Midweek Mirth

One of the misconceptions about being a Christian is non-Christians think we don’t know how to have fun or have a sense of humor. Trust me, if the Big Guy can have a sense of humor when it comes to dealing with us mere mortals, so can we.

The difference for Christians is we don’t have to debase ourselves or others to generate a smile. Laughter at life or ourselves is a gift from God.

Here’s this week’s edition of Midweek Mirth  … so let’s smile a little!


Our culture is so dependent on technology, we don’t even know how to count change back or do simple math any more. A guy ordered a foot-long sandwich from a sub shop the other day, and asked the man to cut it into fourths. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said. “I already cut it in half.”

… and now for the bonus …

Briefly Considered …

Just saw a burglar kicking his own door in. I asked, “What are you doing?” He said, “Working from home.”

If ignorance is bliss, why aren’t most people in a better mood?

I wonder what my dog named me.

I put my grandma on speed dial. I called that Instagram.

I hate it when people act all intellectual and talk about Mozart when they haven’t even seen one of his paintings.

Has COVID-19 forced you to wear glasses and a mask at the same time? You may be entitled to condensation.

THOUGHTS TO REMEMBER: And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh. — Friedrich Nietzsche

About wisdomfromafather

I'm just an ordinary guy walking along the journey of life.
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2 Responses to Midweek Mirth

  1. The night was black, black as the pit,
    but when I woke, ‘twas fancy free,
    and now that death comes down to it
    I’ll live my days in piracy.
    I’ll run my soul before the wind,
    in search of loot, and golden plunder,
    and yes, Peccavi!, I have sinned,
    but I’ll have my share ere I go under,
    and revel in the debauched days
    of wild abandon, wilder sun,
    and sing a jaunty hymn of praise;
    ‘Ere, mate, would ye like some rum?
    Cancer may my soul yet harrow
    but I shall fly like Captain Sparrow.


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