Every once in awhile I run across something that makes me smile. Actually, I run across a lot of stuff that makes me smile. And smiling is good for ones soul.
A weasel walks into a bar. The bartender had never served a weasel before, and he says so.
“I’ve never served a weasel before,” the bartender says to the waiting weasel. “What would you like?”
“Pop, “ goes the weasel.
Admit it. It made you smile.
And there was this. But if you don’t live in an area where many Ukrainians settled, you may not get it.
This Ukrainian gentleman goes to the eye doctor to have his eyes checked. You’ve all done this I know.
The doctor sits the gentleman in the chair, places a blind over one eye, and asks, “Can you read the third line?”
“Read it, “ the Ukrainian gentleman declares, “I know the man!”
Enough of that.
But that reminds me of another story from a few years back. It was when we were hotshotting up and down the road. North of Belfield several miles, on the east side of highway 22 you can see a large hill that is evidently man made.
Well, in my imagination, I envisioned ancient Indians building this hill as a place of worship or something. Or maybe visitors from another planet that had built this mound for a landing site for their spaceships. Or maybe, if you dug into that hill, you would find a race of people that lived beneath the surface of the earth. I’m not completely sane you know.
Anyway, one day at happy hour, I asked a friend who lived near there if he had any idea what they were.
He said, “That was where they used to mine Ukrainians!”
I guess he meant uranium. Maybe happy hour lasted too long.