Category: I've been Mailed


In   Florida, an atheist created a case against  Easter and Passover Holy days.   He hired an attorney to bring a discrimination case against Christians and Jews and observances of their holy days. 

The argument was that it was unfair that atheists had no such recognized days. The case was brought before a judge.  After listening to the passionate presentation by the lawyer,  the judge banged his gavel declaring,"Case dismissed!"
The lawyer immediately stood objecting to the ruling saying:

"Your honor, How can you possibly dismiss this case?  The Christians have Christmas, Easter and others. The Jews have Passover, Yom Kippur and Hanukkah, yet my client and all other atheists have no such holidays…"

The judge leaned forward in his chair saying, "But you do. Your client, counsel, is woefully ignorant."  The lawyer said, "Your Honor, we are unaware of any special observance or holiday for atheists."

The judge said, "The calendar says April 1st is April Fools Day. Psalm 14:1 states, ‘The fool says in his heart, there is no God.’ Thus, it is the opinion of this court, that, if your client says there is no God, then he is a fool.   Therefore, April 1st is his day. Court is adjourned…"
You gotta love a Judge that knows his scripture!

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1. सादा जीवन, उच्च विचार: उसके जीने का ढंग बड़ा सरल था. पुराने और मैले कपड़े, बढ़ी हुई दाढ़ी,महीनों से जंग खाते दांत और पहाड़ों पर खानाबदोश जीवन. जैसे मध्यकालीन भारत का फकीर हो.जीवन में अपने लक्ष्य की ओर इतना समर्पित कि ऐशो-आराम और विलासिता के लिए एक पल की भी फुर्सत नहीं. और विचारों में उत्कृष्टता के क्या कहने! ‘जो डर गया, सो मर गया’ जैसे संवादों से उसने जीवन की क्षणभंगुरता पर प्रकाश डाला था.

२. दयालु प्रवृत्ति: ठाकुर ने उसे अपने हाथों से पकड़ा था. इसलिए उसने ठाकुर के सिर्फ हाथों को सज़ा दी. अगर वो चाहता तो गर्दन भी काट सकता था. पर उसके ममतापूर्ण और करुणामय ह्रदय ने उसे ऐसा करने से रोक दिया.

3. नृत्यसंगीत का शौकीन: ‘महबूबा ओये महबूबा’ गीत के समय उसके कलाकार ह्रदय का परिचय मिलता है. अन्य डाकुओं की तरह उसका ह्रदय शुष्क नहीं था. वह जीवन में नृत्य-संगीत एवंकला के महत्त्व को समझता था. बसन्ती को पकड़ने के बाद उसके मन का नृत्यप्रेमी फिर से जाग उठा था.उसने बसन्ती के अन्दर छुपी नर्तकी को एक पल में पहचान लिया था. गौरतलब यह कि कला के प्रति अपने प्रेम को अभिव्यक्त करने का वह कोई अवसर नहीं छोड़ता था.

4. अनुशासनप्रिय नायक: जब कालिया और उसके दोस्त अपने प्रोजेक्ट से नाकाम होकर लौटे तो उसने कतई ढीलाई नहीं बरती. अनुशासन के प्रति अपने अगाध समर्पण को दर्शाते हुए उसने उन्हें तुरंत सज़ा दी.

5. हास्यरस का प्रेमी: उसमें गज़ब का सेन्स ऑफ ह्यूमर था. कालिया और उसके दो दोस्तों को मारने से पहले उसने उन तीनों को खूब हंसाया था. ताकि वो हंसते-हंसते दुनिया को अलविदा कह सकें. वह आधुनिक यु का ‘लाफिंग बुद्धा’ था.

6. नारी के प्रति सम्मान: बसन्ती जैसी सुन्दर नारी का अपहरण करने के बाद उसने उससे एक नृत्य का निवेदन किया. आज-कल का खलनायक होता तो शायद कुछ और करता.

7. भिक्षुक जीवन: उसने हिन्दू धर्म और महात्मा बुद्ध द्वारा दिखाए गए भिक्षुक जीवन के रास्ते को अपनाया था. रामपुर और अन्य गाँवों से उसे जो भी सूखा-कच्चा अनाज मिलता था, वो उसी से अपनी गुजर-बसर करता था. सोना, चांदी, बिरयानी या चिकन मलाई टिक्का की उसने कभी इच्छा ज़ाहिर नहीं की.

