En Cada Guerra

 

en los cuerpos muertos de los Victorios y Vencidos,

lo mismo.”

Source: © Robert Jorrie
(I made it up about 1965)

Literal translation:

In every War, the Vultures Eat and get Fat
on the Dead Bodies of the Winners and Losers
all the Same.

What it means to me:

Lawyers are the Big Winners in Law Suits… No Matter Who Wins.

Robert Jorrie

and Black is “Bad,”

then All I Know

is Gray

(or Plaid.)

Author unknown
Contributed by Bill Hauser

An old Jewish man was dying and asked his wife, Sarah, to call his children to his death bed so that he could see them all one last time before he died.

As each one entered the hospital room where he was, they walked up to his bed where he laid with his eyes closed and said

“Papa, I’m here, it’s me, Becky.”

“Papa I’m here, it’s me, Tsammy.”

“I’m here Papa, it’s me, Leah.”

His wife said, “They’re all here, Abe, everybody’s here.”

The old man opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as he said

“Sarah? Becky? Tsammy? Leah? …

oh my God,” he said

“who is minding the store?”

contributed by Sam Jorrie from Bobby ‘s Grandfather, Sol Pullen

One morning while a man was waiting for the 8 o’clock bus to arrive,

a little man dressed up in a tuxedo and wearing spats silently walked up
to the waiting man just before the bus arrived

and handed him a $20 bill without saying a word,

and then just walked away.

The next morning it happened again.

And the next morning it happened again

and it happened again each morning for weeks, that just before the 8 o’clock
bus, the little man gave him $20.

And then one morning, the 8 o’clock bus came … but the little man did not.

So the man waited for the 8:15 bus … and finally it came and he let it go by to
wait for the little man with the $20.

So then he waited for the 8:30 bus, and it came and went, too.

Finally as he waited, the man said,

“I wonder where that son of a bitch is, with my $20?”

What this means to Me:

Sometimes we get so accustomed to someone making gifts to us or doing
nice things for us

that we forget that they are “offered gifts” and begin to believe that they
are actually “owed”to us.

Robert Jorrie,
1991

An army private was walking around the army base picking up little pieces of trash paper and looking at them, mumbling “That’s not it!” and then throwing the little pieces back down on the ground.

His sergeant told him to stop doing it “while on duty” and the soldier obeyed, but whenever he was “off duty,” he always returned to his habit of picking up little pieces of paper, examining them and discarding them & stating “That’s not it.”

The sergeant thought he’d “break” the private from this noisome habit and assigned the soldier to “policing up” the trash around the base’s “grounds,” but the soldier happily accepted the assignment because it let him pick up the little pieces of paper and look at them. Then he’d say “That’s not it.” and put the trash in his trash bag.

And at the end of this assignment, which would have made other soldiers detest it, this soldier asked to be re-assigned to the job … to his sergeant’s utter amazement.

Soon the sergeant got frustrated and sent the private to the Captain for discipline. The Captain said to the young man, “If you don’t stop picking up all these little pieces of paper, and saying “That’s not it.” … I’m going to send you over to the Post Psychologist and he’ll “cashier you out” of this man’s Army on a ‘Section 8’ Discharge,” for mental unfitness.

The private continued his peculiar behavior, and soon the Captain indeed, sent the poor man to the Post Psychologist and when the Psychologist finally slid the discharge papers across the desk after the private had actually been discharged,

the soldier picked up the discharge papers and said

“This is It! This is just what I’ve been looking for“.

contributed by Sam Jorrie

In the late 50’s, Morris Edelstein told me this “true account” of how he married
his wife Yetta … and why, throughout their long marriage of 50+ years, she was always so very careful not to rile him.

In the old days the primitive road to Morris’ ranch was made of concrete poured into the hard limestone bed of the very wide but shallow South Fork of the Guadalupe River, with a curb poured to dam the water out.

Over time, the river broke the curb in many places with the result that it
let water in on the road and the road caught many flood borne snags and had broken places in the concrete with gravel bars and little deep water-
filled holes in it.

As “Uncle Morris” told me, he had proposed to my Aunt Yetta and on his
wedding day, had saddled his horse and another one named Old Joe and
trailed Old Joe into Kerrville, where he “married Yetta, proper”.

After the reception, he put Yetta up on Old Joe and began the up river
trip back to the Ranch where they would make their home.

After a few miles, Old Joe stepped over a mossy patch of concrete and
slipped, thus startling Yetta.

Morris turned to Old Joe and said ‘Old Joe, that’s Once!’ Yetta
responded by snapping at Morris: “Morris, it was only a little slip and
the horse is old and the footing was slippery.”

After a few miles more up the trail, Old Joe tried to jump across a water
filled hole … but it was a little farther than he could reach and his hind
quarters didn’t quite make the jump and his back end went splashing
into the water getting Yetta’s dress wet. Morris turned around and said
‘Old Joe, that’s twice!’ Yetta again fussed at him for fussing at the horse.

A few more miles up the road and Old Joe stepped gingerly across a snag
left over from a past flood and a little branch tickled his belly and he
“hunched” thus frightening Yetta.

Morris never said another word, he just got down off his horse, walked
back, took Yetta off and put her up on his horse behind his saddle,
removed Old Joe’s saddle and bridle, took out his pistol and shot Old Joe
dead in his tracks.

