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  • All you need is a pill....


    The blue pill turns your husband into the man of your dreams, no socks on the floor, he loves talking about feelings - yours and his, he eagerly looks forward to shoe shopping on a Sunday -- even clips coupons. On top of that, he learns how to dance.

    The red pill changes you so that you love who he is. Those socks on the floor become ever so cute, you love reminding him to take out the garbage and it's so much fun telling him 25 times to change the light bulb. Who has time for shoes? And this Sunday, let’s watch an old Clint Eastwood movie - I'll get the beer.

    The only choice you don’t have is to not choose anything. What's it going to be?

    Click on your choice below:




  • Why don't Jews enjoy life?

    I don’t want you to think I am generalizing. Important issues are rarely black or white, however, sophisticated subtleties often get lost in the sound-bite world. Therefore let me be clear, it’s not all Jews; just the ones alive today that are un-happy.

    I know what you think I am saying, that all Jews are un-happy and all Gentiles are happy. Again, this concept just can’t be reduced to an “either this – or that” statement, that’s because some Gentiles are un-happy too (they are the ones keeping Jewish therapists in business).

    But before I explain, please believe me when I tell you that some of my best friends are of the Jewish persuasion….. and they all know someone who is happy.


    Faster than a speeding bullet.
    Able to leap tall buildings with a single bound.
    “What’s that in the sky?"
    "Is it a bird? Is it a plane?”
    “No, it’s mom!”

    Like most people raised with a healthy dose of unhealthy television in their youth, I was led to believe that whatever I or the United States Marine Corp. could not achieve, Superman could. 

    These comic book heroes, which seem to evolve into ever more incredible life forms, have led us to believe if we only had another pair of arms or could see through walls, we could solve all of life’s problems, or at the very least get our teenager off the couch.

    All I can say is Superman hasn’t met my kids.

    So, what is the problem with Superman?

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