<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534</id><updated>2012-02-16T23:35:04.182-05:00</updated><category term='friendship'/><category term='smile'/><category term='monkey'/><category term='poem'/><category term='funny'/><category term='lora moore'/><category term='fun facts'/><category term='interesting stuff'/><category term='sweet'/><category term='email'/><category term='insanity'/><category term='woman'/><category term='public restroom'/><category term='kids'/><category term='time'/><title type='text'>LOL :)</title><subtitle type='html'>Lora's Email - you never know who wants all of those 'forwards' in their inbox! So...here's a blog with a bunch of my funny, sweet, gross, serious, and just plain strange email!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-8806437854648895051</id><published>2011-04-18T19:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-18T19:08:26.911-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Attitude</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:6;color:#000080;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror,&lt;br /&gt;And noticed she had only three hairs on her head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;'Well,' she said, 'I think I'll braid my hair today.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she did and she had a wonderful day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;And saw that she had only two hairs on her head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;'H-M-M,' she said, 'I think I'll part my hair down the middle today.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she did and she had a grand day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed&lt;br /&gt;That she had only one hair on her head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;'Well,' she said, 'today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she did, and she had a fun, fun day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and&lt;br /&gt;Noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'YAY!' she exclaimed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;'I don't have to fix my hair today!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"&gt;Attitude is everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Be kinder than necessary,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;For &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#c20000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;everyone&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;you meet is fighting some kind of battle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Live simply,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Love generously,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Care deeply,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Speak kindly,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;And pray continually.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Life isn't about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#3f8080;"&gt;waiting for the storm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt; to pass...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;It's about learning to dance in the rain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#004080;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not what you &lt;u&gt;gather&lt;/u&gt;, but what you &lt;u&gt;scatter&lt;/u&gt; that tells what kind of life you have lived. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Life is too short to wake up with regrets.&lt;br /&gt;Love the people who treat you right and pray for the ones who don't. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-8806437854648895051?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/8806437854648895051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=8806437854648895051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8806437854648895051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8806437854648895051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2011/04/attitude.html' title='Attitude'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-3026075918725286846</id><published>2011-04-07T19:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T19:02:46.349-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Only A Man...</title><content type='html'>Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary&lt;br /&gt;submitted this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol &amp;amp; Pawn Shop that sparked&lt;br /&gt;my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for&lt;br /&gt;a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a&lt;br /&gt;100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The effects of the Tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long&lt;br /&gt;term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to&lt;br /&gt;retreat to safety...??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it&lt;br /&gt;home... I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the&lt;br /&gt;button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I&lt;br /&gt;pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same&lt;br /&gt;time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between&lt;br /&gt;the prongs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn&lt;br /&gt;spot is on the face of her microwave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it&lt;br /&gt;couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting&lt;br /&gt;little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I&lt;br /&gt;really needed to try this thing out on a flesh &amp;amp; blood moving target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second)&lt;br /&gt;and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was&lt;br /&gt;going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger,&lt;br /&gt;I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading&lt;br /&gt;glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one&lt;br /&gt;hand, and Tazer in another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The directions said that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss&lt;br /&gt;of bodily control; and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the&lt;br /&gt;ground like a fish out of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long,&lt;br /&gt;less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA&lt;br /&gt;batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible&lt;br /&gt;way!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one&lt;br /&gt;side so as to say, 'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second&lt;br /&gt;burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. I&lt;br /&gt;decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. WHAT THE... !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in&lt;br /&gt;the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and&lt;br /&gt;over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position,&lt;br /&gt;with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles&lt;br /&gt;nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest&lt;br /&gt;position, and tingling in my legs! The cat was making meowing sounds I&lt;br /&gt;had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the&lt;br /&gt;fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body&lt;br /&gt;flopping all over the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note:&lt;br /&gt;If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a Tazer,&lt;br /&gt;one note of caution:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You&lt;br /&gt;will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a&lt;br /&gt;violent thrashing about on the floor!&lt;br /&gt;A three second burst would be considered conservative!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at&lt;br /&gt;that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and&lt;br /&gt;surveyed the landscape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.&lt;br /&gt;* The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where&lt;br /&gt;it originally was.&lt;br /&gt;* My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.&lt;br /&gt;* My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my&lt;br /&gt;bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.&lt;br /&gt;* I had no control over the drooling.&lt;br /&gt;* Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know&lt;br /&gt;for sure, and my sense of smell was gone.&lt;br /&gt;* I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came&lt;br /&gt;from my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a significant reward&lt;br /&gt;for their safe return!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and&lt;br /&gt;now regularly threatens me with it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-3026075918725286846?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/3026075918725286846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=3026075918725286846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/3026075918725286846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/3026075918725286846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2011/04/only-man.html' title='Only A Man...'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-7342211361251292622</id><published>2011-04-07T19:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T19:01:12.047-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Math Problems</title><content type='html'>Last week, I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help.  