JUST  SOME  of  GEORGIEBOY'S   STORIES

                                         This page is where I put all my stories

                            when I don't know what else to do with them.


                      THE BLUE ROOM

      Alex was a loving and dedicated family man, but he also had other interests. He lived in
Claremont, but he had a house in South Pomona which was his getaway and he hired me
to do some electrical work there. This house originally was just an ordinary three bedroom
house, but he had remodeled it into somewhat of a party place, It had one big room with a
huge rotating bed with a canopy overhead....Mirrors on the walls and ceiling....Wardrobes full
of women's lingerie.....A bedside bar.....All plush furniture and carpet .....Porno movies, shown
with the press of a button from a hidden 8mm projector.....A surround sound system for
wonderful music and some great lighting effects. I have to admit that I had fun doing the
electrical work on it and contributing some ideas of my own.
      Now.....It just so happened that at that time, our kids had all left the house and Helen
and I found ourselves with three empty bedrooms. So can you guess what happened?.....
That's right.....I did for Helen and myself what I had done for Alex. Except that ours was
better. We left out the dumb stuff and concentrated on the fun stuff. I outdid myself with
innovations, and Helen did great work sewing fancy drapes and pleated coverings for the
canopy, bed and walls.
      We had fun constructing it and fun using it. Some of our friends thought we were a
little bit wild and wicked, but that's what we wanted to be.....as wicked as we could get,
but never hurting anyone. Once Helen's sister in Fresno introduced Helen to her friends
as "My wicked sister from LA".
      Our friends named it the BlueRoom. We let a few of them use it. I'll not get into the
details of all the great features. I'll just say....it had all the right stuff.
      Of course we also had a water-bed room with similar features and I fixed up our
 little camper truck the sane way so we had numerous places to have fun, but that's

 another story.
          Below is a photo of Helen and the BlueRoom......










      What happened to the BlueRoom?....Well...We had fun with it for almost twenty
years, even though at times it caused us a little embarrassment when relatives from
out of town were visiting us. We were getting old and thinking about dismantling it but
what convinced us to do so was this little incident..
      We had a four year old grandson who liked to play in that room. He would hang on
his knees on the canopy bar, and loved the vibrating bed and all the different lighting
effects and music. He knew what every switch or button on the control panel did.
However there was one button that I had to disconnect while he was around, and that
was the push button that automaticly brought the movie screen down and started the
hidden 8mm movie projector to show the porno movies. Well, one day while Todd was
visiting us we hadn't seen him for about an hour. Helen Asked me "Where's Todd?" I
knew he was playing in the BlueRoom as he often did, so I went to check on him.....
.Guess what.... He was watching porno movies.....I had forgotten to disconnect the
push button.
      Helen was upset about it, But I told her.....He won't remember anything, he's too
young.....Well, that was just another thing I was wrong about. After I disconnected the
magic button Todd complained continually about not being able to watch the movies,
so I put on a reel of family movies for him to watch. That went over like a lead balloon.
He kept telling me, "I want to watch the other movies Grandpa, I like the other movies"
I heard that over and over again, until I finally got rid of the blue room.
        Can y ou believe it …..?a four year old, addicted to porn...
                         ..Below is a photo of the bad boy.

                          Picture of Todd


                       AN  AMAZING  ACT  OF  KINDNESS

    I have always wondered why I can remember certain life experiences in great detail
while other happenings are gone from my memory overnight. I know if I say or do
something mean or hurtful to someone, it’s in my memory forever, but I’ve found that
I remember other occasions when  they happen to be very unusual and hard to believe.
The following is such an occasion.
   I think it was about fourty years ago when one evening I was driving to a Lion's Club
meeting at a member’s house, where I hadn’t been before. I was staring at the street
signs with the sun in my eyes, and when I saw the right street, I made a quick left turn
and ran into a car coming the other way.
    That’s when I met Rachael. Luckily it was only minor damage because we both
applied the brakes to come to a screeching halt. Rachael was a little girl in her early
twenties and quite business-like about the matter, and did not even appear to be angry
at me,  but I was quite shook up over what I had done to her nice little car.   Well,….
I gave her my insurance information and she tore the flap from an envelop an wrote
her name, address and phone number on it then gave it to me, and we went on our way.
    The next day, I called my insurance agent to report the accident and he told me that
if the cost of repair was not over two-hundred dollars it would not go on my record, and
there would be no increase in my policy cost. That evening I called Rachael and I told her
what my agent said. She told me she had already taken the car to a repair shop and they
gave her an estimate of four-hundred-twenty dollars but she said she would see what
she could do.
    Well, …..It’s hard to believe what she did…..She took her car to three other repair
shops until she found one that would repair it for two-hundred dollars. Can you believe it? 
The average person would certainly feel anger and hostility  toward anyone who smashed
into them and caused them to take the time for repairs, but not Rachael. I think she
actually felt sorry for me. Maybe It was my hang-dog look………I’m sure she saved me a
few hundred dollars.
    Now……Many years have gone by. My Dear Helen has left me, and with not much
else to do,  I was going through some old papers and records and found that little
piece of paper that Rachael had given me and was reminded that I had always intended to repay her for her unusual act of  kindness.

      This is the little piece of paper


           I tried the telephone number without success, so I went to the house address
where the house looked like it was not lived in. I went to the house next door and
told the nice lady my story. She said that she had lived there for thirty years and
did not remember any Rachael but she asked me for my  phone number and said
she would see if she could help me find her.
    Sorry……..This is getting to be such a long story but I need to get it out………
The next evening I got a call from Rachael. She was very nice and said that she
could hardly remember the little incident, and that I did not need to repay her.
I insisted, and told her it was for my own selfish reason that I had to do this. 
don’t like to owe people money. So she finally gave me her address. She was living
in another city about fifty miles away, so I mailed her a check and thought that
would be the end of it, but that didn’t happen.
    A week later I got a long letter from her telling me what she did with the money.
( I had given her a thousand dollars. You know how interest can add up over fifty years.)
  She told me that since she didn’t need the money, she would put it to the best possible
use and give it to someone who really did need it. So she gave it to three different
people and explained each ones situation and the need for it. Again, I was overwhelmed
by her kindness and thoughtfulness.
    Since then I’ve kept in contact with her through email. She and her husband are
doing well. Just retired. Close family. Two successful boys. She doesn’t know I’m putting
this little story about her on my web page. She’ll probably give me hell if she finds it. 
      Anyway, I just wanted it to be known that there are people in this big wide world
such as Rachael…..You never know when you might run into one of them..


