In days of old, when knights were bold, this particular knight was leaving for a crusade and called of his squires: "I'm leaving for the crusade. Here is the key to my wife's chastity belt. If, in 10 years, I haven't returned, you may use the key."
The knight sets out on the dusty road, armored from head to toe, and takes one last look at his castle. He sees the squire rushing across the drawbridge, yelling, "Stop! Thank goodness I was able to catch you. This is the WRONG KEY."
Last week the DJ on radio station WZZO in Allentown, PA was discussing David
Hasselhoff, since there was some news item about him. He went on to say that
he liked the show "Knight Rider" much better than "Baywatch".
He said that Knight Rider was more realistic, since he could more easily
believe that there was a talking car than that Pamela Anderson could form
coherent sentences on her own.
Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine.
He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after awhile neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"
And then there is silence in the car. To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Gee, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of more...
Once in medieval times...there was a King who was getting sort of bored after dinner one night. He decided to hold a contest of who at the court had the mightiest "Weapon".
The first knight stood up and proclaimed that he had the mightiest weapon... he pulled down his pants and tied a 5 pound weight around it. The weapon doth rose.
The crowds cheered...the women swooned...the children waved multi-colored banners...and the band played appropriate music.
Another knight stood up and yelled that he had the mightiest weapon. He dropped his pants and tied a 10 pound weight to himself. The weapon doth rose.
The crowds cheered...the women swooned...the children waved multi-colored banners... and the band played appropriate music.
After several more knights tried to prove their superiority...the King finally spoke out. "I have the mightiest weapon of them all!" He dropped his pants and tied, not a 10 pound, not a 20 pound, not ever a 30 pound, but a 40 more...
One night the conversation turned to Richard Adam's book SHARDIK, about an ancient empire ruled by an enormous, semimythical bear. This triggered Doc Webster:
The only way to become a knight in Shardik's empire was to apply for a personal interview with the bear. This had its drawbacks. If he liked your audition, you were knighted on the spot - but if you failed, Lord Shardik was quite likely to club your head off your shoulders with one mighty paw.
Even so, there were many applicants - for the peasantry were poor, and if a candidate failed for knighthood, his family received, by way of booby-prize, a valuable sheepdog from the Royal Kennels. This consoled them, for truly it is written:
"For the mourning after a terrible knight, nothing beats the dog of the bear that hit you."