While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried…  Why do I tell you this? Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Teaching Math In 1950s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price.    What is his profit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Teaching Math In 1960s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.  His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80.  What is his profit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Teaching Math In 1970s&lt;br /&gt;A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80.    Did he make a profit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Teaching Math In 1980s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Teaching Math In 1990s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands.   He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living?     Topic for class participation after answering the question:    How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes?    (There are no wrong answers, and if you feel like crying, it's ok).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Teaching Math In 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?&lt;br /&gt;ANSWER: His profit was $375,000 because his logging business is just a front for his marijuana growing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-7342211361251292622?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/7342211361251292622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=7342211361251292622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/7342211361251292622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/7342211361251292622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2011/04/math-problems.html' title='Math Problems'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-4611482269470610735</id><published>2011-04-07T18:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T19:00:12.752-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Results of Good and Evil</title><content type='html'>In a College classroom with a professor teaching a philosophy lesson.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Let me explain the problem science has with religion.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You're a Christian, aren't you, son?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes sir,' the student says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'So you believe in God?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Absolutely.. '&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Is God good?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Sure! God's good.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Are you good or evil?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'The Bible says I'm evil.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor grins knowingly. 'Aha! The Bible! He considers for a moment. 'Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes sir, I would.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'So you're good...!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I wouldn't say that.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student does not answer, so the professor continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Can you answer that one?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student remains silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No, you can't, can you?' the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax. 'Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Er..yes,' the student says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Is Satan good?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student doesn't hesitate on this one. 'No.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Then where does Satan come from?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student falters.. 'From God'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'That's right.. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes, sir.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'So who created evil?' The professor continued, 'If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the student has no answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student squirms on his feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'So who created them?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. 'Who created them?' There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized. 'Tell me,' he continues onto another student. 'Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student's voice betrays him and cracks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes, professor, I do.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man stops pacing. 'Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No sir.. I've never seen Him.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No, sir, I have not.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yet you still believe in him?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Nothing,' the student replies. 'I only have my faith.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes, faith,' the professor repeats. 'And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of His own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Professor, is there such thing as heat?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;' Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'And is there such a thing as cold?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes, son, there's cold too.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No sir, there isn't.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested.  The room suddenly becomes very quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student begins to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can hit down to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees. Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat.  We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes,' the professor replies without hesitation. 'What is night if it isn't darkness?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something.. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word. In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'So what point are you making, young man?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. 'Flawed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you explain how?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You are working on the premise of duality,' the student explains.. 'You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought.' 'It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.' 'Now tell me, professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.' The student looks around the room. 'Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?' The class breaks out into laughter. 'Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the professor's brain, touched or smelt the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir.' 'So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the room is silent.. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. 'I Guess you'll have to take them on faith.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,' the student continues. 'Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now uncertain, the professor responds, 'Of course, there is. We see it Everyday. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man... It is in The multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this the student replied, 'Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor sat down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you read it all the way through and had a smile on your face when you finished, mail to your friends and family with the title 'God vs Science'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: The student was Albert Einstein&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Albert Einstein wrote a book titled God vs Science in 1921....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-4611482269470610735?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/4611482269470610735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=4611482269470610735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/4611482269470610735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/4611482269470610735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2011/04/results-of-good-and-evil.html' title='The Results of Good and Evil'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-1272444084447186318</id><published>2011-04-07T18:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T18:19:10.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Favorite Animal</title><content type='html'>Our teacher asked us what our favorite animal was, and I said, "Fried chicken."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said I wasn't funny, but she couldn't have been right, because everyone else in the class laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents told me to always be truthful and honest, and I am. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA.&lt;br /&gt;He said they love animals very much. I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef. Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal's office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was.&lt;br /&gt;I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, just like she'd asked the other children.&lt;br /&gt;So I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken.&lt;br /&gt;She sent me back to the principal's office again. He laughed, and told me not to do it again. I don't understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn't like it when I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, my teacher asked us to tell her what famous person we admire most. I told her, "Colonel Sanders." Guess where I am now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-1272444084447186318?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/1272444084447186318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=1272444084447186318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1272444084447186318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1272444084447186318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-favorite-animal.html' title='My Favorite Animal'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-565101933646832844</id><published>2008-07-14T17:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T17:49:30.529-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you politically correct?</title><content type='html'>No offense to any of my friends or relatives in these states!  :)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Due to the climate of political correctness now pervading America, Kentuckians, Tennesseans and West Virginians will no longer be referred to as "HILLBILLIES." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must now refer to us as APPALACHIAN-AMERICANS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for your further edification....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT WOMEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. She is not a "BABE" or a "CHICK" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is a "BREASTED AMERICAN."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. She is not a "SCREAMER" or a "MOANER" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is "VOCALLY APPRECIATIVE."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. She is not "EASY" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is "HORIZONTALLY ACCESSIBLE."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. She is not a "DUMB BLONDE"&lt;br /&gt;    - She is a "LIGHT-HAIRED DETOUR OFF THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. She has not "BEEN AROUND" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is a "PREVIOUSLY-ENJOYED COMPANION."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. She is not an "AIRHEAD" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is "REALITY IMPAIRED."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. She does not get "DRUNK" or "TIPSY"&lt;br /&gt; - She gets "CHEMICALLY INCONVENIENCED"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. She does not have "BREAST IMPLANTS" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is "MEDICALLY ENHANCED."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. She does not "NAG" you &lt;br /&gt;   - She becomes "VERBALLY REPETITIVE."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  She is not a "TRAMP" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is "SEXUALLY EXTROVERTED."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. She does not have "MAJOR LEAGUE HOOTERS" &lt;br /&gt;    - She is "PECTORALLY SUPERIOR."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. She is not a "TWO-BIT HOOKER" &lt;br /&gt;   - She is a "LOW COST PROVIDER."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT MEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. He does not have a "BEER GUT" &lt;br /&gt;   - He has developed a "LIQUID GRAIN STORAGE FACILITY."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. He is not a "BAD DANCER"&lt;br /&gt;   - He is "OVERLY CAUCASIAN."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. He does not "GET LOST ALL THE TIME" &lt;br /&gt;   - He "INVESTIGATES ALTERNATIVE DESTINATIONS."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. He is not "BALDING" &lt;br /&gt;   - He is in "FOLLICLE REGRESSION."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. He is not a "CRADLE ROBBER" &lt;br /&gt;   - He prefers "GENERATIONAL DIFFERENTIAL RELATIONSHIPS."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. He does not get "FALLING-DOWN DRUNK" &lt;br /&gt;   - He becomes "ACCIDENTALLY HORIZONTAL."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. He does not act like a "TOTAL ASS" &lt;br /&gt;   - He develops a case of "RECTAL-CRANIAL INVERSION."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 He is not a "MALE CHAUVINIST PIG" &lt;br /&gt;   - He has "SWINE EMPATHY."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. He is not afraid of "COMMITMENT" &lt;br /&gt;   - He is "RELATIONSHIP CHALLENGED."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. He is not "HORNY"&lt;br /&gt;    - He is "SEXUALLY FOCUSED."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. It's not his "CRACK" you see hanging out of his pants&lt;br /&gt;    - It's "REAR CLEAVAGE "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please use your best judgment when referring to these people, so as to make it more comfortable for the rest of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-565101933646832844?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/565101933646832844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=565101933646832844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/565101933646832844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/565101933646832844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/07/are-you-politically-correct.html' title='Are you politically correct?'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-1738224840950121005</id><published>2008-07-14T17:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T17:48:23.081-04:00</updated><title type='text'>An oldie, but a goodie</title><content type='html'>Remember it takes a college degree to fly a plane, but only high school diploma to fix one. After every flight, UPS pilots fill out a form, called a 'gripe sheet,' which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems, document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Never let it be said that ground crews, albeit they may lack a formal higher education, has ever lacked a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by UPS pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers. By the way, UPS is the only major airline that has never, ever, had an accident. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement. S: Almost replaced left inside main tire. &lt;br /&gt;P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough. S: Probably because auto-land is not installed on this aircraft. &lt;br /&gt;P: Something loose in cockpit S: Something tightened in cockpit &lt;br /&gt;P: Dead bugs on windshield. S: Live bugs on back-order. &lt;br /&gt;P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode has a 200 ft. per min. descent. S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground. &lt;br /&gt;P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear. S: Evidence removed. &lt;br /&gt;P: DME volume unbelievably loud. S: DME volume set to more believable level. &lt;br /&gt;P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick. S: That's what friction locks are for. &lt;br /&gt;P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode. S: IFF IS inoperative in OFF mode. &lt;br /&gt;P: Suspected crack in windshield. S: Suspect you're right. &lt;br /&gt;P: Number 3 engine missing. S: Engine found on right wing after brief search. &lt;br /&gt;P: Aircraft acting funny S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right and be serious. &lt;br /&gt;P: Target radar hums. S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics. &lt;br /&gt;P: Mouse in cockpit. S: Cat installed. &lt;br /&gt;And the best one for last &lt;br /&gt;P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like midget pounding on something with a hammer. S: Took hammer away from midget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-1738224840950121005?