               ANOTHER  ACT  OF  KINDNESS
      My dear Helen was in her early twenties and had only been driving a few years
when this incident happened. She was waiting at an intersection for the signal light to
turn green and when it did, she proceeded as normal,  But half way through the
intersection a black Cadillac came barreling through from the cross street and
smashed into her.  She didn't get hurt but she was so distraught and terrified she
couldn't speak.
      Immediately,  a middle aged man jumped out of the Cadillac and started yelling
"I had the green light......I had the green light......I had the green light"....on and on.
  He wouldn't stop yelling.
     Helen was so upset and frightened, she didn't know what to do. The  cars were
blocking the intersection and traffic was at a stand-still.   Suddenly a lady in the car
directly behind Helen came forward and took charge of the situation.  Telling the guy
to shut up. That he absolutely did not have a green light.  Some people at the corner
gas station had  also witnessed the accident and notified the police.
     This  lady seemed to sense that Helen was so distraught that she was almost
helpless and she gently comforted and reassured her that everything would be all right.
She parked her car nearby and waited for the policeman so she could talk to him and
give her name as a witness.
     As it turned out, it was just a minor traffic accident and the guy did not have a green
light but he did have insurance.
     This little incident was forever embedded into Helen's memory and she always
regretted that she did not even get the lady's name.  But whatever her name or
wherever she is right now, Helen and I would like to give her a hug and say........
.Thank you...Thank you....Thank you.


                  THE  CRANKY  OLD  MAN                         

.....Last Sunday morning I was shopping at the local supermarket and was
ready to check out. There was only one check stand open out of eight and
there were four customers with full carts ahead of me. .... I'm thinking.....
I need to do something about this.........So I yelled out...pretty loud......
"Hey!...We need to get another check stand opened up....There's a cranky
old man standing in line here with four others ahead of him and the line is
barely moving"...........Well...after that... there was deadly silence....Then I
heard someone say......."We've got one coming".........
.....So another checker did appear and told the lady in front that she was
next. Whereupon I heard the lady say, "Don't you think you should take care
of the cranky old man first?"......Then we all started laughing.... But the
amazing thing about this was that nobody seemed angry at me for my rude
behavior.  When you're old, (almost 93), people are very forgiving.  You can
get away with anything.
                Added ..... Nov. 2018
      When I moved into Hillcrest Old Folks Home three years ago, I put a 
sign on my door that read  "Warning ... Cranky Old Man Inside"
So now .....at 97 years old. I'm getting away with even more crazy stuff
and still having fun.


                    THE HANG-DOG LOOK

    I've often bragged about the fact that with over 74 years of driving, 
 I never received a traffic ticket. To be honest with you I have to admit 
that over those 74 years, I've been stopped three times but only issued a 
warning,.....never a ticket. 
    I think the reason for this great record is not my driving ability, 
but the fact that early on in my life I acquired an excellent, highly 
developed hang-dog look, which I am able to turn on at the drop of a hat. 
    Once when Helen and I were traveling in our camper truck to Corn 
Springs........ one of our favorite campsites, in the middle of the lower 
California desert, on a divided highway with nothing but sage brush for 
miles and miles and we were almost there, when I realized that I had
missed the turn-off to get gas at Desert Center so rather than travel
another five miles to the next cross street where I could turn around,
I decided to take a chance and make a U turn across the divided highway.
It was a twenty foot ditch and I knew it would be risky.
    Well,... the old camper truck just barely made it, with Helen yelling 
no, no, no, all the way across, When I looked back to the other side, I 
saw a black and white highway patrol car with the officer looking 
scornfully at me, and then turning on his red lights and following me 
across. He just barely made it also.
    I knew that I was in for a bad time, But I got out of my truck and 
went back to face the flashing lights. He was a big mean 
looking officer and I expected the worst. So I turned on my hang-dog
look and gave him this story while he was writing out the ticket.
    I told him.... "As bad as a hate getting a ticket, all I can think 
about right now is how am I going to get back into that truck and face my 
wife who was yelling no, no, no, at me all the way across. She won't 
forget this easily, and it will probably ruin our little camping trip."
    Well,...The officer continued writing, and when he was done, he 
handed me a piece of paper and told me in a gruff voice that as much as I 
deserved a ticket, he really did feel sorry for me and was just making it 
a warning. He told me he also had a wife like that.  
    Now, I have to tell you that I've spent a lot of time looking into a 
mirror, practicing my hang-dog look, but as you can see from this story 
that a well developed hang-dog look is a good thing to have.
    Throughout my life, I've used my hang-dog look to my advantage many 
times. I first used it on my parents, then on my teachers at school, on my 
superiors while in the army, on building inspectors while in the 
contracting business, on friends and even my dear Helen, just to get my 
    So now.....At 94 years of age I'm thinking about the time, coming 
soon, when the great angel wants to take me away. Should I give him my 
hang-dog look?..........

                         Take a look at my hang dog look.

       Wouldn't you have compassion for me ?


                         DOYLE  BARNEL  and the  CULL-PACKER 

    In the year of 1929 when I was eight years old, my mother bravely took me and
my three little sisters and one little brother on a memorable train trip all the way from
Redondo Beach, California to visit her mother on a small farm in Ohio. We stayed with
Grandma Lindecamp for two weeks, and got to meet all our Ohio relatives. It was a
great experience for all of us, but there was one incident which I remember in great
detail as if it were stamped in stone in my memory forever. And that's what this story
is about.
    I was playing in grandma's barn when my mother came out of the house very
excited and yelled at me that from an upstairs open window she had heard someone
calling for help in the field beyond grandma's apple orchard. So together we ran
through the apple orchard into the freshly plowed field where we saw a team of mules
connected to a piece of farming machinery. A young boy had fallen from a seat and
was lying behind the mules in front of a huge heavy roller with his legs crushed under
the roller.
     I learned these details later........It was a field used to grow wheat and belonged
to the Barnel family who lived about a half mile down the road and the eleven year
old boy was Doyle Barnel who was using a machine called a Cull-Packer to level the
soil in preparation for planting wheat. Doyle told us that the machine had hit a big
rock, and the shock had thrown him from his seat. Fortunately the mules dad stopped
luickly when he yelled "Whoa", and the huge roller had only rolled over his legs and
as he lay there trapped for two hours before my mother heard his cries, he was so
worried that something would spook the mules and they would pull forward and the
roller would completely crush him.
     Doyle quickly realized that my mother and I could not do much to help him so he
directed us to go out to the road and see if we could flag down some help. It would
have taken my mother a long time to get to the road. so that was a job for me. There
was very little traffic on that little road but I remember planting myself right in the
middle of it, and after several minutes a man drove up and I explained the life and
death situation to him. He was an elderly man dressed in suit and tie and didn't seem
to know much about mules and farm machinery but with Doyle's instructions he
managed to unhook the mules from the machine, which was a huge relief for all of us,
but we quickly realized that there was no way that my mother and I and the stranger
could push that big machine back off Doyle. So back to the street I went and after a
half hour I succeeded in bringing more help...........I think I did pretty good for a little
eight year old barefoot boy...........
     Anyway, together we got the machine rolled back off of Doyle's legs. He didn't
appear to have any broken bones, but was in a lot of pain and could not walk. Several
of the strangers offered to take him home but he refused and said that it was important
to get this field prepared for planting before the rains came and he talked one of the
strangers, who was more of a farmer, into reconnecting the mules and helping him get
up into the seat where he continued working the field.
     Three hours later.........getting dark........We saw him with the mules and cull-packer
traveling down the road toward home........I will always remember Doyle Barnel   


