Bob was sitting on the plane at Cleveland waiting to fly to Chicago, when a guy took the seat beside him. The guy was an emotional wreck, pale hands shaking in fear.
"What's the matter, afraid of flying?" Bob asked.
"No, it's not that. I've been transferred to Chicago. The people are crazy there, right? Lots of shootings, gangs, race riots, drugs, poor schools, and the highest crime rate in the USA."
Bob replied, "I've lived in Chicago all my life. It's not as bad as the media says. Find a nice home, go to work, mind your own business, and enroll your kids in a nice private school. I've worked there for 14 years and never had the slightest trouble."
The guy relaxed and stopped shaking and said, "Oh, thank you. I've been worried to death, but if you've lived and worked there all those years and say its OK, I'll take your word for it. What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a tail gunner on a Budweiser truck..."
Dave irritated everyone in our office. Whether it was the tone of his voice or his condescending attitude, we all steered clear.
He must have suspected he was annoying because he asked a co-worker, "Why does everybody take an instant dislike to me?"
Larry responded, "It saves time."
In this fast-paced, modern world, it only takes a fraction of the time it used to for a luxury to become a necessity.
However, when you find yourself convinced that the world is moving too fast, just find a bank or supermarket line to reassure yourself.
Off the seventh tee, Joe sliced his shot deep into a wooded ravine. He took his eight iron and clambered down the embankment in search of his lost ball. After many long minutes of hacking at the underbrush, he spotted something glistening in the leaves. As he drew nearer, he discovered that it was an eight iron in hands of a skeleton!
Joe immediately called out to his friend, "Jack, I've got trouble down here!"
"What's the matter?" Jack asked from the edge of the ravine.
"Bring me my wedge," Joe shouted. "You can't get out of here with an eight iron!"