The Positive Thinking Thread,Post your Quotes,Good Deeds,Life Stories etc

heres one for a laugh



THEY'RE MADE OUT OF MEAT

by Terry Bisson

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."

"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?"

"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."

"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."

"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."

"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they're made out of meat."

"Maybe they're like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."

"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take long. Do you have any idea what's the life span of meat?"

"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."

"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."

"No brain?"

"Oh, there's a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat! That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"So ... what does the thinking?"

"You're not understanding, are you? You're refusing to deal with what I'm telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat."

"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"

"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?"

"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."

"Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."

"Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?"

"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual."

"We're supposed to talk to meat."

"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.' That sort of thing."

"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."

"I thought you just told me they used radio."

"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."

"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Both."

"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"

"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say? 'Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"

"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."

"So we just pretend there's no one home in the Universe."

"That's it."

"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You're sure they won't remember?"

"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."

"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."

"And we marked the entire sector unoccupied."

"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"

"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."

"They always come around."

"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone ..."

the end

 

This is a good joke, I had to share....

"Hello, is this the Sheriff's Office?"

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"I'm calling to report 'bout my neighbor Virgil Smith .... He's hidin' marijuana inside his firewood! Don't quite know how he gets it inside them logs, but he's hidin' it there."

"Thank you very much for the call, sir."

The next day, the Sheriff's Deputies descend on Virgil's house. They search the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood, but find no marijuana. They sneer at Virgil and leave.

Shortly, the phone rings at Virgil's house.

"Hey, Virgil! This here's Floyd .... Did the Sheriff come?"

"Yeah!"

"Did they chop your firewood?"

"Yep!"

"Happy Birthday, buddy!"



LMAO!!!!

 

aabbccdd,
That is an absolute classic!!!!!!!!!!!

 

first i didn't get it. funny stuff.

 

YES crowy thats the best one i have heard in a while lol

 

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.

She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting
on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick... and I want to buy! a miracle."

" I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

" His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money."

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly.

"And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents---the exact price of a miracle for little brothers."

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.

That surgery," her Mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost...one dollar and eleven cents plus the faith of a little child..

In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need..

A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law..

 

yeah it's good. But i already read that one awhile ago.

 

It Took Me Over 50 Years To Learn

Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved, and never will achieve, its full potential, that word would be "meetings."

There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness."

People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

You should not confuse your career with your life.

Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

Never lick a steak knife.

The most destructive force in the universe is gossip.

You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight savings time.

You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.

There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age eleven.

The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above-average drivers.

A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person. (This is very important. Pay attention. It never fails.)

Your friends love you anyway.

Thought for the day: Never be afraid to try something new. Remember that a lone amateur built the Ark. A large group of professionals built the Titanic.











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Einstein's Chauffer

This is a true life anecdote about Albert Einstein, and his theory of relativity.

After having propounded his famous theorY, Albert Einstein would tour the various Universities in the United States, delivering lectures wherever he went. He was always accompanied by his faithful chauffer, Harry, who would attend each of these lectures while seated in the back row! One fine day, after Einstein had finished a lecture and was coming out of the auditorium into his vehicle, Harry addresses him and says, "Professor Einstein, I've heard your lecture on Relativity so many times, that if I were ever given the opportunity, I would be able to deliver it to perfection myself!"

"Very well," replied Einstein, "I'm going to Dartmouth next week. They don't know me there. You can deliver the lecture as Einstein, and I'll take your place as Harry!"

And so it went to be... Harry delivered the lecture to perfection, without a word out of place, while Einstein sat in the back row playing "chauffer", and enjoying a snooze for a change.

Just as Harry was descending from the podium, however, one of the research assistants intercepted him, and began to ask him a question on the theory of relativity.... one that involved a lot of complex calculations and equations. Harry replied to the assistant "The answer to this question is very simple! In fact, it's so simple, that I'm going to let my chauffer answer it!"

 

That is so true!!

 

Having a Bad Day?

Fire authorities in California found a corpse in a burned out section of forest while assessing the damage done by a forest fire. The deceased male was dressed in a full wet suit, complete with scuba tanks on his back, flippers, and face mask. A post-mortem revealed that the person died not from burns, but from massive internal injuries. Dental records provided a positive identification.

Investigators set about to determine how a fully clad diver ended up in the middle of a forest fire. It was revealed that on the day of the fire, the person went for a diving trip off the coast some 20 miles from the forest. The fire-fighters, seeking to control the fire as quickly as possible, called in a fleet of helicopters with very large dip buckets. Water was dipped from the ocean and then flown to the forest fire and emptied. You guessed it. One minute our diver was making like Flipper in the Pacific, the next he was doing the breast stroke in a fire dip bucket 300 feet in the air.

Apparently he extinguished exactly 5'10" of the fire. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed - This article was taken from the California Examiner, March 20, 1998

STILL THINK YOU ARE HAVING A BAD DAY?