                         Me and Pup on Grandma's porch back then 


                       THE TURKEY LETTERS        

  My Dad ..... The Turkey Thief

     A long time ago, when we were little kids. Before bedtime, our dad would hold
several of us on his lap and read us bedtime stories.
Occasionally, we could feel tiny little bumps on his legs just under the skin. Of course
at our age we didn't know what they were but we seemed to be fascinated with them
and used to play with them and they would move around under his skin.
    After we grew up, and found the turkey letters among his old papers, we realized 
that those little bumps were actually buckshot from some farmer's shotgun.  Also, our
mother shed some light on the mystery.
    When our dad was a youngster. He and his buddies would brew beer or something
like it out in the woods and have all night parties drinking the brew and roasting a
turkey over an open fire. It seems like our pop was the one who always supplied the
turkey and he became an expert at stealing the biggest finest tom around.
    After falling in love with our mom, and at her insistence, he decided to change his
ways and enrolled in the Cleveland Bible Institute to become a preacher. From there,
he wrote letters to all the farmers he had stolen turkeys from, offering to repay them
and asking for forgiveness.
    What we call the turkey letters, are the replies he received from the farmers. Most
of the letters are so old and fragile, they can hardly be read, but I was able to make
a photo of the first page of the two best ones and I also printed them so anyone can
read them.   

r. Geo. Streit                  Nov. 22, 1915    Polk Ohio
    Received your letter and to say I was surprised is putting it light. For I never thought
of you as one of the guilty parties that stole my turkey. I would like to have a chat with
you when you come home, for I had a fellow spotted for doing that trick and would like
to know if he wasn't one of the party.
    We certainly do forgive you George. You know what the turkey was like and if you
feel you ought to give us something for him, you may do so, but I will set no price. Will
accept whatever you feel like giving.
                    Your friend as ever J. S. Cypher
   PS  May god bless you and ever keep you faithful.
Friend George.        Jan. 12, 1916    West Salem, Ohio, R.F.D.
    Will answer your letter that I received last Saturday. Was glad to hear from you,
but was awful sorry to hear that you was one of the bunch that stole my turkey.
I would not have believed it from someone else, but as it is coming from you I have
to accept it as true.
    Now George, you ask my forgiveness. I will forgive you with all my heart because
now I think you are trying to do the right thing, but I want you to write and tell me
just who was in that bunch because I have been blaming it all this time on altogether
a different party and I have not treated them right. And then I have to go to this party
and ask their forgiveness for the way I have treated them the last three years.
    Well George, you wanted to know in your letter what I wanted for the turkey.
I don't want any more than he cost me and that was $5.50 at George Camp's sale.
He was a full blood bronze tom. And that was not the worst of it. We could not get
another tom in the neighborhood that fall and so we had to take our hens to town
and sell them and go out of the turkey business.
    Now George, I thank you for being the man I think you are.
I will always have faith in men that try to do right in the sight of God and Jesus.
                      Your friend Ed Rickel  

                       WHY  DOES  IT  DO  THAT ?

       A scientific toy that wants to spin in only one direction.
      I have  been forever fascinated by this little thing. Someone gave one to me
when I was a kid. It was made of wood, but it did the same thing. Wants to spin in
one direction only.
    Since they have been found in medieval caves of Celtic tribes, made of wood or
stone, they called them Celts, but the popular mane for them now, is rattlebacks.
They say it demonstrates Newton's three laws of motion. I enjoy handing them out
to strangers just to see their reaction. I've given out over a hundred and fifty.
    Einstein said that he was no more intelligent than the average, but what made
him different was that he was intensely and passionately curious.  Well, I'm no Einstein,
but I was very curious about this little toy.
    I took one to a Lions Club meeting and showed my friends what it did, and passed
it around the table so each one could spin it and out of 24 guys at the table, there was
only one who was curious about it. He asked me if it was magnetized. Most of them
just passed it on without even spinning it.
Once, someone asked me if it would spin in the other direction on the other side of the
    It's no wonder that people have such childish religious beliefs and  don't believe
inglobal warming or the truths that scientists have given us.  ll









   To see what I'm talking about ..... .... Click  HERE


                      WE  TRIED

    About fifty years ago, a member of our Lion's club, Vince Ciscero,
brought a program to the club which sent Helen and I on a journey that I
can't easily forget.
    Vince belonged to an organization called the Knights of Columbus. and
they were involved in a project to get people to visit and communicate with
prisoners at the Calif. Youth Authority prison at Norco. The idea was to
try to help these young offenders assimilate back into society after they
are released instead of returning to their previous (usually gang related) 
activities which so many of them do.     It seems that many of these
prisoners have no family that cares about them and no guidance whatever.
They were asking for couples to get involved with a certain prisoner who
would be assigned to them, and communicate with them by mail or phone and
visit them at least every other week.
    Well,....It sounded like a nice thing to do,...... so after talking it
over with Helen, we decided to go for it. The prison was about a forty
minute drive, but since our kids were old enough to stay by themselves, we
signed up. There was one other couple in the club other than Vince who did
this also.
    The prison staff were very helpful and accommodating and after an
orientation session we were introduced to our ward. A 22 year old who had
five months left to serve of a one year sentence for auto theft. James was
from South-Central LA and had been in trouble before on drug related
charges. He was a big guy but he seemed to be very gentle and well spoken
and both Helen and I liked him from the start.
    Of course James was from a troubled family. His father was doing time
in Folsom State Prison and his only brother, six years older than James,
had been in and out of trouble all his life. His mother would write him
occasionally and he had an uncle that seemed to care about him.
    Although he never finished high school James was determined to educate
himself and seemed to be doing very well at it through the prison library
and such. He swore that he was going to give up his old ways and work hard
and stay out of trouble. His ambition was to become a screen writer and had
already written quite a lot while in prison and was anxious for Helen and I
to read his stories and hear what we thought about them. He wrote mostly
about growing up in South-Central LA. and did well at it.
    So....We visited with him every other Thursday evening and got to know
him quite well. I would bring him writing supplies and Helen would bring
him cookies. As his release date approached, he made plans to go back where
his mother still had a room for him. He had written to the bakery company
where he used to work and they offered him his old job back. Helen and I
made arrangements to drive him back to Los Angeles and he was so happy and
excited to start his life over again.
    He was to be released on a Tuesday at 9:00 am. and we were to pick him
up at 10:am. Helen had some little goodies to give him and although he had
earned some money while in prison, I planned to give him an extra $50. to
help him along until his first pay check from the bakery. We really wanted
the best for him.
    We expected him to be waiting for us at the gate but when we arrived at
exactly ten o-clock, the guards told us that he had been picked up by his
brother an hour earlier..........We were so disappointed ......We had
planned to celebrate this occasion by going to a nice place for lunch and
seeing a little of the neighborhood where he grew up.
    We never saw or heard from James again........Looking back on this
experience, I would have to say that as bad as it ended, I would do it all
again if I could........ ....Through it all, Helen and I achieved what
really meant the most for us. ....A feeling that we did something GOOD....
....Which I've always believed is what HAPPINESS is all about.


