Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Thought for the Day

Buttered Cat Paradox

From the vault (08.08.2010):

Laws and Principles: Buttered Cat Paradox

The buttered cat paradox is a tongue-in-cheek combination of two adages:

- cats always land on their feet;

- buttered toast always lands buttered side down.

The paradox arises when a piece of buttered toast is strapped to the back of a cat, buttered side up, and the cat is then dropped off a building at a great height.

The question then is: which lands first, the toast, or the feet of the cat?

There are two obvious answers: the cat lands on the toast or the cat lands on its feet.

There has, however, been considerable debate and humorous conjecture about the possibility of the two opposing forces causing the cat to go into a faster and faster spin as the two forces act against each other.

There is further conjecture that as the cat nears the ground it will end up hovering in a steady state.

- There is a detailed analysis of the paradox in the comments section, and an application to the principles of hovercraft, at:

- For the practical application of the buttered cat paradox as an antigravity vortex (also known as a “gravitic warp”), see: :

A YouTube video on the paradox is at:

According to that clip, “applied logically jellied (buttered) cats floating over white carpets can support hover monorail, thus solving problems with fuel shortages for mass transportations".

I like the comment from one person in response: “I tried it, but my cat went totally flat when I put it under the train and it refuses to meow anymore."

Monday, April 29, 2019

Quote for the Day

"The President then asked, “What about these notes? Why do you take notes? Lawyers don’t take notes. I never had a lawyer who took notes.” McGahn responded that he keeps notes because he is a 'real lawyer' and explained that notes create a record and are not a bad thing, that it’s his legal responsibility to keep an accurate record of events. The President said, “I’ve had a lot of great lawyers, like Roy Cohn. He did not take notes.”

- From The Mueller Report.
The incident is being referred to as "Notegate".

Readers Write



A message from Enid C, received prior to Easter. 

Thanks Enid 
Hi Otto,  
Thank you for all your posts brightening our days. Hope you and all your family enjoy a wonderful Easter.  
A friend sent this note to me and Philip suggested you might like it.
Kind regards  
This notice can now be found in all French churches:  
En entrant dans cette église, il est possible que vous entendiez l'appel de Dieu.
Par contre, il n’est pas susceptible de vous contacter par téléphone.
Merci d'avoir éteint votre téléphone.
Si vous souhaitez parler à Dieu, entrez, choisissez un endroit tranquille et parle lui.
Si vous souhaitez le voir, envoyez-lui un SMS en conduisant.  
It is possible that on entering this church, you may hear the Call of God.
On the other hand, it is not likely that he will contact you by phone.
Thank you for turning off your phone.
If you would like to talk to God, come in, choose a quiet place, and talk to him.
If you would like to see him, send him a text while driving. 
Amen to that, sister. 

From Tim B in respect of the Anzac Day posts: 

I salute all your war veterans! Especially those who have given the ultimate sacrifice. May they rest in peace and their sacrifice not be in vain. 
Tim B 
Thanks, Tim. 

From Maria B, responding to the following Thought for the Day: 

Hello Otto

I wasn’t going to reply, BUT

Unfortunately I didn’t feel the pain that (husband) Robert did in my first pregnancy, but I do remember that his thumb was sore because I held on to it tightly!!

Needless to say that in the next two pregnancies, I did not hold on to his thumb – I learned my lesson!!

Love Maria 
Thanks, Maria 

From Tobye P in the US in response to the Anzac Day posts: 
Thanks Otto-that poem always gets me. 

“They fell with their faces to the foe” 

Gives me shivers to think of the horrors they must have witnessed/endured. But they did not surrender their humanity-the biscuit box cross is proof of that. 

Re: yesterday’s Bytes-How could anyone-especially there-think it was “forgot”? And how many people who all knew better “saw” it-but didn’t really see it all. Astonishing that they were actually hung with that gaffe. 

Thanks for sharing-appreciate all you do to bring us valuable trivia! 

Never Forget! 

Regards, Tobye 
Thanks, Tobye. 

The sad thing is that they were so young, many only just out of childhood, never having the chance to have families, to grow old themselves. Eric Bogle wrote a song called The Green Fields of France which focuses on the death of a 19 year old in WW1. It contains the following lyrics at the end: 

Well the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain, 
The killing and dying, were all done in vain. 
For Willie McBride, it all happened again, 
And again, and again, and again, and again. 

Sad, sad, sad. 

Leo M sent me an email entitled The Chalk Guy is Back. Some amazing footpath chalk art there . . . 

