Friday, May 28, 2010
Memorial day weekend
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Long (ears) Division
A Georgia farmer passed away and left 17 mules to his three sons. The instructions left in the will said that the oldest boy was to get one-half, the second oldest one-third, and the youngest one-ninth. The three sons, recognizing the difficulty of dividing 17 mules into these fractions, began to argue.
Their uncle heard about the argument, hitched up his mule and drove out to settle the matter. He added his mule to the 17, making 18. The oldest therefore got one-half, or nine, the second oldest got one-third, or six, and the youngest son got one-ninth, or two. Adding up 9, 6 and 2 equals 17. The uncle, having settled the argument, hitched up his mule and drove home.
(ok I admit I had to read that one twice! Never did like word problems in HS algebra!)
Their uncle heard about the argument, hitched up his mule and drove out to settle the matter. He added his mule to the 17, making 18. The oldest therefore got one-half, or nine, the second oldest got one-third, or six, and the youngest son got one-ninth, or two. Adding up 9, 6 and 2 equals 17. The uncle, having settled the argument, hitched up his mule and drove home.
(ok I admit I had to read that one twice! Never did like word problems in HS algebra!)
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Minister's Mule Problem
A minister went to his church office on Monday morning and discovered a dead mule in the church yard. He telephoned the police. Since there did not appear to be any foul play, the police referred the minister to the Health Department. They explained, "Since there was no health threat, you'll need to call the Sanitation Department." When the minister called the Sanitation Department, the Manager of the Sanitation Department said, "I can't pick up that dead mule without authorization from the mayor." The minister was not at all too eager to call the mayor, who possessed a very bad temper and was always extremely unpleasant and hard to deal with, but, eventually, he called the mayor anyway. The mayor did not disappoint the minister. The mayor immediately began to rant and rave. After his continued rant at the minister, the mayor finally said, "Why did you call me any way? Isn't it your job to bury the dead?" The minister paused for a brief prayer, and asked the Lord to direct his response. The Lord led him to the words he was seeking, "WELL Yes, Mayor, it IS my job to bury the dead, BUT I always like to notify the next of kin first!"
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Key to domestic tranquility
A couple was celebrating their golden wedding anniversary. Their domestic tranquility had long been the talk of the town, and on this special occasion, a local newspaper reporter paid them a visit. He inquired as to the secret of their long and happy marriage.
"Well," explained the husband, "it all goes back to our honeymoon. We visited the Grand Canyon and took a trip down to the bottom of the canyon by pack mule."
"We hadn't gone too far when my wife's mule stumbled. My wife quietly said 'That's once.' We proceeded a little farther when the mule stumbled again. Once more my wife quietly spoke: 'That's twice.' We hadn't gone a half-mile when the mule stumbled a third time. My wife promptly removed a revolver from her purse, hopped down off the beast, and shot the mule dead."
"I started to protest over her treatment of the mule when she looked at me and quietly said, 'That's once.'"
"Well," explained the husband, "it all goes back to our honeymoon. We visited the Grand Canyon and took a trip down to the bottom of the canyon by pack mule."
"We hadn't gone too far when my wife's mule stumbled. My wife quietly said 'That's once.' We proceeded a little farther when the mule stumbled again. Once more my wife quietly spoke: 'That's twice.' We hadn't gone a half-mile when the mule stumbled a third time. My wife promptly removed a revolver from her purse, hopped down off the beast, and shot the mule dead."
"I started to protest over her treatment of the mule when she looked at me and quietly said, 'That's once.'"
Monday, May 24, 2010
Big eared Mule
There were two farmers, neither one had much common sense. They were told by their boss to put the mule in the barn.
When they led the mule over to the barn, they decided that the mule's ears were to long and he would not fit into the barn. So they put their heads together and decided to get a ladder and a saw and saw the overhead of the barn out so the mule could walk right on in the barn.