8. सामाजिक कार्य: डकैती के पेशे के अलावा वो छोटे बच्चों को सुलाने का भी काम करता था. सैकड़ों माताएं उसका नाम लेती थीं ताकि बच्चे बिना कलह किए सो जाएं. सरकार ने उसपर 50,000 रुपयों का इनाम घोषित कर रखा था. उस युग में ‘कौन बनेगा करोड़पति’ ना होने के बावजूद लोगों को रातों-रात अमीर बनाने का गब्बर का यह सच्चा प्रयास था.

9. महानायकों का निर्माता: अगर गब्बर नहीं होता तो जय और व??रू जैसे लुच्चे-लफंगे छोटी-मोटी चोरियां करते हुए स्वर्ग सिधार जाते. पर यह गब्बर के व्यक्तित्व का प्रताप था कि उन लफंगों में भी महानायक बनने की क्षमता जागी.

 

No Left Turns!

Its not often that I get to read a story which is both touching and humorous at the same time. This is a story of an aging couple, told by their son who was President of NBC NEWS.

Peace to you!
~RahulDev

This is a wonderful piece by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News. In 1997, he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing. It is well worth reading, and a few good chuckles are guaranteed. Here goes…


   My father never drove a car. Well, that’s not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.
   He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.
   "In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it."
   At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in:
"Oh, bull!" she said. "He hit a horse."
   "Well," my father said, "there was that, too."
   So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars — the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford — but we had none.
   My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines , would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.
   My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we’d ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. "No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that.
   But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we’ll get one." It was as if he wasn’t sure which one of us would turn 16 first.
   But, sure enough , my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.
   It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn’t drive, it more or less became my brother’s car.
   Having a car but not being able to drive didn’t bother my father, but it didn’t make sense to my mother.
   So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father’s idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying more than once.
   For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps — though they seldom left the city limits — and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.
   Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn’t seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.
   (Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)
   He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin’s Church.
She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish’s two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.
   If it was the assistant pastor, he’d take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."
   After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he’d sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I’d stop by, he’d explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored."
   If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out — and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?"
   "I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.
   "No left turns," he said.
   "What?" I asked.
   "No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.
   As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn."
   "What?" I said again.
   "No left turns," he said. "Think about it.. Three rights are the same as a left, and that’s a lot safer.  So we always make three rights."
   "You’re kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support.
   "No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works."
   But then she added: "Except when your father loses count."
   I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.
   "Loses count?" I asked.
   "Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it’s not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you’re okay again."
   I couldn’t resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked.
   "No," he said " If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day.  Besides, nothing in life is so important it can’t be put off another day or another week."
   My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.
   She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.
   They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom — the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)
   He continued to walk daily — he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he’d fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising — and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.
   One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.
   A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I’m probably not going to live much longer."
   "You’re probably right," I said.
   "Why would you say that?" He countered, somewhat irritated.
   "Because you’re 102 years old," I said..
   "Yes," he said, "you’re right." He stayed in bed all the next day.
   That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.
   He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said:
   "I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet"
   An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:
   "I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have."
   A short time later, he died.
   I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I’ve wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.
   I can’t figure out if it was because he walked through life,
   Or because he quit taking left turns. 
Life is too short to wake up with regrets.  

So love the people who treat you right.  

Forget about those who don’t.  

Believe everything happens for a reason.  

If you get a chance,take it & if it changes your life, let it.

Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it.

ENJOY LIFE NOW – IT HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE!

BEER FACTS

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Think about it.

UP

Read until the end…..you’ll laugh….

This two-letter word in English has more meanings than any other two-letter word,

and that word 
is
‘UP.’  It is listed in the dictionary as an [adv], [prep], [adj], [n] or [v].
It’s easy to understand
UP, meaning toward the sky or at the top of the list, but when we awaken in the morning, why do we wake UP?

At a meeting, why does a topic come UP? Why do we speak UP, and why are the officers UP for 
election
and why is it UP to the secretary to write UP
report? We call
UP our friends, brighten UP a room, polish UP the 
silver, warm
UP the leftovers, and clean UP the kitchen. We lock UP the house and  fix UP the old car.

