Finding The Humor In Life|A Place for Laughs|Poetry|Humorous Stories…






Thanks for stopping by Humorous Interludes.

From time to time I will share the “fortune” I find in a fortune cookie I just opened.

I received a large box of them after winning a life changing “contest” I described in this blog on November 4, 2014.

If you are a new reader of, The Fortune Cookie, you should read the fortune cookie story “contest” I just mentioned above. It might make more sense.

Here’s the fortune cookie “thought” for today:

“A lie can have a life of its own.”

I hope you found it enlightening, or thought provoking, or weird, or whimsical, or funny, or just plain satisfying like a good cup of coffee, tea, or a bottle of fine wine.

As Paul Harvey used to say, “Good day”.

© 2014 Ronald J. Yarosh

All rights reserved

Comments on: "The Fortune Cookie For: Dec. 19th, 2014" (3)

  1. Thank you very much, Carla. I appreciate your kind words and support. I hope I can live up to your expectations in the future, I too listened to Mr. Harvey for years. In my he was a real journalist. I also love the Marx Brothers. I have a few of their movies on the DVR right now. I believe Woody Allen used the “club” line in Annie Hall. It’s price less and timeless. Thanks again. Happy holidays. 🙂

  2. I’ve never been much of a “joiner,” for, as Marx said, “I would never join any club which would accept me as a member.”
    That would be Groucho, not Karl of course, seeing as *his* philosophy was pretty much the opposite. Yet here I am, a member of that ever-dwindling group of folks old enough to remember not only Paul Harvey, but Paul McCartney and the Paul of Peter, Paul and Mary as well, to mention a few.

    Since I never planned on living past the age of 18, imagine my surprise upon noticing, recently, (on my birthday just last week, in fact, when my mother called to remind me that she’d risked her life to bring me into this vale of tears, and I replied that it wasn’t *my* idea to be deposited on planet earth and was none too pleased about it, which I thought I’d made very clear, since I was in the breech position when she went into labor, indicating that my strong feeling was that leaving the space I’d called home for the previous nine months would constitute a serious error in judgement, and that the only reason I turned around at the last minute was because everyone was making such a big deal about it, then, once I’d arrived, naked, cold and covered in God knows what, I realized I’d made a mistake and went on a hunger strike for a few days to demonstrate my feelings, which, granted, in retrospect does seem a bit extreme, yet did seem to get the point across), that I am well over half a century old.

    If I were a car, I’d be an antique. Of course, I’d be the kind of antique that’s referred to by collectors as a “road oiler,” which would indicate that my value would more or less be the equivalent of what the chemicals in my human body are worth. Or in brief, somewhere in the neighborhood of $3.50. Although with inflation or fuzzy math (or both) factored in, that figure may be insignificantly skewed, somewhat.

    So thank you for reminding me of Paul Harvey; long before I made listening to talk radio a habit, I would tune in to listen to that distinctive voice, and stay tuned in so I could hear “…and THAT, my friends, is…the rest…of the story.”

    I like your blog for several reasons, but
    chief among them is, naturally, your sense of humor, which I find refreshingly non-cynical, with a simple purity that I appreciate the way a person dying in the heat of a desert welcomes the single raindrop or the smallest amount of dew on the underside of a cactus frond at early dawn.


  3. unless it stumbles into truth and dies….

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