Proverbs are funny old things, and there is a lot of wisdom, or perceived wisdom in proverbs, but the modern proverbs are more to my personal liking. They have real-life applications.
Never criticise a man till you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.
Now this was originally an old Native American proverb, that’s why it used moccasins. But I prefer the more modern version: Never criticise a man till you’ve walked a mile in his shoes. Because you’ll be a mile away, and you’ll have his shoes.
As I said: real-life applications.
And whenever I’m feeling really sorry for myself, which is more frequent than you’d think, I think of the old saying: I was feeling sad because I had no shoes, then I saw a man who had no feet. So I took his shoes. It’s not like he needed them!
Or the thing about never giving up: if at first you don’t succeed, suck eggs.
And a bird in the hand is better than ‘n voe?l in die hand.
So what is it that makes us laugh? Now, I’m no palaeontologist, but I’m reliably informed the first joke went something like this: ‘Look Ug, bearskin undone!’
Ug looks down and realises he’s’ been taken for a fool to the hilarity of the entire tribe.
Or, a Jew, a Scotsman and an Irishman walk into a bar. The Jew says, ‘Did you hear the joke about us?’
This is the example of the second joke, although it was probably a Cro-Magnon, a Peking Man and Piltdown Man walk into a club, and go ‘ow!’ Although Piltdown man said nothing, because he never existed. This makes the humour ironic. Because it was an iron club.
Some of the best humour is in personal anecdotes, of course, such as the time I was cleaning up the backyard behind my German shepherd. He drops some pretty impressive loads, as you can imagine. And as I bent down to pick up one of the packages, I could swear he’d been eating a book, or patented his turds, because I could see writing, so I went inside to get my glasses, cause I can’t read sh!t without my glasses.
I bent down to have a closer look; it was a Wilson golf glove! In perfect condition, mind you. Straight in and straight out.
So I washed it off and it fits perfectly. Waste not, want not. My game still stinks, however: I keep hitting the windmill.
And as anyone who regularly reads my contributions knows, I’m an evangelist, but I impressed even myself last week. Two Jehovah’s Witnesses came to my gate and, after about two hours, started mumbling excuses about having to go now. I think that’s pretty impressive: maybe I should contact the Guinness Book of Records.
According to some of the regulars on this forum I could enter the Guinness Book of Records just based on my lies. And there have been some whoppers: enough to make a fisherman’s chest swell with pride.
Not Gay Pride, that’s a different thing. That’s happy washing powder.
And the award for the shortest joke must go to Jimmy Carr. He was challenged to make a joke using only four words. His joke?
Venison’s dear, isn’t it?
Then three words.
Stationery shop moves.
All of this on live television.
So for those of you consider my humour to be either juvenile or non-existent, I’ll finish with some famous last words.
General Sedgwick, on being warned his gun placements were too close to the enemy during the American Civil War: ‘Don’t be absurd, they couldn’t hit an elephant from that dist…’
Or Pancho Villa, shortly before his execution, ‘Please don’t let it end like this! Tell them I said something!’
And thus endeth another painful reminder of how very unfunny I am. Or can be. Or would be if I were allowed to.
You know what I mean.
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