They began their job and the boss walked over to them and asked them why they were sawing out the top of the barn. When they told him the mule's ears were too long to go into the barn, the boss said:
"Why don't you just get a shovel and dig the dirt out of the ground below, then the mule could walk on in"
The two half smarts looked at each other and said "We told you his "ears" are too long, not his feet !
When they led the mule over to the barn, they decided that the mule's ears were to long and he would not fit into the barn. So they put their heads together and decided to get a ladder and a saw and saw the overhead of the barn out so the mule could walk right on in the barn.
They began their job and the boss walked over to them and asked them why they were sawing out the top of the barn. When they told him the mule's ears were too long to go into the barn, the boss said:
"Why don't you just get a shovel and dig the dirt out of the ground below, then the mule could walk on in"
The two half smarts looked at each other and said "We told you his "ears" are too long, not his feet !
Friday, May 21, 2010
Pointer Mule
A car drives up to a farmer's house, a man gets out, knocks on the door, and the farmer opens it. "A friend told me you have a mule that points quail", said the stranger, "is that true"?? "Sure is", said the farmer, "would you like to see him work?" The strangers said, "Sure". Soon they were walking through a field, when the mule suddenly stopped and struck a beautiful point. The farmer walks ahead of the mule and scares up a big covey of quail. This goes on a half dozen more times...the mule points...the farmer scares up the covey. Finally, the stranger says, "That's enough, I've got to have that mule". "He ain't for sale", said the farmer. I'll give you $50,000.00 for him", said the stranger. Well, the farmer couldn't refuse such a big offer, so he sold him. The next night, the farmer's phone rang...it was the stranger. "What the hell's wrong with this damed mule you sold me?", he screamed..."all he's done all day is stand belly deep in my pond"!! "Well", said the farmer, "I guess I should'a told you......he'd rather fish than hunt."
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Farmer Johns Mule
Farmer John was injured when a truck hit his pick-up, and he filed a lawsuit against the driver who hit him. When the case went to trial, the truck driver's big city lawyer questioned farmer John."After the accident, did you not say to the sheriff's deputy, 'I'm fine'?" asked the lawyer.
Farmer John answered, "Well I'll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule Bessie into the...."
"I did not ask you about your mule," the lawyer interrupted, "I asked you about your statement to the sheriff's deputy. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, 'I'm fine'?"
Farmer John answered, "Like I was saying, I loaded Bessie into the trailer, and I hitched it to my pick-up truck...."
The lawyer angrily turned to the judge. "Your honor, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the sheriff's deputy on the scene that he was just fine. Now, many months after the accident, he is trying to sue my client. If his case is not a fraud, he should be able to answer my question with a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Please tell him to simply answer the question."
The judge, somewhat curious about the mule, responded, "Let's hear what he has to say. If he doesn't get around to answering your question, we'll deal with it after we find out about Bessie."
Farmer John thanked the Judge and proceeded, "Well as I was saying, Bessie was in my trailer and was driving her down the highway when this huge truck ran the stop sign and smacked my truck. My pick-up went into the ditch, and the trailer tipped over. I could hear Bessie moaning and groaning, and I knew that she was in a bad way, but I was hurtin' real bad and I couldn't even move. Then, the deputy came, and he could hear Bessie, so he went over to her. He looked at her for a moment, then he took out his gun and he shot her right between the eyes. Then the deputy came across the road with his gun in his hand, looked me right in the eyes, and asked, "Your mule was in such bad shape I had to shoot her. How are you feeling?"
Farmer John answered, "Well I'll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule Bessie into the...."
"I did not ask you about your mule," the lawyer interrupted, "I asked you about your statement to the sheriff's deputy. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, 'I'm fine'?"
Farmer John answered, "Like I was saying, I loaded Bessie into the trailer, and I hitched it to my pick-up truck...."
The lawyer angrily turned to the judge. "Your honor, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the sheriff's deputy on the scene that he was just fine. Now, many months after the accident, he is trying to sue my client. If his case is not a fraud, he should be able to answer my question with a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Please tell him to simply answer the question."