Thanks, Leo.

Sunday, April 28, 2019

Quote for the Day

Sydney Suburbs, continued: Carlingford, Carlton, Carnes Hill, Carramar




Carlingford is located 22 kilometres north-west of the Sydney central business district in the local government area of City of Parramatta. Carlingford is on the north-eastern outskirts of the Greater Western Sydney region and is on the south-eastern outskirts of the Hills District and western outskirts of Northern Suburbs. 

Name origin: 

The name Carlingford came into use officially on 16 July 1883 for the name of the post office located at Mobbs Hill. There are varying accounts of how the name Carlingford was suggested. One version was that local Frederick Cox heard one of his employees describe similarities between Mobbs Hill and the town of Carlingford, County Louth, located in the east of Ireland. Alternatively, and perhaps a happy alignment with the former version, was that Carlingford was named in honour of Lord Carlingford, who was the British Under-Secretary of State for the Colonies 1847–1860. Residents voted for the name in 1886. 

Prior to 1883 the locality was known under various names and lacked any clear boundaries. The fluidity in district names in the colonial period reflected changes in the patterns of land use and access to the area as the process of colonisation proceeded. Names of nearby areas were sometimes vaguely associated with what became Carlingford and even after that name was settled usage remained fluid for a time. 


Carlingford remained predominantly rural until after World war 11. As Sydney rapidly expanded, following WW 11, Carlingford underwent rapid urbanisation. 


Brush Farm House (1820) 

Orchards were prominent in Carlingfod for over 100 years. 

Loading fruit at Carlingford Railway Station for transport to market c.1923 

Timber drawing in the Carlingford-Epping area c.1915 

Looking north along Pennant Hills Road from Church Street (now Marsden Road), Mobbs Hill, Carlingford c.1912 

The end of the line at Carlingford railway station 



Carlton is a suburb in southern Sydney located 15 kilometres south of the Sydney central business district and is part of the St George area. Carlton lies across the boundary of two local government areas, the Georges River Council and the Bayside Council. 

Name origin: 

Carlton is named after a suburb of Nottingham in England meaning "a village of free men". 


- Up until the arrival of the railway in 1884, Carlton was a patchwork of farms on land cleared of forest some decades earlier. 

- The train did not stop at Carlton and in order to make it happen, the developers offered free blocks of land here to everyone who donated 400 pounds towards the cost of building a platform and station buildings. It was this "generous offer" of free land that prompted the use of the name Carlton. 

- The settlement got its station in 1889. By the turn of the century it had developed into a desirable residential area. 


Royal Hotel, Carlton, 2006 

Jubilee Stadium and Walk of Fame, Park Street 

Carnes Hill


Carnes Hill is located 38 kilometres southwest of the Sydney central business district, in the local government area of the City of Liverpool and is part of the Greater Western Sydney region. 


To be honest, I hadn’t even heard of this suburb until now. It must be a newer suburb. 

The following is from Wikipedia: 

· The suburb and surrounding areas are rapidly expanding and are expected to reach a population of 100,000 in the future. 

· In 2016 projects began for a recreational precinct that is said to include a Library, fitness centre, indoor sport courts, skate park, and a new community centre on the corner of Cowpasture and Kurrajong Road. 

· In the 2016 Census, there were 2,043 people in Carnes Hill. 53.2% of people were born in Australia. The next most common countries of birth were Fiji 7.0% and Iraq 6.2%. 38.5% of people spoke only English at home. Other languages spoken at home included Hindi 8.0% and Arabic 6.6%. The most common responses for religion were Catholic 36.9%, Islam 11.1%, Hinduism 9.1% and No Religion 8.9%. 


Cnr Kurrajong Road & Sarah Hollands Drive, Carnes Hill 

Carnes Hill Marketplace 




Carramar is located 30 kilometres west of the Sydney central business district, in the local government area of the City of Fairfield and is part of the Greater Western Sydney region. 

Name origin: 

Carramar's name comes from an aboriginal word meaning "shade of trees". 


The first land grant in the area was made by Governor King in 1803. 

One of Sydney's oldest trees, the Bland Oak. was planted in the suburb in the 1830s by William Bland. 

When the railway station opened in 1924 it was called South Fairfield. However, the area had been known as Carramar since at least the 1850s and the name of the station was changed to Carramar in 1926. A post office was opened the following year as the local population began to swell. 


The Bland Oak. 

