Little Red Riding HoodLittle Red Riding Hood

There once was a young person named Little Red Riding Hood who lived on the edge of a large forest full of endangered fauna and rare plants that would probably provide a cure for cancer if only someone took the time to study them.

Red Riding Hood lived with a nurture giver whom she sometimes referred to as "mother", (although she didn't mean to imply by this term that she would have thought less of the person if a close biological link did not in fact exist).

Nor did she intend to denigrate the equal value of non-traditional households, although she was sorry if this was the impression conveyed.

One day her mother asked her to take a basket of organically grown fruit and mineral water to her grandmother's house.

"But mother, won't this be stealing work from the people who have struggled for years to earn the right to carry all packages between various people in the woods?"

Red Riding Hood's mother assured her that she had called the union secretary and had been given a special compassionate mission exemption form.

"But mother, aren't you oppressing me by ordering me to do this?"

Red Riding Hood's mother pointed out that it was impossible for women to oppress each other, since all women were equally oppressed until all women were free.

"But mother, then shouldn't you have my brother carry the basket, since he's an oppressor, and should learn what it's like to be oppressed?"

And Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her brother was attending a special rally for animal rights, and besides, this wasn't stereotypical women's work, but an empowering deed that would help engender a feeling of community.

"But won't I be oppressing Grandma, by implying that she's sick and hence unable to independently further her own selfhood?"

But Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her grandmother wasn't actually sick or incapacitated or mentally disabled in any way, although that was not to imply that any of these conditions were inferior to what some people called "health".

Thus Red Riding Hood felt that she could undertake the idea of delivering the basket to her grandmother, and so she set off.

Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place, but Red Riding Hood knew that this was an irrational fear based on cultural paradigms instilled by a patriarchal society that regarded the natural world as an exploitable resource, and hence believed that natural predators were in fact intolerable competitors.

Other people avoided the woods for fear of thieves and deviants, but Red Riding Hood felt that in a truly classless society all marginalized peoples would be able to "come out" of the woods and be accepted as valid lifestyle role models.

On her way to Grandma's house, Red Riding Hood passed a woodchopper, and wandered off the path, in order to examine some flowers. Little Red Riding Hood

She was startled to find herself standing before a Wolf, who asked her what was in her basket.

Red Riding Hood's teacher had warned her never to talk to strangers, but she was confident in taking control of her own budding womanhood, and chose to dialogue with the Wolf.

She replied, "I am taking my Grandmother some healthy snacks in a gesture of solidarity."

The Wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone."

Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop an alternative and yet entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would prefer to be on my way." Little Red Riding Hood

Red Riding Hood returned to the main path, and proceeded towards her Grandmother's house.

But because his status outside society had freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the Wolf knew of a quicker route to Grandma's house.

He burst into the house and ate Grandma, a course of action affirmative of his nature as a predator.

Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist gender role notions, he put on Grandma's nightclothes, crawled under the bedclothes, and awaited developments.

Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said,

"Grandma, I have brought you some cruelty free snacks to salute you in your role of wise and nurturing matriarch."

The Wolf said softly "Come closer, child, so that I might see you."

Red Riding Hood said, "Goodness! Grandma, what big eyes you have!"

"You forget that I am optically challenged."

"And Grandma, what an enormous, what a fine nose you have."

"Naturally, I could have had it surgically augmented to help my acting career, but I didn't give in to such societal pressures, my child."

"And Grandma, what very big, sharp teeth you have!"

The Wolf could not take any more of these specist slurs, and, in a reaction appropriate for his accustomed milieu, he leaped out of bed, grabbed Little Red Riding Hood, and opened his jaws so wide that she could see her poor Grandmother cowering in his belly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Red Riding Hood bravely shouted. "You must request my permission before proceeding to a new level of intimacy!"

The Wolf was so startled by this statement that he loosened his grasp on her.

At the same time, the woodchopper burst into the cottage, brandishing an axe.
"Hands off!" cried the woodchopper.

"And what do you think you're doing?" cried Little Red Riding Hood. "If I let you help me now, I would be expressing a lack of confidence in my own abilities, which would lead to poor self esteem and lower achievement scores on university entrance exams."

