|While walking down the street one day, a high ranking politician is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.|
"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in." says the politician.
"Well, I'd like to but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."
"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," says the politician.
"I'm sorry but we have our rules."
And with that, St. Peter escorts the politician to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a club and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him, everyone is very happy and in evening dress.
They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar. Also present is the Devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that, before he realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves while the elevator rises. The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on Heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.
"Now it's time to visit Heaven."
So 24 hours pass with the politician head of state joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.
"Well then, you've spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven. Now choose your eternity."
He reflects for a minute, then the head of state answers, "Well, I would never have thought it, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell."
So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to Hell. Now the doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. The Devil comes over to the politician and lays an arm on his neck.
"I don't understand," stammers the politician. Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and club and we ate lobster and caviar and danced and had a great time. Now all there is a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable."
The Devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted for us."
|Ek Sharaabi ek Pahunche Huye BABA Ke Aashram Mein Daya.|
Sharaabi: Maharaj, Main Aapki Sharan Mein Aaya Hun.... Mujh Per Kripa Kijiye.
Baba: Kya Baat Hai Beta ?
Sharaabi: Babaji Mein Sharaab Kee Vajah Se Bahut Dukhi Hun. Kripa Karke Meri Sharaab Chhudwa Deejiye !
Baba: Tum Bilkul Sahi Jagah Aaye Ho Bachcha ! Ye Samjho Tumhari Sharaab Chhoot Gayi.
Sharaabi: Jai Ho Babaji Ki ! Mujhe Vishwas Thaa Ki Aap Meri Madad Zaroor Karenge ! Ab Jaldi Se Phone Keejiye Civil Lines Thaane Ke Incharge Ko! Usne Meri 2 Peti Whiskey Zabt Kar Lee Hai !!!
|There is a story about monastery in Europe perched high on a cliff several 100 feet in the air. The only way to reach the monastery was to be suspended in a basket, which was pulled to the top by several monks, who pulled and tugged with all their strength. Obviously, the ride up the steep cliff in that basket was terrifying.|
One tourist got exceedingly nervous when he was half-way up as he noticed that the rope by which he was suspended was old and frayed.
With a trembling voice he asked the monk who was riding with him in the basket how often they change the rope.
The monk thought for a moment and answered brusquely, "Whenever it breaks."
|While stitching a cut on the hand of a 75 year old veteran, whose hand was caught in the squeeze gate of the military hospital, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to generals and their role as our leaders.|
The old veteran said, "Well, as I see it, most generals are 'Post Turtles'.''
Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a 'Post Turtle' was.
The old veteran said, "When you're driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle."
The old veteran saw the puzzled look on the doctor's face so he continued to explain.
"You know he didn't get up there by himself, he doesn't belong up there, he doesn't know what to do while he's up there, he's elevated beyond his ability to function, and you just wonder what kind of dumb arse put him up there to begin with."