Humor 1/31/00: Interesting Trivia & Kyle's Story

Hi everyone,

Did you watch the Superbowl? Which ad was your favorite? The ads were
pretty disappointing in general. I'd have to say that my favorite ads
are the two Mountain Dew commercials. Some of the ads were horrible.

On Saturday I went hiking at Solstice Canyon, in the Santa Monica
Mountains, off the Pacific coast in Malibu (only about 17 miles north on
Highway 1 from Santa Monica). The day was awesome, sunny and temps in
the 70's. What I really liked is that when we got to the small
waterfall, we were able to do some rock climbing up the series of small
waterfalls. I would highly recommend this place to go hiking.

Also, on the Rising Sun trail up the mountain, we saw an interesting
structure in the distance on the top of another mountain. It looked at
the command station for a science fiction movie. It has a sleek
triangular shape, and is mostly made of glass and greenish metal frame.
If that's someone's house then it must be very futuristic.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If you could play any
position on your favorite sports team, what would it be?"

This week's humor was forwarded by Jennifer Kitil, followed by an
inspirational story forwarded by someone from IVGCF.

Enjoy!

-Josh.
_________________________________________

1. In Shakespeare's time, mattresses were secured on bed frames by ropes
when you pulled on the ropes the mattress tightened, making the bed
firmer to sleep on. That's where the phrase, "goodnight, sleep tight"
came from.

2. The sentence "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." uses
every letter in the alphabet. (Developed by Western Union to test
telex/twx communications)

3. The only 15 letter word that can be spelled without repeating a
letter is uncopyrightable.

4. When opossums are playing 'possum, they are not "playing." They
actually pass out from sheer terror.

5. The Main Library at Indiana University sinks over an inch every year
because when it was built, engineers failed to take into account the
weight of all the books that would occupy the building.

6. The term "the whole 9 yards" came from W.W.II fighter pilots in the
Pacific. When arming their airplanes on the ground, the .50 caliber
machine gun ammo belts measured exactly 27 feet, before being loaded
into the fuselage. If the pilots fired all their ammo at a target, it
got "the whole 9 yards."

7. The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from an old English law which
stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything wider than your
thumb.

8. When Heinz ketchup leaves the bottle, it travels at a rate of 25
miles per year.

9. The name Jeep came from the abbreviation used in the army for the
"General Purpose" vehicle, GP

10. Ten percent of the Russian government's income comes from the sale
of vodka.

11. On average, 100 people choke to death on ball-point pens every year.

12. No NFL team which plays its home games in a domed stadium has ever
won a Super Bowl.

13. The first toilet ever seen on television was on "Leave It To
Beaver."

14. Only one person in two billion will live to be 116 or older.

15. In Cleveland, Ohio, it's illegal to catch mice without a hunting
license.

16. It takes 3,000 cows to supply the NFL with enough leather for a
year's supply of footballs.

17. Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating
are already married.

18. There are an average of 178 sesame seeds on a McDonald's Big Mac
bun.

19. The world's termites outweigh the world's humans 10 to 1.

20. The 3 most valuable brand names on earth: Marlboro, Coca-Cola, and
Budweiser, in that order.

21. In 10 minutes, a hurricane releases more energy than all the world's
nuclear weapons combined.

22. It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a
month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law
with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer, and because
their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the "honey month"
or what we know today as the "honeymoon."

23. In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts. So in old
England, when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them to
mind their own pints and quarts and settle down. It's where we get the
phrase "mind your P's and Q's."

24. Many years ago in England, pub frequenters had a whistle baked into
the rim or handle of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they
used the whistle to get some service. "Wet your whistle," is the phrase
inspired by this practice.
____________________________

Story of Kyle

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class
was walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was
carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring
home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd." I had quite
a weekend planned
(parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I
shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at
him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he
landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the
grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible
sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him
and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in
his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks.
They really should get lives."

He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big smile on his
face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped
him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out,
he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He
said he had gone to private school before now.

I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked
all the way home, and I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty
cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me
and my friends. He said yes.