"Last chance, girlie! Get your hands off that endangered species! This is a police raid!" screamed the woodchopper, and when Little Red Riding Hood nonetheless made a sudden motion, he sliced off her head.

"Thank goodness you got here in time," said the Wolf. "The brat and her grandmother lured me in here. I thought I was a goner."
♪

"No, I think I'm the real victim, here," said the woodchopper. "I've been dealing with my anger ever since I saw her picking those protected flowers earlier. And now I'm going to have such a trauma. Do you have any Paracetamol?"

"Sure," said the Wolf.

"Thanks."

"I feel your pain," said the Wolf, and he patted the woodchopper on his firm, well padded back, gave a little belch, and said "Do you have any Rennies?"

The end.

The Hilarious Reply

Will and Guy are able to share with you the schoolmaster's reply - it could cause paroxysms of mirth.
Dear Madam,
I take great pleasure in informing you that the WC is located 9 miles from the house.  It is located in the middle of a grove of pine trees, surrounded by lovely grounds. It is capable of holding 229 people and is open on Sundays and Thursdays. As there are many people expected in the summer months, I suggest you arrive early. There is, however, plenty of standing room. This is an unfortunate situation especially if you are in the habit of going regularly.
It may be of some interest to you that my daughter was married in the WC as it was there that she met her husband. It was a wonderful event. There were 10 people in every seat. It was wonderful to see the expressions on their faces. We can take photos in different angle.
My wife, sadly, has been ill and unable to go recently. It has been almost! a year since she went last, which pains her greatly. You will be pleased to know that many people bring their lunch and make a day of it. Others prefer to wait till the last minute and arrive just in time.
I would recommend your ladyship plan to go on a Thursday as there is an organ accompaniment. The acoustics are excellent and even the most delicate sounds can be heard everywhere.  The newest addition is a bell which rings every time a person enters. We are holding a bazaar to provide plush seats for all since many feel it is long needed. I look forward to escorting you there myself and seating you in a place where you can be seen by all.
With deepest regards,
The Schoolmaster.
Will and Guy believe the lady fainted on receipt of the letter and cancelled her holiday to India immediately.

A Double Lesson

A carload of hunters, on holiday, were looking for a place to hunt, pulled into a farmer's yard in County Waterford, Ireland. The driver, Brannagh, went up to the farmhouse to ask permission to hunt on the farmer's land.
The old farmer said, 'Sure you can hunt, but would you be doing me a favour? That old donkey standing over there is 20 years old and sick with cancer, but I don't have the heart to kill her. Would you do it for me?'
Brannagh replied, 'Of course I will,' and strolled back to the car.
While walking back, however, Brannagh decided to play a trick on his hunting friends.  He got into the car and when they asked if the farmer had said if it was alright, he said, 'No, we can't hunt here, but I'm going to teach that old fellow a lesson he won't forget.'
With that, the Irishman rolled down his window, stuck his gun out and shot the donkey. As he shouted, 'To be sure, that will teach him,' a second shot rang out from the passenger side and one of his hunting mates yelled, 'And me, begorrah, I got the cow.'

How to Age with Humour

 ∇

Old Age is a Gift - I Have Decided

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body - the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 am, and sleep until noon?  I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love.. I will I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old!
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten, and I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say 'no', and mean it. I can say 'yes', and mean it
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day
Today, I wish you a day of ordinary miracles.
Kindly send by my sister Alicia.  Author: Unknown

Molly Aged 103
Journalists were interviewing Molly Holderness, a 103-year-old woman, 'Tell us, Mrs Holderness, what do you think is the best thing about being 103?' the reporter asked.
Molly smiled and looked straight at the reporter and simply replied, 'No peer pressure.'
Laura Aged 93
Just before the funeral service, the Mr Thompson, the undertaker came up to Laura, the very elderly widow and asked her, 'How old was your husband?'
'95,' Laura replied. 'Just two years older than me.'
'So you're 93,' Mr Thompson the undertaker observed.
Laura responded with a wry grin, 'Hardly worth going home, isn't it?'
Iris Aged 67
As told to us by Iris Belmont, aged 67:
'I feel like my body has gotten totally out of shape, so I got my doctor's permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided to take an aerobics class for pensioners [seniors]. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour. But, by the time I got my leotard on, the class was over.'

