Happy November! Where does the time go? Finally, I can Christmas shop with a fairly clear conscience now that Halloween is over. BTW – Googleheimers – (noun) condition in which you think of something you want to look up, then forget what it is by the time you get to the computer.
When told the reason for daylight savings time the Old Indian said, “Only the government would believe that you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket, sew it to the bottom, and have a longer blanket.”
Possibly the funniest story in a while. This is a bricklayer’s accident report, which was printed in the newsletter of the Australian equivalent of the Workers’ Compensation board. This is a true story. Had this guy died, he’d have received a Darwin Award for sure….
I am writing in response to your request for additional information in Block 3 of the accident report form. I put “poor planning” as the cause of my accident. You asked for a fuller explanation and I trust the following details will be sufficient.
I am a bricklayer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a new six-story building. When I completed my work, I found that I had some bricks left over which, when weighed later were found to be slightly in excess of 500 lbs. Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a pulley, which was attached to the side of the building on the sixth floor. Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the barrel out and loaded the bricks into it. Then I went down and untied the rope, holding it tightly to ensure a slow descent of the bricks.
You will note in Block 11 of the accident report form that I weigh 175 lbs. Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rapid rate up the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel, which was now proceeding downward at an equal, impressive speed. This explained the fractured skull, minor abrasions and the broken collar bone, as listed in section 3 of the accident report form. Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley. Fortunately by this time I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope, in spite of beginning to experience a great deal of pain. At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel. Now devoid of the weight of the bricks, that barrel weighed approximately 50 lbs. I refer you again to my weight.
As you can imagine, I began a rapid descent, down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles, broken tooth and several lacerations of my legs and lower body. Here my luck began to change slightly. The encounter with the barrel seemed to slow me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and fortunately only three vertebrae were cracked. I am sorry to report, however, as I lay there on the pile of bricks, in pain, unable to move, I again lost my composure and presence of mind and let go of the rope and I lay there watching the empty barrel begin its journey back down onto me. This explains the two broken legs.
I hope this answers your inquiry.
When I die I want my last words to be,
“I left a million dollars under the ……..”
In the fall of the year, I am reminded that I also am in the fall of my life. There are so many things left to do but little desire to do them. My days have become predictable and frankly, boring. I find that I have become very, very angry with our government, from the administration, congress, and bureaucrats. Day after day the news brings to light another incidence of disregarding of the law, ethics, and morals to achieve a personal greedy goal. Is it no wonder then that as you drill down in our society we find this same mind set having permeated to each of us. No wonder we shoot cops with no remorse, or send our young men to war knowing they will die for some inane excuse. Makes one sick. Tell me, what can we as individuals, do to right the ship? Obviously, no one else will. OK, rant is over.
Yesterday my current wife and I got into a one-upsmanship discussion. It went something like this. I stated, “Golden years, my foot… Your hair has turned to silver and my ass has turned to lead!” She replied, “I don’t think of my skin as saggy….. I think of it as relaxed-fit!” Gotcha. I explained to her that when I go to the barbershop I get the “Express Chair” (12 hairs or less). She ends the discussion with “You know you’re getting old when you have a hole between your boobs.. and it’s called a belly button.” Moving on….
Please excuse my crassness but I just couldn’t pass up clarifying the confusion that exists between these two terms. I would substitute a word where appropriate but I am afraid it doesn’t really make much sense so I opted to leave as is. There is a medical distinction between “Guts” and “Balls”. We’ve heard colleagues referring to people with “Guts”, or with “Balls”. Do they, however, know the difference between them? Here’s the official distinction; straight from the British Medical Journal: Volume 323; page 295.
GUTS – Is arriving home late, after a night out with the lads, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the “Guts” to ask: “Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?”
BALLS – Is coming home late after a night out with the lads, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the bum and having the “Balls” to say: ‘You’re next, Chubby.’
I trust this clears up any confusion. Medically speaking, there is no difference in outcome; both are fatal.
Stay well, “OLD FRIEND!” We who have seen war never stop seeing it. If I can make at least one person smile, or laugh till they leak, then my day was not wasted. -TA!