We hung all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked
him. And my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and
there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and
said, "Man boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with
this pile of books everyday!"

He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were
seniors, began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I
was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the
miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was
going for business on a football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of
our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to
prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to
get up there and speak.

Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys
that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually
looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls
loved him! Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days. I
could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the
back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!"

He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and
smiled. "Thanks," he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. "Graduation
is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough
years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach... but
mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to
someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a
story."

I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the
first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He
talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his mom wouldn't have to
do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and
gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me
from doing the unspeakable."

I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told
us all about his weakest moment. I saw his mom and dad looking at me and
smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize
it's depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture
you can change a person's life. For better or for worse. God puts us
all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for
God in others.
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
14400 Addison Ave. #119
Sherman Oaks CA 91423
(818)461-8930
Instant Messenger ID: joshli
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/

Humor 1/24/00: Boss' Mistakes & Tommy's Story

Hi everyone,

On Saturday some friends from church and I had hot pot for dinner and
then split up into three groups to go watch a movie. One went to Galaxy
Quest, another went to Stuart Little and the group I went with watched
Mansfield Park. We all pretty much liked the movie that we went to.
Mansfield Park is a typical Jane Austen British period romance movie
with subtle humor. I was told that Galaxy Quest is really funny.

This week's recommended website is Googlegear. To celebrate their
launch, they are giving away a free hand scanner, computer speakers and
a nice mouse. You just need to pay for shipping. Here's the website:
http://www.googlegear.com/freescanner.html.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If you had to name the most
important invention in history, what would win?"

This week's humor was forwarded by Anna Man, followed by an
inspirational story forwarded by Monica Quock.

Enjoy!

-Josh.
_________________________________________

The Boss Does Make Mistakes

Mr. Swiller was known far and wide as a hard-nosed boss who watched his
employees like a hawk. He was making one of his regular tours of the
factory when he spotted a young man leaning against a pile of boxes just
outside the foreman's office.

Since George, the foreman, wasn't around, Swiller stood off to the side
and watched to see just how long the young man would stand around doing
nothing.

The young man yawned, scratched his head, looked at his watch, and sat
on the floor. He took out a nail file and began cleaning his nails. Then
he stretched, yawned again, and leaned back on the pile of boxes.

Swiller stepped from his hiding place and walked up to the young man.
"You!" he boomed. "How much do you make a week?"

The young man looked up indifferently. "Two hundred and fifty dollars,"
he said.

Swiller swooped into the cashier's office, took $250 from the cash box,
and returned. "Take it," he said, "and get out! Don't let me see you
around here again!"

The young man took the cash, put it in his pocket, and left.

Swiller snorted at his lack of remorse, embarrassment, or any other
feeling. Then he went looking for George. When he found him, Swiller was
red with anger. "That idler in front of your office," Swiller said. "I
just gave him a week's pay and fired him. What's the matter with you,
letting him stand around as though he had nothing to do?"

"You mean the kid in the red shirt?" George asked.

"Yes! The kid in the red shirt!"

"He was waiting for the twenty dollars we owe him for lunch," George
said. "He works for the coffee shop around the corner."
____________________________

Tommy's Story

John Powell, A Professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about a
student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into
the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was
the first day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He
was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his
shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that
long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind
that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts; but on
that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped.

I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange . . . very strange.
Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of
Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about
the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father-God. We lived with
each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was
for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he
asked in a slightly cynical tone: "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very
emphatically.

"Oh," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out:
"Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find him, but I am absolutely certain
that he will find you!" He shrugged a little and left my class and my
life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever
line: "He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever. Later I
heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report, I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I
could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office,
his body was very badly wasted, and the long hair had all fallen out as
a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was
firm, for the first time, I believe.

"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick!" I
blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of
weeks."

"Can you talk about it, Tom?"

"Sure, what would you like to know?"

"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"

"Well, it could be worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty
and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real
'biggies' in life."

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under "S" where I had
filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject
by classification God sends back into my life to educate me).

