An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna.  The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.  The Mexican replied, “only a little while.” The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish?  The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.  The American then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?”  The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, Maria,  stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos.  I have a full and busy life.” 

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you.  You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat.  With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats.  Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery.  You would control the product, processing, and distribution.  You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City,  then LA and eventually New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.” 

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”  To which the American replied, “15 – 20 years.”  “But what then?” Asked the Mexican.  The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part.  When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich,  you would make millions!”  “Millions – then what?”  The American said, “Then you would retire.  Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

Mum asked us to pick up some dog food from the New World as it was on special. We were standing in the queue at the till. A woman behind us asked if we had a dog. Mike told her that no, that we were starting the “Dog Food” diet again, although we probably shouldn’t because he ended up in the hospital last time, but that he’d lost 50 pounds before waking up in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of his orifices and IVs in both arms.

He told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and the way that it works is to load your trouser pockets with dog food nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so he was going to try it again. I have to mention here that practically everyone in the queue was by now enthralled with Mike’s story, particularly a guy who was behind her.

Horrified, she asked if he’d ended up in the  hospital in that condition because he’d been poisoned. He told her no, it was because he’d been sitting in the road licking his balls and a car hit him.

I thought one guy was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard as he staggered out the door. Stupid cow……….why else would we buy dog food??

Flynn staggered home very late after St Patricks day drinking with his buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary.He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.