At other times this little word has real special 
meaning. People stir
UP trouble, 
line
UP for 
tickets, work
UP an appetite, and think UP excuses. 
To be dressed is one 
thing but to be dressed
UP is 
special.

And this UP is confusing:  A drain must be opened UP because it is stopped  UP.
We open UP a store in the morning but we close it UP at 
night.
We seem to be pretty mixed UP about UP !


To be knowledgeable about the proper uses of UP, look UP the word UP in the dictionary.. In a desk-sized 
dictionary, it takes
UP almost 1/4 of the page and can add UP to about 
thirty definitions 
If you are
UP to it, you might try building UP a list of the many ways UP is used. It will take UP a lot of your time, but if you don’t give UP, you may wind UP with a hundred or more. 
When it threatens to rain, we say it is clouding
UP . When the sun comes outwe say it is clearing UP. When it rains, it soaks UP the 
earth. When it does not rain for awhile, things dry
UP.

One could go on & on, but I’ll wrap 
it
UP, for now  ……..my time is UP !


Oh….one more thing: 
What is the first thing you 
do in the morning & the last thing
you do at night? 

U
P !

Did that one crack you UP?

Now I’ll shut UP

Take my Son

 


A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.



When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.



About a month later, just before Christmas,

there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.

He said, ‘Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art.’ The young man held out this package. ‘I know this isn’t much. I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.’

The father

opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. ‘Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It’s a gift.’

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. ‘We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?’

There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, ‘We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.’

But the auctioneer persisted. ‘Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?’

Another voice angrily. ‘We didn’t come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh’s, the Rembrandts. Get on with the

real bids!’


But still the auctioneer continued. ‘The son! The son! Who’ll take the son?’


Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. ‘I’ll give $10 for the painting..’ Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.


‘We have $10, who will bid $20?’


‘Give it to him for $10. Let’s see the masters.’


The crowd was becoming angry.. They didn’t want the picture of the son.


They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.


The auctioneer pounded the gavel. ‘Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!’

A man sitting on the second row shouted, ‘Now let’s get on with the collection!’

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. ‘I’m sorry, the auction is over.’

‘What about the paintings?’

‘I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.

The man who took the son gets everything!’

Hi. It’s been a long time here. All right we all have been using the word bug in our field. When we program something and if we get an error, then we say "Ah, shit ! we got an bug ! ". We has been using this kind of words without knowing how this words came into existence.

Before saying you how this word sneaked into computer field, let us know what is the meaning of bug. A bug is an insect. This word is mostly used in English countries. Now let us travel back in time. Now we are in first generation computers. First generation computers are something really big. You know we can walk inside a first generation computers. A typical first generation computers will have more than 4,00,000 vacuum tubes and completely relies on switches and gears,which inturn has to be operated by humans. For a first generation computer to work properly, humans should change the gears and switches in time. Why because, changing those gears, will make some of the circuits to be closed which is required for a particular operation.

Its a fine time for people at Harvard University. Some of the men at Harvard unversity are working with  MARK II Aiken Relay Calculator. One men asked to change one of the gear for making a circuit to be closed, so that they can get the desired results. nce the man changed the gear, the computer got crashed. So the panel members decided to call the service engineers. The service engineers arrived and as usual inquired what has happened ?

The service engineers started to walk around the computer and one men among the service engineer, said that "I have found a bug". Actually the bug is nothing but a moth. The moth was in one gear. When the other gear was about the encounter the gear which had the moth, the gear hit the moth and the moth suffered a severe crash as a result the moth died on the spot making the circuit open. We know the fact that anything that is dead is a bad conductor of electricity.The two gear is supposed to form a closed circuit, but because of the moth the circuit became open.

The term ‘bug’ was first used by Grace Hopper on September 9th, 1945 when a real bug, a moth, short-circuited an early computer on relay number 70 Panel F, of the MARK II Aiken Relay Calculator, in the Harvard University. The operators of the computer said they had “debugged” the computer, and ever since then the terms has not changed.

A little research with google helped me to get this image.

image

source : http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/pers-us/uspers-h/g-hoppr.htm

Have a garbage-free day

One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport.  We were
driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a
parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his
brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches!
The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started
yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. He was
really friendly.
So I asked, "Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car
and sent us to the hospital!"
This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, ‘The Law of the
Garbage Truck".
He explained that, "Many people are like garbage trucks. They run
around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full
of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to
dump it and sometimes they’ll dump it on you. Don’t take it
personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don’t take
their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on
the streets".
The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks
take over their day. Life’s too short to wake up in the morning with
regrets, so………
Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don’t.
Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!
Have a blessed, garbage-free day.