But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, " is something you
said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I
asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which
surprised me. Then you said, 'But he will find you.' I thought about
that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that
time. (My "clever" line. He thought about that a lot!) But when the
doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant,
then I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread
into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the
bronze doors of heaven.

But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try
anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get
psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.

Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile
appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be
there, I just quit. I decided that I didn't really care . . . about
God, about an afterlife, or anything like that. "I decided to spend
what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about
you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: 'The
essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be
almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever
telling those you loved that you had loved them.'" So I began with the
hardest one: my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached
him."

"Dad". . .

"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."

"Well, talk."

"I mean.... It's really important."

The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that." Tom smiled at me
and said with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret
joy flowing inside of him: "The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then
my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before.
He cried and he hugged me.

And we talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next
morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to
feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me. "It was easier with my
mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each
other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the
things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry
about one thing: that I had waited so long. Here I was just beginning
to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me
when I pleaded with him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding
out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through.' 'C'mon, I'll give you three days
...three weeks.'

Apparently God does things in his own way and at his own hour. "But the
important thing is that he was there. He found me. You were right. He
found me even after I stopped looking for him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very
important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least,
you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make him a
private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time
of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said
that. He said God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with
God and God is living in him.' Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know,
when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can
make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of
Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them
the same thing it wouldn't be half as effective as if you were to tell
them."

"Oooh . . . I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your
class."

"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."

In a few days Tommy called, said he was ready for the class, that he
wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However,
he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than
the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended
by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into
vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever
seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever
imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. "I'm not going to make it to
your class," he said.

"I know, Tom."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to hear this simple
statement about love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy,
somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven: "I told them, Tommy .

. . as best I could."

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or
two. It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
14400 Addison Ave. #119
Sherman Oaks CA 91423
(818)461-8930
Instant Messenger ID: joshli
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/

Humor 1/17/00: Pearls of Wisdom & True Forgiveness

Hi everyone,

I hope you had a great week. This past week was the first week of
classes. I decided to take a fifth class, given by the Film School,
called, "Distribution and Exhibition of Motion Pictures". The lecturer,
Tom Sherak, is responsible for film distribution at 20th Century Fox.
He distributes films such as the Star Wars movies. He's an interesting
and funny speaker. This weekend I was pretty much a bookworm. I
studied just about the whole weekend and did some research on my
business idea.

This coming Saturday some friends from church and I are going to watch
"Mansfield Park" (movie based on Jane Austen novel) in Pasadena and then
have dinner in Old Pasadena. It should be a lot of fun. You're welcome
to join us if you're in Southern Cal.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If you could have the
autograph of one person from history, who would it be?"

This week's humor was forwarded by Reiko Muto, followed by an
inspirational story from Chicken Soup for the Soul.

Enjoy!

-Josh.
_________________________________________

Pearls of Wisdom from Kids

A first grader was sitting in class as the teacher was reading the story
of the Three Little Pigs. She came to the part of the story where the
first pig was trying to acquire building materials for his home. She
said "...And so the pig went up to the man with a wheelbarrow full of
straw and said 'Pardon me sir, but might I have some of that straw to
build my house with?"

Then the teacher asked the class, "And what do you think that man said?"
My friend's son raised his hand and said "I know! I know!, he said.....
'Holy smokes! A talking pig!'" The teacher was unable to teach for the
next 10 minutes.

*****************
A Sunday school teacher was discussing the Ten Commandments with her
five and six year olds. After explaining the commandment to "honor thy
father and thy mother," she asked "Is there a commandment that teaches
us how to treat our brothers and sisters?" Without missing a beat one
little boy answered, "Thou shall not kill."

******************
An honest seven-year-old admitted calmly to her parents that Billy Brown
had kissed her after class. "How did that happen?" gasped her mother.
"It wasn't easy," admitted the young lady, "but three girls helped me
catch him."

******************
One day, a little girl is sitting and watching her mother do the dishes
at the kitchen sink. She suddenly notices that her mother has several
strands of white hair sticking out in contrast on her brunette head.
She looks at her mother and inquisitively asks, "Why are some of your
hairs white, Mom?" Her mother replied,
"Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or
unhappy, one of my hairs turns white."
The little girl thought about this revelation for a while, and then
said, "So, Mamma, how come ALL of grandma's hairs are white?"

