# Tuesday, 12 December 2006

Mohammed Sent Back To Earth To Apologise. Reads Post-It From God

The other day, we got a welcome call from a guy who claimed to be Mohammed. He said God sent him back to the earth with a Post-It note, and he wanted to come over and read it to us, so we could get it out over the Internet.

We were sure he was a kook, so, being securely sane, we invited him over.

Later, we got a call from the lobby, telling us there was a guy down there in a long white gown who identified himself as Mohammed but didn't have a photo ID.

"Sure, send him up," we told the guard.

Soon, there was a knock on the door. We opened it and, sure enough, there stood a man who looked just the way you'd expect a Seventh Century Bedouin like to look in clean clothes.

He raised his hand, and said, "Hi. I'm Mohammed. God sent me with a Post-It."

"Great," we replied. "Please, come in."

"Thanks."

We closed the door behind him and motioned toward the conference room.

As we went, I said, "Like something to drink?"

"Got some cold water?"

"Sure," I replied, and motioned for one of the secretaries to get it for him.

"Thanks," Mohammed said.

We went into the conference room and sat down.

He put his feet up on the seat next to him and sighed.

"Long walk?" I asked.

"Worse than that," he said, and slipped off his sandals. "See. Blisters."

"Ouch," I exclaimed. "How'd you get those?"

"The Post-It will explain everything," he replied.

Just then the secretary came in with a bottle of spring water.

"Here, Mohammed," she said.

"Thanks," he told her, and flipped her a wink. Then he opened it and, pouring it on his feet, said, "Excuse me. But I can't help it."

"That bad, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah. Sorry about the carpet."

"Don't worry, it's only water. Tell us more about why you're here."

"God is mad at me."

"So are a lot of people."

"I know, I know. But you have to understand. I've been dead a long time. I can't be responsible for what's going on now."

"You did write the book some culprets use as a pretense to kill people, even other Muslims."

"I know, I know. God points that out to me all the time. That's why I'm here. I'm sorry if anything I said is being used to kill people. It's an unintentional side-effect of my enthusiam."

Then he lifted his turban and peeled off a yellow Post-It from the inside. "I have a note from God. It will explain everything. "

"Really?"

"Yes. He told me to read it to you, so you can get it out over the Internet."

"Why did he pick us? We're a humor magazine."

"I told him that. He said since hardly anybody listens to Him when He's serious, He wants to try being funny."

"We know how that is. Mind if we record your reading?"

"Just type, OK? When I'm gone, I'm gone. No leave-behinds."

"OK," I said.

One of the staffers slid me a laptop.

"Go ahead," I told him.

"Hi, it's Mohammed again, with another message from Allah. And I quote:

'Greetings from God. I'm so upset I can't tell you. I told Mohammed to write the third book. The way things are going, I may even have to commission a fourth and fifth book. I can't seem to get my main point across.

'In the first book, I said, "Don't kill anybody." Did it make a difference? Not much.

'In the second book, I went further, and said, "Love your neighbor." It still didn't do nearly as well as I had hoped.

'So I commissioned Mohammed to give my message one more shot. And what happens? He gets carried away and says anybody who doesn't believe in his book is an infidel and should be killed. Stop it already! I never told him to say that, and he knows it.

'Not only that, every time somebody uses the Koran as an excuse to kill anybody, I make him walk on hot coals for five minutes. Notice his blisters. Have mercy on the guy, will ya?

'Also, wait for the fourth book. The main message I'm going to try is, "Not only don't kill anybody and love your neighbor, but love life, because that's what I made. So take good care of it and maybe, just maybe, I'll take good care of you. But, most of all, stop all the killing. Got it, dummy?"'

"Anything else?" I asked.

"No, that's it," he said, pouring the last of the water on his feet. "I only hope it works. My feet are killing me."

Then he slipped on his sandals, smiled as much as his tootsies would allow, and vanished.


(Found at http://www.goarticles.com/cgi-bin/showa.cgi?C=346602)
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# Tuesday, 21 November 2006

Gary's weather forecasting service

Why bother with complicated analysis of the atmosphere? The old methods still work the best...

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The original iPod

Just found this lurking around... the original iPod...

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# Monday, 20 November 2006

Irish flat screen TV

The very latest in technlogy from Ireland...

...and from the back...

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# Thursday, 26 October 2006

Welcome to Teaneck

Sent by a friend in Eretz Yisroel...

And before anyone bothers e-mailing me, yes I'm also sure it's a manipulated picture, not a real sign, but I thought it was funny OK?

