And Our Special This Evening....

The Editorial Waterboard is proud to announce that Michael Edward Rashoff, pictured right, was admitted to the Geriatric Ward of Bumfuck Presbyterian early this morning after being diagnosed with GITS (Gastro-Intestinal Torque Syndrome) pursuant to his Alzheimer's-fuelled discovery of the prune daiquiri.

The prognosis was characterized by the attending physician as "fecal."



A man feared his aging wife might need a hearing aid.

She never seemed to hear when he was talking to her.

Not quite sure how to approach her, he called the family doctor to discuss the problem.

The medico told him there is a simple informal test the husband could perform to provide the required statistical data base necessary for evaluating her hearing loss.

Here's what you do," said the pill-purveyor. "Stand about 40 feet away from her and in a normal conversational speaking tone see if she hears you. If not, try it at 30 feet, then 20 feet and so on until you get a response."

That evening, the wife is in the kitchen cooking dinner and the hub is in the den. He says to himself, "I'm about 40 feet away, let's see what happens."

Then in a normal tone he asks, 'Honey, what's for dinner?"

No response.

He moves ten feet closer to the kitchen and repeats, "Honey, what's for dinner?"

Still no response.

Then he moves clear into the dining room where he is about 20 feet from the ball and chain and asks, "Honey, what's for dinner?"

Again no response.

Finally he walks directly up to the kitchen door and addresses the missus: "Honey, what's for dinner?"

Still no response.

So he walks right up behind her and shouts into her ear:

"Honey, what's for dinner?"

"MIKE, FOR THE FIFTH FUCKING TIME, IT'S PORK LOIN ALREADY!"