Obama was seen at the pearly gates, trying to get into Heaven. Sources report this conversation taking place: St Peter: "Name?" Mr. O: "Barack Obama" St Peter: "Don't see that name. Maybe you're at the wrong place." Mr. O: "There has to be a mistake. I was president of the United States" St Peter: "When where you sworn in?" Mr. O: "30 minutes ago." JD
This version was funnier, and a bit less specific... St. Peter explains that it's not easy to get into heaven. There are some criteria that must be met before entry is allowed. For example, was the man a church-goer or religious? No? St. Peter told him that's bad. Was he generous, giving money to the poor or to charities? No? St. Peter told him that that, too, was bad. Did he do any good deeds, such as helping his neighbor? Anything? No? St. Peter was becoming concerned. Exasperated, the Saint says, "Look, everybody does something nice sometime. Work with me, here! I'm trying to help. Now think!" The man thinks for a minute, then says, "Well, I did help this old lady once. I came out of a store and saw that a dozen Hell's Angels had taken her purse and were shoving her around. I threw my bags down and got her purse back, then I told the biggest biker there that he was cowardly and I spat in his face." "Wow," said St. Peter, "That's impressive! When did this happen?" "Oh, about 15 minutes ago," replied the man.
May take awhile for the distribution arrangements to get figured out...like which one of my wife's two employees will be dismissed, so she can buy the other one health insurance.
Hey, now that you mention it, a few people around here have more than thier fair share of Rancheros. I think it's about time that sombody forced them to "share the wealth". I'll be in your neighborhood soon, Trikar. How about having one of the Rancheros gased up and ready to go?
Yep, and Dan is not that far from you either. He's got much more "Ranchero wealth" than one man deserves.
Ah, you're all a bunch of poor, misguided souls. The redistribution will occur, but you don't have a say in how it plays out. You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit. For all you know, you may wake up with a grill from a 70 in bed next to you; then after you scream and wipe off the grease you walk out to the driveway and there's Sean's project, sitting in boxes, scattered everywhere!!! Thank you, Mr. President.