The judge, somewhat curious about the mule, responded, "Let's hear what he has to say. If he doesn't get around to answering your question, we'll deal with it after we find out about Bessie."
Farmer John thanked the Judge and proceeded, "Well as I was saying, Bessie was in my trailer and was driving her down the highway when this huge truck ran the stop sign and smacked my truck. My pick-up went into the ditch, and the trailer tipped over. I could hear Bessie moaning and groaning, and I knew that she was in a bad way, but I was hurtin' real bad and I couldn't even move. Then, the deputy came, and he could hear Bessie, so he went over to her. He looked at her for a moment, then he took out his gun and he shot her right between the eyes. Then the deputy came across the road with his gun in his hand, looked me right in the eyes, and asked, "Your mule was in such bad shape I had to shoot her. How are you feeling?"
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Mule and the MIL
A newlywed farmer and his wife were visited by her mother, who immediately demanded an inspection of the place. The farmer had genuinely tried to be friendly to his new mother-in-law, hoping that it could be a friendly, non-antagonistic relationship.
To no avail, she kept nagging them at every opportunity, demanding changes, offering unwanted advice and making life unbearable to the farmer and his new bride.
While they were walking through the barn, the farmer's mule suddenly reared up and kicked the mother-in-law in the head, killing her instantly!
At the funeral service a few days later, the farmer stood near the casket and greeted folks as they walked by.
The pastor noticed that whenever a woman would whisper something to the farmer, he would nod his head yes and say something.
Whenever a man walked by and whispered to the farmer, however, he would shake his head, no and mumble a reply.
Very curious as to this bizarre behavior, the pastor later asked the farmer what that was all about.
The farmer replied, "The women would say, 'What a terrible tragedy' and I would nod my head and say, 'Yes, it was.'
The men would ask, 'Can I borrow that mule?' and I would shake my head and say, 'Can't. It's all booked up for a year.'
To no avail, she kept nagging them at every opportunity, demanding changes, offering unwanted advice and making life unbearable to the farmer and his new bride.
While they were walking through the barn, the farmer's mule suddenly reared up and kicked the mother-in-law in the head, killing her instantly!
At the funeral service a few days later, the farmer stood near the casket and greeted folks as they walked by.
The pastor noticed that whenever a woman would whisper something to the farmer, he would nod his head yes and say something.
Whenever a man walked by and whispered to the farmer, however, he would shake his head, no and mumble a reply.
Very curious as to this bizarre behavior, the pastor later asked the farmer what that was all about.
The farmer replied, "The women would say, 'What a terrible tragedy' and I would nod my head and say, 'Yes, it was.'
The men would ask, 'Can I borrow that mule?' and I would shake my head and say, 'Can't. It's all booked up for a year.'
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A blonde and her 2 horses
A blonde bought two horses, and could never remember which was which.
A neighbor suggested that she cut the tail of one horse and that worked great until the other horse got his tail caught in a bush. It tore just right and looked exactly like the other horse's tail and our friend was stuck again.
The neighbor suggested she notch the ear
off one horse. That worked fine until the other horse caught his ear on a barbed wire fence. Once again our friend couldn't tell them apart.
The neighbor suggested she measure the horses for height. When she did, she was very pleased to find that the white horse was 2 inches taller than the black.
A neighbor suggested that she cut the tail of one horse and that worked great until the other horse got his tail caught in a bush. It tore just right and looked exactly like the other horse's tail and our friend was stuck again.
The neighbor suggested she notch the ear
off one horse. That worked fine until the other horse caught his ear on a barbed wire fence. Once again our friend couldn't tell them apart.
The neighbor suggested she measure the horses for height. When she did, she was very pleased to find that the white horse was 2 inches taller than the black.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Beet Pulp Safety Warning (aka the famous squirrel story)
I think most people have heard this one by now but it bears repeating! Enjoy....
