I agree with him, laughter is good medicine. I have heard that a good deep belly laugh will cure your indigestion. I remember Rev. Baldy White, who was on my staff at First Methodist Church in Atlanta almost fifty years ago. He had many stories. He had a poem entitled “Dried Apple Pies” which I will share with you.
I loathe, abhor, detest, despise,
Abominate dried apple pies.
I like good bread, I like good meat
Or anything that’s good to eat;
But of all poor food beneath the skies,
The poorest is dried apple pies.
The farmer takes his knotted fruit,
‘Tis wormy, bitter, and hard to boot;
He leaves the seeds to make us cough,
And don’t take all the peeling off;
Then on a dirty cord it’s strung
And in some garret window hung,
And there it serves as a roost for flies,
Until it’s made into dried apple pies.
Tread on my corns or tell me lies,
But please don’t pass me dried apple pies.
A quick thinking employee came up with a new one when his foreman said, “Hey Bud, how come you’re sleeping on the job?” The employee shot back, “Can’t a man close his eyes for a moment of prayer?”
A wife pointed to her husband stretched out in the hammock and explained to her friend: “Fred’s hobby is letting birds watch him.”
A patrolman at an accident asked the man: “If you saw this woman’s car coming toward you, why didn’t you give her half the road?” He replied, “I had no idea which half she wanted.”
Mr. Wrangle: “Why does a woman say she’s been shopping, when she hasn’t bought anything?” Mrs. Wrangle retorted, “Why does a man say he’s been fishing when he hasn’t caught anything?”
The preacher asked the man who had come for advice about marriage. “Have you ever known an absolutely perfect husband?” “Well,” he replied, “I don’t know him personally, but I have heard a lot about him, he was my wife’s first husband.”
Doctor: “Have you been to any doctor before you came to see me?” Patient: “No, sir, but I did go to see a druggist.” The doctor replied, “That shows how much sense some people have. And what sort of idiotic advice did he give you?” Patient: “He told me to come and see you!”
Julius Cohen wrote: “I had a smile, I gave my smile away; the milkman and postman loved it every day. I took it to the shop, and on to the street, I gave it without thinking, to all I chanced to meet. I gave my smile away, as thoughtless as could be, and every time I gave it, my smile came back to me.”