A man was working on his motorcycle on his patio and his wife was in the kitchen. The man was racing the engine on the motorcycle when it accidentally slipped into gear. The man, still holding onto the handle bars, was dragged through the glass patio doors and along with the motorcycle dumped onto the floor inside the house. The wife, hearing the crash, ran into the dining room and found her husband lying on the floor, cut and bleeding, the motorcycle lying next to him, and the shattered patio door. The wife ran to the phone and summoned the ambulance. Because they lived on a fairly large hill, the wife went down the several flights of stairs to the street to escort the paramedics to her husband.

After the ambulance arrived and transported the man to the hospital, the wife righted the motorcycle and pushed it outside. Seeing that gas was spilled on the floor, the wife got some paper towels, blotted up the gasoline, and threw the towels in the toilet. The man was treated and released to come home. Upon arriving home, he looked at the shattered patio door and the damage done to his motorcycle.

He became despondent, went to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and smoked a cigarette. After finishing the cigarette, he flipped it between his legs into the toilet bowl, while seated. The wife, who was in the kitchen, heard the loud explosion and her husband screaming.

She ran into the bathroom and found her husband lying on the floor. His trousers had been blown away and he was suffering burns on the buttocks, the back of his legs, and his groin. The wife again ran to the phone to call the ambulance. The very same paramedic crew was dispatched and the wife met them at the street. The paramedics loaded the husband on to the stretcher and began carrying him to the street. While they were going down the stairs to the street accompanied by the wife, one of the paramedics asked the wife how the husband had burned himself. She told them and the paramedics started laughing so hard, one of them slipped and tipped the stretcher, dumping the husband out. He fell down the remaining stairs and broke his arm - Taken from a Florida Newspaper.

STILL HAVING A BAD DAY?

Just remember, it could be worse.....

1. The average cost of rehabilitating a seal after the Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska was $80,000. At a special ceremony, two of the most expensively saved animals were released back into the wild amid cheers and applause from onlookers. A minute later, in full view, a killer whale ate them both.

2. A woman came home to find her husband in the kitchen, shaking frantically with what looked like a wire running from his waist towards the electric kettle. Intending to jolt him away from the deadly current she whacked him with a handy plank of wood by the back door, breaking his arm in two places. Until that moment he had been happily listening to his Walkman.

3. Two animal rights protesters were protesting at the cruelty of sending pigs to a slaughterhouse in Bonn Germany. Suddenly the pigs, all two thousand of them, escaped through a broken fence and stampeded, trampling the two hapless protesters to death.

And finally...

4. Iraqi terrorist, Khay Rahnajet, didn't pay enough postage on a letter bomb. It came back with "return to sender" stamped on it. Forgetting it was the bomb he opened it and was blown to bits.

 

The Kindness of Strangers
By Andrew Burden

She beat against my chest with her fists. Her blows were weak and desperate. She tired easily and pushed me away, turning her back.

I stood perfectly still, watching the gentle curve of her neck, her upper body racked with sobs, I found myself deeply attracted to her.

Perhaps I should have let her do it. I could simply have watched, and observed her delicate feet dangling and twitching inches above the ground, while the coarse rope worked on her trachea and spine.

Looking back, I’m now sure that I should have let her die, up there in the dark canopy of that oak tree.

It's a moot point now though - what I ought or ought not to have done. After all, I went to the park looking for the same thing didn't I?

After a time, she calmed herself and turned to me. I expected shame or embarrassment, but found only defiance.

"Why?" She implored. Her voice wavered, but there was a strange purpose, a dulcet determination I found almost heartbreaking.

I shrugged my shoulders and lipped a cigarette, unable to find anything appropriate to say or do.

The wind whipped up and blustered through the trees.

I lit the cigarette and dragged deeply. When I looked up again she was staring fiercely at me, into me. The question still burned in her eyes.

" I don't know," I replied simply.

" You-don't-know?" She pronounced each word deliberately. " Who the hell do you think you are?"

I thought about it for a moment, but the words spilled from my mouth before I could stop stop them; " because I care about you."

She laughed. It was a dry, bitter sound.

" You care about me? You don't even know me!"

" That's how I feel," I said quietly.

" Bastard!," she spat and threw herself onto the bench beneath the oak tree

Everything fell silent.
" How's your neck?" I offered finally. I couldn't bear her silence. She rubbed it gingerly. It had begun to bruise. She had long since stopped spluttering and wheezing, but her throat and neck still pained her.

" It hurts like hell okay." I offered a cigarette, for lack of anything else to give. I was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to give to her and to never stop. What it was I was meant to give I can't be certain.

" Does it look I need a smoke?" she retorted angrily.

I think I smiled. I found the idea of such an aversion to so simple a vice quite bizarre, particularly in one who had come to a desolate park at two in the morning to hang herself. But then this situation, the ‘us' out there in the wintry dark was equally if not more bizarre.

" You'll thank me," I said presently, knowing that if any thanks were due it was I should be offering them. She stood, her fists knotted in trembling balls of anger.

Tears now. Streams rolling across her cheeks into the hollow of her throat.