*****************
The children had all been photographed, and the teacher was trying to
persuade them each to buy a copy of the group picture. "Just think how
nice it will be to look at it when you are all grown up and say,
'There's Jennifer; she's a lawyer,' or 'That's Michael, he's a
doctor.'" A small voice at the back of the room rang out, "And there's
the teacher; she's dead."

*******************
A teacher was giving a lesson on the circulation of the blood. Trying
to make the matter clearer, he said, "Now, boys, if I stood on my head
the blood, as you know, would run into it, and I should turn red in the
face." "Yes, sir," the boys said. "Then why is it that while I am
standing upright in the ordinary position the blood doesn't run into my
feet?" A little fellow shouted, "Cause yer feet ain't empty."
____________________________

True Forgiveness

Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere
acquaintance. I have duly forgotten the name of an old lady who was a
customer on my paper route when I was a twelve-year-old boy in
Marinette, Wisconsin back in 1954. Yet it seems like just yesterday
that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I can only hope to pass
on to someone else someday.

On a mindless Saturday afternoon, a friend and I were throwing rocks
onto the roof of the old lady's house from a secluded spot in her
backyard. The object of our play was to observe how the rocks changed
to missiles as they rolled to the roof's edge and shot out into the yard
like comets falling from the sky.

I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and sent it for a ride. The
stone was too smooth, however, so it slipped from my hand as I let it go
and headed straight for a small window on the old lady's back porch. At
the sound of fractured glass, we took off from the old lady's yard
faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.

I was too scared about getting caught that first night to be concerned
about the old lady with the broken porch window. However, a few days
later, when I was sure that I hadn't been discovered, I started to feel
guilty for her misfortune. She still greeted me with a smile each day
when I gave her the paper, but I was no longer able to act comfortable
in her presence.

I made up my mind that I would save my paper delivery money, and in
three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would cover the
cost of her window. I put the money in an envelope with a note
explaining that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the
seven dollars would cover the cost for repairing it.

I waited until it was dark, snuck up to the old lady's house, and put
the envelope of retribution through the letter slot in her door. My
soul felt redeemed and I couldn't wait for the freedom of, once again,
looking straight into the old lady's eyes.

The next day, I handed the old lady her paper and was able to return the
warm smile that I was receiving from her. She thanked me for the paper
and said, "Here, I have something for you." It was a bag of cookies. I
thanked her and proceeded to eat the cookies as I continued my route.

After several cookies, I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag.
When I opened the envelope, I was stunned. Inside was the seven dollars
and a short note that said, "I'm proud of you."

By Jerry Harpt
from A 5th Portion of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Copyright 1998 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
14400 Addison Ave. #119
Sherman Oaks CA 91423
(818)461-8930
Instant Messenger ID: joshli
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/

Humor 1/10/00: Fun Pieces & Friends

Hi everyone,

It's good to be back in LA! I spent the last week in the San Francisco
bay area, visiting high tech companies, and meeting up with college and
BCEC friends for lunch and dinner. I had a great time! For those of
you from BCEC, I will put up all of the pictures with BCEC people on the
BCEC Alumni Club on Yahoo. If you can't access this, please email me
and I will send you a personal invitation to join.

Congratulations to my friends Alex and Peanie Wang. I went to their
beautiful wedding this afternoon. It was held outdoors by the Pacific
Ocean. There were several cool/unique things about their wedding. One
is that they each read a very personal vow, which the other had not
heard before today. Alex's vow contained portions of a Shakespearean
love sonnet. Other unique things are that they had 3 groomsmen but 2
bridesmaids, and instead of a bouquet toss, Peanie just dedicated the
bouquet to a woman that had a great influence on her, her mom.

Tomorrow classes start up again. I'm taking Intermediate Accounting,
Marketing Strategy, Strategy in the Digital Economy, and Field Study.
It should be a good quarter, but less busy than last.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If you could find one
thing, besides money, in your family attic, what would you want to
discover?"