Planted by former convict, politician, farmer and inventor William Bland in 1842, the Bland Oak was the largest tree in Australia until it split in two parts after a storm early on New Year Day 1941. Its dissipated wood was assembled and carved into the Mayoral chair, which is currently housed at Fairfield City Museum & Gallery in Smithfield. Despite the incident, the oak tree still remains to be the largest of its kind.

Saturday, April 27, 2019

Thought for the Day

“Make Your Bed” by Admiral William H. McRaven

In 2014, Admiral William H. McRaven delivered a commencement speech to the University of Texas that was so inspirational that it immediately went viral.  The speech is lengthy but well worth posting and well worth reading.  Those who would prefer to watch and listen to it can do so by clicking on the following link:

“Make Your Bed”
by Admiral William H. McRaven

President Powers, Provost Fenves, Deans, members of the faculty, family and friends and most importantly, the class of 2014. Congratulations on your achievement.

It's been almost 37 years to the day that I graduated from UT. I remember a lot of things about that day. I remember I had throbbing headache from a party the night before. I remember I had a serious girlfriend, whom I later married — that's important to remember by the way — and I remember that I was getting commissioned in the Navy that day.

But of all the things I remember, I don't have a clue who the commencement speaker was that evening, and I certainly don't remember anything they said. So, acknowledging that fact, if I can't make this commencement speech memorable, I will at least try to make it short.

The University's slogan is, “What starts here changes the world.” I have to admit — I kinda like it. “What starts here changes the world.”

Tonight there are almost 8,000 students graduating from UT. That great paragon of analytical rigor, Ask.Com, says that the average American will meet 10,000 people in their lifetime. That's a lot of folks. But, if every one of you changed the lives of just 10 people — and each one of those folks changed the lives of another 10 people — just 10 — then in five generations — 125 years — the class of 2014 will have changed the lives of 800 million people.

800 million people — think of it — over twice the population of the United States. Go one more generation and you can change the entire population of the world — eight billion people.

If you think it's hard to change the lives of 10 people — change their lives forever — you're wrong. I saw it happen every day in Iraq and Afghanistan: A young Army officer makes a decision to go left instead of right down a road in Baghdad and the 10 soldiers in his squad are saved from close-in ambush. In Kandahar province, Afghanistan, a non-commissioned officer from the Female Engagement Team senses something isn't right and directs the infantry platoon away from a 500-pound IED, saving the lives of a dozen soldiers.

But, if you think about it, not only were these soldiers saved by the decisions of one person, but their children yet unborn were also saved. And their children's children were saved. Generations were saved by one decision, by one person.

But changing the world can happen anywhere and anyone can do it. So, what starts here can indeed change the world, but the question is — what will the world look like after you change it?

Well, I am confident that it will look much, much better. But if you will humor this old sailor for just a moment, I have a few suggestions that may help you on your way to a better a world. And while these lessons were learned during my time in the military, I can assure you that it matters not whether you ever served a day in uniform. It matters not your gender, your ethnic or religious background, your orientation or your social status.

Our struggles in this world are similar, and the lessons to overcome those struggles and to move forward — changing ourselves and the world around us — will apply equally to all.

I have been a Navy SEAL for 36 years. But it all began when I left UT for Basic SEAL training in Coronado, California. Basic SEAL training is six months of long torturous runs in the soft sand, midnight swims in the cold water off San Diego, obstacles courses, unending calisthenics, days without sleep and always being cold, wet and miserable. It is six months of being constantly harrassed by professionally trained warriors who seek to find the weak of mind and body and eliminate them from ever becoming a Navy SEAL.

But, the training also seeks to find those students who can lead in an environment of constant stress, chaos, failure and hardships. To me basic SEAL training was a lifetime of challenges crammed into six months.

So, here are the 10 lessons I learned from basic SEAL training that hopefully will be of value to you as you move forward in life.

Every morning in basic SEAL training, my instructors, who at the time were all Vietnam veterans, would show up in my barracks room and the first thing they would inspect was your bed. If you did it right, the corners would be square, the covers pulled tight, the pillow centered just under the headboard and the extra blanket folded neatly at the foot of the rack — that's Navy talk for bed.

It was a simple task — mundane at best. But every morning we were required to make our bed to perfection. It seemed a little ridiculous at the time, particularly in light of the fact that were aspiring to be real warriors, tough battle-hardened SEALs, but the wisdom of this simple act has been proven to me many times over.

If you make your bed every morning you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task and another and another. By the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many tasks completed. Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that little things in life matter. If you can't do the little things right, you will never do the big things right.

