When My Fair Lady was having its long run on Broadway, it was very hard to get tickets. One couple from Atlanta planned their whole vacation around the availability of tickets for a matinee performance. They had to secure their tickets about eight months in advance.

They went to New York City on the appropriate weekend. They got to the theatre in plenty of time, found their seats—they were good seats on the fourth or fifth row in the center section—took their seats and anticipated the play. Every seat was filled except the seat to the left of the man. The curtain rose, and no one had taken the seat.

At intermission, he turned to the woman on the opposite side of the empty seat and said, “This is amazing! We had to buy our tickets eight months in advance, and we get here and find an empty seat.”

She said, “Well, that seat belongs to me, too. It was my husband’s seat. He died.”

The man said, “I’m terribly sorry..but…couldn’t you have invited a friend to come with you?”

She answered, “No, they were all at the funeral!”


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This past Christmas, did you notice some of the fantasy gifts offered by Neiman Marcus? For 75,000 dollars, you could buy an 18-foot-in-diameter replica of Jeannie’s bottle from “I Dream of Jeannie,” complete with furnishings. For a million dollars, you could have a custom-made fountain such as those in front of Vegas properties installed on your own property. There was a speedboat for 250,000 dollars and a Ferrari for 395,000 dollars. You could order a Scotch tasting for 20 people, accompanied by a bagpiper. That only cost 5,000 dollars. Sounds like a bargain, comparatively speaking.

Many of the fantasy gifts aren’t purchased, and some of the purchased items trigger charitable donations. I suppose people can spend their money on what they want, but it is still appropriate for us to ponder the priorities of our culture.


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As the elderly man lay dying in his bed, death’s agony was suddenly pushed aside as he smelled the aroma of his favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs.

Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with intense concentration, supported himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands. In labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing wide-eyed into the kitchen. There, spread out on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite 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, one hand on the edge of the table. The aged and withered hand quiveringly made its way to a cookie near the edge of the table; feeling the warm soft dough actually made the pain of his bones subside for a moment. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.

All at once he felt a sting on his hand. He looked up to see his wife, still holding the spatula she had just used to smack his hand, saying: “Stay out of those! They’re for the funeral.”


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Two teenagers were arrested. After booking them, the police sergeant told them they were entitled to a phone call. Some time later, a man entered the station and asked for them by name.

The sergeant said, “I suppose you’re the lawyer?”

“Nope,” the man replied. “I’m just here to deliver their pizza.”


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