This week's humor was forwarded by Vivian Chiang, followed by an
inspirational piece forwarded by Jennifer Chin.

Enjoy!

-Josh.
_________________________________________

During the heat of the space race in the 1960's, the U.S. National
Aeronautics and Space Administration decided it needed a ball point pen
to write in the zero gravity confines of its space capsules.

After considerable research and development, the Astronaut Pen was
developed at a cost of about $1 million U.S. The pen worked and also
enjoyed some modest success as a novelty item back here on Earth.

The Soviet Union, faced with the same problem, used a pencil.
---------------------------------------------------------

The graduate with a Science degree asks, "Why does it work?"

The graduate with an Engineering degree asks, "How does it work?"

The graduate with an Accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?"

The graduate with a Liberal Arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with
that?"
-----------------------------------------------------------

I am not a vegetarian because I love animals; I am a vegetarian because
I hate plants.

* A. Whitney Brown
-----------------------------------------------------------
A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely
rearranging their prejudices.

-William James
-----------------------------------------------------------

The Lord's Prayer is 66 words, the Gettysburg Address is 286 words,
there are 1,322 words in the
Declaration of Independence, but government regulations on the sale of
cabbage total 26,911words.

--From an article on the growth of federal regulations in the Oct. 24th
issue of National Review
--------------------------------------------------------
Half of the people in the world are below average.

----------------------------------------------------------
There's so much comedy on television. Does that cause comedy in the
streets?
* Dick Cavett, mocking the TV-violence debate
----------------------------------------------------------
If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an
infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even
considering if there are men on base.

-Dave Barry
-----------------------------------------------------
Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.

---------------------------------------------------
On a tombstone: "I TOLD YOU I WAS SICK"

------------------------------------------------------

Suppose you were an idiot ... And suppose you were a member of Congress
...But I repeat myself.

-Mark Twain
-----------------------------------------------------
Laundry instructions on a shirt made by HEET (Korea): For best results:
Wash in cold water separately, hang dry and iron with warm iron. For
not so good results: Drag behind car through puddles, blow-dry on
roofrack.

---------------------------------------------------
The dumber people think you are, the more surprised they're going to be
when you kill them.

* William Clayton
-------------------------------------------------------
"Time's fun when you're having flies."

* Kermit the Frog
____________________________

Friends

In kindergarten your idea of a good friend was the person who let you
have the red crayon when all that was left was the ugly black one.

In first grade your idea of a good friend was the person who went to the
bathroom with you and held your hand as you walked through the scary
halls.

In second grade your idea of a good friend was the person who helped you
stand up to the class bully.

In third grade your idea of a good friend was the person who shared
their lunch with you when you forgot yours on the bus.

In fourth grade your idea of a good friend was the person who was
willing to switch square dancing partners in gym so you wouldn't have to
be stuck do-si-do-ing with Nasty Nick or Smelly Susan.

In fifth grade your idea of a friend was the person who saved a seat on
the back of the bus for you.

In sixth grade your idea of a friend was the person who went up to Nick
or Susan, your new crush, and asked them to dance with you, so that if
they said no you wouldn't have to be embarrassed.

In seventh grade your idea of a friend was the person who let you copy
the social studies homework from the night before that you had
forgotten.

In eighth grade your idea of a good friend was the person who helped you
pack up your stuffed animals and old baseball but didn't laugh at you
when you finished and broke out into tears.

In ninth grade your idea of a good friend was the person who would go to
a party thrown by a senior so you wouldn't wind up being the only
freshman there.

In tenth grade your idea of a good friend was the person who changed
their schedule so you would have someone to sit with at lunch.

In eleventh grade your idea of a good friend was the person who gave you
rides in their new car, convinced your parents that you shouldn't be
grounded, consoled you when you broke up with Nick or Susan, and found
you a date to the prom.

In twelfth grade your idea of a good friend was the person who helped
you pick out a college/university, assured you that you would get into
that college/university, helped you deal with your parents who were
having a hard time adjusting to the idea of letting you go...

At graduation your idea of a good friend was the person who was crying
on the inside but managed the biggest smile one could give as they
congratulated you.