                       ELECTRICITY AND ME

     About the time I started high school, I found a book at the Pomona public library
that changed my life. The title of the book was "The Boy Electrician". It was full of
electrical experiments that anyone could do with just some wire and batteries and
ordinary hardware. Instructions for making your own crystal set, radio, telegraph,
telephone, electric motor, arc lamp, Tesla coil, relays, solenoids, almost anything
electric. I was fascinated with that book and checked it out over and over again, and
played around with every experiment in the book. During my high school years,
electricity was like magic to me, and I couldn't leave it alone. Almost set the house
on fire once when I wasn't paying attention. I knew all the best trash cans in town.
Like the telephone Co. where they threw away old parts and the second hand stores
that would trash old radios and appliances that didn't work, but contained lots of neat
parts for me to play with.   
    I kept learning, and could even build a superhetrodyne radio from scratch.
After high school I did one semester of Jr. college, but was really not interested in any
more school. It was summer time and my folks were insisting that I get a job, so I
took the easy way out and joined the army. I had to get out of town. They gave me a
uniform and I was an immediate hero. Giving my life for my country. This was July 1940.
Not in any wars yet.... Wow, What fun....I always wanted to be a soldier. My folks were
so proud of me. Even got my picture in the Progress Bulletin.
   Since I knew something about electricity, they put me in a new signal corps battalion
that was just being formed, destined to be sent to Alaska to construct and maintain
telephone lines. They taught us how to dig fox hole and shoot guns and how to set and
climb poles, string wire and cable and use all the army communications equipment.
   And that's exactly what we did in Alaska, around Anchorage and later in the Aleutians.
Since I was almost the only one in the whole outfit of 200 men that knew something
about electricity, they put me in charge of the tech section, with a really good rating
and pay.
    Lucky Me....I enjoyed being a hero in the army....
Discharged from the army, after five and a half years. 23 years old and just recently
married to Helen, I applied for a job with the telephone Co. in Fresno, but they wanted
me to spend time at their school, and I already thought I knew more than they did
about telephones. So Helen and I came home to Pomona where my dad was building
houses. He had an eighty year old retired electrical contractor, Tommy Harrison, wiring
his houses and I started helping him. After helping Tommy wire three houses, Tommy
quit, leaving the house wiring to me. The houses were all pretty much the same, and I
caught on to it pretty fast. The only problem was that the city building department
kept after me to get a contractors license.
     So I did........I wired houses, commercial buildings, anything electrical. Always
non-union. The local scab, that was hired to finish up the wiring on jobs that were
being picketed. Mostly working by myself but sometimes hiring friends and family
members who needed the work.
  After 40 years I gave up contracting but continued to work for a close friend who
owned a business of several hundred employees named FDS Manufacturing. They
made products from cardboard and plastics and had a lot of interesting machinery
which I loved to work on.
    I developed a skill for installing computerized controls on older machines, replacing
huge control panels full of all different kinds of relays, timers, contractors and
mechanical parts with a simple programmable controller. 
I  also worked on newer up to date machinery that came from all over the world.
    Sometimes I would build my own programmable controllers from small
microprocessors and Radio Shack parts and I really enjoyed the learning and the
challenge. I also enjoyed teaching other employees to do what I was doing.
    I didn't work there full time or any certain hours. At retirement age, Helen and
I enjoyed RVing with friends and visiting relatives wherever, but I went there whenever
I could because I enjoyed it so much. They seemed happy to have me and there was
always something I needed to do there.
   While working for FDS, I became a big friend of Radio Shack, Building many electronic
circuit boards to control and troubleshoot different machines, but that's a story all of
it's own that I have yet to write.
In Feb,2009 at only 87 years old, I had to quit going down there. Helen, with vascular
dementia needed full time care. I couldn't leave her alone. They called me a few times
and I tried to help them over the phone, but I had to give up the great times I had
with FDS. After Helen passed, Rob Stevenson, the current boss of the company,
attended the Celebration of Life luncheon that we had for Helen and he invited me back,
but at 91 years of age, I decided against it. So now I just stay home and play with the
computer and my music and write stories like this one.


                NITWIT ELECTRIC How we got that name.

  When I started with electrical contracting. I wanted to find a business name that
had some class, so I chose.....FLY BY NIGHT ELECTRIC....and had some business
cards printed. Since I usually only worked as a sub-contractor, and for people that
knew me well, the name didn't make much difference to anybody but I always liked
that name.
    Well....This is what happened to my classy name......It was summer time and I
was doing mostly swimming pool wiring for several pool builders. I had my son Barney
(18yrs) and a family friend Brent (15yrs) working for me.  They needed a summer
time job and they could do pretty well without me with a truck of their own. We were
finishing up a pool in Upland, and at quitting time, they were following me home.
    Town And Country Pools, (a company that we worked for) had asked me to check
out a pool in Claremont for a problem. It was a pool that was completed earlier on
Tulane Rd. We had wired a lot of pools on Tulane Rd. So I went by there on the way
home to check it out. I drove in the driveway and to my surprise, Barney and Brent
were right behind me. They were shirtless with that old beat up truck and I really
didn't need them.
    I have to admit that I had forgotten what the exact problem was with the pool but
I figured I could just check everything out. As I headed to the pool area, a lady came
out the rear door and yelled at us "What are you guys doing here?" Well, I told her
that we were from Town And Country Pools and  were there to a...a...a ..fix something
on her pool, and she yelled back to us "There is nothing wrong with my pool. Now get 
out of here.".......So we did...
    When I got home I received a phone call from Tom Preece with Town And Country.
He said that one of their customers, a Mrs. Riley on Tulane Rd. had called him and
chewed him out for sending those stupid Nitwits up to her place for no reason whatsoever.
    After considerable thought and anguish, we figured out what happened. We had 
gone to 1458 Tulane Rd. instead of 1548 Tulane rd. Like I said,....We had done a lot
of pools on Tulane Rd. After all I really can't blame the lady but she certainly did hang
a name on us that was there forever.
    The story got around to all the other pool companies and the guys we worked with. 
From then on we were known as Nitwit Electric. So....I had to have some more
business cards printed,,,,,,,,NITWIT ELECTRIC formerly FLY BY NIGHT.   Our friends at
Town And Country Pools  Had a magnetic sign made for us to attach to the side of our
truck which displayed our new name..... NITWIT ELECTRIC         Well, we got used to
the name and had a lot of fun with it.  Brent even got us some special T-shirts made
to display our name.           



