Some time ago I was hosting a State Dinner, when at the last minute my 
regular cook took ill and they had to get a replacement on short 
notice. The fellow arrived and turned out to be a very grubby looking 
man named John. I voiced my concerns to my Chief of Staff but was told 
that this was the best they could do at such short notice, according 
to the Head of the Household Staff.

Unbeknown to me, but later reported, the following events occurred. 
Just before the meal, the Chief of Staff noticed the cook sticking his 
fingers  in the soup to taste it and again he complained to the Head 
of the Household Staff about the cook, but he was told that this man 
was supposed to be a very good chef.

The meal went okay but I was sure that the soup tasted a little off, 
and by the time dessert came, I was starting to have stomach cramps 
and nausea. It was getting worse and worse, until finally I had to 
excuse myself from the State Dinner to look for the bathroom. Passing 
through the kitchen, I caught sight of the cook, John, scratching his 
rear end and this made me feel even worse. By now I was desperately 
ill with violent cramps and was so disoriented that I couldn't 
remember which door led to the bathroom.

I was on the verge of passing out from the pain when I finally found a 
door that opened and as I undid my trousers and ran in, I realized to 
my horror that I had stumbled into Monica Lewinsky's office with my 
trousers around my knees.

As I was just about to pass out, Monica bent over me and heard her 
President whisper in a barely audible voice, "Sack my cook."

And that your Honor, is how the whole misunderstanding started.




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I work as a flight attendant and once as we waited just off the runway 
for another airliner to cross in front of us, some of the passengers were 
beginning to retrieve luggage from the overhead bins. The head attendant 
announced on the intercom, "This aircraft is equipped with a video 
surveillance system that monitors the cabin during taxiing. Any 
passengers not remaining in their seats until the aircraft comes to a 
full and complete stop at the gate will be strip-searched as they leave 
the aircraft."



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Reverend Billy Graham tells of a time early in his ministry
when he arrived in a small town to preach a sermon. Wanting
to mail a letter, he asked a young boy where the post office
was. When the boy had told him, Dr. Graham thanked him and
said, "If you'll come to the Baptist Church this evening,
you can hear me telling everyone how to get to heaven."
"I don't think I'll be there," the boy said.
"You don't even know where your way to the post office."



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