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The Humor Mill has been around for more than a decade, having begun as a simple email newsletter designed to bring smiles to people at their workplaces and homes. Once a week, we sent out an email with a bunch of jokes, both visual and verbal, to a very limited number of recipients.  It was suggested that we create a web site, and post all the jokes we'd received, so that people could visit the site at their leisure, and not have to wade through increasingly longer emails.

And so, by popular demand - yes, there really is such a thing! - we became a web site, on which a whole bunch of stuff appeared. Jokes, cartoons, and pictorials were published whenever the editor had time, and there was a sufficient amount of new material. And then an email notice would go out to let our friends know that they could have a few laughs by visiting the Humor Mill web site.

Then, a strange thing happened. The Humor Mill grew way out of all proportion, with numerous side shows, and pages dedicated to people who sent a lot of material. And people stopped visiting, because at the same time, it became unruly and difficult to navigate. Simply put, it became very difficult to know where the new material was, so people simply gave up.

What happened next? You asked, and here is the answer: The Humor Mill returned to its humble beginnings. No, we're not going to send around jokes in an email, but we are going to clear out whole bunches of stuff, and return to a single page containing all the simple humor you came to enjoy and expect from us.

Just remember, we were the first; we have been and will continue to be the best, too!  Visit us in a couple of weeks and see for yourselves. Then tell your friends to come see the change and laugh at our expense.

- The Editor.


This is something to think about when negative people are doing their best to rain on your parade So remember this story the next time

A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband.  She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded: " Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded and dirty. You're crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?"

"We're taking United Airlines," was the reply. "We got a great rate!"

United Airlines?" exclaimed the hairdresser. "That's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they're always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?"

"We'll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome's Tiber River called Teste."

"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its going to be something special and exclusive, but it's really a dump."

"We're going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope."

"That's rich," laughed the hairdresser. "You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it."

A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.

"It was wonderful," explained the woman, "not only were we on time in one of United Airlines' brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel was great! They'd just finished a $5 million remodeling job, and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite at no extra charge!"

"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "that's all well and good, but I know you didn't get to see the Pope."

"Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me."

"Oh, really! What'd he say?"

He said, "Who fucked up your hair?"

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