I had an auto-repair man once, who, on these intelligence tests, could not possibly have scored more than 80, by my estimate. I always took it for granted that I was far more intelligent than he was. Yet, when anything went wrong with my car I hastened to him with it, watched him anxiously as he explored its vitals, and listened to his pronouncements as though they were divine oracles – and he always fixed my car. Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I’d prove myself a moron, and I’d be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters. Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: “Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?” Indulgently, I lifted my right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, “Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them.” Then he said smugly, “I’ve been trying that on all my customers today.” “Did you catch many?” I asked. “Quite a few,” he said, “but I knew for sure I’d catch you.” “Why is that?” I asked. “Because you’re so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn’t be very smart.
What did the mama cow say to the baby cow?
It’s pasture bedtime …
Two hillbillies walk into a restaurant. While having a bite to eat, they talk about their moonshine operation. Suddenly, a woman at a nearby table, who is eating a sandwich, begins to cough.
After a minute or so, it becomes apparent that she is in real distress. One of the hillbillies looks at her and says, “Kin ya swallar?” The woman shakes her head no. Then he asks, “Kin ya breathe?” The woman begins to turn blue, and shakes her head no.
The hillbilly walks over to the woman, lifts up her dress, yanks down her drawers, and quickly gives her right butt cheek a lick with his tongue.
The woman is so shocked that she has a violent spasm, and the obstruction flies out of her mouth.
As she begins to breathe again, the Hillbilly walks slowly back to his table. His brother said, “Ya know, I’d heerd of that there Hind Lick Maneuver but I ain’t niver seed nobody do it!”
a business plan I understand. Just need white bread, cheese, butter…one dollar per sandwich, no change given, give me 5 dollars, get 5 sandwiches…cash only, no credit or debit card, no phone, paypal etc etc etc. Just a cheese sandwich, no drinks, no chips, nuttin but cheese sandwich….don’t like the idea, go eat somewhere else…I get it.
you know naughty words????? DyRy
yes he does, and uses them freely…..Meko
you should talk…