And, if by chance you have a miserable day, you will come home to a bed that is made — that you made — and a made bed gives you encouragement that tomorrow will be better.

If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.

During SEAL training the students are broken down into boat crews. Each crew is seven students — three on each side of a small rubber boat and one coxswain to help guide the dingy. Every day your boat crew forms up on the beach and is instructed to get through the surfzone and paddle several miles down the coast. In the winter, the surf off San Diego can get to be 8 to 10 feet high and it is exceedingly difficult to paddle through the plunging surf unless everyone digs in. Every paddle must be synchronized to the stroke count of the coxswain. Everyone must exert equal effort or the boat will turn against the wave and be unceremoniously tossed back on the beach.

For the boat to make it to its destination, everyone must paddle. You can't change the world alone — you will need some help — and to truly get from your starting point to your destination takes friends, colleagues, the good will of strangers and a strong coxswain to guide them.

If you want to change the world, find someone to help you paddle.

Over a few weeks of difficult training my SEAL class, which started with 150 men, was down to just 35. There were now six boat crews of seven men each. I was in the boat with the tall guys, but the best boat crew we had was made up of the the little guys — the munchkin crew we called them — no one was over about five-foot-five.

The munchkin boat crew had one American Indian, one African American, one Polish American, one Greek American, one Italian American, and two tough kids from the midwest. They out-paddled, out-ran and out-swam all the other boat crews. The big men in the other boat crews would always make good-natured fun of the tiny little flippers the munchkins put on their tiny little feet prior to every swim. But somehow these little guys, from every corner of the nation and the world, always had the last laugh — swimming faster than everyone and reaching the shore long before the rest of us.

SEAL training was a great equalizer. Nothing mattered but your will to succeed. Not your color, not your ethnic background, not your education and not your social status.

If you want to change the world, measure a person by the size of their heart, not the size of their flippers.

Several times a week, the instructors would line up the class and do a uniform inspection. It was exceptionally thorough. Your hat had to be perfectly starched, your uniform immaculately pressed and your belt buckle shiny and void of any smudges. But it seemed that no matter how much effort you put into starching your hat, or pressing your uniform or polishing your belt buckle — it just wasn't good enough. The instructors would find “something” wrong.

For failing the uniform inspection, the student had to run, fully clothed into the surfzone and then, wet from head to toe, roll around on the beach until every part of your body was covered with sand. The effect was known as a “sugar cookie.” You stayed in that uniform the rest of the day — cold, wet and sandy.

There were many a student who just couldn't accept the fact that all their effort was in vain. That no matter how hard they tried to get the uniform right, it was unappreciated. Those students didn't make it through training. Those students didn't understand the purpose of the drill. You were never going to succeed. You were never going to have a perfect uniform.

Sometimes no matter how well you prepare or how well you perform you still end up as a sugar cookie. It's just the way life is sometimes.

If you want to change the world get over being a sugar cookie and keep moving forward.

Every day during training you were challenged with multiple physical events — long runs, long swims, obstacle courses, hours of calisthenics — something designed to test your mettle. Every event had standards — times you had to meet. If you failed to meet those standards your name was posted on a list, and at the end of the day those on the list were invited to a “circus.” A circus was two hours of additional calisthenics designed to wear you down, to break your spirit, to force you to quit.

No one wanted a circus.

A circus meant that for that day you didn't measure up. A circus meant more fatigue — and more fatigue meant that the following day would be more difficult — and more circuses were likely. But at some time during SEAL training, everyone — everyone — made the circus list.

But an interesting thing happened to those who were constantly on the list. Over time those students — who did two hours of extra calisthenics — got stronger and stronger. The pain of the circuses built inner strength, built physical resiliency.

Life is filled with circuses. You will fail. You will likely fail often. It will be painful. It will be discouraging. At times it will test you to your very core.

But if you want to change the world, don't be afraid of the circuses.

At least twice a week, the trainees were required to run the obstacle course. The obstacle course contained 25 obstacles including a 10-foot high wall, a 30-foot cargo net and a barbed wire crawl, to name a few. But the most challenging obstacle was the slide for life. It had a three-level 30-foot tower at one end and a one-level tower at the other. In between was a 200-foot-long rope. You had to climb the three-tiered tower and once at the top, you grabbed the rope, swung underneath the rope and pulled yourself hand over hand until you got to the other end.