               THE RIGHT TO DIE

                After a long, painful illness, my brother-in-law, John, was terminally
ill and on his way out. The hospital had called the family and said they
didn't expect him to live through the night. The family had gathered late
that night at his bedside to say their last goodbyes and John seemed rather
happy that it would soon be over. He was all doped up with pain medication
as he bid them farewell.
    His oldest son, Ted, told me that he went back to the hospital the next
morning and found that John was still alive. His dad told him he woke up this
morning and said to myself....."Oh shit....I'm still alive".
    Well.....later that day, John got his wish, but it started me thinking about
the right to die. I'm sure John would have ended his suffering sooner if he
could have done so. They call it suicide and there is no law against suicide,
but John, in his condition at that time, didn't have the where-with-all to do it
without help. And there is a law against that. They call it assisted suicide.
    I know that some countries around the world, and four of our own states
have changed their laws in this regard, But what about the rest of us?
In my own case, My Dear Helen lived with vascular dementia for her last
eight years but it was in no way painful for her, but if it had been, I
would have wasted no time in putting an end to it. Making myself a criminal.
In the case of prisoners who have come to realize the horrible atrocities
they have committed, and desire nothing more than to just die and have to
devise devious and ingenious ways to kill themselves in their prison cells,
the government says no....you can't kill yourself....We have to murder you.
My great aunt, Thelma, who suffered from incurable cancer for years in a
nursing home found a way out and just refused to eat or drink, but it took
almost a week. Good for her, but if you're a criminal, they have a way to
prevent that.
    Now I'm wondering, am I crazy for thinking we should have a right to die.
I know we have a right to live. But isn't dying a part of living? Getting
assistance to live when we want to live is no problem, But how about assistance
in dying when we want to die?
    No question about it ....... Forcing a person to live can sometimes be cruel
l and inhumane punishment. And all because of some ancient writings 
someone found in a cave a long time ago and the way they've been interpreted
by some religious Quacks. 


                       NOTE FROM AN OLD MAN  

      Sometimes when I'm in a restaurant or wherever, I notice a happy couple who
remind me of my bygone days, And I feel the need to give the guy this little note.
I always slip it to him on my way out so that I'm out the door before he can read it.
I find that because of my age, I can get away with lots of stuff.... People will forgive me
....... Here's the little note.
                               Yes, I'm an old man, older than dirt. And my behavior may seem
                        strange, but I can't help it because that's just the way I am. I think
                        you and your pretty wife are at a stage in your life where I once was.
                        And every time I see a happy couple such as you, it brings back
                        memories of long ago, and I feel the need to share a few words with
                        you. I carry these little notes for that purpose.
                             My Dear Wife left me two years ago after a ten year battle with
                        vascular dementia and during the sorrow and sadness of that
                        experience, the one thought that was always on my mind was that I
                        did not express my love for her as often as I could have while she was
                        still able to think and understand. As I think back on it now, that is
                        my one regret and it will always be with me. I wish so much that I
                        could have her back with me one last time so I could give her a hug and
                        tell her how much I love her. One never realizes the value of what he
                       has until he looses it.  I just wanted to tell you this so maybe you can
                       avoid my sad journey               


              THE  CANNED  PUMPKIN          

       I can't seem to keep from writing stories relating to my Dear Helen, so here's
another one.
     When she would take her little doggie for a walk, she would stop and visit with
everyone she met, whether she knew them or not. Same way at the grocery store.
She would have something to say to anyone at the check-out counter. Same way in
the doctors office waiting room or on an elevator or anywhere she happened to be.
Sometimes she would start a conversation and everybody around would join in. She
not only made a lot of friends, but I think she sometimes spread a little happiness with
her casual conversation.
    Since I now go everywhere by myself, I'm noticing a big difference. Everywhere
I go, people are so quiet. Nobody speaks to anybody unless they are spoken to.
    Well......After thinking it over for a while, I decided I would try to take over where
Helen left off. It's been a learning experience for me. It's really not my nature, but I
think I'm doing fairly well at it. I make a special effort to talk to the elderly or people
of a different race, or people with something unusual about them.
    Outside the Target store, there was a young man sitting in a wheel chair who didn't
have any legs. Just stubs, above the knee.  I said to him, "Wow....You don't have any
legs..... What happened?"   He said, "You know......You are the only one who has ever
asked me that question."
Well.... He told me all about it and I think he enjoyed telling me. Of course I offered
to help him anyway I could but he told me he was waiting for his ride in a special
vehicle that handled wheel chairs.  
     At Stater Bros market I was trying to find the canned pumpkin (the vet told me to
give Ozzy a little for constipation). I asked a little elderly lady if she happened to know
where the canned pumpkin was. So she started looking for it, and asked several others
if they knew where it was. Soon, there was a whole bunch of us looking for the canned
pumpkin, And we were all having a good time. After a while I heard someone yell out
"I found it...I found it". Sure enough a teen-age boy, several isles over had actually
found the canned pumpkin. We all laughed about it and went back to our shopping a
little happier.  


                   BOB'S BIRTHDAY CARD

    We were celebrating Helen's 59'th birthday at Vinces Spagetti Restrant. My son-in-law,
Bob, borrowed some felt-tip pens and drew this picture of Helen and me standing in
front of our camper truck. He drew it on the back of his place mat and made this
birthday card......In case you have trouble reading the inside page, this is what it says.

                 Happy natal day dear Helen.
                 I never get tired of your yellin.
                As you lay down the law,
                With your broom made of straw,
               "Like it is" is what you are tellin.

         Best wishes for many more.....Bob, Wendy, Toddy, Si  

         Is he an artist or a poet? ..... No .... He's a dentist.


