Author: admin

In a recent issue of Meat & Poultry magazine, editors quoted from ”Feathers,” the publication of the California Poultry Industry Federation, telling the following story: It seems the US Federal Aviation Administration has a unique device for testing the strength of windshields on airplanes. The device is a gun that launches a dead chicken at a plane’s windshield at approximately the speed the airplane flies. The theory is that if the windshield can withstand the carcass test impact, it’ll survive a real collision with a bird during flight. Apparently, the British were very interested in this and wanted to test a windshield on a brand new, high-speed train they were developing.. They borrowed the FAA’s chicken launcher, loaded a chicken and fired. The ballistic chicken not only shattered the windshield, but went through the engineer’s seat, broke an instrument panel, and was imbedded in the back wall of the engine cab. The British were stunned and asked the FAA to review the test to see if everything was done correctly. The FAA reviewed the data thoroughly and had one recommendation: ”Use a thawed chicken.”

A prisoner at the Edmonton Max started training a large fly to do tricks.For years, for thousands of hours, he worked with the insect. It learned to walk across a miniature high wire, ride a tiny one-wheel bike, balance on a pair of stilts and sing songs from PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. “When you and I get out of here,” the jailbird said to the fly. “we’re going to tour the nightspots and make a fortune.” Finally the day arrived. Fly safely tucked away in his pocket, (inside its matchbox home), the ex-con made his way to a bar to celebrate. At the bar, he brought out his trick fly. On cue, it started moonwalking. “What about this fly, eh?” he said to the bartender. In one swift motion, the bartender reached for his copy of the newspaper THE EDMONTON SUN, rolled it up and squished the fly with a mighty swipe. “Glad you saw it,” muttered the bartender. “Blasted things are everywhere.”

An elderly man by the name of Mr. MacIntosh was laying on his deathbed, with his son at his bedside.
The old man said suddenly, “It’s time! Send for the Minister.”

The dying man said, “The Minister! Dad, I think you mean the priest. We are devout Catholics.”

“Get the Minister! Get the Minister!” the dying man repeated agitatedly.

“Dad, your illness must be affecting your mind,” the son replied, patting his father on the shoulder. “I will call the priest.”

The old man insisted, “If you have ANY love for your father, you will do as I have asked.”

So, reluctantly, the son did his father’s bidding, and soon thereafter, the Minister arrived and converted the old man to the Protestant faith. Moments later, the parish priest knocked on the door.

The son said, “Father, I am afraid you are too late. The Minister has already been here.”

The priest rushed over to the old man’s beside and he asked in dismay, “HOW could you do it? WHY did you do it?”

The old man looked up and replied, “Well, Father, I figured that if someone had to die, better one of them than one of us.”