People into equine nutrition are notorious for spending their time doing the oddest things. While everyone else has normal nightmares about finding themselves riding in the World stark naked past the press corps, nutrition people fret over whether their carefully thought-out recommendations will make the difference between Muffy the Superhorse winning his next competition in fame and glory, or falling into a dead faint somewhere between being saddled and the starting line.
In the end, the finer points of nutrition often make zero difference, however, because you generally find out that: a) Muffy won't even touch your carefully crafted ration, much preferring to eat his bedding, the vet's fingers and anything from the Taco Bell menu; b) the moment you finish calculating the Perfect Equine Ration featuring Aunt Tilly's Super Horsey Yums Yums, the feed company goes out of business or is indicted on environmental pollution charges; c) it's all irrelevant, anyway, because the barn manager's favorite phrase is "Well, we've always fed this way and hardly ever lose a horse to colic", and steadfastly refuses to feed anything at all other than His Very Own Secret Recipe, featuring lawn clippings, glazed doughnuts and something that smells a lot like latex.
However, every now and then, you stumble across a feed that horses actually like (at least, after that initial suspicious, "You're trying to poison me, aren't you?" look), is wonderfully nutritious, cheap to feed and still Obscure and Mysterious enough that people feel like they're really on The Cutting Edge in feeding it to Muffy. Beet pulp is like that, and for a long time I thought the only disadvantage to it was the minor inconvenience of having to soak it before feeding. Some folks skip that part, but others revel in making sure everyone else in the barn knows just how conscientious and detail-minded they are about Muffy's nutritional well-being.
However, eventually I knew the true downside to beet pulp would show up, and thought it only fair that I pass it along...
This afternoon I decided to bring some beet pulp pellets into the house to soak, because I wanted to get an idea of exactly how much they expanded in volume during the soaking process. Academic types are like that, pathetically easy to amuse and desperately in need of professional help. I knew they expanded quite a bit, because the first time I'd innocently added water to a five-pound bucket of beet pulp, I'd come back later to find my feed room practically awash in beet pulp, providing a breakfast that every horse within a five mile radius still remembers with fond nostalgia. So in the interest of scientific curiosity, I trundled in a bucket, about three pounds of beet pulp, added in the water and set it in the living room to do its thing. No problem. Research in action.
Well, in our ongoing quest to turn this house into Noah's Ark, we have not only four horses, three dogs, four neurotic cats, a sulfur-crested cockatoo, a cockatiel and assorted toads, we also have William. William is a fox squirrel who absent-mindedly fell out of his tree as a blind and hairless baby two years ago and whom the vet promptly handed off to the only person he knew silly enough to traipse around with a baby squirrel and a bottle of Esbilac into her bookbag. Actually, the trick wasn't in keeping such a tiny creature warm, fed and clean---it was keeping a straight face and looking as mystified as everyone else when William woke up hungry and started pipping for his bottled like a very small, slightly muffled alarm clock.
Invariably, this usually occurred while I was standing in line at the post office, picking up a pizza for dinner or on one memorable occasion, taking a final exam in biochemistry. Being no dummy, William knew a sucker when he saw one and has happily been an Urban Squirrel ever since.
And for those of you that think A Squirrel's Place is In The Wild, don't think we didn't try that...his first Christmas, we thought we'd give him his first lesson in Being a Wild Squirrel by letting him play in the undecorated Christmas tree. His reaction was to shriek in horror, scoter frantically across the floor and go try to hide underneath the nearest border collie. Since then, the only way he will allow himself to be taken outside is hiding inside Mummy's shirt and peering suspiciously out at the sinister world.
So much for the re-make of Born Free in San Dimas. So secure is he about his place in the world that on more than one occasion, I've caught him sitting on his fat, smug little bottom, making faces out the window at our neighborhood (very frustrated) red-tailed hawk---like as not clutching a cashew in one paw and a bit of mango in the other.
Anyway, when I set out the bucket of beet pulp, I may have underestimated the lengths that a young and enthusiastic squirrel will go to to stash all available food items in new and unusual hiding spots. I thought letting William out of his cage as usual and giving him a handful of almonds to go happily cram under cushions and into sleeping dog's ears was sufficent entertainment for the afternoon. After all, when I left, he was gleefully chortling and gloating over his pile of treasure, making sure the cockatoo saw them so he could tell her I Have Almonds And You Don't. So much for blind optimism.
Apparently when the almond supply ran out, beet pulp pellets became fair game and I can only imagine the little rat finding that great big bucket and swooning with the possibilities of being able to hide away All That Food. The problem isn't quite so much that I now have three pounds of beet pulp pellets cleverly tucked away in every corner of my house, it's that as far as I can tell, the soaking-expanding-and-falling-apart process seems to be kinda like nuclear meltdown. Once the reaction gets started, no force on earth is going to stop it.
So when I come back from the grocery store, not only do I find an exhausted but incredibly Fulfilled squirrel sprawled out snoozing happily up on the cat tree, I find that my house smells a lot like a Jamaican feed mill and virtually every orifice is crammed full of beet pulp. This includes the bathroom sink drain, the fish tank filter, in my undie drawer, in the kitty box (much to their horror) and ALL the pockets of my bookbag. Not to mention that in enthusiastically stuffing beet pulp into the air holes of the little box that hold live crickets for the toad's dinner, William managed to open it up and free several hundred crickets into the living room. It's not that I mind crickets springing to and fro, it's just that it sounds a lot like an Evening in the Amazon Rain Forest in here. The cats, on the other hand have never had such a marvelous time steeple-chasing after stray crickets back and forth over the furniture, crunching up the spoils of the hunt (which wouldn't be so bad if they would just chew with their mouths closed), and sicking up the more indigestible parts onto the rug.
I simply can't WAIT to turn on the furnace and find out what toasting beet pulp smells like. The good news is that in case of siege, I have enough carbohydrates hidden in my walls and under the furniture to survive for years. The bad news is that as soon as I try to remove any of this stash, I get a hysterical squirrel clinging to my pant leg, tearfully shrieking that I'm ruining all his hard work and now he's going to starve this winter. (This is despite the fact that William is spoiled utterly rotten, knows how to open the macadamia nut can all by himself and has enough of a tummy to have earned him the unfortunate nickname Buddha Belly.)
So in case anyone was losing sleep wondering just how much final product you get after soaking three pounds of beet pulp, the answer is a living room full. I'd write this new data up and submit it as a case study paper to the nutrition and physiology society, but I suspect the practical applications may be limited.
Off to go empty the Shop-Vac. Again.
Susan Evans Garlinghouse 1997
People into equine nutrition are notorious for spending their time doing the oddest things. While everyone else has normal nightmares about finding themselves riding in the World stark naked past the press corps, nutrition people fret over whether their carefully thought-out recommendations will make the difference between Muffy the Superhorse winning his next competition in fame and glory, or falling into a dead faint somewhere between being saddled and the starting line.
In the end, the finer points of nutrition often make zero difference, however, because you generally find out that: a) Muffy won't even touch your carefully crafted ration, much preferring to eat his bedding, the vet's fingers and anything from the Taco Bell menu; b) the moment you finish calculating the Perfect Equine Ration featuring Aunt Tilly's Super Horsey Yums Yums, the feed company goes out of business or is indicted on environmental pollution charges; c) it's all irrelevant, anyway, because the barn manager's favorite phrase is "Well, we've always fed this way and hardly ever lose a horse to colic", and steadfastly refuses to feed anything at all other than His Very Own Secret Recipe, featuring lawn clippings, glazed doughnuts and something that smells a lot like latex.
