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humor(?) bad enough to kill you on this day


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Not many people recall that the actor Fredric March was into
apiculture. He kept several hives of bees and produced honey for many
of his friends.

Fredric's friend, Sid Caesar went to visit him in his apiary one
spring day but was unable to locate the bee colonies. He did, however,
encounter one of the busy little insects gathering pollen on a nearby
flower so Caesar stopped and asked, "Bee, where're the hives of
March?

..........

It's a little known fact that Julius Caesar did NOT die from stab
wounds, but rather he died from envy.

Caesar and Brutus were master harpists and were often seen in fierce
competition. However, Brutus was more skilled as a composer, giving
him an advantage. Caesar began to lose the battle against the
brilliance of Brutus.

Caesar could surpass Brutus only in arpeggios. However, to Caesar's
dismay he saw that Brutus had produced a masterful practice
composition designed to improve his own arpeggios.

That was the straw that broke Caesar's spirit.

He died shortly thereafter, saying to Brutus with his dying breath,
"Etude, Brutus?"

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So much for a career in stand-up, Tom. Nice try though.

Are you sure about the harps? I was taught that musically it was a time of sax and violins in Rome.

In any case, it'd probably be best if you return to writing song lyrics ... you know, go with what you're good at. :D

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Classroom blunders:

History calls people Romans because they never stayed in one place for very long. At Roman banquets, the guests wore garlics in their hair. Julius Caesar extinguished himself on the battlefields of Gaul. The Ides of March murdered him because they thought he was going to be made king. Nero was a cruel tyranny who would torture his poor subjects by playing the fiddle to them.

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Someone may have posted this one here before - not my invention, certainly.

There is a day coming up in May when all the skunks come out of hibernation and have a big party to celebrate the end of winter.

It's called:
.
.
.
.
.
.
.Wait for it
.
.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.Stinko De Mayo

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what a groaner that one was

​True that. We were hoping no one would remind you of it, but now it'll probably be reposted or linked in May. There isn't enough Negra Modelo in the rerfrigerator to compensate for that joke, although I must admit to having retold it a time or two. ;)

My favorite shaggy dog story is about the depressed saxophone player in Paris, but I don't know if can be told in text without tunes.

But, aha, here it is told in London (IMHO, it's better if you read Paris where it says London):

http://newsgroups.derkeiler.com/Archive/Rec/rec.music.makers.guitar.jazz/2006-08/msg03492.html

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