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/1738224840950121005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=1738224840950121005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1738224840950121005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1738224840950121005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/07/oldie-but-goodie.html' title='An oldie, but a goodie'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-584951164365481994</id><published>2008-07-14T17:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T17:47:00.319-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth, told by a Barber</title><content type='html'>One day a florist goes to a barber for a haircut. After the cut he &lt;br /&gt;asked about his bill and the barber replies, 'I cannot accept money &lt;br /&gt;from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The florist was &lt;br /&gt;pleased and left the shop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the barber goes to open his shop the next morning there is a &lt;br /&gt;'thank you' card and a dozen roses waiting for him at his door. &lt;br /&gt;Later, a cop comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, &lt;br /&gt;the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing &lt;br /&gt;community service this week.' The cop is happy and leaves the shop. &lt;br /&gt;The next morning when the barber goes to open up there is a 'thank you' &lt;br /&gt;card and a dozen donuts waiting for him at his door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, a college professor comes in for a haircut, and when he &lt;br /&gt;tries to pay his bill, the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money &lt;br /&gt;from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The professor is very &lt;br /&gt;happy and leaves the shop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning when the barber opens his shop, there is a 'thank you' &lt;br /&gt;card and a dozen different books, such as 'How to Improve Your &lt;br /&gt;Business' and 'Becoming More Successful'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, a Congressman comes in for a haircut, and when he goes to pay &lt;br /&gt;his bill the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. &lt;br /&gt;I'm doing community service this week.' The Congressman is very happy &lt;br /&gt;and leaves the shop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning when the barber goes to open up, there are a dozen &lt;br /&gt;Congressmen lined up waiting for a free haircut.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-584951164365481994?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/584951164365481994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=584951164365481994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/584951164365481994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/584951164365481994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/07/truth-told-by-barber.html' title='The Truth, told by a Barber'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-8350190421668814517</id><published>2008-07-14T17:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T17:45:33.310-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cherokee Rite of Passage</title><content type='html'>Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of passage? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him and leaves him alone. He is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it. He cannot cry out for help to anyone. Once he survives the night, he is a MAN. He cannot tell the other boys of this experience because each lad must come into manhood on his own. The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. Maybe even some human might do him harm. The wind blew the grass and earth, and shook his stump, but he sat stoically, never removing the blindfold. It would be the only way he could become a man! Finally, after a horrific night, the sun appeared and he removed his blindfold. It was then that he discovered his father sitting on the stump next to him. He had been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm. We, too, are never alone. Even when we don't know it, our Heavenly Father is watching over us, sitting on the stump beside us. When trouble comes, all we have to do is reach out to Him.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;If you liked this story, pass it on. If not, perhaps you took off your blindfold before dawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: Just because you can't see God, doesn't mean He isn't there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-8350190421668814517?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/8350190421668814517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=8350190421668814517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8350190421668814517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8350190421668814517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/07/cherokee-rite-of-passage.html' title='Cherokee Rite of Passage'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-4348301975734999165</id><published>2008-06-11T19:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T19:41:49.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why we love children--a different point of view!</title><content type='html'>1) NUDITY &lt;br /&gt;I was driving with my three young children one warm summer evening when a woman in the convertible ahead of us stood up and waved. She was stark naked! As I was reeling from the shock, I heard my 5-year-old shout from the back seat, 'Mom, that lady isn't wearing a seat belt!' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) OPINIONS &lt;br /&gt;On the first day of school, a first-grader handed his teacher a note from his mother. The note read, 'The opinions expressed by this child are not necessarily those of his parents.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) KETCHUP &lt;br /&gt;A woman was trying hard to get the ketchup out of the jar. During her struggle the phone rang so she asked her 4-year-old daughter to answer the phone. 'Mommy can't come to the phone to talk to you right now. She's hitting the bottle.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) MORE NUDITY &lt;br /&gt;A little boy got lost at the YMCA and found himself in the women's locker room. When he was spotted, the room burst into shrieks, with ladies grabbing towels and running for cover. The little boy watched in amazement and then asked, 'What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a little boy before?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) POLICE # 1 &lt;br /&gt;While taking a routine vandalism report at an elementary school, I was interrupted by a little girl about 6 years old. Looking up and down at my uniform, she asked, 'Are you a cop?' Yes,' I answered and continued writing the report.' My mother said if I ever needed help I should ask the police. Is that right?' 'Yes, that's right,' I told her. 'Well, then,' she said as she extended her foot toward me, 'would you please tie my shoe?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) POLICE # 2&lt;br /&gt;It was the end of the day when I parked my police van in front of the station. As I gathered my equipment, my K-9 partner, Jake, was barking, and I saw a little boy staring in at me. 'Is that a dog you got back there?' he asked.  'It sure is,' I replied.  Puzzled, the boy looked at me and then towards the back of the van. Finally he said, 'What'd he do?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) ELDERLY&lt;br /&gt;While working for an organization that delivers lunches to elderly shut-ins, I used to take my 4-year-old daughter on my afternoon rounds.. She was unfailingly intrigued by the various appliances of old age, particularly the canes, walkers and wheelchairs. One day I found her staring at a pair of false teeth soaking in a glass. As I braced myself for the inevitable barrage of questions, she merely turned and whispered, 'The tooth fairy will never believe this!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) DRESS-UP&lt;br /&gt;A little girl was watching her parents dress for a party. When she saw her dad donning his tuxedo, she warned, 'Daddy, you shouldn't wear that suit.'&lt;br /&gt;'And why not, darling?'  'You know that it always gives you a headache the next morning.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) DEATH&lt;br /&gt;While walking along the sidewalk in front of his church, our minister heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly made his collar wilt. Apparently, his 5-year-old son and his playmates had found a dead robin. Feeling that proper burial should be performed, they had secured a small box and cotton batting, then dug a hole and made ready for the disposal of the deceased.  The minister's son was chosen to say the appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what he thought his father always said: 'Glory be unto the Faaather, and unto the Sonnn, and into the hole he goooes.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) SCHOOL&lt;br /&gt;A little girl had just finished her first week of school. 'I'm just wasting my time,' she said to her mother. 'I can't read, I can't write, and they won't let me talk!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) BIBLE&lt;br /&gt;A little boy opened the big family Bible. He was fascinated as he fingered through the old pages. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible. He picked up the object and looked at it. What he saw was an old leaf that had been pressed in between the pages.  'Mama, look what I found,' the boy called out.  'What have you got there, dear?'&lt;br /&gt;With astonishment in the young boy's voice, he answered, 'I think it's Adam's underwear!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-4348301975734999165?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/4348301975734999165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=4348301975734999165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/4348301975734999165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/4348301975734999165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/06/why-we-love-children-different-point-of.html' title='Why we love children--a different point of view!'