The summer after twelfth grade your idea of a good friend was the person
who helped you clean up the bottles from that party, helped you sneak
out of the house when you just couldn't deal with your parents, assured
you that now that you and Nick or you and Susan were back together, you
could make it through anything, helped you pack up for university and
just silently hugged you as you looked through blurry eyes at 18 years
of memories you were leaving behind, and finally on those last days of
childhood, went out of their way to give you reassurance that you would
make it in college as well as you had these past 18 years, and most
importantly sent you off to college knowing you were loved.

Now, your idea of a good friend is still the person who gives you the
better of the two choices, holds your hand when you're scared, helps you
fight off those who try to take advantage of you, thinks of you at times
when you are not there, reminds you of what you have forgotten, helps
you put the past behind you but understands when you need to hold on to
it a little longer, stays with you so that you have confidence, goes out
of their way to make time for you, helps you clear up your mistakes,
helps you deal with pressure from others, smiles for you when they are
sad, helps you become a better person, and most importantly loves you!

Pass on to those friends of the past, and those of the future...and
those you have met along the way...

[crying yet? oh there's more]

Thank you for being a friend. No matter where we go or who we become,
never forget who helped us get there.

There's never a wrong time to pick up a phone or send a message telling
your friends how much you miss them or how much you love them.

Never be afraid to express yourself. Take this opportunity to tell
someone what they mean to you. Seize the day and have no regrets.

Most importantly, stay close to your friends and family, for they have
helped make you the person that you are today and are what it's all
about anyway. Pass this along to your friends. Let it make a difference
in your day and theirs.
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
14400 Addison Ave. #119
Sherman Oaks CA 91423
(818)461-8930
Instant Messenger ID: joshli
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/

Humor 1/1/00: Minnesota Temperature conversion guide & Man and His Work

Hi everyone,

Happy New Year! I hope you had a fun New Year's Eve. I decided to
enjoy a hotpot with my family, play Trivia Pursuit, and just watch the
New Year Eve festivities around the world on TV. It was a relaxing New
Year's Eve.

Some of my friends know that I have two weaknesses among many. The
first is that I tend to buy a lot of books without ever reading them.
They either sit on my bookshelves or in boxes at my parents' house. The
second is that even when I start reading a book, I usually don't finish
and quit after a few chapters. Well, over this vacation, I actually
finished some of the books that I started reading years ago. One of
them is "What Makes a Man? 12 Promises That Will Change Your Life",
edited by Bill McCartney. This week's inspirational story comes from
Dr. James Dobson, which can be found in the book. It is very long, so I
suggest that you print this email out and read it when you have time. I
think that it is relevant to both man and woman, married and single. I
also really enjoyed browsing through my Chinese art books.

I normally don't make New Year resolutions. However, after reading the
book mentioned above, I decided to make one. My resolution is that if
you send me a personal email, then I will respond within one day. In
the past year or so, I have been terrible at responding to personal
emails and I hope to do a better job this year.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If there is a fire at your
house, and you can only take one item out with you, what would it be?"

This week's humor was forwarded by Monica Quock, followed by an
inspirational article by Dr. James Dobson.

Enjoy!

-Josh.
_________________________________________

The temperature Conversion Guide

60 above: New Yorkers try to turn on the heat.
Minnesotans plant gardens.

50 above: Californians shiver uncontrollably.
Minnesotans sunbathe.

40 above: Italian cars won't start.
Minnesotans drive with the windows down.

32 above: Distilled water freezes.
Minnehaha Creek water gets thicker.

20 above: Floridians wear coats, gloves & wool hats.
Minnesotans throw on a T-shirt.

15 above: Californians begin to evacuate the state.
Minnesotans go swimming.

Zero: New York landlords finally turn up the heat
Minnesotans have the last cookout before it gets cold.

10 below: People in Miami cease to exist.
Minnesotans lick flag poles.

20 below: Californians fly away to Mexico.
Minnesotans throw on a light jacket.

40 below: Hollywood disintegrates.
Minnesotans rent some videos.

60 below: Mt. St. Helens freezes.
Minnesota Girl Scouts begin selling cookies door to door.