However, every now and then, you stumble across a feed that horses actually like (at least, after that initial suspicious, "You're trying to poison me, aren't you?" look), is wonderfully nutritious, cheap to feed and still Obscure and Mysterious enough that people feel like they're really on The Cutting Edge in feeding it to Muffy. Beet pulp is like that, and for a long time I thought the only disadvantage to it was the minor inconvenience of having to soak it before feeding. Some folks skip that part, but others revel in making sure everyone else in the barn knows just how conscientious and detail-minded they are about Muffy's nutritional well-being.
However, eventually I knew the true downside to beet pulp would show up, and thought it only fair that I pass it along...
This afternoon I decided to bring some beet pulp pellets into the house to soak, because I wanted to get an idea of exactly how much they expanded in volume during the soaking process. Academic types are like that, pathetically easy to amuse and desperately in need of professional help. I knew they expanded quite a bit, because the first time I'd innocently added water to a five-pound bucket of beet pulp, I'd come back later to find my feed room practically awash in beet pulp, providing a breakfast that every horse within a five mile radius still remembers with fond nostalgia. So in the interest of scientific curiosity, I trundled in a bucket, about three pounds of beet pulp, added in the water and set it in the living room to do its thing. No problem. Research in action.
Well, in our ongoing quest to turn this house into Noah's Ark, we have not only four horses, three dogs, four neurotic cats, a sulfur-crested cockatoo, a cockatiel and assorted toads, we also have William. William is a fox squirrel who absent-mindedly fell out of his tree as a blind and hairless baby two years ago and whom the vet promptly handed off to the only person he knew silly enough to traipse around with a baby squirrel and a bottle of Esbilac into her bookbag. Actually, the trick wasn't in keeping such a tiny creature warm, fed and clean---it was keeping a straight face and looking as mystified as everyone else when William woke up hungry and started pipping for his bottled like a very small, slightly muffled alarm clock.
Invariably, this usually occurred while I was standing in line at the post office, picking up a pizza for dinner or on one memorable occasion, taking a final exam in biochemistry. Being no dummy, William knew a sucker when he saw one and has happily been an Urban Squirrel ever since.
And for those of you that think A Squirrel's Place is In The Wild, don't think we didn't try that...his first Christmas, we thought we'd give him his first lesson in Being a Wild Squirrel by letting him play in the undecorated Christmas tree. His reaction was to shriek in horror, scoter frantically across the floor and go try to hide underneath the nearest border collie. Since then, the only way he will allow himself to be taken outside is hiding inside Mummy's shirt and peering suspiciously out at the sinister world.
So much for the re-make of Born Free in San Dimas. So secure is he about his place in the world that on more than one occasion, I've caught him sitting on his fat, smug little bottom, making faces out the window at our neighborhood (very frustrated) red-tailed hawk---like as not clutching a cashew in one paw and a bit of mango in the other.
Anyway, when I set out the bucket of beet pulp, I may have underestimated the lengths that a young and enthusiastic squirrel will go to to stash all available food items in new and unusual hiding spots. I thought letting William out of his cage as usual and giving him a handful of almonds to go happily cram under cushions and into sleeping dog's ears was sufficent entertainment for the afternoon. After all, when I left, he was gleefully chortling and gloating over his pile of treasure, making sure the cockatoo saw them so he could tell her I Have Almonds And You Don't. So much for blind optimism.
Apparently when the almond supply ran out, beet pulp pellets became fair game and I can only imagine the little rat finding that great big bucket and swooning with the possibilities of being able to hide away All That Food. The problem isn't quite so much that I now have three pounds of beet pulp pellets cleverly tucked away in every corner of my house, it's that as far as I can tell, the soaking-expanding-and-falling-apart process seems to be kinda like nuclear meltdown. Once the reaction gets started, no force on earth is going to stop it.
