cover stories.
They spot him walking with a roll of barbed wire under his arm. He walks up the registration table and states: “Foster Bean. Hardwick, Vermont. Fencing.”