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This morning I was sitting on a park bench next to a homeless man.

Had It All.

This morning I was sitting on a park bench next to a homeless man.

I started a conversation by asking him how he ended up this way.

He said, “Up until last week, I still had it all. I had plenty to eat, my clothes were washed and pressed, I had a roof over my head, I had TV and Internet, and I went to the gym, the pool, and the library.

“I was working on my MBA on-line. I had no bills and no debt. I even had full medical coverage.”

I felt sorry for him, so I asked, “What happened? Drugs? Alcohol? Divorce?”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” he said. “I was released from prison.”

For two solid hours,

the lady sitting next to a man on an airplane had told him about her grandchildren. She had even produced a plastic-foldout photo album of all nine of the children.

She finally realized that she had dominated the entire conversation on her grandchildren.

“Oh, I’ve done all the talking, and I’m so sorry. I know you certainly have something to say. Please, tell me… what do you think of my grandchildren?”

Hi there. I’m Bob. I’m 80.

Every morning, I sit on the same park bench and chat to my friend, Jim, who’s a full seven years older than me. I’ve always wondered where he gets all his stamina from – he goes for a jog each day without fail, before meeting me. And, amazingly, he’s never out of breath.

One fine day, I plucked up the courage to ask him: “Hey Jim, how on earth do you have all that stamina at your age?”

“Well, I eat Italian bread every day. It keeps your energy level high and you’ll have great stamina with the ladies,” Jim replied.

Intrigued, I decided to visit the local bakery on my way home to find myself some Italian bread and hopefully get a vitality boost. As I looked around while trying to ensure that no-one caught on to what I was doing, the lady asked me if I needed any help.

“Do you have any Italian bread?” I asked sheepishly.

“Yes, there’s a whole shelf of it. Would you like some?”

“I want five loaves.”

“My goodness, five loaves?” she exclaimed. “By the time you get to the fifth loaf, it’ll be hard.”

I left as fast as my old legs could carry me!

A Prisoner and His Trick Fly.

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