 fortune index all fortunes
| | #5141 | | On the whole, I'd rather be in Philadelphia.
-- W.C. Fields' epitaph
| | | #5142 | | One of the rules of Busmanship, New York style, is never surrender your
seat to another passenger. This may seem callous, but it is the best
way, really. If one passenger were to give a seat to someone who fainted
in the aisle, say, the others on the bus would become disoriented and
imagine they were in Topeka Kansas.
| | | #5143 | | paak, n: A stadium or inclosed playing field. To put or leave (a
a vehicle) for a time in a certain location.
patato, n: The starchy, edible tuber of a widely cultivated plant.
Septemba, n: The 9th month of the year.
shua, n: Having no doubt; certain.
sista, n: A female having the same mother and father as the speaker.
tamato, n: A fleshy, smooth-skinned reddish fruit eaten in salads
or as a vegetable.
troopa, n: A state policeman.
Wista, n: A city in central Masschewsetts.
yaad, n: A tract of ground adjacent to a building.
-- Massachewsetts Unabridged Dictionary
| | | #5144 | | Perhaps, after all, America never has been discovered. I myself would
say that it had merely been detected.
-- Oscar Wilde
| | | #5145 | | Philadelphia is not dull -- it just seems so because it is next to
exciting Camden, New Jersey.
| | | #5146 | | Providence, New Jersey, is one of the few cities where Velveeta cheese
appears on the gourmet shelf.
| | | #5147 | | San Francisco isn't what it used to be, and it never was.
-- Herb Caen
| | | #5148 | | Seattle is so wet that people protect their property with watch-ducks.
| | | #5149 | | Seems that a pollster was taking a worldwide opinion poll.
Her question was, "Excuse me; what's your opinion on the meat shortage?"
In Texas, the answer was "What's a shortage?"
In Poland, the answer was "What's meat?"
In the Soviet Union, the answer was "What's an opinion?"
In New York City, the answer was "What's excuse me?"
| | | #5150 | | Some 1500 miles west of the Big Apple we find the Minneapple, a
haven of tranquility in troubled times. It's a good town, a civilized town.
A town where they still know how to get your shirts back by Thursday. Let
the Big Apple have the feats of "Broadway Joe" Namath. We have known the
stolid but steady Killebrew. Listening to Cole Porter over a dry martini
may well suit those unlucky enough never to have heard the Whoopee John Polka
Band and never to have shared a pitcher of 3.2 Grain Belt Beer. The loss is
theirs. And the Big Apple has yet to bake the bagel that can match peanut
butter on lefse. Here is a town where the major urban problem is dutch elm
disease and the number one crime is overtime parking. We boast more theater
per capita than the Big Apple. We go to see, not to be seen. We go even
when we must shovel ten inches of snow from the driveway to get there. Indeed
the winters are fierce. But then comes the marvel of the Minneapple summer.
People flock to the city's lakes to frolic and rejoice at the sight of so
much happy humanity free from the bonds of the traditional down-filled parka.
Here's to the Minneapple. And to its people. Our flair for style is balanced
by a healthy respect for wind chill factors.
And we always, always eat our vegetables.
This is the Minneapple.
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