80 below: Polar bears begin to evacuate Antarctica.
Minnesota Boy Scouts postpone "Winter Survival" classes until it gets
cold enough.

100 below: Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
Minnesotans pull down their earflaps.

173 below: Ethyl alcohol freezes.
U of M students get frustrated when they can't thaw the keg.

297 below: Microbial life survives on dairy products.
Waseca's cows complain of farmers with cold hands.

460 below: ALL atomic motion stops.
Minnesotans start saying "Cold'nuff for ya?"

500 below: Hell freezes over.
Jesse Ventura is President.
____________________________

A Man and His Work by Dr. James Dobson

In twentieth-century America, it is almost inevitable that a vigorous
competition arises between a man's job and his home. Achieving a
balance between two areas of responsibility requires constant vigilance,
and quite frankly, most men tip the scales drastically in the direction
of their employment.

I have struggled to achieve a proper perspective between my profession
and my family. Just when I think I have conquered the dragon of
overcommitment, I say "yes" a few times when I should have said "no,
thanks," and the monster arises to maul me again. I know of no easier
mistake to make, nor one that has such devastating implications for the
family.

The worst siege of overcommitment I've ever experienced came once when I
went through six weeks of incredible pressure, involving obligations
that should have been spread over six months.

I had agreed to speak at various functions around the country on five
out of six consecutive weekends. At the same time, I was facing
deadlines on a new book, three new tape albums, a weekly radio
broadcast, and a random IRS audit (lucky me). Fatigue mounted week by
week, as I ran to catch planes, write speeches, and search for tax
receipts.

The climax occurred in early October, when I flew to Cincinnati to
participate in a Praise Gathering, sponsored by Bill Gaither. I lost a
night of sleep going in, due to the time change, and then spent two days
standing before crowds ranging from two hundred to eight thousand. It
was an exhilarating time of teaching and sharing and counseling, but it
squeezed the last drop of energy from my frame. As I staggered toward
the airport in a state of utter exhaustion, one thought pulsed through
my head, "It's over!"

Let's leave that westbound plane for a moment and journey to a home in
Arcadia, California, where my wife, Shirley, is also approaching the end
of a siege. For six long weeks she has run the home without benefit of
a man. It has been her task to discipline, train and guide, feed,
medicate, and bathe two rambunctious kids. Needless to say, she is also
near the point of exhaustion. Furthermore, Shirley has hardly seen her
husband since the first of September, and her emotional needs have been
on a prolonged "hold." One thought gives her strength to continue: "At
last, Jim is coming home, and he'll take over!"

It takes no great analyst to observe that Shirley and I approached that
final weekend on a collision course! Each of us was too exhausted to
consider the needs of the other.

I arrived home on Friday night, and Shirley greeted me warmly at the
door. We chatted about recent events and the kids and routine matters
before sleep overtook us. The next morning went smoothly enough . at
least until breakfast was over. As we were finishing the meal, our
attitudinal differences suddenly blew up in our faces.

"Uh, Jim," said Shirley, "as you know, seventy-five members from the
Singles Department at our church will be using our house tonight, and I
need you to help me get ready for them. First, I want you to wash down
the patio umbrella."

My blood pressure immediately shot up to about 212, and steam began to
curl from my ears. Didn't Shirley know how hard I had worked? What
kind of a slave driver was this woman? Didn't she understand how much I
needed this day? Well, I'll tell you something! I'm watching that
football game, and if Shirley doesn't like it she can just lump it!

So I had my way. I watched the football game in my study, but the
tension around me was incredible. Silence prevailed between husband and
wife. Not a word had been spoken since our terse interchange in the
backyard. Then our anger began to turn into mutual hurt, which is even
more damaging to communication.

The seventy-five church members came that evening and were served
refreshments on the patio. They didn't seem to notice the dirty
umbrella. They eventually departed, leaving me in the company of a mute
female who still acted like the entire episode was my fault. Isn't that
just like a woman?