                  ROBERT CRAIG

   I think he was about ten years younger than me and I remember him in my
childhood as kind of a child prodigy who could recite the Declaration of Independence
at only six years old. He became well educated with teaching credentials but just
never seemed to be able to fit himself into society. I don't think he ever had a job.
    He lived with his mother, but as she aged he became a burden to her with his odd
behavior and other family members made him leave.
    So he became homeless and lived on the streets. He had a cart which contained
all his possessions and kindhearted people would let him keep it in their garage.
    He doted on the Bible and related everything that happened to some verse in the
Bible and wrote countless stories and manuscripts about it and considered that to be
his purpose in life.
    My sister Audrey sent him to me and I agreed to let him store some of his
possessions in my garage and after that, although I would occasionally see him on
she streets wearing a heavy overcoat, even on a hot summer day. He never came
back to my house.
    Years went by and I remember seeing his obituary in the newspaper and more
years went by and just recently, in a remote area of my garage, I came across the
box of his possessions he had left there years ago.       Inside the box were some
tools that I think were once his father's and countless typewritten pages of his
analysis of the Bible. But there was one page that caught my attention which I want
to share with you. It really gives an incite to Robert's true character. He must have
written it while he was living with his mother. I printed it out below.......  

           MEMORIAL  TO  A  LITTLE  FRIEND        
        Oh little bird, why didn't you fly away? But then, you didn't know she would
put you in prison. And so you had everything you needed,....seed, water, a new cage.
But you were so frightened. I remember watching and listening as you flew back and
forth in that small space. In fact little bird, you were so worried about getting out
that you weren't eating or drinking.
    When I saw you struggling so, I asked her, "Why do birds have wings? They were
meant to fly, not sit in cages."
    But she replied. "If I let him go, a cat will get him."
    And so I agonized over you. The Humane Society was sending someone to get you.
But when her truck came, she decided not to take you away. She said, "Put an ad in
the paper, and if no one claims him, he's yours." So you continued to thrash back and
forth. And you weren't eating or drinking.
    Then I wondered, "If she picked you up so easily perhaps you could not fly." So I
let you out. And you flew beautifully.....to the window sill. Then you began pecking
frantically at the glass. When I saw that you were hurting yourself, I put you back
into the cage. How you struggled in my hands.
    I pleaded with her again, "The little bird is flying back and forth for hours." But she
wouldn't listen. And you weren't eating or drinking.
    That night you did not sit on your perch. Instead, you huddled in a corner at the
bottom of your cage, with your feathers all ruffled up.
    I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. Would you be alive in the morning?
perhaps she would finally let you go. It was your only chance.
    But it was too late. By morning you were still all ruffled up and cold. I said, "If
you give me permission, I'll take him away, where he can die in freedom." But no....
She would not listen. Instead she forced the seed and water down your throat.
    It's so quiet now. I try to hear you thrashing back and forth. But I can't hear you.
Please, little friend. do not be sad like me. Though your life was cut short, you are
no longer in prison. Your God has set you free.
    Yes, the Humane Society erred badly. But let's not withdraw our support. If we
keep on contributing our time and money, Perhaps the day will come when birds
are no longer in prisons.
                           Robert Craig


                    ROBERT  LEWIS  MEETS  RICHARD  NIXON

    Yes, I'm talking about the same Robert Lewis that owned Foothill Beverage Co. in
Pomona Ca. and later donated a considerable sum to  the Pomona Valley Hospital to
start the Robert and Beverly Lewis Cancer Care Center.
    Bob was a charter member and president of the Pomona Breakfast Lions club when
I joined. He was very friendly, outgoing and popular and I have to tell you this little
story about him.
    The year was 1962, and a group from our Lions club was attending a district
convention at the San Clemente Inn. It was Saturday Night.  The night of the grand
ball and we were all dressed for the occasion. After dinner we left the dinning hall
and went into the nearby ballroom where a band was playing and we could dance
and socialize. Bob, however, was more interested in something else.
    The word had passed around that Richard Nixon was dinning in a small dinning
room close by and people were standing in line in the hallway, waiting to greet him
and shake his hand. ( At this time, Nixon was living in San Clemente after serving
as Vice President with Eisenhower and before he later became President)
    So, while the rest us were dancing and having fun, Bob and his wife Beverly were
waiting in line to greet Richard Nixon. After an hour and a half Bob and Bev joined us
in the ballroom and told us this story.
    Bob said that after shaking hands and introducing himself and Beverly, he said to
Nixon, "You won't remember it but I shook your hand once a long time ago when
you were campaigning for the senate. You had just embarked from a plane at the
Ontario Airport".  Nixon replied, "Why Bob, Of course I remember you, But this isn't
the lady you introduced as your wife at that time".....


                           THE SNAKE

    When our son Barney was about ten years old, his hobby was reptiles,
and he had a collection of snakes and lizards which he cared for and enjoyed.
    Helen and I were all dressed up going to a party in the early evening. As we drove
down White Ave. near the tracks we saw a snake in the road and realizing how much
Barney loved snakes, We stopped and picked it up, and returned home. Helen had to
drive while I held the snake. Of course Barney was delighted and we went on our way
to the party.
    When we arrived home fairly late, Barney was waiting up for us and quite excited.
He couldn't wait to tell us about the new snake.
    He told us that he recognized it as a Gopher snake, so he put it into the cage with
another Gopher snake that he already had. He said right away the snakes wrapped
themselves around each other and squirmed and slithered all over the place and he
thought they were having a fight, but then he saw a little pink thing come out of one
snake and go into the other snake. I asked Barney if he knew what they were doing. 
He said "Sure Dad, They were making out"
    Little did we realize what was coming. For the next two years we had Gopher snakes
all over the place. The baby snakes were so small, they had no trouble escaping the
snake pen.       Well.........at least we didn't have any gophers....... 




    These three jokes are really old.  Just like me.  I'm always amazed that so
many people have never heard them.

