Late one night, a DC-8 airplane crashed on the outskirts of Pueblo, Colorado. When the authorities investigated, they found the crew had disappeared, perhaps because the plane was loaded with three tons of marijuana.

Well, what do you do with three tons of marijuana? The officers rented a nearby warehouse in which to store the "grass" while they determined how to dispose of it. They finally decided that the marijuana would have to be burned. Of course, you can't just burn that much "grass" near a populated area. The entire population might end up high-as-a kite if the wind was from the wrong direction.

After weeks of searching, an abandoned incinerator was found in the nearby San Luis Valley. Plans were made to transport the marijuana to the site, but, as so often happens, a group of environmentalists heard of the project and objected. They were aware that a rare breed of tern nested along the shores of a lake just south of the incinerator site. There was concern that the smoke from burning three tons of marijuana might disturb the terns.

An injunction was issued to stop the proposed burn. The usual court proceedings dragged on for months and years before the environmentalists lost the case.

A few days later, the marijuana was taken to the incinerator site and all the necessary preparations for the big burn were completed. The same morning the "grass" was burned, the terns took to the wing to migrate north.

The terns flew directly over the incinerator and, as you might guess: There wasn't a tern left unstoned.

Richard, does your mother know you do this?

One good tern deserves another.....


A sailor trying to sneak back to his ship about 3 o'clock in the morning was spotted by a chief petty officer who ordered him to explain his tardiness. The lame explanation didn't work.

"Take this broom and sweep every link on this anchor chain by morning or it's the brig for you," the chief said. The sailor began to sweep, but a tern landed on the broom handle and he couldn't continue. He yelled at the bird, but it didn't budge. He finally plucked it off the broom and gave it a toss. But the bird came right back and again landed on the handle. Over and over, the same routine was repeated. A toss, one sweep, and the bird was back.

When morning came, the chief also was back. "What have you been doing all night? This chain is no cleaner than when you started!" "Honest, chief," said the sailor, "I tossed a tern all night and couldn't sweep a link."