This explains why we forward jokes.

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?' 
'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered. 'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.

Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.'The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

'Can my friend,' gesturing toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveller asked.
'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.

As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'

'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.'

'How about my friend here?' the traveller gestured to the dog.

'There should be a bowl by the pump.'

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveller filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

'What do you call this place?' the traveller asked.

'This is Heaven,' he answered.

'Well, that's confusing,' the traveller said. 'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'

'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Oh no , that's hell.'

'Doesn't it make you angry when they use your name like that?'

'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.'

Soooo...

Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word.
Maybe this will explain. When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes. When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes. When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how, you forward jokes.

Also to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for,guess what you get?

A forwarded joke.

So, next time if you get a joke, don't think that you've been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.

You are all welcome @ my water bowl anytime!

Guess what, this was forwarded by .. John The Baker

I was in the ten item express lane at the Tesco, store quietly fuming.  Completely ignoring the sign, the woman ahead of me had slipped into the check-out line pushing a cart piled high with groceries. Imagine my delight when the cashier beckoned the woman to come forward looked into the cart and asked sweetly, 'So which ten items would you like to buy?'
Wouldn't it be great if that happened more often?
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Because they had no reservations at a busy restaurant, my elderly neighbour and his wife were told there would be a 45-minute wait for a table. 'Young man, we're both 90 years old, ' the husband said ..'We may not have 45 minutes.' They were seated immediately.
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The reason Politicians  try so hard to get re-elected is that they would 'hate' to have to make a living under the laws they've passed. 
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All eyes were on the radiant bride as her father escorted her down the aisle. They reached the altar and the waiting groom; the bride kissed her father and placed something in his hand. The guests in the front pews responded with ripples of laughter. Even the minister smiled broadly. As her father gave her away in marriage, the bride gave him back his credit card.
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Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.
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Three friends from the local congregation were asked, 'When you're in your casket, and friends and congregation members are mourning over you, what would you like them to say?'
Artie said: ' I would like them to say I was a wonderful husband, a fine spiritual leader, and a great family man.'
Eugene  commented: 'I would like them to say I was a wonderful teacher and servant of God who made a huge difference in people's lives.'
Al said: 'I'd like them to say, 'Look, he's moving!'
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Smith climbs to the top of  Mt.   Sinai  to get close enough to talk to God.  Looking up, he asks t he Lord... 'God, what does a million years mean to you?'
The Lord replies, 'A minute.'
Smith asks, 'And what does a million dollars mean to you?'
The Lord replies, 'A penny.'
'Smith asks, 'Can I have a penny?'
'The Lord replies, 'In a minute.'
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Jacob was on his deathbed and gasped pitifully. 'Give me one last request, dear,'he said.
'Of course, Jacob,' his wife said softly.
'Six months after I die,' he said, 'I want you to marry Bob.'
'But I thought you hated Bob,' she said.
With his last breath Jacob said, 'I do!'
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A man goes to see the Rabbi. 'Rabbi, something terrible is happening and I have to talk to you about it.'
The Rabbi asked, 'What's wrong?'
The man replied, 'My wife is poisoning me.'
The Rabbi, very surprised by this, asks, 'How can that be?'
The man then pleads, 'I'm telling you, I'm certain she's poisoning me, what should I do?'
The Rabbi then offers, 'Tell you what. Let me talk to her, I'll see what I can find out and I'll let you know.'
A week later the Rabbi calls the man and says, "I spoke to her on the phone for three hours. You want my advice?'
The man said yes and the Rabbi replied, 'Take the poison'

H/T John The Baker

Queen Elizabeth II – official birthday today! I’m sure she’ll see another US President in a few years time…

The new Ferrari "458 Italia”... This is what it looks like!

And This Is What It Does...

Any questions?

H/T John Warden

Pause. Remember. Pray. Think of the past, current and future soldiers killed or injured at war.

The average British soldier is 19 years old.....he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy.  Not yet dry behind the ears and just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country - and for you.  He's not particularly keen on hard work but he'd rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK .  He recently left comprehensive school where he was probably an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten year old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home.  He moves easily to rock and roll or hip-hop or to the rattle of a 7.62mm machine gun.

He is about a stone lighter than when he left home because he is working or fighting from dawn to dusk and well beyond.  He has trouble spelling, so letter writing is a pain for him, but he can strip a rifle in 25 seconds and reassemble it in the dark.  He can recite every detail of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either effectively if he has to.  He digs trenches and latrines without the aid of machines and can apply first aid like a professional paramedic.  He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity.  He is confidently self-sufficient.  He has two sets of uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other.  He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry.  He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle.  He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts.  If you are thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food.  He'll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and regards his weapon as an extension of his own hands.  He can save your life or he can take it, because that is his job - it's what a soldier does.  He often works twice as long and hard as a civilian, draw half the pay and have nowhere to spend it, and can still find black ironic humour in it all. 

There's an old saying in the British Army: 'If you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined!'

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and he is unashamed to show it or admit it. He feels every bugle note of the 'Last Post' or 'Sunset' vibrate through his body while standing rigidly to attention.  He's not afraid to 'Bollock' anyone who shows disrespect when the Regimental Colours are on display or the National Anthem is played; yet in an odd twist, he would defend anyone's right to be an individual.  Just as with generations of young people before him, he is paying the price for our freedom.  Clean shaven and baby faced he may be, but be prepared to defend yourself if you treat him like a kid. 

He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years.  He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding.  We may not like what he does, but sometimes he doesn't like it either - he just has it to do..  Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood. 

And now we even have brave young women putting themselves in harm's way, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation's politicians call on us to do so.

When you receive this, please stop for a moment and if you are so inclined, feel free to say a prayer for our troops in the trouble spots of the world.

His Eminence The Bishop and many who read MostlySafeForWork will be marking remembrance at the 11th Hour, on the 11th Day of the 11th Month.

Gets you just there doesn’t it.

Well, find out what that four-letter sweary, gynaecological-related word is here.

Can’t say I disagree. Wonder how he/she got that blog name past Google.

A British Legion poster for Poppy Aid, defaced with a message for Blair. Others posters “amended” include “Bring them home”. All this in the informal race for EU President. Not looking good for the liar.