The record for the obstacle course had stood for years when my class began training in 1977. The record seemed unbeatable, until one day, a student decided to go down the slide for life head first. Instead of swinging his body underneath the rope and inching his way down, he bravely mounted the TOP of the rope and thrust himself forward.

It was a dangerous move — seemingly foolish, and fraught with risk. Failure could mean injury and being dropped from the training. Without hesitation the student slid down the rope perilously fast. Instead of several minutes, it only took him half that time and by the end of the course he had broken the record.

If you want to change the world sometimes you have to slide down the obstacle head first.

During the land warfare phase of training, the students are flown out to San Clemente Island which lies off the coast of San Diego. The waters off San Clemente are a breeding ground for the great white sharks. To pass SEAL training there are a series of long swims that must be completed. One is the night swim.

Before the swim the instructors joyfully brief the trainees on all the species of sharks that inhabit the waters off San Clemente. They assure you, however, that no student has ever been eaten by a shark — at least not recently. But, you are also taught that if a shark begins to circle your position — stand your ground. Do not swim away. Do not act afraid. And if the shark, hungry for a midnight snack, darts towards you — then summon up all your strength and punch him in the snout, and he will turn and swim away.

There are a lot of sharks in the world. If you hope to complete the swim you will have to deal with them.

So, if you want to change the world, don't back down from the sharks.

As Navy SEALs one of our jobs is to conduct underwater attacks against enemy shipping. We practiced this technique extensively during basic training. The ship attack mission is where a pair of SEAL divers is dropped off outside an enemy harbor and then swims well over two miles — underwater — using nothing but a depth gauge and a compass to get to their target.

During the entire swim, even well below the surface, there is some light that comes through. It is comforting to know that there is open water above you. But as you approach the ship, which is tied to a pier, the light begins to fade. The steel structure of the ship blocks the moonlight, it blocks the surrounding street lamps, it blocks all ambient light.

To be successful in your mission, you have to swim under the ship and find the keel — the centerline and the deepest part of the ship. This is your objective. But the keel is also the darkest part of the ship — where you cannot see your hand in front of your face, where the noise from the ship's machinery is deafening and where it is easy to get disoriented and fail.

Every SEAL knows that under the keel, at the darkest moment of the mission, is the time when you must be calm, composed — when all your tactical skills, your physical power and all your inner strength must be brought to bear.

If you want to change the world, you must be your very best in the darkest moment.

The ninth week of training is referred to as “Hell Week.” It is six days of no sleep, constant physical and mental harassment, and one special day at the Mud Flats. The Mud Flats are area between San Diego and Tijuana where the water runs off and creates the Tijuana slues, a swampy patch of terrain where the mud will engulf you.

It is on Wednesday of Hell Week that you paddle down to the mud flats and spend the next 15 hours trying to survive the freezing cold mud, the howling wind and the incessant pressure to quit from the instructors. As the sun began to set that Wednesday evening, my training class, having committed some “egregious infraction of the rules” was ordered into the mud.

The mud consumed each man till there was nothing visible but our heads. The instructors told us we could leave the mud if only five men would quit — just five men — and we could get out of the oppressive cold. Looking around the mud flat it was apparent that some students were about to give up. It was still over eight hours till the sun came up — eight more hours of bone-chilling cold.

The chattering teeth and shivering moans of the trainees were so loud it was hard to hear anything. And then, one voice began to echo through the night, one voice raised in song. The song was terribly out of tune, but sung with great enthusiasm. One voice became two and two became three and before long everyone in the class was singing. We knew that if one man could rise above the misery then others could as well.

The instructors threatened us with more time in the mud if we kept up the singingbut the singing persisted. And somehow the mud seemed a little warmer, the wind a little tamer and the dawn not so far away.

If I have learned anything in my time traveling the world, it is the power of hope. The power of one person — Washington, Lincoln, King, Mandela and even a young girl from Pakistan, Malala — one person can change the world by giving people hope.

So, if you want to change the world, start singing when you're up to your neck in mud.

Finally, in SEAL training there is a bell. A brass bell that hangs in the center of the compound for all the students to see. All you have to do to quit is ring the bell.

Ring the bell and you no longer have to wake up at 5 o'clock. Ring the bell and you no longer have to do the freezing cold swims. Ring the bell and you no longer have to do the runs, the obstacle course, the PT — and you no longer have to endure the hardships of training. Just ring the bell.

If you want to change the world don't ever, ever ring the bell.

To the graduating class of 2014, you are moments away from graduating. Moments away from beginning your journey through life. Moments away from starting to change the world — for the better. It will not be easy.

