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

A lawyer's dog, running about
A lawyer's dog, running about unleashed, b-lines for the local butcher shop and steals a roast off the counter. The butcher goes to the lawyer's office and asks, ''if a dog, running unleashed, steals a piece of meat from my store, do I have a right to demand payment for the meat from the dog's owner?''

''Absolutely,'' the lawyer responded.

The butcher immediately shot back, ''Good! You owe me $7.99 for the roast your dog stole from me this morning.''

The lawyer, without a word, writes the butcher a check for $7.99. A few days later, the butcher, browsing through his mail, finds an envelope from the lawyer.

The contents read ''Consultation Fee: $25.00.''