For anyone who didn’t see David Letterman’s take on this: (And it’s a true story…) On a recent weekend in Atlantic City , a woman won a bucketful of quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her room. ‘I’ll be right back and we’ll go to eat,’ she told her husband and carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.

  As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men already aboard. Both were black. One of them was tall…very tall…an intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her first thought was: ‘These  two are going to rob me.’ Her next thought was: ‘Don’t be a bigot; they
look like perfectly nice gentlemen.’ But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered and ashamed. She hoped they didn’t read her mind but gosh, they had to know what she was thinking !!!

Her hesitation about joining them in the elevator was all too obvious now. Her face was flushed. She couldn’t just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator. Avoiding eye
contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another second, and then another. Her fear increased! The elevator didn’t move. Panic consumed her. ‘My God,’ she thought, I’m trapped and about to be robbed! ‘Her heart plummeted.
Perspiration poured from every pore.

Then one of the men said, ‘Hit the floor.’ Instinct told her to do what they told her. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator floor. A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed. More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, ‘Ma’am, if you’ll just tell us what         floor you’re going to, we’ll push the button.’ The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. The woman lifted her head and looked up at the two men.

They reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled to her feet. ‘When I told my friend here to hit the floor,’ said the average sized one, ‘I  meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn’t mean for you to hit the floor, ma’am.’ He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing. The woman thought:
‘My God, what a spectacle I’ve made of myself.’ She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as though they were going to rob you? She didn’t know what to say. The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor they then insi s ted on walking her to her room. She
seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her a good evening. As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with laughter as they walked back to the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband. The next morning flowers were delivered to her room - a dozen roses. Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

The card said: ‘Thanks for the best laugh we’ve had in years.’

        It was signed;
        Eddie Murphy
        Michael Jordan

PS - Pass this around so others can enjoy! Black Robbers - a true story

A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Taser for their
anniversary submitted this: Last weekend I saw something at
Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest.  The
occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a
little something extra for my wife Julie.

          What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized
           taser.  The effects of the taser were supposed to be short
lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant,
allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety….??

          WAY TOO COOL!  Long story
   short, I bought the device and brought it home.
            I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the
button.  Nothing!  I was disappointed.  I learned, however,
that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal
surface at the same time; I’d get the blue arc of electricity
darting back and forth between the prongs.  AWESOME!!!
            Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn
spot is on the face of her microwave.
            Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to
myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two triple-A
          batteries, right?
          There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently
(trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions
  and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh &
            blood moving target.
            I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of
a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat.
             But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect
            herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it
would work as advertised. Am I wrong?
            So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my
reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose,
directions in one hand, and taser in another.
            The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and
             disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to
            cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a
three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop
on the ground like a fish out of water.  Any burst longer than
three seconds would be wasting the batteries.  All the while
I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5″ long,
less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and
(loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to
myself, “no possible way!”

          What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do
   my best…?  I’m sitting there alone,  Gracie looking on with her
            head cocked to one side as to say, ” don’t do it dipshit,”
reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole
thing couldn’t hurt all that bad.  I decided to give myself a
one second burst just for heck of it.  I touched the prongs to
my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . . HOLY MOTHER OF
GOD . . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HELL!!!
I’m pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door,
picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the
carpet, over and over and over again.  I vaguely recall waking
up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes,
body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to
be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest
position, and tingling in my legs?
            The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before,
clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace,
obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body
flopping all over the living room.
            Note: If you ever feel compelled to “mug” yourself with a
taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one
second burst when you zap yourself!  You will not let go of
that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent
thrashing about on the floor.  A three second burst would be
considered
           conservative?
           SON-OF-A-BITCH, THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!!
           A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative
thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had
left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.  My bent reading
          glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.  The recliner was
           upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally
was.  My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still
twitching.  My face felt like it had been shot up with
Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.  I had no control
over the
    drooling.  Apparently I shit myself, but was too numb to know
           for sure and my sense of smell was gone.; I saw a faint smoke
cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair.  I’m
          still looking for my nuts and I’m offering a significant reward
for their safe return!!
          P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens
   me with it!
            “If you think Education is difficult, try being stupid

Please take a few minutes to read this, it is good .
 
A young man learns what’s most important in life from the guy next door.
It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, ‘Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.’ Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.!

‘Jack, did you hear me?’
‘Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It’s been so long since I thought of him. I’m sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago,’ Jack said.

‘Well, he didn’t forget you. Every time I saw him he’d ask how you were doing. He’d reminisce about the many days you spent over ‘his side of the fence’ as he put it,’ Mom told him.

‘I loved that old house he lived in,’ Jack said.

‘You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man’s influence in your life,’ she said

‘He’s the one who taught me carpentry,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t be in this business if it weren’t for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important…Mom, I’ll be there for the funeral,’ Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser’s funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time The house was exactly as he remembered.  Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture….Jack stopped suddenly.

‘What’s wrong, Jack?’ his Mom asked.

‘The box is gone,’ he said

‘What box?’ Mom asked.

‘There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he’d ever tell me was ‘the thing I value most,” Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

‘Now I’ll never know what was so valuable to him,’ Jack said. ‘I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom.’

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. ‘Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days,’ the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. ‘Mr. Harold Belser’ it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack’s hands shook as he read the note inside.

‘Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It’s the thing I valued most in my life.’ A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.

Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover Inside he found these words engraved:

‘Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser.’

‘The thing he valued most was…my time’

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. ‘Why?’ Janet, his assistant asked.

‘I need some time to spend with my son,’ he said.

‘Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!’

‘Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away,’

Think about this. You may not realize it, but it’s 100% true.

1. At least 2 people in this world love you so much they would die for you.

2. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.

3. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don’t like you.

4. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.

5. You mean the world to someone.

6. If not for you, someone may not be living.

7. You are special and unique.

8. When you think you have no chance of getting what you want, you probably won’t get it, but if you trust God to do what’s best, and wait on His time, sooner or later, you will get it or something better.

9. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good can still come from it.

10. When you think the world has turned its back on you, take a look: you most likely turned your back on the world.

11. Someone that you don’t even know exists loves you.

12. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.

13 Always tell someone how you feel about them; you will feel much better when they know and you’ll both be happy

14. If you have a great friend, take the time to let them know that they are great.

Send this letter to all the people you care about, if you do so, you will certainly brighten someone’s day and might change their perspective on life…for the better!
To everyone I send this to
‘ Thanks for your time