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Subject: The Sunday Morning Laughs #591c
         Date: 6/1/2008
 

You can also view old ‘Sunday Morning Laughs’ at 
http://jokelibrary.net/archive/index.html
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Subj:     Being Italian
          From: ginafm on 5/12/2008 

 I am sure for most second-generation Italian-American 
 children who grew  up in the 40's, 50's, and 60's there 
 was a definite distinction between us and them.  We were 
 Italians, everybody else, the Irish, the Germans, the 
 Poles, they were "Americans". 

 I was well into adulthood before I realized I was an 
 American.  I had been born American and lived here all my 
 life, but Americans were people who ate peanut butter and 
 jelly sandwiches on mushy white bread.  I had no animosity 
 towards them, it's just I thought ours was the better way 
 with our bread man, egg man, javelle man, vegetable man, 
 the chicken man, to name a few of the peddlers who came to 
 our neighborhoods.  We knew them; they knew us. 

 Americans went to the A&P.  It amazed me that some friends 
 and classmates on Thanksgiving and Christmas ate only 
 turkey with stuffing, potatoes, and cranberry sauce.  We 
 had turkey, but after antipasto, soup, lasagna, meatballs 
 and salad.  In case someone came in who didn't like turkey, 
 we also had a roast of beef.  Soon after we were eating 
 fruits, nuts, pastries  and homemade cookies sprinkled with 
 little colored things. 

 This is where you learned to eat a seven course meal between 
 noon and four PM, how to handle hot chestnuts and put 
 peaches in wine. Italians live a romance with food. 

 Sundays we would wake up to the smell of garlic and onions 
 frying in olive oil.  We always had macaroni and sauce. 
 Sunday would not be Sunday without going to mass.  Of course 
 you couldn't eat before mass because you had to fast before 
 receiving communion.  We knew when we got home we'd find 
 meatballs frying, and nothing tasted better than newly 
 cooked meatballs with crisp bread dipped into a pot of hot 
 gravy. 

 Another difference between them and us was we had gardens. 
 Not just  with flowers, but tomatoes, peppers, basil, 
 lettuce and "cucuzza". 

 Everybody had a grapevine and fig tree.  In the fall we 
 drank homemade wine arguing over who made the best.  Those 
 gardens thrived because we had something our American 
 friends didn't seem to have. We had Grandparents. 

 It's not that they didn't have grandparents.  It's just 
 they didn't live in the same house or street.  We ate with 
 our grandparents, and God forbid if we didn't visit them 
 3 times a week.  I can still remember my grandfather 
 telling us how he came to America when he was young, on 
 the "boat." 

 I'll never forget the holidays when the relatives would 
 gather at my grandparent's house, the women in the kitchen, 
 the men in the living room, the kids everywhere.  I must 
 have fifty cousins.  My grandfather sat in the middle of 
 it all drinking his wine.  He was so proud of his family 
 and how well they had done. 

 When my grandparents died, things began to change.  Family 
 gatherings were fewer and something seemed to be missing. 
 Although we did get together usually at my mother's house, 
 I always had the feeling grandma and  grandpa were there. 

 It's understandable things change.  We all have families 
 of our own and grandchildren of our own.  Today we visit 
 once in a while or meet at wakes or weddings.  Other 
 things have also changed.  The old house my grandparents 
 bought is now covered with aluminum siding.  A green lawn 
 covers the soil that grew the tomatoes. 

 THERE WAS NO ONE TO COVER THE FIG TREE . . . SO IT DIED. 

 The holidays have changed.  We still make family "rounds" 
 but somehow  things have become more formal.  The great 
 quantities of food we consumed, without any ill effects, 
 is not good for us anymore.  Too much starch, too much 
 cholesterol, too many calories in the pastries. 

 The difference between "us" and "them" isn't so easily 
 defined anymore, and I guess that's good.  My grandparents 
 were Italian-Italians, my parents  were Italian-Americans. 
 I'm an American and proud of it, just as my grandparents 
 would want me to be.  We are all Americans now... the 
 Irish, Germans,  Poles, all U.S. Citizens. 

 But somehow I still feel a little bit Italian.  Call it 
 culture... call it roots... I'm not sure what it is.  All 
 I do know is that my children, grandchildren, nieces, and 
 nephews, have been cheated out of a wonderful piece of our 
 heritage. 

 PASS THIS ON TO YOUR ITALIAN FRIENDS.

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Subj:     Gorilla In A Tree
          From: JOELFALLON on 98-12-11
      and From: ginafm on 5/12/2008

 A fellow was out in his back yard watering his garden when
 he looks up in his apple tree and notices a HUGE gorilla
 sitting in the tree.  He runs inside his house and telephones
 the local zoo to report what he has seen.

 "Oh, that would be Sampson he escaped from here early today,
 we have been searching for him everywhere.  On no account go
 near him!, he is extremely dangerous!.  We will be around to
 get him straight away!"

 The chap waited indoors and in a few minutes there was a knock
 on the door.  On answering the door he found a zookeeper
 carrying a net, a shotgun and a tiny fox terrier dog.  He
 showed the zookeeper to the garden. "Oh yes that`s Sampson
 alright, he`s a nasty bastard so you will have to help me
 catch him"  The chap agreed and asked what he had to do.

 "Well you hold the shotgun and the dog,, I will climb the tree
 with the net.  When I am up the tree I will shake the branch
 that Sampson is sitting on.  When he falls from the tree let
 the dog go, he has been specially trained to attack and bite
 the balls and hang on, this will stun the gorilla and I will
 throw the net over him and we have got him!"  With this the
 zookeeper started to climb the tree.

 "Hey hold on! What's the shotgun for!"

 "Christ! I nearly forgot!.. If when I shake the tree I fall
 out, SHOOT THE FUCKING DOG!!!!"

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Subj:     'I Love You' In Many Languages
          From: RFSlick on 99-02-14 and 3/31/2003
      and From: darrellvip on 5/12/2008

 English..........  I Love You
 Spanish..........  Te Amo
 French...........  Je T'aime
 German...........  Ich Liebe Dich
 Japanese.........  Ai Shite Imasu
 Italian..........  Ti Amo
 Chinese..........  Wo Ai Ni
 Swedish..........  Jag Alskar Dig
 Eskimo...........  Nagligivaget
 Greek............  S'Agapo
 Hawaiian.........  Aloha Wau la Oe
 Irish............  Thaim In Grabh Leat
 Hebrew...........  Ani Ohev Otakh
 Russian..........  Ya Lyublyu Tyebya
 Albanian.........  Une Te Dua
 Finnish..........  Mina Rakkastan Sinua
 Turkish..........  Seni Seviyorum
 Hungarian........  Se Ret Lay
 Persian..........  Du Stet Daram
 Maltese..........  Jien Inhobbok
 Catalan..........  Testimo Molt

 Redneck .........  Nice Boobs

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Subj:     Responses To A One Heart Bid
          From: BridgeClues.com on 5/8/2008

 This wonderful web site has daily problems if you click on 
 the bidding drop down menu.  Today's hand #5210 discusses 
 responses to a one heart bid.  Click below to see this
 bridge problem.

 http://www.jokelibrary.net/xOtherAtoM/g2/a_bridge_column47.html

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