After a minister died and went to Heaven
he noticed that a Montréal taxi driver had been awarded a higher place than he.
"I don't   understand," he complained to Saint Peter.
"I devoted my entire  life to my congregation."

"Our policy here in Heaven is to reward results, " Saint Peter explained.
"Now, was your congregation  well attuned to you whenever you gave a sermon?"

"Well," the  minister had to admit,
" some in the congregation fell asleep from  time to time."

"Exactly," said  Saint Peter." And when people rode in this man's taxi,
they not only stayed awake, they prayed nonstop."

When asked to define great, he said,
"I want to write stuff that the whole world will read,
stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level,
stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!"

     He now works for Microsoft writing error messages.

   "Have you got an honest plumber down there?"

           "Yes"

 "He's ours, so can you send him up?"

        "You can't have him!"

"Why not?"

       "Because he's the only one who understands air conditioning.
        It's really cool down here now."

"Send him up at once", shouted Saint Peter, "or we'll sue."

          "You'll sue?" laughed the voice on the other end.
           "And where will you get hold of a lawyer in Heaven???

And the minister says, "Just water."

The sheriff says, "Then why do I smell wine?"

And the minister looks down at the bottle and says,
"Good Lord, He's done it again!"

While robbing a home, a burglar hears someone say,
"Jesus is watching you." To his relief, he realizes
it is just a parrot mimicking something it had heard.

The burglar asks the parrot,
"What's your name?"

The parrot says, "Moses."

The burglar goes on to ask,
"What kind of a person names their parrot Moses?"

The parrot replies, "The same kind of person that
names his Rottweiler Jesus."

With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe,
gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony,
he would have thought himself already in heaven:
there, spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table
were literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.

Was it heaven?
Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife,
seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort,
he threw himself toward the table,
landing on his knees in a rumpled posture.
His parched lips parted;
the wondrous taste of the cookie
was already in his mouth;
seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand, shakingly,
made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table,
when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.

"Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral!"

After recovering, he slowly climbed the tree again,
jumped,and fell to the ground.
The turtle tried again and again
while a couple of birds sitting on a branch
watched his sad efforts.

Finally, the female bird turned to her mate;
"Dear," she chirped,
"I think it's time to tell him he's adopted."

Memory was something that you lost with age,
A CD was a bank account,
And a floppy disk was something
Terribly wrong in your back.

Compress was something you did to garbage,
Not something you did to a file.
And if you unzipped anything in public,
You'd be in jail for awhile!

Log on was adding wood to a fire,
Hard drive was a long trip on the road.
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived,
And a backup happened to your commode!

Cut - you did with a pocket knife,
Paste you did with glue.
A web was a spider's home,
And a virus was the flu!

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper,
And the memory in my head.
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash,
But when it happens, they wish they were dead!