Number 1
        There once was a homeless hobo in the city park who had to go potty. 
Since there were no rest-rooms nearby, he just squatted down in the pathway
and did his business. Just as he was finishing, he saw a big policeman
strolling up the pathway and realized he was in big trouble.  So thinking
quickly, he placed his hat over the little pile and held it there,  and when the
policeman came up,he said,  "Oh officer, I'm so glad to see you. I need your
help......I'm Professor Goodbee from the Chicago Museum of Natural Science
and I've been tracking this extremely rare African Foo-Foo bird for two weeks
and I finally trapped him and have him under my hat. If I could get you to
hold the hat while I go get a cage from my car, we can both become famous
for capturing such a rare endangered species."
        Well....... the policeman said, "OK", and  squatted down and held the hat
while the hobo took off as fast as he could go.........After awhile the policeman
is thinking, "what happened to that professor?....I've got to get going on my
beat.......I can't wait here much longer.......Maybe I can  raise the hat and very
quickly grab the bird with both hands"......So that's what he did..... He quickly
raised the hat and made a dive for the bird..... then he stared at his two hands
and said, "Oh, No.....Look what I've done.....I've squashed every bone in it's

Number 2
        Pope Harry had been ill for a long time and had been examined by all the
best doctors in the world. The doctors all agreed on the diagnosis and arranged
a meeting with Pope Harry to give him the bad news  They told him....."We
realize this is going to be a terrible shock to you, but in order to save your life,
we need to tell you. You are suffering from a fatal disease called Lackanookie.
There is only one cure for it and that is sexual intercourse.
       Well.......Pope Harry was truly stunned........He wailed, "No....never....I
could never do that. It's impossible!  I would rather die......So all the doctors
and staff reasoned with him and told him that the world could not afford to
lose  such a wonderful pope  as he.  After hours of pleading Pope Harry
told them,  "OK....I will agree to this abominable act, but only under three
conditions......My partner in this crime must be blind, so that she cannot 
recognize me or see my pain........She must be deaf so she cannot hear my
 ries of anguish.....She must have big boobs, cause I like big boobs.

Number 3
         My old friend Frank Pavia told me this joke. He told me that when he
was growing up in Boston, all the policemen were Irish, and when they finally
got one Italian policeman on the force, the Italian community had a huge
celebration. This joke comes from that Italian community.
        Once..... one of these big Irish policeman came upon a little Jewish boy
on the street and said to him. "Hey little jew-boy, what do the Rabbis do with
all the foreskins they chop off you guys?"  The little jew-boy answered him,
"I understand they send them over to Ireland where they plant them, and
when they grow into big pricks, they send them back here to Boston and make
policemen out of them".       

One more.......
        I pointed to two old drunks across the bar from us and told my friend,
        "That'll  be us in ten years."
        My friend looked across the bar and said, "That's a mirror, you       dummy.    

One more ......
         Three old Georges were sitting on a park bench.
         The first one says,  "It sure is windy today"
         The second one says,  "It's not Wednesday, it's Thursday"
          The third one says,  "I'm thirsty too. Lets go have a drink"   

One more .....
      There were five old Irish buddies who often enjoyed having a
few drinks at their favorite downtown bar, and once, after leaving the
bar, Mc'Ginty was run over by a streetcar and was killed. After talking
it over, his friends decided they couldn't leave his body laying there
in the street and decided to just drag him to his nearby home, which
they proceeded to do.
      Since they all agreed that O'Reilly was the most tactful, they
sent him on ahead so he could prepare Mrs. Mc'Ginty for the bad news.
Upon greeting her, O'Rielly said "Are you the widow Mc'Ginty?" .... She
answered him, "My name is Mc'Ginty,but I ain't no widow" ... whereupon
O'Rielly said "It's a blinking liar you are, We're dragging his body
home a block up the street right now". Then Mrs. Mc'Ginty wailed, "Oh
my god ... That is so terrible. We just finished paying for his new false teeth".


                   WARNING …..  Due to mature subject mater

                                          Viewer discretion is advised

   The following stories may be a little too salty for you and may require adult

supervision.  I could have left them untold, but like all my stories they are true

 and I think the truth needs to be told. I've done my best to lighten them up a litle

. lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

                          WONDERFUL  WONDERFUL              

     The year was 1940. Pat Sullivan and I had both joined the army signal corp.
just out of high school, at 18 years old. After a few of months basic training our
company was stationed at Fort McDowell on Angel island in San Francisco bay for
further training before being shipped to Alaska.
     Pat and I had become good friends because we were the youngsters of the outfit
and had so much in common. On Saturday nights our good buddies would always
visit the red light district in San Francisco and they were constantly trying to get Pat
and me to join them. I think Pat and I were somewhat afraid of women and were
defiantly not interested in that. We would spend our time at the U.S.O. for free food
and movies and our friends would join us after they had their fun.
     I don't remember exactly how it happened, but one time we had to go with them
to their place before going to the U.S.O. It was a big whore house taking up all of one
floor of a big hotel, and Pat and I were just sitting there in one of the waiting rooms.
The girls were friendly and they seemed to realize that we weren't interested in them.
Somehow our buddies got Pat into another waiting room and we were separated for
about twenty minutes and when Pat came back, he was very excited and told me
"Hey George....It was wonderful...You've got to try it".... and on and on with the
buddies joining him.
      Well....I felt like I had no choice....So I reluctantly chose Lucy. Lucy was not the
best looking of the bunch but I think I felt sorry for her because of that. So Lucy
took me by the hand and led me into a room where I paid her two dollars, which was
the usual rate, and after a little smooching she proceeded to remove her clothes and
I did the same. It was then that I encountered a big problem. I was wearing big high
top army boots, and I couldn't get my right boot off because the lace had become
entangled and knotted, and it was impossible to get my pants or undershorts off over
that boot. So there was Lucy lying on the bed, waiting for me, and there was 
struggling to get my pants down over that boot. Well Lucy finally told me to just go
ahead with my pants dangling there so I did the best I could under the circumstances,
but after about ten minutes of both of us trying hard we had to give up.
     Lucy asked me to please not tell anyone that it didn't work out, and I asked her
to do the same. So I went back into the waiting room where my friends were
anxiously waiting to hear what I would say. I said "You're absolutely right Pat...
.It was wonderful...I'm glad you talked me into it".....Then Pat said "I'm really
happy to hear that George, But I have a little confession to make......I lied to you
when I said that I had done it......I wanted you to go first cause I was frightened by
it all, but now that I know how it was for you, I'm going to give it a try". Which he did.
But luckily for Lucy he chose another girl. Naturally, when he came back to the
waiting room, all we heard was "It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful..........
     Maybe it was, but I doubt it........He was also wearing the big boots.........