Clean Jokes from the Classroom

Five School Excuse Notes

1. Please excuse Jimmy for being. It was his father's fault.
2. Please excuse Emma for being absent last week.  She had flue so I had her shot.
3. Please excuse Eddie from P.E.  Yesterday he fell out of a sycamore tree and misplaced his hip.
4. Chris will not be in school cus he has an acre in his side.
5. Experience is a hard teacher. She gives the test first and the lessons afterwards.

Five Amusing Shop Signs

1. Outside a dress shop, Hong Kong: LADIES HAVE FITS UPSTAIRS.
2. Tailor shop, Greece: ORDER YOUR SUMMERS SUIT. BECAUSE IS BIG RUSH, WE WILL EXECUTE CUSTOMERS IN STRICT ROTATION.
3. On the door of a Moscow hotel room: IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST VISIT TO THE USSR, YOU ARE WELCOME TO IT.
4. At a Budapest zoo: PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS.
   IF YOU HAVE ANY SUITABLE FOOD, GIVE IT TO THE GUARD ON DUTY.
5. Shipton-under-Wychwood in Oxon, UK has a local plumber whose van announces: 'The Lone Drainer - he come pronto.' 

Waterloo

Henry pursues an old hobby, and finds a new one, when he moves to his new pensioner’s flat.

Henry sat in the front room of his new pensioner’s flat and glanced sadly at the stack of cardboard boxes that occupied half his floorspace.

His previous home was to be demolished for redevelopment, and the housing association had allocated this alternative property. Henry would have been delighted but for Waterloo.

Henry had had a lifelong passion for railways. He had spent his working life as a station announcer and all his free time developing and operating his pride and joy: A scale model of London’s Waterloo station - faithful to every detail.

The final model had been twenty feet square. No room in this flat had a dimension greater than fifteen feet and, anyway, there were no spare rooms. Waterloo had been consigned to those cardboard boxes.

Henry suddenly had an inspiration. His was a ground floor flat. He found his tools, lifted a floorboard and began to chisel at the concrete beneath.

A week of patient excavation produced an access through the concrete to earth.

Henry calculated that his new subterranean, model railway extension needed to be thirty feet square and eight feet high. This would require excavation of seven thousand two hundred cubic feet of earth. He measured the bag on his wheeled shopping trolley and reckoned it could transport one cubic foot. Five loads each day for four years, and the room would be complete.

Each evening, after tea, Henry dug his five cubic feet. Each morning, he rose at six AM, filled his shopping trolley bag and then commenced his first walk of the day. Other trips followed at mid morning, after lunch, around mid afternoon and before tea.

He visited the woods and the canal. Here he could unobtrusively press the release mechanism on the specially modified bag and let its contents quickly empty through the flap at its base.

Tree cover near the lock made this, for many months, a favoured location to dump spoil into the canal. Henry decided to diversify his fly-tipping sites, however, when a narrowboat ran aground.

The slow pace of excavation led to a similar pace of basement construction, thus Henry could scavenge required building materials when returning home with an empty bag. In particular, the poorly fenced yard of the builders’ merchant made it easy to borrow bricks and the occasional bag of cement or plaster. Buying supplies would have raised suspicions, but Henry made a note to anonymously send payment when the project was complete.

Henry announced the departure of the eleven twenty-nine to Southampton, turned the control switch and watched the model train disappear around the bend at the far end of the cavern. The basement project had been a great success but, somehow, Henry had never recaptured his former enthusiasm for model railways.

He had thoroughly enjoyed making this room. He had felt exceptionally healthy from the exercise. He had loved his walks and conversations with fellow strollers. He had savored the excitement of a covert project of which the housing association would have disapproved.

All this had ended as the first train left Waterloo.

Henry glanced thoughtfully at the floor. He had read somewhere that the volume of the Earth in cubic feet was four followed by twenty-two zeros.

That was a lot of shopping trolley bags - certainly enough to last him out...

By Swan Morrison Published: 9/3/2010