" Thank you?" She yelled. " What do I have to be thankful for? My life? Your heroic deed?" She threw her arms up in the air. Her entire body was shaking. " Why am I even talking to you? You arrogant son-of-a-bitch."

She paced up and down, one hand in her hair, the other resting against the small of her back.

" Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I didn't want this?"

" No it didn't," I replied. Again my answer was sodden and inept. She was drawing up all of my stupidity, drawing it to the surface. I felt naked out there in the cold. I hated her for that, but nothing, absolutely nothing else.

" If what you're saying is true, why did I choose this place? Look at it!" She swept her arm and I glanced around me. It was indeed remote, choked with trees, gnarled brambles and skeletal thickets.

"I know what you're feeling," I said. And I really did understand.

She said nothing. She merely took a considered step forward and levelled her glare at me. Her eyes were a vicious streak of black mascara, her lips a blur of lipstick. I found it compelling that she had taken the time to make-up her face.

Before I could react, her hand screamed up out of the gloom and struck my left cheek. I was more aware of the sound than the pain, which bit at my face. She withdrew her hand and we were left staring at each other.
We were, I think, on the brink of something: Understanding perhaps. We were both keenly aware of it.

" I'm going," she said finally, clearing her throat.

" Looks to me as if this is the only place you have left." I nodded to the noose, hanging stiffly from the tree.

She smiled sadly.

" At least I have something." She was glorious in her defiance. I wanted to hold her, but she had resolutely crossed a line that I had neither the inclination or nerve to myself.

" Doesn't seem like much of an option," I replied.

My fingers teased the stock of the .38 snub-nosed revolver in my jacket pocket.

" There's so much distance for you still to cover," she said with a sudden unnerving tenderness. She stroked my cheek. It felt like a whisper.

" You can't stop it. It's not your right. You can't stop that which was meant to be. Don't you understand?"

I did. Though she would never have believed it.

" What happened her changes nothing," she sighed.

Then, as suddenly and violently as I had discovered her, she turned and walked away. I felt the world slipping beneath me, away from me.

I fished out the gun and leveled it in her direction, aiming for the back of her head. Before I drilled the solitary bullet, my bullet, into her, there was a flash of clarity, of blinding lucidity and the world rushed back with tremendous force. The night was alive, it had a wondrous texture and taste.

The top of her skull flew away into the night. Shards of bone and gristle leapt into the air in a veil of deepest red.

She fell.

Afterwards I walked along the river-bank for hours, watching the gentle plumes of mist curling up into the early morning sunshine.

We had both sought the same end there in the park, but it was I who lacked conviction. She, this unnameable beauty, found what she was looking for, even if only in the kindness of a stranger.

 

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very cool indeed cheers for the link.

 

Thank you so much for this!

 

yes its very good

and lonernz can you edit your post that are out of the margains its messing up the thread

 

heres the quote that i live by every day!

 

Experienced something of real value yesterday (if only to me) and thought this would be a good place to put it.

I'm always going on about the crime and filth in Philly and my opinion certainly hasn't changed; the city needs some serious help. A woman from the burbs decided to shop in the city's fancy stores not far from by apartment and while she did her shopping, someone saw that the contents of her car made for good shopping. At first I though the woman was a few eggs short of a dozen ... fancy car, broken windows on passenger side, dash and areas on roof just torn to shreds, wires hanging out. Still, she could start the car. The police were there when I walked by ... that was rather asonishing in itself. The owner wall taling away and all smiles. I asked if I could get her some stuff to cover and tape up the windows for her drive home as I just live right around the corner. I mentioned she seemed like she was in such a good mood all things considered. She confessed that she was in tears when she realized it was her car while approaching but "everybody has been so nice" she said. Person after person offering to help and I never expected it. I went home and came back with some plastic and tape for her window because it was cold.

I was surprised at her reactions having just been through the big city curse but I was equally surprised about what she said about so many offering help. Maybe it was the holiday, people in a good mood or people with more time but I was rather proud of my fellow Philadelphians that day. People magazine didn't name Philadelphia "The Most Unfriendly City in the Country" for nothing. It was nice, if only for a day, to experience the opposite.

 

great story gerry

its to bad a few idiots ruin the city's reputation

 

A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
All the best to everyone from every corner of the globe for the festive season!!
Regards Crowy.

 

A Beautiful Story

She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: "How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?"

The surgeon said, "I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't make it."

Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer? Doesn't God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?"

The surgeon asked, "Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university."

Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good bye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. "Would you like a lock of his hair?" the nurse asked.


Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.

The mother said, "It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the University for Study. He said it might help somebody else. "I said no at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom." She went on, "My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could."

Sally walked out of Children's Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the la st six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car.

The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son's room.


She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She lay down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.

It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Laying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:

"Dear Mom, I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm not around to say "I Love You" I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know. Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him 'Where was He when I needed him?' "God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children. Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn't that cool? I have to give God His pen back now. He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery ! How about that ?


Signed with Love from God, Jesus & Me.