                      THE  HANDY  MAN

    In the old days. (the 1950’s and 60’s) . Helen and I used to travel down to Tijuana, 
Just across the border from San Diego. Helen loved to go shopping there. This time,
we went with two other couples, and were having a great time with tacos and margaritas. 
    Bill and Eddie and I made arrangements with the gals to split from them for a couple
hours so we could do something else while they continued their shopping.  Eddie had a
friend who had bought a porno film there and we decided to see if we could find one.
At that time, you could not get any porno stuff in the states .  It was all illegal. 
    Eddie hailed a taxi driver and told him what we wanted so off we went on a strange
journey. He took us to a motel that was like a courtyard, surrounded by little cottages,
and when we drove in there, a bunch of girls came out to greet us. They were very
friendly and we had a hard time making them understand that we were only interested
in a film. .
    The girls took us into one of the rooms where they were showing porno movies
from another room through a whole in the wall. All the time while we were watching
the movies, the girls were very friendly.
And although Eddie left the room with one of them for about fifteen minutes, Bill and
I just watched the movies. Eddie and I together, bought one of them for twenty bucks,
and we got a taxi to take us back downtown where we met our wives right on schedule.
Strangely, while we were at the motel, we never once saw a man. Only the friendly girls.
    The film that Eddie and I bought was poor quality black and white, silent 8mm; titled
“THE HANDY MAN”. Probably made in the late 1920’s. A rather small and scrawny black
man in overalls, carrying
gardening  tools comes to the door of a beautiful rich ladies mansion looking for work. 
She hires him and watches him from a window for awhile and after seeing him go to
the bathroom out in the yard, she invites him into the house where in spite of his small
stature he proved to have exactly what she wanted.
    Eddie and I passed this little film around among are friends and we all had a lot of
fun with it.
One group of friends renamed the film  “THE  BLACK  STALIAN”


                              DADDY   DADDY

      “Daddy, Daddy ….. My pee-pee’s hard”. That’s what the little five year old was
yelling as he was pulling on his daddy’s trousers, trying to get his attention.
    It was a Lion’s Club affair and several of us were just standing there socializing.
He kept telling his dad
“Daddy… my pee-pee’s really hard. It’s sticking straight out. What should I do?” ……
After trying to ignore him, his dad told him. “Just go  stand over there in the corner
and it will go away”. We all had a little chuckle over this wonderful example of
childhood innocence. At five years old, he had no idea that we don’t talk about
pee-pees ……And why not? …. I haven’t  the slightest idea…….We talk about
everything else.
    This little incident brings  to my mind the first time my own pee-pee got hard,
so now I have to tell you about it. ……………. I think I was about seven or eight years
old. We lived near the beach and my sisters and I went swimming almost every day
in the summertime. I was just dog-paddling in the surf when it happened. At that time,
I knew very little about the birds and the bees, or what that little pee-pee was really
used for. It didn’t hurt; in fact it felt pretty good,
But I was frightened because I could not figure out what the hell was going on. 
Instinctively I was embarrassed and didn’t want to get out of the water because it
made my swim trunks bulge out.
    Isn’t it strange how we always remember the first time  something happens?  Why
am I telling this story?  I have no idea……….


                         WILLY and BOB’S SECRET

   Some folks will say I'm nuts for telling a story like this but I think it's too great
a story to be left untold, So I will accept the challenge and try to tell it properly without
offending anyone.
    My daughter Wendy, and her husband Bob had a cute little Pomeranian puppy named
Willy and once when we were visiting them we were all intrigued by Willy’s strange
behavior. There was a leather sofa in the den that had about a three inch space under
it and Willy was wiggling around on his back, in that space under the sofa and we
couldn’t figure out what he was doing under there. Wendy said that she had noticed
that strange behavior several times before.
    Just then, Bob cane into the room and took one look at the situation, and burst
out into uncontrollable laughter. Well, of course we were all anxious to hear what was
so funny, but when Bob was finally able to control himself, he told us that he couldn’t
tell us because it was too gross. Now that made us all the more curious about what
was going on with Willy under the sofa. Bob just kept telling us it was between him
and Willy and too gross to explain.
    They say the truth will eventually come out, and it finally did. Bob was a dentist
and for years, he would come home for lunch each day, and after his lunch, he would
lie down on that sofa for a little nap before returning to the office____Now brace
yourself____Here’s the gross part____ Lying on his back he would sometimes be
plagued with buggers in his nose and since it was just so convenient, He would reach
down and place them under the sofa.
    I guess for Willy, buggers were a rare delicacy.      



                    BOB ....THE WINNER

  Here's another story that I probably shouldn't be telling but these stories are
so much fun, I can't leave them untold.
    Once Bob was telling me about the good times he had with his fellow classmates
while going through college. He told me about one occasion when they were partying
and having a great time drinking beer.
    Each one of them was bragging about the size of his penis and saying he had the
biggest one. The problem was that none of them wanted to be the first to show their's.
This discussion was going on and on and the girls all seemed to be quite interested in
it and one of them came forward with a way to put an end to it. This was her suggestion.
    " Each of you will stand around this table and I will count to three.,,,,, On the count
of one, you will unzip your trousers ...... On the count of two, you will grab your penis
..... On the count of three, you will flip it out and lay it on the table. Now will you all
agree to this? "
    There was some discussion but finally they all agreed, So they gathered at the table
and the gal proceeded with the count. On the count of one they all did it .....On the
count of two they all did it ........ On the count of three, Bob was the only one who did it
..... The others all roared with laughter and applause and shouted ... "You Win ...
You Win ... You Win"


                        HILLARY  and  VIAGRA

    Hillary was the only bachelor in our Lion's Club a few years ago, and we were
having a great discussion about the Viagra adds we were seeing on television. In
particular, the line about "If your erection lasts longer than four hours, call your
doctor right away". Hillary, who is usually kind of quiet, Shouts out...........
"What a bunch of baloney that is.........If I had an erection that lasted four hours,
I would never, ever, call a doctor......I would call every girl friend that I ever knew"

        Now.....There just happens to be another story that is related to this story.
                MY  BIG  MOUTH 
       Recently, I moved into a retirement community called Hillcrest. Run by the
Church of the Brethern.  I realized that I had almost completely worn out this old
body that I had lived in for 94 years. I cant see much....can hardly hear anything
.....can barley walk....My little brain can't think or remember much. The only thing
that still works is my big mouth, and it's usually working over time.   
      My sisters and I were having our usual Saturday luncheon in the little Hillcrest
café and for some reason I was telling them the little story about Hillary and when it
came to where Hillary yelled out........"What a bunch of baloney that is.........If I had
an erection that lasted four hours, I would never, ever, call a doctor......I would call
every girl friend that I ever knew" ......I yelled it out just like Hillary did ..........That's
when my sister Mildred jumped up and started yelling at me .... "George ... George ..
.Be quiet ... Shut up ... Everybody's looking at us".
     Well......I did see some looks coming my way......Some scornful, some smiling,
But I think everyone saw that I was just another old man doing what old men do.  
I really should have been embarrassed but old men don't embarrass easily.
So I just gave Mildred one of my favorite poems.  
                Sticks and stones will break my bones   
                But looks will never hurt me.


























                                END  OF  PAGE ...... Aren't you glad?