Barber's don't exist
The Bible says to have an answer for why you believe to those who ask you.

This is a good example of an answer to one of the most common reasons sinners give for ignoring God and His goodness.

A man went to a barber shop to have his hair and beard cut as always.

He started to have a good conversation with the barber who attended him.

They talked about so many things and various subjects.

Suddenly, they touched the subject of God. The barber said: "Look man, I don't believe that God exists."

"Why do you say that?" asked the client.

"Well, it's so easy, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God does not exist. Oh, tell me, if God existed, would there be so many sick people?

Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be no suffering nor pain. I can't think of loving a God who permits all of these things."

The client stopped for a moment thinking, but he didn't want to respond so as to cause an argument.

The barber finished his job and the client went out of the shop.

Just after he left the barber shop he saw a man in the street with a long hair and beard (it seems that it had been a long time since he had his hair cut and he looked so untidy).

Then the client again entered the barber shop and he said to the barber: "You know what? Barbers do not exist."

"How can you say they don't exist?" asked the barber. "Well, I am here and I am a barber."

"No!" the client exclaimed. "They don't exist because if they did there would be no people with long hair and beard like that man who walks in the street."

"Ah, barbers do exist, what happens is that people do not come to me."

"Exactly!" affirmed the client.

"That's the point. God does exist, what happens is people don't go to Him and do not look for Him. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world."

An ode to old age
There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.
My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I'll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart