ČŞ2
12-3-2010, 01:39 AM
ÇáÓáÇãÜ ÚáíßãÜ
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:
A Trip to Egypt
Roy wanted to visit Egypt two years ago. But while he was checking out different tour packages, an airplane crashed into the Atlantic. The plane was an Egypt Air flight from New York to Cairo. It had no sooner gotten airborne than it dove straight down into the ocean, killing all on board. There was a great deal of investigation into the crash, but the final conclusion, made after recovering the black box, was that the copilot had decided to take his life, along with all the passengers and crew.
Pat told Roy to forget about flying to Egypt. As his wife of 50 years, she wouldn’t permit it. If he wanted to see the pyramids, she said, he could rent a video or google the pyramids online. Two years went by, and no further crashes occurred. One day Roy told Pat that he was going to Egypt, with or without her approval. He asked her if she wanted to go with him. She said no, thank you—she didn’t have a death wish “like someone I know.”
Roy said that the plane crashed two years ago—she worried too much. He said he was also making a side trip to Israel. Pat said, “Go ahead. I’ll call the funeral parlor so they know you’ll be dropping by.” Roy laughed. He said there was a greater chance of dying in a car accident in their own neighborhood than of being killed by terrorists in Egypt or Israel.
“Yes,” Pat said, “but we have to drive around our neighborhood to do our errands. We don’t have to go
to Egypt and Israel. You’re just tempting fate.”
:
Book Him
A man accused of failing to return more than 700 children’s books to five different libraries in the county was released from jail yesterday after a book publisher agreed to post his bond of $1,000. The publisher said, “There’s a story here. This is a man who loves books. He just can’t let go of them. He hasn’t stolen a single book. So what’s the crime? We think that Mr. Barush has a story to tell. We plan to publish his story.”
When asked why he didn’t return the books, Mr. Barush said, “Well, how could I? They became family to me. I was afraid to return them, because I knew that kids or dogs would get hold of these books and chew them up, throw them around, rip the pages, spill soda on them, get jam and jelly on them, and drown them in the toilet.”
He continued, “Books are people, too! They talk to you, they take care of you, and they enrich you with wisdom and humor and love. A book is my guest in my home. How could I kick it out? I repaired torn pages. I dusted them with a soft clean cloth. I turned their pages so they could breathe and get some fresh air.
“Every week I reorganized them on their shelves so they could meet new friends. My books were HAPPY books. You could tell just by looking at them. Now they’re all back in the library, on the lower shelves, on the floors, at the mercy of all those runny-nosed kids. I can hear them calling me! I need to rescue them. Excuse me. I have to go now.”
:
Eat Your Vegetables
The federal government, displaying even less sense than usual, has yielded to the French fry industry. Frozen French fries—sliced, fried in oil, and then packaged—are now approved as “fresh vegetables” by the US Department of Agriculture.
The French fry industry has been petitioning the USDA for years to get this approval. They say that their product is similar to cucumbers that have a wax coating. They argue that they use 100 percent vegetable oil, which is much healthier for consumers than plain wax.
Most consumers, of course, beg to differ. “You must be joking,” said Annie, 50. “How can you consider a product that’s deep-fried in oil to be a fresh vegetable? Even if I steamed broccoli, I could no longer call it fresh broccoli—it’s cooked! I wish I were a lobbyist, so my congressman would help me. Unfortunately, I’m only a tax-paying citizen.”
The USDA defends its decision, saying that potatoes undeniably are vegetables. Although French fries are fried in oil, they are still potatoes. If you let them sit on your countertop for a couple of weeks, a USDA spokesman said, the fries will rot just like all other fresh vegetables.
Consumer advocates say the USDA has totally lost touch with the consumers. “They'd probably declare that eggshells are nutritious if a lobbyist asked them to,” said one advocate.
:
A Haircut
It was time for a haircut. Lenny didn’t even have to look in the mirror. Even though he was going bald, he knew that he needed to cut his hair every two weeks.
He had a "tongue" of hair on the top of his head. His hair was thinning at the crown. He still had plenty of hair on the sides and back. It was what they call "salt and pepper," a mixture of gray hair and dark brown hair. It was only a few years, he figured, until the salt and pepper became just salt.
He never let his hair grow for more than two weeks. The longer it got, the worse it looked, he thought.
He spread a newspaper over the bathroom sink so that no hair went down the drain. He plugged in the clippers and started cutting his hair. He started at the back of his head, went to the sides, and finished on the top. Every minute or so, he had to clean the hair out of the blades with an old toothbrush.
Finished, he picked up a hand mirror to check out the back of his head. Everything looked okay. He carried the newspaper back out to the kitchen and shook the hair clippings into the trash can.
Then he took a shower.
:
English Is So Hard
Johnny asked Dotty how her first day in her Duarte ESL class was. It was terrible, she told him. She understood little of what the Level 4 teacher said. He spoke too fast for her. She had struggled through a Level 3 class at a Monrovia school.
When the teacher asked if there were any questions, she told him that she didn’t understand most of what he had said. He told her not to worry; she could take the class again if she failed it the first time. She didn’t want to fail it the first time, however, or any time.
He gave them homework the first day, of course. They were supposed to write a 300-word essay supporting gun control. Of course, Dotty said, she could write that essay in her native language. But there was no way she could write it in English. She showed Johnny the textbook. The print was so tiny that trying to read just a few pages gave her a headache. On top of that was all the new vocabulary on each page. “I'm going to drop the class,” she said. She wanted to cry. When was she ever going to learn this language?
