Jim Foster

I can see where he, and his wife too, probably, could end up in a cardiac ward.

I must admit the first ten viewings I missed most of the plots looking for Emma’s bottom.

My doctors had developed the annoying habit of calling in their associates while I was still on the scales and saying odd things, like “That can’t be right, can it?”

But wait there’s more! Suddenly Mr. Rachmaninoff was no longer sad. And do you know why? He realized that having all kinds of money means nothing…

That isn’t part of the story either. That is what we story tellers call useless information just like the stuff our representatives at Queens Park and Ottawa send every year in their Christmas messages.

Fortunately our dear friend, Faye Peters, noticed my predicament and called it to my attention quietly so that only Gary, her beloved, my dear wife, and a few hundred other bathers were aware of my embarrassment.

And so the children were now orphans and since the Conservatives were in power, all 15 kids were tossed out in the street to fend for themselves.

I got away with some pretty far-out stuff about the First Christmas and surprisingly got few comments from the audience when I stepped over the line.

Well drifted is hardly the right word since a cruiser picked her up and two members of the vice squad hauled him in for questioning.

I have to be careful here since it wasn’t my intention to cast aspersions, or for that matter anything else, on anyone, but it was during the dryer business that a political hopeful knocked on our door