MAKING A BABY...There is not one dirty word in it, and it is funny.

The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate
father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive,
Mr.Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, 'Well, I'm off now. The man should be
here soon.'Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer
happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. 'Good morning,Ma'am', he
said, 'I've come to...''Oh, no need to explain,'Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed,
'I've been expecting you.''Have you really?' said the photographer. 'Well,
that's good. Did you know babies a re my specialty?''Well that's what my husband
and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat'.After a moment she asked,
blushing, 'Well, where do we start?''Leave everything to me. I usually try two
in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes
the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there.''Bathtub, living
room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!''Well, Ma'am, none of
us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different
positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with
the results.''My, that's a lot!' gasped Mrs. Smith.'Ma'am, in my line of work a
man has to take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but I'm
sure you'd be disappointed with that.''Don't I know it,' said Mrs. Smith
quietly.The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his
baby pictures. 'This was done on the top of a bus,' he said.'Oh, my God!' Mrs.
Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.'And these twins turned out
exceptionally well - when you consider their mother was so difficult to work
with.''She was difficult?' asked Mrs.Smith.'Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to
take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four
and five deep to get a good look''Four and five deep?' said Mrs. Smith, her eyes
wide with amazement.'Yes', the photographer replied. 'And for more than three
hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly
concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when
the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in.'Mrs.
Smith leaned forward. 'Do you mean they actually chewed on your,
uh...equipment?''It's true, Ma'am, yes.. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my
tripod and we can g et to work right away.''Tripod ?''Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to
use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very
long.'Mrs. Smith fainted!
>

__________________
God is and all is well
~John Greenleaf Whittier~

Why Parents Drink

A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to "Dad." with the worst premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Dad:

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to Elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you.

I have been finding real passion with Stacy and she is so nice. But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercings, tattoos, tight motorcycle clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it's not only the passion...Dad she's pregnant.

Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children. Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better. She deserves it.

Don't worry Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself.

Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren.

Love, Your Son, John


PS. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than a report card, that's in my center desk drawer.

I love you.

Call me when it's safe to come home.

Dear Son,

I’m writing this letter slow because I know you can’t read fast. We don’t live where we did when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles of your home, so we moved.

I won’t be able to send you the address because the last Arkansas family that lived here took the house numbers when they moved so that they wouldn’t have to change their address.

This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I’m not sure it works so well though: last week I put a load in and pulled the chain and haven’t seen them since.

The weather isn’t bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first time for three days and the second time for four days.

John locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him two hours to get me and your father out.

Your sister had a baby this morning; but I haven’t found out what it is yet so I don’t know if your an aunt or an uncle.

The baby looks just like your brother.

Uncle Ted fell in a whiskey vat last week. Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off playfully and drowned. We had him cremated and he burned for three days.

There isn’t much more news at this time. Nothing much has happened.

Love, Mom

P.S. I was going to send you some money but the envelope was already sealed.