Churches in rural communities almost always find themselves in need of money to sustain themselves. Voluntary donations from passing the plate during services too often fall short of the church’s needs.
That wuz the financial situation facing the Rev. M. T. Coffers one morning as he sat at his desk pondering his budget. His phone rang and he answered it.
A voice on the other end asked, “Hello, is this Reverend Coffers?”
“It is,” the man of the cloth replied.
“This is Cal Lector from the Internal Revenue Service. I’m hoping you can help me with a situation I’m facing.”
“I’ll try to help,” the good man replied.
“Do you know a Ty Twad?” the revenuer asked.
“I do,” the minister replied.
“Is he a member of your congregation?” the revenuer continued.
“He is!” Rev. Coffers replied.
“Did he donate $10,000 to the church?” the revenuer pressed.
“Nope. But he’s going to. I promise,” Rev. Coffers replied emphatically.
***
Four retired rural businessmen owners became acquaintances on a cruise ship for a vacation in the Bahamas.
One day as they were basking on the beach, they were discussing the businesses they retired from.
The first gent said, “I was in the farm supplies business. One night a fire started in the warehouse and burned the entire enterprise right to the ground. My insurance company offered a hefty settlement so I figured ‘why fight it’ and took the dough and retired.
The second gent entered the conversation with, “I owned a company that manufactured grain handling equipment. One afternoon a nasty thunderstorm rolled in, a scale 5 tornado dropped from the sky and turned the entire business into a tanged mess of steel. My insurance company’s settlement seemed generous to me, so I took the money and hung it up and went into retirement.
The third gent piped into the conversation with, “I owned a lumber yard. But, the founder of the company located it in a flood plain. After I acquired the business, one day the rains came down in buckets, the river rose to record heights and my business literally floated away. My insurance settlement was very accommodating, so I decided not to rebuild and retire instead.”
The fourth gent scratched his head and stated, “I understand how you lose a business to fire, but I can’t figure out how do you start a tornado or a flood?”
***
I have to chuckle every time one of the fancy new dog food companies runs its television ad.
Every single one of the ads tries to convince dog owners that their persnickety pets absolutely must have whole-meat, moist dog food, and that the pre-packaged, supplemented meal must be refrigerated for their dog to eat it. Kibble is verboten!
That’s ridiculous. I’ve raised a couple hundred Brittany bird dog puppies in my life and owned and hunted over a dozen or more mature Brits. I even bred and developed a couple of field champion Brits.
All of my dogs thrived on high-quality kibble. Plus, they relished kitchen table scraps, the trimmings from harvested deer, and the heads of quail and pheasants they’d worked so hard hunting.
I recall a neighbor lady from my youth who fed her dogs cornbread cooked with bacon grease mixed in it and the dogs thrived. Also, from my youth, farm dogs usually lapped fresh cow milk their owners poured into a pan. In those days dog kibble wuzn’t even on the market yet.
To end this dog discussion, I’d bet a dollar to a doughnut hole that all the dogs that their owners think are so persnickety would eagerly roll in a dead possum or fresh horse manure if given the opportunity — and they might even try to eat it.
***
At my age, it makes sense that my eye-sight would get poorer as time rolls on. However, the reverse has happened to me. In the last few months, my eye-sight has improved until I rarely wear glasses, other than reading glasses. Go figure.
And, another of my minor-league health happenings will probably make you chuckle. Twice in recent weeks, I’ve had the working end of what I call “mule-tail” plastic toothpicks break off when I poked them between two tight teeth. Both times, I couldn’t extract the broken-off end with my fingers. The first time, I had to get a tiny pair of hooked needle-nosed pliers from the garage to pull the end out.
The second time I wuz traveling when the toothpick broke off. That time I had to stop at a Walgreen’s store and buy a $7 tweezers to extract the broken off toothpick.
All I can say is my dentist says using the plastic toothpicks is the next best thing to flossing — which I refuse to do regularly,
***
My closing wise words for the week are: “Cooperation is simply doing with a smile what you are obligated to do anyhow.” Have a good ‘un.