Then came the awkward time of day called bedtime. I climbed into my
side of the kingsize bed and parked as close to the edge as possible
without plunging over the precipice. Shirley did likewise, clinging
tenaciously to her "brink." At least eight feet of mattress separated
us. No words were spoken. There were, however, frequent sighs from
both parties, accompanied by much rolling and tossing. Shirley finally
got up to take two aspirin and then returned to bed. Fifteen minutes
later I turned on the light to put some drops in my nostrils. What
followed was one of the worst nights of sleep in my life.

The next morning was Sunday, which presented more uncomfortable
moments. We dressed and went to our adult class, still bearing deep
wounds and resentment. And wouldn't you know, the teacher chose that
morning to talk about marital harmony and God's plan for husbands and
wives. Shirley and I nodded and smiled in agreement, but we felt like
kicking each other under the table. It made me suspect that many other
couples were also putting on a good front to hide their real feelings.

I wish I could say that the problem was resolved on Sunday afternoon,
but such was not the case. Nor did it end on Monday or Tuesday. By
Wednesday morning, we were sick to death of this silent warfare. We
were both more rested by that time, and the issue began to lose some of
its fire. I told Shirley I wanted her to join me for breakfast at a
restaurant, and announced my intention of going to work late.

What occurred was a beautiful time of communication and love. I began
to see that Shirley was in the same state of need that I had been. She
began to understand the depths of my fatigue. We talked it out and
reestablished the closeness that makes life worth living. Not only did
we survive the crisis, but we learned several valuable lessons and grew
from the experience.

Let me now share with you the biggest lesson that came from this
experience: [Overcommitment is the number-one marriage killer.]
(Italicized) Perhaps this will assist you in handling a similar episode
in your marriage.

This lesson teaches us several things. Not only are fatigue and time
pressure destructive to parent-child relationships, but they undermine
even the healthiest of marriages. How can a man and woman communicate
with each other when they're too worn out even to talk? How can they
pray together when every moment is programmed to the limit?

>From this vantage point, I have to admit that my fight with Shirley was
primarily my fault. Not that I was wrong in wanting to rest after
arriving home. But I was to blame for foolishly overcommiting my time
during that period. The conflict would never have occurred if I had not
scheduled myself wall to wall for six weeks. My lack of discipline in
my work caused Shirley and me to become exhausted, which brought a chain
reaction of negative emotions: irritability, self-pity, petulance,
selfishness, and withdrawal. Few marriages can survive a long-term dose
of that bitter medicine.

Many men already know that it isn't easy to implement a slower
lifestyle. Prior commitments have to be met. Financial pressures must
be confronted. Also, we must not overlook that ever-present masculine
need to succeed, to push, to strive, to accomplish.

Besides, isn't everyone else doing the same thing? Sure they are. I
don't even know any men who aren't running at a breathless pace - my
physician, my lawyer, my accountant, my handyman, my mechanic, my
pastor, my next-door neighbor. There is symbolic sweat on the brow of
virtually every man in North America. Most of these husbands and
fathers will admit that they're working too hard, but an interesting
response occurs when this subject is raised. They have honestly
convinced themselves, and will tell you with a straight face, that their
overcommitment is a result of temporary circumstances. A slower day is
coming. A light shines at the end of the dark tunnel.

Unfortunately, their optimism is usually unjustified. It is my
observation that the hoped-for period of tranquility rarely arrives.
Instead, these short-term pressures have a way of becoming sandwiched
back to back, so that families emerge from one crisis and sail directly
into another. Thus, we live our entire lives in the fast lane, hurtling
down the road toward heart failure. And what is sacrificed in the
process are the loving relationships with wives and children and friends
who give life meaning.

I, for one, have examined America's breathless lifestyle and find it to
be unacceptable. Why should we work ourselves into an early grave,
missing those precious moments with loved ones who crave our affection
and attention? It is a question that every man and woman should
consider.

Let me offer this final word of encouragement for those who are
determined to slow the pace: once you get out from under constant
pressure, you'll wonder why you drove yourself so hard for all those
years. There is a better way!
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
14400 Addison Ave. #119
Sherman Oaks CA 91423
(818)461-8930
Instant Messenger ID: joshli
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/