ÇÍÈÊí ÓÃÖÚ Èíä ÇíÏíßãÜ ÓáÓáÉ ãä ÇáÞÕÕ ÇáÞÕíÑå .. Ýí ßá ÌÒÁ ÓÃØÑÍ 5 ÞÕÕ Çä ÔÇÁ Çááå
ÇÊãäì Çä ÊÌÏæÇ ãä ÎáÇáåÇ ÇáãÊÚÉ æÇáÝÇÆÏÉ ,,
äÈÏà Úáì ÈÑßÉ Çááå ..
:
A Trip to Egypt
Roy wanted to visit Egypt two years ago. But while he was checking out different tour packages, an airplane crashed into the Atlantic. The plane was an Egypt Air flight from New York to Cairo. It had no sooner gotten airborne than it dove straight down into the ocean, killing all on board. There was a great deal of investigation into the crash, but the final conclusion, made after recovering the black box, was that the copilot had decided to take his life, along with all the passengers and crew.
Pat told Roy to forget about flying to Egypt. As his wife of 50 years, she wouldn’t permit it. If he wanted to see the pyramids, she said, he could rent a video or google the pyramids online. Two years went by, and no further crashes occurred. One day Roy told Pat that he was going to Egypt, with or without her approval. He asked her if she wanted to go with him. She said no, thank you—she didn’t have a death wish “like someone I know.”
Roy said that the plane crashed two years ago—she worried too much. He said he was also making a side trip to Israel. Pat said, “Go ahead. I’ll call the funeral parlor so they know you’ll be dropping by.” Roy laughed. He said there was a greater chance of dying in a car accident in their own neighborhood than of being killed by terrorists in Egypt or Israel.
“Yes,” Pat said, “but we have to drive around our neighborhood to do our errands. We don’t have to go
to Egypt and Israel. You’re just tempting fate.”
:
Book Him
A man accused of failing to return more than 700 children’s books to five different libraries in the county was released from jail yesterday after a book publisher agreed to post his bond of $1,000. The publisher said, “There’s a story here. This is a man who loves books. He just can’t let go of them. He hasn’t stolen a single book. So what’s the crime? We think that Mr. Barush has a story to tell. We plan to publish his story.”
When asked why he didn’t return the books, Mr. Barush said, “Well, how could I? They became family to me. I was afraid to return them, because I knew that kids or dogs would get hold of these books and chew them up, throw them around, rip the pages, spill soda on them, get jam and jelly on them, and drown them in the toilet.”
He continued, “Books are people, too! They talk to you, they take care of you, and they enrich you with wisdom and humor and love. A book is my guest in my home. How could I kick it out? I repaired torn pages. I dusted them with a soft clean cloth. I turned their pages so they could breathe and get some fresh air.
“Every week I reorganized them on their shelves so they could meet new friends. My books were HAPPY books. You could tell just by looking at them. Now they’re all back in the library, on the lower shelves, on the floors, at the mercy of all those runny-nosed kids. I can hear them calling me! I need to rescue them. Excuse me. I have to go now.”
:
Eat Your Vegetables
The federal government, displaying even less sense than usual, has yielded to the French fry industry. Frozen French fries—sliced, fried in oil, and then packaged—are now approved as “fresh vegetables” by the US Department of Agriculture.
The French fry industry has been petitioning the USDA for years to get this approval. They say that their product is similar to cucumbers that have a wax coating. They argue that they use 100 percent vegetable oil, which is much healthier for consumers than plain wax.
Most consumers, of course, beg to differ. “You must be joking,” said Annie, 50. “How can you consider a product that’s deep-fried in oil to be a fresh vegetable? Even if I steamed broccoli, I could no longer call it fresh broccoli—it’s cooked! I wish I were a lobbyist, so my congressman would help me. Unfortunately, I’m only a tax-paying citizen.”
The USDA defends its decision, saying that potatoes undeniably are vegetables. Although French fries are fried in oil, they are still potatoes. If you let them sit on your countertop for a couple of weeks, a USDA spokesman said, the fries will rot just like all other fresh vegetables.
Consumer advocates say the USDA has totally lost touch with the consumers. “They'd probably declare that eggshells are nutritious if a lobbyist asked them to,” said one advocate.
:
A Haircut
It was time for a haircut. Lenny didn’t even have to look in the mirror. Even though he was going bald, he knew that he needed to cut his hair every two weeks.
He had a "tongue" of hair on the top of his head. His hair was thinning at the crown. He still had plenty of hair on the sides and back. It was what they call "salt and pepper," a mixture of gray hair and dark brown hair. It was only a few years, he figured, until the salt and pepper became just salt.
He never let his hair grow for more than two weeks. The longer it got, the worse it looked, he thought.
He spread a newspaper over the bathroom sink so that no hair went down the drain. He plugged in the clippers and started cutting his hair. He started at the back of his head, went to the sides, and finished on the top. Every minute or so, he had to clean the hair out of the blades with an old toothbrush.
Finished, he picked up a hand mirror to check out the back of his head. Everything looked okay. He carried the newspaper back out to the kitchen and shook the hair clippings into the trash can.
Then he took a shower.
:
English Is So Hard
Johnny asked Dotty how her first day in her Duarte ESL class was. It was terrible, she told him. She understood little of what the Level 4 teacher said. He spoke too fast for her. She had struggled through a Level 3 class at a Monrovia school.
When the teacher asked if there were any questions, she told him that she didn’t understand most of what he had said. He told her not to worry; she could take the class again if she failed it the first time. She didn’t want to fail it the first time, however, or any time.
He gave them homework the first day, of course. They were supposed to write a 300-word essay supporting gun control. Of course, Dotty said, she could write that essay in her native language. But there was no way she could write it in English. She showed Johnny the textbook. The print was so tiny that trying to read just a few pages gave her a headache. On top of that was all the new vocabulary on each page. “I'm going to drop the class,” she said. She wanted to cry. When was she ever going to learn this language?