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Bashing hoshanos (and each other)

One of the more interesting parts of Succos (which has a notably large number of interesting parts) is the act of beating hoshanos on the last day of Chol Hamoed (known appropriately enough as Hoshano Rabbo). We have a healthy willow tree in our garden, which started out life as the arovos in my lulav a few years ago. After Succos, I planted it, and it has now grown big enough to provide me with fresh arovos part way through Succos, as well as enough hoshanos for the whole family.

Whilst most Jews take hoshanos of a modest length, there is a custom amongst certain Jews to take very long ones, presumably in remebrance of the ten amoh (Biblical cubit, between 18" and two feet) long ones that were taken in the Beis Hamikdosh every day of Succos. This year, Aryeh Yehuda decided he wanted long ones. This wasn't a problem as our tree grows quite tall and needs cutting back every year, so I cut three sets of long ones (about nine feet), and some more sets of a normal size.

Nechoma Bryna, Aryeh Yehuda and I used the long ones, the others used the smaller ones. In case you've never seen anyone bashing a large set of hoshanos before, here is a stop-frame action shot of Aryeh Yehuda in action...

And here is Nechoma Bryna looking a little more genteel with hers...

...and Shayna Brocho looking pleased as punch with hers (which actually weren't hers, but she picked them up and bashed them around after the previous owner had finished with them)...

A good time was had by all, except for those who had hundreds of willow leaves to pick up afterwards!!

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Lots of girls in the park

Just had to share this photo. We went to Bruntwood park (south Manchester) the day after Succos. All the children were still of school, so we took the opportunity for a family day out. It was a lovely day, made even better by the fact that the non-Jewish schools weren't on holiday, so the place was almost empty. I caught a nice picture of Nechoma Bryna and Simcha...

Well, while I'm at it, here's Chana Liba on a swing...

As you can see, Shayna Brocho was having a great time swinging her.

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# Wednesday, 25 October 2006

The great fishing trip and "new" Macdonald's farm

We went to Burrs country park for a Chol Hamoed Succos outing. One of Aryeh Yehuda's friends had been some weeks before, and had caught fish in the river. The children were keen to try the same.

After some initial searching, we found a spot that had some fish. Armed with nets and a jam jar, we spent a happy hour or so in a battle of wits with the fish. We managed to catch about 18 altogether, with Nechoma Bryna catching the first, Aryeh Yehuda catching the most, Eliyohu catching the most at one time and Shayna Brocho catching the biggest (albeit with rather a lot of help from me), so everyone was happy...

We took them home and put them in a large plastic bowl, for want of anything better. The following day, we went off to a local pet shop, where we bought a small tank. Along with some gravel from the main PSG fish tank, the fish had a new home.

The aforementioned friend of Aryeh Yehuda had given him one of his fish, which was living in a (different) jam jar on a shelf in the kitchen. Originally, he had been named Elbow, after Chana Liba's first attempt at pronouncing "Wilbur" (our short-lived baby fishy friend of some months ago), but Shayna Brocho decided that "Macdonald" was a far more suitable name (what do you mean, "why?"), and that stuck.

Logically, if Macdonald was in a jam jar on the shelf, then the collection of fish in the new tank should be "Macdonald's farm" - and so it was. Sadly, Macdonald himself, having survived several weeks in his jam jar, unexpectedly expired the very day he was to have joined his friends in the farm.

So, now we have a second tank of fish, a little smaller than the main PSG tank. It turned out that the fish are minnows...

Apparently, they are one of the few native British fish that will take well to an aquarium. Ours have already got used to flake food. They can grow to about 4", if they don't get eaten by pikes or trout first. Due to the curious lack of pike and trout in our small tank, I think they shold be safe!!

The only sad part of this is the events of last Shabbos. I came down on Shabbos morning to find that three fish had managed to jump out of the tank during the night. I guess the lid must not have been on firmly enough, although it looked OK to me. What was even more sad was that another jumped out later that same day. Given that we hadn't lost a single fish due to our bad care, it was sad to lose four in one day. We still have 14 left, and hopefully they will grow.

To end off on a happy note, here is a picture of Chana Liba enjoying the riverside...

Chana Liba on a rock

End of fishy tales for today.

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Interesting 'phone call

4:20pm: The 'phone rang...

Hello, this is Anna from the Coca-Cola Corporation, just ringing to see if you want a soft drinks order this week.

Me: Pardon?

Anna: I'm just ringing to see if you want a soft drinks order this week.

Me: Why would I want one of those?

Anna: This is the Coca-Cola Corporation.

Me: Ye-e-e-s, and?

Anna: Well, do you want a soft drinks order this week.

Me: Do you always ring random members of the public asking this?

Anna: Isn't this the Red Lion Hotel?

Me: No.

Anna (highly embarrassed): Oh sorry, I must have dialled the wrong number, goodbye.

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