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-5490221616231286034</id><published>2008-06-11T18:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T18:26:42.178-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fork</title><content type='html'>There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things 'in order,' she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'There's one more thing,' she said excitedly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What's that?' came the Pastor' S reply. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'This is very important,' the young woman continued. 'I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That surprises you, doesn't it?' the young woman asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request,' said the Pastor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young woman explained. 'My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: 'Keep your fork, the best is yet to come.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her dea th. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, 'What's with the fork?' And over and over he smiled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop th inking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-5490221616231286034?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/5490221616231286034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=5490221616231286034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/5490221616231286034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/5490221616231286034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/06/fork.html' title='The Fork'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-7840382011187250426</id><published>2008-05-29T12:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T12:36:36.927-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello?</title><content type='html'>The boss wondered why one of his most valued employees had not phoned in sick one day. Having an urgent problem with one of the main computers, he dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted with a child's whisper."Hello? " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is your daddy home?" he asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes,"whispered the small voice. May I talk with him?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The child whispered,"No." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Mommy there?""Yes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"May I talk with her?" Again the small voice whispered,"No." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, "Is anybody else there?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes,"whispered the child,"a policeman". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, he's busy",whispered the child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Busy doing what?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman,"came the whispered answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing more worried as he heard a loud noise in the background through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, "What is that noise?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A helicopter"answered the whispering voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is going on there?" demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive Again, whispering, the child answered,"The search team just landed a helicopter." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alarmed, concerned and a little frustrated the boss asked, "What are they searching for?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle..."me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-7840382011187250426?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/7840382011187250426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=7840382011187250426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/7840382011187250426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/7840382011187250426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/hello.html' title='Hello?'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-2386938216657420229</id><published>2008-05-29T12:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T12:32:33.921-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things we Wouldn't Know Without the Movies</title><content type='html'>-It is always possible to park directly outside any building you are visiting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A detective can only solve a case once he has been suspended from duty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-If you decide to start dancing in the street,everyone you bump into will know all the steps. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Most laptop computers are powerful enough to override the communication systems of any invading alien civilization. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It does not matter if you are heavily outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts - your  enemies will wait patiently to attack you one by one by dancing around in a threatening manner until you have knocked out their predecessors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When a person is knocked unconscious by a blow to the head, they will never suffer a concussion or brain damage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-No one involved in a car chase, hijacking, explosion, volcanic eruption or alien invasion will ever go into shock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Police Departments give their officers personality tests to make sure they are deliberately assigned a partner who is their total opposite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When they are alone, all foreigners prefer to speak English to each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-You can always find a chainsaw when you need one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Any lock can be picked by a credit card or a paper clip in seconds, unless it's the door to a burning building with a child trapped inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-An electric fence, powerful enough to kill a dinosaur will cause no lasting damage to an eight-year-old child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Television news bulletins usually contain a story that affects you personally at that precise moment you turn the television on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-2386938216657420229?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/2386938216657420229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=2386938216657420229' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/2386938216657420229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/2386938216657420229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/things-we-wouldnt-know-without-movies.html' title='Things we Wouldn&apos;t Know Without the Movies'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-1668107028074110065</id><published>2008-05-29T12:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T12:29:25.700-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sweet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><title type='text'>May I ask You a Question?</title><content type='html'>Son: "Daddy, may I ask you a question" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy: "Yeah sure, what it is?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son: "Dad, how much do you make an hour" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy: "That's none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son: "I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Daddy: "I make Rs. 500 an hour" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh", the little boy replied, with his head down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Looking up, he said, "Dad, may I please borrow Rs. 300?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The father was furious, "if the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or other nonsense, then march yourself to your room and go to bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Think why you are being so selfish. I work hard everyday for such this childish behavior" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy's questions. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dare he ask such questions only to get some money? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"May be there was something he really needed to buy with that &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Rs. 300 and he really didn't ask for money very often!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man went to the door of little boy's room and opened the door. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you asleep, son?" He asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"No daddy, I'm awake," replied the boy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've been thinking, may be I was too hard on you earlier", said the man, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the Rs.300 you asked for" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy sat straight up, smiling "oh thank you dad!" He yelled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled some crippled up notes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at his father. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you want money if you already had some?" the father grumbled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Daddy I have Rs. 500 now. Can I buy an hour of your time? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORAL OF THE STORY &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a short reminder to all of you working so hard in life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;! We should not let time slip through our fingers without having spent some time with those who really matter to us, those close to our hearts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;But the family &amp; friends we leave behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our family....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-1668107028074110065?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/1668107028074110065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=1668107028074110065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1668107028074110065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1668107028074110065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/may-i-ask-you-question.html' title='May I ask You a Question?'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-8148524089270576761</id><published>2008-05-29T12:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T12:19:02.816-04:00</updated><title type='text'>NASA</title><content type='html'>When NASA first started sending up astronauts, they quickly discovered that ballpoint pens would not work in zero gravity. To combat the problem, NASA scientists spent a decade and $12 billion to develop a pen that writes in zero gravity, upside down, underwater, on almost any surface including glass and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to 300°C.  &lt;br /&gt;The Russians used a pencil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-8148524089270576761?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/8148524089270576761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=8148524089270576761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8148524089270576761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8148524089270576761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/nasa.html' title='NASA'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-6663648875707069154</id><published>2008-05-29T12:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T12:08:30.036-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Two Little Boys</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, two little boys, Sammy and Tim, were sharing a room in the hospital. As they were getting to know each other a little bit, Sammy eventually asked Tim, "Hey, what're you in for?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm getting my tonsils out. I'm a little worried," said Tim. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, don't worry about it," Sammy said. "I had my tonsils out and it was a blast! I got to eat all the ice cream and Jell-O I wanted for two weeks!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah?'' replied Tim. "That's not half-bad. So, Sammy, how about you? What're you here for?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm getting a circumcision, whatever that is," Sammy answered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my gosh, circumcision? I got one of those when I was a baby and I couldn't walk for two years!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-6663648875707069154?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/6663648875707069154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=6663648875707069154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/6663648875707069154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/6663648875707069154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/two-little-boys.html' title='Two Little Boys'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-7465615425460018549</id><published>2008-05-27T12:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:59:41.828-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lora moore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='public restroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Public Restroom</title><content type='html'>When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually&lt;br /&gt;find a line of women, so you smile politely and take&lt;br /&gt;your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet&lt;br /&gt;under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking&lt;br /&gt;down the woman leaving the stall.&lt;br /&gt;You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't&lt;br /&gt;matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet&lt;br /&gt;your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers"&lt;br /&gt;(invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but&lt;br /&gt;empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if&lt;br /&gt;there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but&lt;br /&gt;quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn&lt;br /&gt;over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank&lt;br /&gt;down your pants, and assume " The Stance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles&lt;br /&gt;begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you&lt;br /&gt;certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay&lt;br /&gt;toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."&lt;br /&gt;To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach&lt;br /&gt;for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper&lt;br /&gt;dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's&lt;br /&gt;voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the&lt;br /&gt;seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!"&lt;br /&gt;Your thighs shake more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose&lt;br /&gt;on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh&lt;br /&gt;yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have&lt;br /&gt;to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same&lt;br /&gt;time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the&lt;br /&gt;puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your&lt;br /&gt;thumbnail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone pushes your door open because the latch&lt;br /&gt;doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is&lt;br /&gt;hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and&lt;br /&gt;you and your purse topple backward against the tank of&lt;br /&gt;the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for&lt;br /&gt;the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled&lt;br /&gt;tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing&lt;br /&gt;altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET&lt;br /&gt;SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all&lt;br /&gt;too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made&lt;br /&gt;contact with every imaginable germ and life form on&lt;br /&gt;the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet&lt;br /&gt;paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken&lt;br /&gt;time to try. You know that your mother would be&lt;br /&gt;utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain&lt;br /&gt;her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat&lt;br /&gt;because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind&lt;br /&gt;of diseases you could get."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the&lt;br /&gt;toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a&lt;br /&gt;stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of&lt;br /&gt;the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers&lt;br /&gt;your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.&lt;br /&gt;The flush somehow sucks everything down with such&lt;br /&gt;force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper&lt;br /&gt;dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.&lt;br /&gt;At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the&lt;br /&gt;spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're&lt;br /&gt;exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you&lt;br /&gt;found in your pocket and then slink out&lt;br /&gt;inconspicuously to the sinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with&lt;br /&gt;the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with&lt;br /&gt;spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of&lt;br /&gt;women still waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A&lt;br /&gt;kind soul at the very end of the line points out a&lt;br /&gt;piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where&lt;br /&gt;was that when you NEEDED it?? ) You yank the paper&lt;br /&gt;from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell&lt;br /&gt;her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since&lt;br /&gt;entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed,&lt;br /&gt;he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your&lt;br /&gt;purse hanging around your neck?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a&lt;br /&gt;public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!).&lt;br /&gt;It finally explains to the men what really does take&lt;br /&gt;us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked&lt;br /&gt;questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs.&lt;br /&gt;It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto&lt;br /&gt;your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could&lt;br /&gt;describe it so accurately!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-7465615425460018549?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/7465615425460018549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=7465615425460018549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/7465615425460018549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/7465615425460018549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/public-restroom.html' title='Public Restroom'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-8204862145490727205</id><published>2008-05-27T12:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:56:10.224-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lora moore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insanity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>20 Ways to Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity</title><content type='html'>20 Ways to Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It 'In.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks Once Everyone has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch to Espresso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write ' For Smuggling Diamonds' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Finish All Your sentences with 'In Accordance With The Prophecy.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 Do NOT use any punctuation &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is 'To Go.' 12. Sing Along At The Opera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play tropical Sounds All Day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't Attend Their Party Because You're Not In The Mood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Have Your Co-workers Address You By Your Wrestling Name, Rock Bottom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream 'I Won!, I Won!' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking lot, Yelling 'Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. 'Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. And The Final Way To Keep A Healthy Level Of Insanity.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send This E-mail To Someone To Make Them Smile. Its Called ..... therapy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-8204862145490727205?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/8204862145490727205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=8204862145490727205' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8204862145490727205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/8204862145490727205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/20-ways-to-maintain-healthy-level-of.html' title='20 Ways to Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-3801315637909409325</id><published>2008-05-27T12:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:51:00.034-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lora moore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><title type='text'>Emergency Friendship System</title><content type='html'>This is a test of the&lt;br /&gt;Emergency Friendship System &lt;br /&gt;forward it (and to me too I hope) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...a Friend does most&lt;br /&gt;or all of these... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(A)ccepts you as you are &lt;br /&gt;(B)elieves in 'you' &lt;br /&gt;(C)alls you just to say ! 'HI' &lt;br /&gt;(D)oesn't give up on you &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(E)nvisions the whole of you (even the unfinished parts) &lt;br /&gt;(F)orgives your mistakes &lt;br /&gt;(G)ives unconditionally &lt;br /&gt;(H)elps you &lt;br /&gt;(I)nvites you over &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(J)ust 'be' with you &lt;br /&gt;(K)eeps you close at heart &lt;br /&gt;(L)oves you for wh o you are &lt;br /&gt;(M)akes a difference in your life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(N)ever Judges &lt;br /&gt;(O)ffers support &lt;br /&gt;(P)icks you up &lt;br /&gt;(Q)uiets your fears &lt;br /&gt;(R)aises your spirits &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(S)ays nice things about you &lt;br /&gt;(T)ells you the truth when you need to hear it &lt;br /&gt;(U)nderstands you &lt;br /&gt;(V)alues you &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(W)alks beside you &lt;br /&gt;(X )-plains thing you don't understand &lt;br /&gt;(Y)ells when you won't listen and &lt;br /&gt;(Z)aps you back to reality&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-3801315637909409325?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/3801315637909409325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=3801315637909409325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/3801315637909409325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/3801315637909409325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/emergency-friendship-system.html' title='Emergency Friendship System'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-2474782920070103934</id><published>2008-05-27T12:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:48:17.698-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lora moore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>Poem</title><content type='html'>A POEM ABOUT OUR GIRLFRIENDS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone will always be prettier.&lt;br /&gt;Someone will always be skinnier.&lt;br /&gt;Someone will always be smarter.&lt;br /&gt;Some of their houses will be bigger.&lt;br /&gt;Some will drive a better car.&lt;br /&gt;Their children will do better in school.&lt;br /&gt;And their husbands will fix more things around the house..&lt;br /&gt;So let it go, and love you and your circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;Think about it!&lt;br /&gt;The prettiest woman in the world can have hell in her heart.&lt;br /&gt;And the most highly favored woman on your job may be unable to have children.&lt;br /&gt;And the richest woman you know, she's got the car, the house, the clothes might be lonely.&lt;br /&gt;And the Word says, 'If I have not Love, I am nothing.'&lt;br /&gt;So, again, love you.&lt;br /&gt;Love who you are.&lt;br /&gt;Look in the mirror in the morning and smile and say,&lt;br /&gt;'I am too Blessed to be Stressed and too Annointed, to be Disappointed!'&lt;br /&gt;'Winners make things happen ~ Losers let things happen.'&lt;br /&gt;Be 'Blessed' Ladies ~ and pass this on to encourage another woman.&lt;br /&gt;'To the world you might be one person, but to the one person you just sent this to, it could mean so much.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-2474782920070103934?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/2474782920070103934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=2474782920070103934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/2474782920070103934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/2474782920070103934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/poem.html' title='Poem'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-5690187399247498448</id><published>2008-05-27T12:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:46:13.843-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lora moore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monkey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smile'/><title type='text'>Smile For You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_vl10qmiWqhY/SDw6nAOjFTI/AAAAAAAAADA/ZyHF4bcJIq8/s1600-h/monkeys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205099711083779378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_vl10qmiWqhY/SDw6nAOjFTI/AAAAAAAAADA/ZyHF4bcJIq8/s400/monkeys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-5690187399247498448?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/5690187399247498448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=5690187399247498448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/5690187399247498448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/5690187399247498448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/smile-for-you.html' title='Smile For You!'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_vl10qmiWqhY/SDw6nAOjFTI/AAAAAAAAADA/ZyHF4bcJIq8/s72-c/monkeys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-4846543184524783786</id><published>2008-05-27T12:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:41:13.961-04:00</updated><title type='text'>High Tech Humor</title><content type='html'>HighTech Humor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After having dug to a depth of 10 yards last year, New York scientists found traces of copper wire dating back100 years and came to the conclusion, that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 100 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to be outdone by the New Yorkers, in the weeks that followed, California scientists dug to a depth of 20 yards, and shortly after, headlines in the LA Times newspaper read: 'California archaeologists have found traces of 200 year old copper wire and have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network a hundred years earlier than the New Yorkers.