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Air Force One crashed in the middle of rural America. Panic stricken the Secret Service mobilized and descended on the farm in force. When they got there, the wreckage was clear. The aircraft was totally destroyed with only a burned hulk left smoldering in a tree line that bordered a farm. Secret Service descended upon the smoking hulk but could find no remains of the crew or the President's staff. To their amazement, a lone farmer was plowing a field not too far away as if nothing at all happened. They hurried over to surround the man's tractor.
"Sir," the senior Secret Service agent asked, panting and out of breath.
"Did you see this terrible accident happen?"
"Yep. Sure did." The man muttered unconcernedly.
"Do you realize that is the President of the United States airplane?"
"Were there any survivors?" the agent gasped.
"Nope. They's all kilt straight out." The farmer sighed cutting off his tractor motor. "I done buried them all myself. Took most of the morning."
"The President of the United States is dead?" The agent gulped in disbelief.
"Well," the farmer sighed, obviously wanting to get back to his work. "He kept a-saying he wasn't ... but you know what a liar he is."
A blind man was describing his favorite sport, parachuting. When asked how this was accomplished, he said that things were all done for him: "I am placed in the door with my seeing eye dog and told when to jump. My hand is placed on my release ring for me and out I go with the dog."
"But how do you know when you are going to land?" he was asked. "I have a very keen sense of smell, and I can smell the trees and grass when I am 300 feet from the ground" he answered.
"But how do you know when to lift your legs for the final arrival on the ground?" he was again asked. He quickly answered: "Oh, the dog's leash goes slack."
At the airport for a business trip, I settled down to wait for the boarding announcement at Gate 35. Then I heard the voice on the public address system saying, "We apologize for the inconvenience, but Delta Flight 570 will board from Gate 41."
So my family picked up our luggage and carried it over to Gate 41. Not ten minutes later the public address voice told us that Flight 570 would in fact be boarding from Gate 35.
So, again, we gathered our carry-on luggage and returned to the original gate. Just as we were settling down, the public address voice spoke again: "Thank you for participating in Delta's physical fitness program.
It was a few days before Christmas. The trip went reasonably well, and he was ready to go back home. The airport on the other end had turned a tacky red and green, and loudspeakers blared annoying elevator renditions of cherished Christmas carols.
Being someone who took Christmas very seriously, and being slightly tired, he was not in a particularly good mood. (Almost a scrooge) Going to check in his luggage (which, for some reason, had become one suitcase with entirely new clothes), he saw hanging mistletoe. Not real mistletoe, but very cheap plastic with red paint on some of the rounder parts and green paint on some of the flatter and pointer parts, that could be taken for mistletoe only in a very Picasso sort of way.
With a considerable degree of irritation and nowhere else to vent it, he said to the attendant, "Even if we were married, I would not want to kiss you under such a ghastly mockery of mistletoe."
"Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is."
"Ok, I see that it's above the luggage scale which is the place you'd have to step forward for a kiss."
"That's not why it's there."
"Ok, I give up. Why is it there?"
"It's there so you can kiss your luggage good-bye."
Flight fifty has a pretty rough time above the ocean. Suddenly a voice comes over the intercom: "Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts and assume crash positions. We have lost our engines and we are trying to put this baby as gentle as possible down on the water".
"Oh stewardess! Are there any sharks in the ocean below?" asks a little old lady, terrified.
"Yes, I'm afraid there are some. But not to worry, we have a special gel in the bottle next to your chair designed especially for emergencies like this. Just rub the gel onto your arms and legs".
"And if I do this, the sharks won't eat me any more?" asks the little lady.
"Oh, they will eat you all right, only they won't enjoy it so much".
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