Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Mr. Common Sense.

Mr. Sense had been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, and that life isn't always fair.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge).

His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place.

Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch, and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student only worsened his condition.

Mr. Sense declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student, but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Finally, Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, then she spilled a bit in her lap and was awarded a huge financial settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two stepbrothers: My Rights and Ima Whiner.

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

A wise old gentleman retired and purchased a modest home near a junior high school. He spent the first few weeks of his retirement in peace and contentment. Then a new school year began. The very next afternoon three young boys, full of youthful, after-school enthusiasm, came down his street, beating merrily on every trash can they encountered. The crashing percussion continued day after day, until finally the wise old man decided it was time to take some action.

The next afternoon, he walked out to meet the young percussionists as they banged their way down the street. Stopping them, he said, "You kids are a lot of fun. I like to see you express your exuberance like that. In fact, I used to do the same thing when I was your age. Will you do me a favor? I'll give you each a dollar if you'll promise to come around every day and do your thing." The kids were elated and continued to do a bang-up job on the trashcans.

After a few days, the old-timer greeted the kids again, but this time he had a sad smile on his face. "This recession's really putting a big dent in my income," he told them. "From now on, I'll only be able to pay you 50 cents to beat on the cans."

The noisemakers were obviously displeased, but they accepted his offer and continued their afternoon ruckus. A few days later, the wily retiree approached them again as they drummed their way down the street.

"Look," he said, "I haven't received my Social Security check yet, so I'm not going to be able to give you more than 25 cents. Will that be okay?"

"A lousy quarter?" the drum leader exclaimed. "If you think we're going to waste our time, beating these cans around for a quarter, you're nuts! No way, mister. We quit!" And the old man enjoyed peace and serenity for the rest of his days.

An elderly man was at home, dying in bed. He smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies baking. He wanted one last cookie before he died. He fell out of bed, crawled to the landing, rolled down the stairs, and crawled into the kitchen where his wife was busily baking cookies.

With waning strength he crawled to the table and was just barely able to lift his withered arm to the cookie sheet.

As he grasped a warm, moist, chocolate chip cookie, his favorite kind, his wife suddenly whacked his hand with a spatula.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you do that?"

"They're for your funeral."

Minutes before the cremation, the undertaker quietly sat down next to the grieving widow.

"How old was your husband?" he asked.

"He was ninety-eight," she answered softly. "Two years older than I am."

"Really?" the undertaker said. "Hardly worth going home, wouldn't you say?"

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A foursome of elderly golfers hit the course with waning enthusiasm for the sport.

"These hills are getting steeper as the years go by," one complained.

"These fairways seem to be getting longer too," said one of the others.

"The sand traps seem to be bigger than I remember them, too," said the third senior.

After hearing enough from his aging buddies, the oldest and wisest of the four of them piped up and said, "Just be thankful we're still on the right side of the grass!"

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An elderly man was sitting on his porch, when a young man walked up with a pad and pencil in his hand.

"What are you selling young man," he asked.

"I'm not selling anything," the young man said. I'm a census taker."

"A what ?" the elder man asked.

"A census taker. We are trying to find out how many people are in the United States."

"Well," the man answered. "You're wasting your time with me, I have no idea."

Every Saturday morning Grandpa Walt found himself babysitting his three grandchildren... ...all boys. The kids always wanted to play "war", and Grandpa somehow always got coaxed into the game.

His daughter came to pick up the kids early one Saturday and witnessed Grandpa take a fake shot as Jason pointed a toy gun and yelled, "Bang!"

Grandpa slumped to the floor and stayed there motionless. The daughter rushed over to see if he was all right.

Grandpa opened one eye and whispered, "Sh-sh-sh, I always do this. It's the only chance I get to rest."

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This Week's Joke

As a new bride, Aunt Edna moved into the small home on her husband's ranch. She put a shoe box on a shelf in her closet and asked her husband
never to touch it.

For fifty years Uncle Jack left the box alone, until Aunt Edna was old and dying. One day when he was putting their affairs in order, he found the box again and thought it might hold something important.

Opening it, he found two doilies and $82,500 in cash. He took the box to her and asked about the contents. "My mother gave me that box the day we married," she explained.

"She told me to make a doily to help ease my frustrations every time I got mad at you."

Uncle Jack was very touched that in 50 years she'd only been mad at him twice.

"What's the $82,500 for?" he asked.

"Oh, that's the money I made selling the doilies."