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One week later, the 'The Valdosta Daily Times', a local newspaper in Georgia, reported the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'After digging as deep as 30 yards in cotton fields near  Adel  in Cook  County,   Bubba Johnson, a self-taught archaeologist, reported that he found absolutely nothing.  Bubba has therefore concluded that 300 years ago, Georgia had already gone wireless.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-4846543184524783786?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/4846543184524783786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=4846543184524783786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/4846543184524783786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/4846543184524783786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/high-tech-humor.html' title='High Tech Humor'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-1211129475458459649</id><published>2008-05-27T12:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:37:29.411-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>True Friendship</title><content type='html'>True Friendship None of that Sissy &lt;a href="mailto:Cr@p"&gt;Cr@p&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you tired of those sissy 'friendship' poems that always sound good, But never actually come close to reality?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship. You will see no cutesy little smiley faces on this card- Just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When you are sad -- I will jump on the person who made you sad like a spider monkey jacked up on mountain dew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. When you smile -- I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much Worse it could be until&lt;br /&gt;you quit whining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. When you are sick -- Stay away from me until you are well Again. I don't want whatever you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. This is my oath.... I pledge it to the end. 'Why?' you may ask; 'because you are my friend'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendship is like wetting your pants, everyone can see it, But only you can feel the true warmth..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send this to 10 of your closest friends, Then get depressed because you can only think of 4.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-1211129475458459649?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/1211129475458459649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=1211129475458459649' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1211129475458459649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/1211129475458459649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/true-friendship.html' title='True Friendship'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3143808314494931534.post-6456153156859224246</id><published>2008-05-27T12:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:20:58.696-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interesting stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='email'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun facts'/><title type='text'>Interesting Stuff</title><content type='html'>VERY INTERESTING STUFF!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the 1400's a law was set forth in England that a man was allowed to beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb. Hence we have 'the rule of thumb'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years ago in Scotland, a new game was invented. It was ruled 'Gentlemen Only...Ladies Forbidden'...and thus the word GOLF entered into the English language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first couple to be shown in bed together on prime time TV was Fred and Wilma Flintstone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than the U.S. Treasury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men can read smaller print than women can; women can hear better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coca-Cola was originally green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is impossible to lick your elbow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The State with the highest percentage of people who walk to work:  Alaska&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The percentage of Africa that is wilderness: 28% (now get this...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The percentage of North America that is wilderness: 38%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $ 16,400 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average number of people airborne over the U.S. in any given hour: 61,000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first novel ever written on a typewriter: Tom Sawyer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The San Francisco Cable cars are the only mobile National Monuments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each king in a deck of playing cards represents a great king from history: Spades - King David; Hearts – Charlemagne; Clubs -Alexander, the Great; Diamonds - Julius Caesar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only two people signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, John Hancock and Charles Thomson. Most of the rest signed on August 2, but the last signature wasn't added until 5 years later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Half of all Americans live within 50 miles of what?  A. Their birthplace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Most boat owners name their boats. What is the most popular boat name requested? A. Obsession &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find the letter 'A'?  A. One thousand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What do bulletproof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, and laser printers all have in common? A. All were invented by women. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What is the only food that doesn't spoil?  A. Honey &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Which day are there more collect calls than any other day of the year? A. Father's Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Shakespeare's time, mattresses were secured on bed frames by ropes. When you pulled on the ropes the mattress tightened, making the bed firmer to sleep on. Hence the phrase......... 'good night, sleep tight.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the honey month, which we know today as the honeymoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts... So in old England , when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them 'Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down.'  It's where we get the phrase 'mind your P's and Q's'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years ago in England, pub frequenters had a whistle baked into the rim, or handle, of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistle to get some service. 'Wet your whistle' is the phrase inspired by this practice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least 75% of people who read this will try to lick their elbow! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't delete this just because it looks weird. Believe it or not, you can read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU KNOW YOU ARE LIVING IN 2008 when... &lt;br /&gt;1. You accidentally enter your PIN on the microwave. &lt;br /&gt;2. You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.&lt;br /&gt;3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of three. &lt;br /&gt;4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you. &lt;br /&gt;5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.&lt;br /&gt;6. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries. &lt;br /&gt;7. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen&lt;br /&gt;8. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't even have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it. &lt;br /&gt;10. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.&lt;br /&gt;11. You start tilting your head sideways to smile. : ) &lt;br /&gt;12. You're reading this and nodding and laughing. &lt;br /&gt;13. Even worse, you know exactly to whom you are going to forward this message.&lt;br /&gt;14. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list. &lt;br /&gt;15. You actually scrolled back up to see that #9 wasn’t on this list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~AND FINALLY~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW U R LAUGHING at yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3143808314494931534-6456153156859224246?l=lorasmail.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/feeds/6456153156859224246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3143808314494931534&amp;postID=6456153156859224246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/6456153156859224246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3143808314494931534/posts/default/6456153156859224246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lorasmail.blogspot.com/2008/05/interesting-stuff.html' title='Interesting Stuff'/><author><name>Lora Moore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://pnltravel.googlepages.com/Lora.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
