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Friday Humour (Phlegmatic)



                      THE LOWEST COMMON DENOMINATOR, or,
                      LAST NIGHT I HAD THE STRANGEST DREAM

So yer man, working at an unnamed university, goes to see a counselor and
says he's been having these odd dreams: " Last week I dreamt," he says,
"that I was in a sideshow tent at the circus and saw the big top catch on
fire.  People were running and screaming coming out of the doors and from
under the flaps and some were trapped inside. A big bunch of  clowns were
walking around picking up wallets and pocketbooks that had fallen. A couple
off these clowns, and a hooded stranger, started coming towards my tent.  I
woke up in a sweat."

"Well," says the counselor, "I know that there are lots of layoffs and
retirements and general nervousness around the campus. You work off campus
and see it as a spectator, but you do work for the university and are also
worried about your job.  That explains the sideshow aspect.  The hooded
stranger is your new boss, due, you said, to arrive May 1st. As for the
clowns, draw your own conclusions.  Who's saving money in this deal?"

"Yes," say yer man, "but on Saturday night I dreamt that I heard the smoke
alarm going off in the house and that I went to my daughter's room and saw
smoke coming out of the top of the cardboard tipi she had set up on her bed,
and a little fire inside. Across from her was another bed covered with
plastic hanging over a frame.  A tiny girl was in it. A big green tank with
'Oxygen' on it stood by the bed. The whole room seemed poised to explode."

"Obviously," said the counselor, "from other things you've told me, you are
worried about your seven year-old daughter being a little too wild and about
the prospect of  maybe soon adopting another, possibly unhealthy, girl."

"And then," said yer man, "last night I dreamt I was watching a battle
something like Wounded Knee, except in my dream the Indians were all in
soldiers' uniforms, but wearing something like sheriff badges, and living in
a big army tent with American flags on the ropes and the poles and had the
cannons, the gattling guns and most of the rifles.  The Europeans,
ill-clothed, ill-fed, and ill-armed, were massed around a ragged tent of
buffalo hide. Then the shooting started. I didn't know what to feel, except
horror. I knew that the Indians had been hunted nearly to extinction, once.
But I didn't like seeing the Europeans mowed down either, 'specially
considering I might be one of them."

"Easiest yet," said the counselor. "You've been paying attention to the news
from the Middle East. Yet,overall I see a real pattern to your dreams: You
are two tents! I recommend that you convert the two-tenths to one fifth and
go drink it."

OOOPS! Sorry! That wasn't a joke. That was my mental health report. How did
I get a copy of that, and what is it doing on a listserv?  Aren't such
things restricted?

Don't ask me. On advice of counsel...I'm taking the fifth.

Long live D. King! Where is he these Fridays, anyway? I miss those long
jokes.

Michael "Y'always Yurts the Ones Ya Loves" Tarabulski
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Archivist
International Jazz Collections
Lionel Hampton Center
530 S. Asbury Street, Suite 4
P.O. Box 444407
Moscow, ID 83844-4407
Phone: 208-885-3870
Fax: 208-885-6513
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