September 25, 1998
In the news this week, it’s campaign season again. Like Christmas it comes earlier every year, and most people promise themselves, as soon as it’s over, that they’re going to be prepared and still end up making a lot of bad decisions at the last minute. Like bad Christmas gifts, lousy politicians are expensive and cannot be returned to the place they came from because, frankly, no one really wants them. And like the inevitable Christmas fruitcake, they seem really good when you read about them, and they’re full of things that, separately, sound really good but have been ruined by the process that turned them into fruitcakes. I’m sure all of you are more than capable of coming up with more resemblances between politicians and fruitcakes, so here’s are some reasons politicians aren’t like fruitcakes: it’s easy to throw away a fruitcake, fruitcakes will eventually decompose, fruitcakes will not accept bribes, preside over witch hunts, accuse other fruitcakes of being fruitcakes while claiming they themselves are twenty-two grain wheatbread, or with a straight face tell you they have your best interests at heart then give you stomach ulcers. Finally, fruitcakes will never come up with inane campaign slogans like this one I saw today: "Vote for Nate! He’s first rate! He’ll delegate, regulate, and be just great!" Really? He just made me want to regurgitate.
SO WHAT ARE YOU SMUGGLING?
Juan comes up to the Mexican border on his bicycle. He has two large bags over his shoulders. The guard stops him and says, "What’s in the bags?"
"Sand," answered Juan.
The guard says, "We’ll just see about that. Get off the bike."
The guard takes the bags and rips them apart; he empties them out and finds nothing in them but sand. He detains Juan overnight and has the sand analyzed, only to discover that there is nothing but pure sand in the bags The guard releases Juan, puts the sand into new bags, hefts them onto the man’s shoulders, and lets him cross the border.
A week later, the same thing happens. The guard asks, "What have you got?"
"Sand," says Juan.
The guard does his thorough examination and discovers that the bags contain nothing but sand. He gives the sand back to Juan, and Juan crosses the border on his bicycle.
This sequence of events if repeated every day for three years. Finally, Juan doesn’t show up one day and the guard meets him in a Cantina in Mexico.
"Hey, Buddy," says the guard, "I know you are smuggling something. It’s driving me crazy. It’s all I think about….. I can’t sleep. Just between you and me, what are you smuggling?"
Juan sips his beer and says, "Bicycles."
You might be a teacher if…
You believe the staff room should have a Valium salt lick.
You find humor is other people’s stupidity.
You want to slap the next person who says, "Must be nice to have all your holidays and summers free.
You can tell it’s a full moon without ever looking outside.
You believe "shallow gene pool" should have it’s own box on the report card.
You believe that unspeakable evil will befall you if anyone says, "Boy, the kids are sure mellow today."
When out in public, you feel the urge to talk to strange children and correct their behavior.
Marking all A’s on the report card would make your life SOOO much simpler.
When you mention "vegetables" and you’re not talking about a food group.
You think people should be required to get a government permit before being allowed to reproduce.
You wonder how some parents ever MANAGED to reproduce.
You believe in aerial spraying of Prozac.
You really encourage an obnoxious parent to check into home schooling.
You’ve never had your profession slammed by someone who would NEVER DREAM of doing your job.
You can’t have children of your own, because there is NO name you could give a child that wouldn’t bring on high blood pressure the moment you heard it.
Meeting a child’s parents INSTANTLY answers the question, "Why is this kid like this?"