So when I come back from the grocery store, not only do I find an exhausted but incredibly Fulfilled squirrel sprawled out snoozing happily up on the cat tree, I find that my house smells a lot like a Jamaican feed mill and virtually every orifice is crammed full of beet pulp. This includes the bathroom sink drain, the fish tank filter, in my undie drawer, in the kitty box (much to their horror) and ALL the pockets of my bookbag. Not to mention that in enthusiastically stuffing beet pulp into the air holes of the little box that hold live crickets for the toad's dinner, William managed to open it up and free several hundred crickets into the living room. It's not that I mind crickets springing to and fro, it's just that it sounds a lot like an Evening in the Amazon Rain Forest in here. The cats, on the other hand have never had such a marvelous time steeple-chasing after stray crickets back and forth over the furniture, crunching up the spoils of the hunt (which wouldn't be so bad if they would just chew with their mouths closed), and sicking up the more indigestible parts onto the rug.
I simply can't WAIT to turn on the furnace and find out what toasting beet pulp smells like. The good news is that in case of siege, I have enough carbohydrates hidden in my walls and under the furniture to survive for years. The bad news is that as soon as I try to remove any of this stash, I get a hysterical squirrel clinging to my pant leg, tearfully shrieking that I'm ruining all his hard work and now he's going to starve this winter. (This is despite the fact that William is spoiled utterly rotten, knows how to open the macadamia nut can all by himself and has enough of a tummy to have earned him the unfortunate nickname Buddha Belly.)
So in case anyone was losing sleep wondering just how much final product you get after soaking three pounds of beet pulp, the answer is a living room full. I'd write this new data up and submit it as a case study paper to the nutrition and physiology society, but I suspect the practical applications may be limited.
Off to go empty the Shop-Vac. Again.
Susan Evans Garlinghouse 1997
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Stallion and the Hare
A Stallion and a Hare were arguing in front of a hollow tree when Genie popped out and said: "SHUT UP! You two are getting on my nerves. Tell you what- if you guys will stop arguing, and leave, I'll give you each three wishes." Stallion and Hare looked at each other, nodded their heads. Stallion said, "Sonds good to me, Genie- my first wish will be that all the other horses in my state were mares!" Hare looked at Stallion and shook his head, "Why would you wish that?" Stallion replied, "Because now I don't have any competition! I'll get all the ladies!" Hare huffed, "Yeah- until stallions come from another state." This made Stallion frown. Hare turned to Genie, "My first wish will be for a motorcycle!" Genie waved his hand- POOF- a hot motorcycle!!! Hare bounced for joy! Stallion now looks like he's come up with a plan. He says, "Genie, my second wish is that all the other horses on this continent be mares!" Genie waved his hand, then turned to Hare, "What is your second wish?" Hare said, "I'm goint to need a helmet to go with this motorcycle, so that's my second wish." Genie waved his hand. Now, Stallion felt like keeping the ball rolling, so, stomping his feet with excitement, he said, "Genie, my third wish is that all the other horses in the world were mares!" Genie shook his head in disgust, but nonetheless, waved his hand. Genie turned to Hare, who had hopped on his motorcycle, pulled down his helmet, and revved up the engine. "Well, Hare, what is your last wish?" Hare laughed- "Heck- I wish the stallion was gay!"
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
A TB racer's story
This Kentucky horse breeder had a filly that won every race in which she was entered. But as she got older she became very temperamental. He soon found that when he raced her in the evening, she would win handily, but when she raced during the day she would come in dead last. He consulted the top veterinarians and horse psychologists to no avail. He finally had to give up because it had become a real night mare.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Happy Moms day to all the horsie Moms!
and other fur-kids too!
If you have an funny jokes, stories and videos you would like to share please email them to me!
Friday, May 7, 2010
Bad horse puns
I used to live next to a pair of horses, you know, when I lived in Canterbury. They were my neigh-bours. They were in a stable relationship. I wanted to move away from them, for one of them sang loudly and his voice was a bit hoarse. I fell at the first hurdle - I didn't have the money. I'm afraid I was saddled with them. My happiness was my mane priority. Hoof cared if he sang poorly? I didn't want to stirrup any trouble.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Show jumping, bunny style
The things you find when looking for funny horse videos on youtube, and the odd related things that come up:
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
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