From the Devil’s Dictionary

“Alone, adj. In bad company.

“Babe or baby, n. A misshapen creature of no particular age, sex, or condition, chiefly remarkable for the violence of the sympathies and antipathies it excites in others.

“Day, n. A period of twenty-four hours, mostly misspent.

“Egotist, n. A person of low taste, more interested in himself than in me.

“Miracle, n. An act or event out of the order of nature and unaccountable, as beating a normal hand of four kings and an ace with four aces and a king.

“Misfortune, n. The kind of fortune that never misses.

“Money, n. A blessing that is of no advantage to us excepting when we part with it.

“Patience, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue.

“Peace, n. In international affairs, a period of cheating between two periods of fighting.

“Quotation, n. The act of repeating erroneously the words of another.

“Success, n. The one unpardonable sin against one’s fellows.

“Tail, n. The part of an animal’s spine that has transcended its natural limitations to set up an independent existence in a world of its own.” — Ambrose Bierce

Humor

Post Scripts

Limerick Laughs

Your limerick could win $100! To find out how, read on.

One day while baby-sitting my then 7-year-old granddaughter, Elizabeth, my husband and I took her to the mall. As we were walking, she spotted the directory of stores with the “You are here” designation. Rather surprised, she said, “Gee, how did they know where we were going to be before we got here?” Suzan L. [...]

What’s His Line

My son, who works for the State Department, has never said much about his job to his 6-year-old son, Seth. This was evident one day recently when I visited and asked my grandson what his daddy did for a living. Seth thought for a moment and replied, “I think he works for the Secret Circus.” [...]

Circumstances

Of jobs it’s true today, There’s a disastrous dearth. Grown kids move home to stay. You’re back to giving berth. Lois Muehl Iowa City, Iowa

No Matter How You Slice It

A guy orders a pizza. When it’s ready, the counterman asks, “Shall I cut it into four or eight pieces?” “Better make it four. I don’t think I can eat eight.” Harold Goldwasser Los Angeles, California