But, YOU are the class of 2014, the class that can affect the lives of 800 million people in the next century.

Start each day with a task completed. Find someone to help you through life. Respect everyone.

Know that life is not fair and that you will fail often. But if take you take some risks, step up when the times are toughest, face down the bullies, lift up the downtrodden and never, ever give up — if you do these things, then the next generation and the generations that follow will live in a world far better than the one we have today.

And what started here will indeed have changed the world — for the better.

Thank you very much. Hook 'em horns.


Friday, April 26, 2019

Thought for the Day

Funny Friday


It seems strange to be posting a Funny Friday the day after a public holiday, all the more so when the public holiday was Anzac Day.  Nonetheless, it is Friday so it is time to post some fun.  As usual there are some jokes, one from the vault, a limerick, some visuals and some corn, so hopefully there will be something for everyone.  Plus, because of Anzac day, there are some military themed items.  Enjoy, dear Byters.

Correspondence between a customer and the Irish Railway Company.

I have been riding your trains daily for the last two years, and the service on your line seems to be getting worse every day. I am tired of standing in the aisle all the time on a 14-mile trip. I think the transportation system is worse than that enjoyed by people 2,000 years ago.

Yours truly,
Patrick Finnegan
Dear Mr. Finnegan,
We received your letter with reference to the shortcomings of our service and believe you are somewhat confused in your history. The only mode of transportation 2,000 years ago was by foot.

Irish Railway Company
I am in receipt of your letter, and I think you are the ones who are confused in your history. If you will refer to the Bible. Numbers 22:21, you will find that Balaam went to town “riding upon his ass”.
That, Gentlemen, is something I have not been able to do on your train in the last two years!

Yours truly,
Patrick Finnegan.

Two colleagues, Paddy and Riley, meet after work and Paddy is all excited: "Man, I was at the most awesome party this weekend! We went to this dude's house and he had a toilet made of gold!"
"You're kidding!" says Riley.
"No" says Paddy and he took Riley to the house.
They rang the doorbell and a middle-aged lady opens.  Paddy asks "Can we see the toilet made of gold?"
The lady looks at him for a moment and then yells inside the house, "Roger, the pig that shat in your trombone is here!"

Donald Trump is being briefed in the Oval Office by this month’s Chief of Staff, Mick Mulvaney.
"Oh and finally, sir, three Brazilian soldiers were killed in Iraq today."
Trump looks surprised and scratches his head.
"Mr. President," says Mulvaney, "we lose soldiers all the time, and it's terrible. But you seem confused."
Trump looks up and says..."How many is a Brazilian?"

From the vault:

The Colonel called the Sergeant Major in.
"Sar Major, I just got word that Private Jones' father died yesterday. Better go tell him."
So the Sergeant Major calls for his morning formation and lines up all the troops.
"Orright you ‘orrible lot," says the Sergeant Major, "Johnson, report to the mess hall for KP. Smith, report to Personnel to sign some papers. The rest of you lot report to the Motor Pool for maintenance. Jones, your father’s dead."
Jones faints and has to be taken to the infirmary.
A few days later the Colonel called the Sergeant Major into his office.
"Sar Major, we have received notice that Private Jones’ mother has also now died.  Let him know but break the news a bit more gently than you did for his father.”
"Yes, sir," answered the Sergeant Major.
He calls for his morning formation.
"Atten-hun.  Everybody with a mother still alive, take two steps forward. JONES, where do you think YOU’RE going?”

Limerick of the Week:

Today a bonus, not one, not two, but three limericks, all original and sent to me by Byter John P.  They are all on a transgender theme and not strictly PC but worth an airing . . .
Thanks John.

There was a young woman named Brenda
Whose parts were caught up in the blender 
She said: "Oh, my God, 
"I'm feeling quite odd, 
"I think I'm becoming transgender."

There was a young man, an East Ender, 
Who over-indulged on a bender. 
He drank too much Scotch, 
And crashed on his crotch
So hard that he's turning transgender. 

There was a young man, a fence mender,
Whose balls stuck in his suspender. 
He said: "Life's a blur, 
"I'm not him, I'm not her.
"Oh, bugger me dead, I'm transgender." 







Corn Corner:

Never Apologise! Never Explain!

Sorry, that’s my motto.

Someone stole the toilet at the local police station.

They have nothing to go on.

The man who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

Can Napoleon return to his place of birth? 

Of Corsican.