Tuesday, July 10, 2007


As with many funerals, it was a cloudy, rainy day.

The deceased was a little old lady who had devoted her entire married life to fussing at her poor husband.

When the graveside service had no more than terminated, there was a tremendous burst of thunder accompanied by
a distant lightning bolt and more rumbling thunder.

The little old man looked at the pastor and calmly said,  "Well, she's there."



(Note:  Just for clarity, this joke has nothing to do with the funeral for my aunt last weekend.)

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