There was a man who worked for the Post Office whose job was to process all the mail that had illegible addresses. One day, a letter came addressed in a shaky handwriting to God with no address. He thought he should open it to see what it was about.
The letter read:
Dear God, I am an 83 year old widow, living on a very small pension. Yesterday someone stole my purse. It had $ 100 in it, which was all the money I had until my next pension check. Next Sunday is Christmas, and I had invited two of my friends over for dinner. Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with. I have no family to turn to, and you are my only hope. Can you please help me? Sincerely, Edna
The postal worker was touched. He showed the letter to all the other workers. Each one dug into his or her wallet and came up with a few pounds. By the time he made the rounds, he had collected $ 96, which they put into an envelope and sent to the woman. The rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of Edna and the dinner she would be able to share with her friends. Christmas came and went.
A few days later, another letter came from the same old lady to God. All the workers gathered around while the letter was opened. It read:
Dear God, How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of your gift of love, I was able to fix a glorious dinner for my friends. We had a very nice day and I told my friends of your wonderful gift. By the way, there was $ 4 missing. I think it must have been those bastards at the Post Office!
-- An Old Man, Who Just Moved To Montana--
An old cowboy, who just moved to Montana from Texas, walks into a bar and orders three mugs of Bud.
He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn.
When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The bartender approaches and tells the old cowboy,
“You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time.”
The old man replies,
“Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Arizona, the other is in Colorado.
When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I’m drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself.”
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.
The old man becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way.
He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.
One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs.
All the regulars take notice and fall silent.
When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says,
“I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss.”
The old man looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs.
“Oh, no, everybody’s just fine,” he explains.
“It’s just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking.”
“It hasn’t affected my brothers though.”
