An old Wild West fort is about to be attacked. The wily old general sends for his trusty Indian scout. "You must use all your thirty years of skill in trying to estimate the sort of army we are up against here."
The trusty Indian scout lies down and puts his ear to the ground. "Heap large war party," he says, "maybe three hundred braves, four chiefs, two on black stallions, two on white stallions. All have war paint. Many many guns. Medicine man also with them."
"Good grief!" exclaims the general. "You can tell all of that just by listening to the ground?"
"No," replies the Indian, "I can see under the gate."
As the family gathered for a big dinner together, the youngest son announced that he had just signed up at an army recruiter's office.
There were audible gasps around the table, then some laughter, as his older brothers shared their disbelief that he could handle this new situation. "Oh, come on, quit joking," snickered one. "You didn't really do that, did you?"
"You would never get through basic training," scoffed another.
The new recruit looked to his mother for help, but she was just gazing at him. When she finally spoke, she simply asked, "Do you really plan to make your own bed every morning?"
As the storm raged, the captain realized his ship was sinking fast. He called out, "Anyone here know how to pray?"
One man stepped forward. "Aye, Captain, I know how to pray."
"Good," said the captain, "you pray while the rest of us put on our life jackets - we're one short."