With this Yetta got very upset and began to shriek and yell at Morris that
Old Joe was a nice old horse that he was innocent enough and that it
was damned cruel and inhumane for Morris to have shot him … to which
Morris calmly turned around, pointed his finger at Yetta’s face and said
“Yetta, that’s Once!”

Robert Jorrie
1992

One day, the Sales Manager of a large Department store was walking through the sales area of the Lamp Department,

where it was the duty of each salesman to keep certain assigned areas of the Lamp Department “straight and ready to sell.”

When he asked salesman Jones why the lamps in his assigned area were not “straight a and ready to sell”, Jones replied:

“Go screw yourself.”

The Sales Manager retorted indignantly :

“You can’t talk to me like that, I’m the Sales Manager.”

Whereupon Jones replied again

“Go screw yourself.”

So the Sales Manager went to the Vice President in Charge of Sales to report the problem … and the VP said:

“Tell him the Vice President in Charge of Sales wants to see him.”

The Sales Manager went out and came back to the Vice President who said:

“Well, what did he say?”

The Sales Manager replied:

“He told me to go screw myself and to piss on you,”

“Fire him !” said the Vice President,

and as the Sales Manager reached the door to leave, the Vice President yelled:

“Wait ! Before you fire him,

we’d better look at his sales for last year.”

Together they looked at Jones’ sales and discovered that, of the 11 Salesmen
on the floor last year,

that Jones had delivered 67% of the entire Department’s Sales!

The Vice President thought a moment and said:

“Well, I can take a bath,

but you Really have a Sex Problem!”

What this Means to Me:

When you perform good enough,

you can get just about anything you want.

Robert Jorrie,
1989

A 12 year old boy who had never spoken a word since he was born,

was taken by his frightened parents from expert to expert

to try to find out the cause of his not speaking.

They took him to pediatricians, Ear nose and throat docs, Speech therapists, psychologists, linguistic therapists,

but no one could get the boy to speak.

One day, he came downstairs from his bed room

sat down at the kitchen table,

put a spoonful of his oatmeal in his mouth,

picked up the oatmeal bowl,

turned it over and slammed it down on the table and said:

“The oatmeal is cold!”

The mother was overjoyed and tearfully said:

“Son, you spoke! you spoke! …

Why did you just now speak for the First Time?”

The boy said:

“Nothing was ever Wrong until Now.”

Robert Jorrie
Taught me by Sam Jorrie

A man told his son that he wanted to begin to teach him about the Ways of Life and took the boy outside and put him up on the roof and told him to jump.

“Jump, son! Jump!” he told the little boy.

The little boy hesitated.

“Jump, son! Jump!” he told the boy.

“No, Daddy, I’m afraid!” the little boy said.

“Jump, son! Jump!” he repeated to the little boy.

“No Daddy, I’m afraid!”

“Son, don’t worry, I won’t let you fall … I’ll catch you! Go ahead and jump.

And with fear, the little boy launched into space and the father stepped back and let the little boy fall to the ground.

In anguish, the little boy said

“Daddy, you promised you’d catch me and you didn’t do it … you let me fall on the ground!”

That is the First Lesson of Life I want to teach you,” he said “Don’t Trust anyone, not even your own father!”

contributed by Sam Jorrie

As a farmboy wandered down a dusty Georgia road one day, he looked up into a field and saw a husky big brown mule pulling a plow, but without anybody guiding the plow.

Under a huge nearby oak tree, a scruffy Oldtimer in bib overalls was taking a snooze while the mule plowed the field by himself.

Astonished by this amazing and well-trained mule, he walked across the plowed field and woke the Oldtimer and said

“That certainly is a wonderfully well trained mule … What do you want for him?”

The Oldtimer scratched and thought for a moment and then asked “Is $75 too much?”

The boy was so flabbergasted at the super low price for such a valuable trained mule, that he quickly paid for it.

He asked the Oldtimer how he got the mule to plow by himself and the Oldtimer said “I just harness him up and take him to the end of the furrow and tell him “Mule, Plow that field!”

So the kid took the mule home with him to plow his own fields.

The next day, he took the mule to the end of the furrow and told the mule “Mule, Plow that field” … but the mule didn’t budge. He told the mule again and the mule just stood there and looked at him. He told him several times more and the mule just sat there and refused to plow by himself.

So the next day, the farmboy walked back over to the Oldtimer’s place and saw the Oldtimer taking a nap again … but this time, there was a brindle colored mule plowing by himself while the Oldtimer snoozed.

So he woke up the Oldtimer and complained that the mule he had bought wouldn’t plow.

The Oldtimer said “That’s pretty unusual, why that mule sure works ‘right’ for me … maybe you did something wrong … tell me what you did.”

The farmboy said “Well, I harnessed him up and took him to the end of the furrow and told him ‘Mule, Plow that field’ … just like you told me to do.

“OH!” said the Oldtimer, “THAT’S what you did wrong … ”

“What do you mean?” said the farmboy … “I did exactly what you told me to do … I harnessed him up and took him to the end of the furrow and told him ‘Mule, Plow that field'”

“Yes” said the Oldtimer “… but you didn’t Catch his Attention, first”

“What do you mean … Catch his Attention, first?”, said the Farmboy.

“Well”, the Oldtimer said “you harness him up and take him to the end of the furrow just like I said before … and then you take a 2×4 and hit him right between the eyes with all your might to catch his attention, AND THEN you tell him ‘Mule, Plow that field … then he’ll plow”.

 

Robert Jorrie,
2000