It comes from Central America and is found from Mexico to Panama. It is quite common in its zone, but it not easy to find because of its transparent wings, which is a natural camouflage mechanism.  
A butterfly with transparent wings is rare and beautiful.  As delicate as finely blown glass, the presence of this rare tropical gem is used by rain forest ecologists as an indication of high habitat quality and its demise alerts them of ecological change.  Rivaling the refined beauty of a stained glass window, the translucent wings of the Glasswing butterfly shimmer in the sunlight like polished panes of turquoise, orange, green, and red.
All things beautiful do not have to be full of color to be noticed: in life that which is unnoticed has the most power.

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BEING A MOTHER…

After 17 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to
take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She
said, ‘I love you, but I know this other woman loves
you and would love to spend some time with you.’
* * *
The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit
was my MOTHER, who has been alone for 20 years,
but the demands of my work and my two boys had
made it possible to visit her only occasionally.
* * *
That night I called to invite her to go out for
dinner and a movie.
* * *
‘What’s wrong, aren’t you well,’ she asked?
* * *
My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a
late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign
of bad news.
* * *
‘I thought it would be pleasant to spend some
time with you,’ I responded. ‘Just the two of us.’
She thought about it for a moment, and then said,
‘I would like that very much.’
* * *
That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick
her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her
house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous
about our date. She waited in the door.
She had curled her hair and was wearing the
dress that she had worn to celebrate her last
birthday on November 19th.
* * *
She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an
angel’s. ‘I told my friends that I was going to go
out with my son, and they were impressed,’ she said,
as she got into that new white van.
‘They can’t wait to hear about our date’.
* * *
We went to a restaurant that, although not
elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my
arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat
down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only
read large print. Half way through the entries, I
lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at
me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. ‘It was I
who used to have to read the menu when you were
small,’ she said. ‘Then it’s time that you relax and
let me return the favor,’ I responded.
* * *
During the dinner, we had an agreeable
conversation- -nothing extraordinary but catching up
on recent events of each other’s life. We talked so
much that we missed the movie.
* * *
As we arrived at her house later, she said,
‘I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me
invite you.’ I agreed.
* * *
‘How was your dinner date ?’
asked my wife when I got home.
‘Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,’
I answered.
* * *
A few days later, my mother died of a massive
heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t
have a chance to do anything for her.
* * *
Some time later, I received an envelope with a
copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place
mother and I had dined. An attached note said:
‘I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that I
could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two
plates – one for you and the other for your wife.
You will never know what that night meant for me.
I love you, son.’
* * *
At that moment, I understood the importance of
saying in time: ‘I LOVE YOU’ and to give our loved
ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is
more important than your family. Give them the time
they deserve, because these things cannot be put off
till ‘some other time.’
* * *
Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back
to normal after you’ve had a baby….. somebody
doesn’t know that once you’re a mother,
‘normal’ is history.
* * *
Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by
instinct … somebody never took a three-year-old shopping.
* * *
Somebody said being a mother is boring ….
somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with
a driver’s permit.
* * *
Somebody said if you’re a’good’ mother,
your child will ‘turn out good’….
somebody thinks a child comes with
directions and a guarantee.
* * *
Somebody said you don’t need an education to be a
mother…. somebody never helped a fourth grader
with his math.
* * *
Somebody said you can’t love the second child as
much as you love the first …. somebody doesn’t
have two children.
* * *
Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother
is labor and delivery….
somebody never watched her ‘baby’ get on the bus
for the first day of kindergarten …
or on a plane headed for military ‘boot camp.’
* * *
Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her
child gets married….somebody doesn’t know that
marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to a
mother’s heartstrings.
* * *
Somebody said a mother’s job is done when
her last child leaves home….
somebody never had grandchildren.
* * *
Somebody said your mother knows you love her,
so you don’t need to tell her….
somebody isn’t a mother.

Pass this along to all the ‘mothers’ in your life
and to everyone who ever had a mother. This isn’t
just about being a mother; it’s about appreciating
the people in your life while you have them….

no matter who that person is.

God Bless All