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What I do...
When God Made Corrections Officers
When the Lord was creating corrections officers, he was
into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared
and said "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on
this one."
And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this
order? A correction officer has to be able to run five
miles through galleries in the dark, scale walls,
enter cells the health inspector wouldn't touch, and
not wrinkle his uniform."
"He has to be able to sit in a cage all day on duty,
run to a red alert that night, frisk the yard for
contraband, and testify in court the next day."
"He has to be in top physical condition at all times,
running on black coffee and half-eaten meals. And he
has to have six pairs of hands."
The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs
of hands... no way."
" It's not the hands that are causing me problems,"
said the Lord, it's the three pairs of eyes an officer
has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. One pair that sees through a bulge in
a pocket before he asks, "Do you have any weapons on
you?" (When he already knows and wishes he'd taken
that accounting job.) Another pair here in the side of
his head for his partners' safety. And another pair of
eyes here in front that can look at a bleeding victim
and say, "You'll be all right", when he knows it isn't
so.
"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and
work on this tomorrow."
"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that
can talk a 250 pound felon into his cell without
incident and feed a family of five on a civil service
paycheck."
The angel circled the model of the peace officer very
slowly, "Can it think?" she asked.
"You bet." said the Lord. "It can tell you the
elements of a hundred crimes; recite Department
violations in its sleep; detain, investigate, search
and lock up a gang member in the yard in less time
than it takes five learned judges to debate the
legality of the policy and still it keeps its sense of
humor"
"This officer also has phenomenal personal control. He
can deal with crime scenes painted in hell, coax a
confession from an evasive inmate, deal with an
inmates family, and then read in the daily paper how,
Corrections isn't sensitive to the rights of convicted
felons."
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across
the cheek of the peace officer. "There's a leak," she
pronounced, " I told you that you were trying to put
too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," said the Lord. "it's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.
"It's for the bottled-up emotions, for fallen
comrades, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth
called the American flag, for justice."
"You're a genius," said the angel.
The Lord Looked somber. "I didn't put it there," he
said.
Author Unknown
The following poem is dedicated to Max... my ever faithful Rottie.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here,
that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all our special friends
so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine.
Our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who have been ill and were old
have been restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed
are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our
dreams of days gone by.
The animals are happy except for one small thing;
they each miss someone very special to them, who has been left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly
stops and looks into the distance.
His bright eyes are intent. Suddenly he begins to run from the group,
his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted
and when you and your special friend meet,
you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again.
The happy kisses rain upon your face,
your hands again caress the beloved head,
and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone
from your life, but never absent from your heart. . .
You then cross Rainbow Bridge together.
Author unknown
My favorite recipe:
Martha Stewart's' Christmas cookie recipe (not her
prayer)
Ingredients:
1 cup of water
1 tsp. baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of brown sugar
lemon juice
4 large eggs
nuts
1 bottle Vodka
2 cups of dried fruit
Sample the vodka to check quality.
Take a large bowl, check the vodka again.
To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one
level cup and drink.
Repeat
Turn on the electric mixer.
Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar.
Beat again.
At this point it's best to make sure the vodka is
shtill OK.
Try another cup .... just in case
Turn off the mixerer.
Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the
cup of dried fruit.
Pick fruit off floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it
loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the vodka to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something.
Check the vodka.
Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table.
Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you
can find.
Greash the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall
over.
Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish
the vodka and kick the cat.
CHERRY MISTMAS!
