Funny Stories: Coughy Filter

Just went to Starbucks and the barista was wearing a face mask.

I asked “Why are you wearing a surgical mask?”

She said “I’m not. It’s a coughy filter.”

Two rednecks are out hunting, and as they’re walking along they come upon a huge hole in the ground. They approach it and are amazed by the size of it.

The first hunter says, “Wow, that’s some hole. I can’t even see the bottom. I wonder how deep it is?”  The second hunter says,” I don’t know, let’s throw something down and listen and see how long it takes to hit bottom.”

The first hunter says, “There’s an old gearbox over there, give me a hand and we’ll throw it in and see”.  So they pick it up and carry it over, and count one, and two and three, and throw it in the hole.

They are standing there listening and looking over the edge and they hear a rustling in the brush behind them. As they turn around they see a goat come crashing through the brush, run up to the hole with no hesitation, and jump in headfirst.

While they are standing there looking at each other, then gazing into the hole, and trying to figure out what that was all about, an old farmer walks up.

“Say there”, says the farmer, “You fellers didn’t happen to see my goat around here anywhere, did you?”

The first hunter says “Funny you should ask, but we were just standing here a minute ago and a goat came running out of the bushes doin’ about a hunert miles an hour and jumped headfirst into this hole here!”

And the old farmer said... “Why that’s impossible, I had him chained to an old gearbox!”

A number of years ago, the Seattle Symphony was doing Beethoven’s Ninth under the baton of Milton Katims.

At this point, you must understand two things:

There’s a long segment in this symphony where the bass violins don’t have a thing to do. Not a single note for page after page.

There used to be a tavern called Dez’s 400, right across the street from the Seattle Opera House, rather favored by local musicians.

It had been decided that during this performance, after the bass players had played their parts in the opening of the Ninth, they were to quietly lay down their instruments and leave the stage rather than sit on their stools looking and feeling dumb for twenty minutes.

Once they got backstage, someone suggested that they trot across the street and quaff a few brews. After they had downed the first couple rounds, one said, “Shouldn’t we be getting back? It’d be awfully embarrassing if we were late.”

Another, presumably the one who suggested this excursion in the first place, replied, “Oh, I anticipated we could use a little more time, so I tied a string around the last pages of the conductor’s score. When he gets down to there, Milton’s going to have to slow the tempo way down while he waves the baton with one hand and fumbles with the string with the other.”

So they had another round and finally returned to the Opera House, a little tipsy by now. However, as they came back on stage, one look at their conductor’s face told them they were in serious trouble. Katims was furious! And why not? After all...

It was the bottom of the Ninth, the score was tied, and the basses were loaded.