A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

"Not very long," answered the Mexican.

"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.

The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I have a full life."

The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

"And after that?" asked the Mexican.

"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."

"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.

"And after that?"

"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!"

"Millions? Really? And after that?" asked the Mexican.

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."



And the moral of this story is: ......... Know where you're going in life... you may already be there.

Apple Does it Again....

Apple announced today that it has developed a breast implant that can store and play music. The iBoob will cost from $499 to $699, depending on cup and speaker size.

This is considered a major social breakthrough, because women are always complaining about men staring at their breasts and not listening to them.

To: All Employees
From: Management
Date: December 23, 2009
Subject: Holiday Downsizing
Seasons Greetings:
The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole.
Streamlining was appropriate in view of the reality that the North Pole no longer dominates the season's gift distribution business. Home shopping channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share and he could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture.
The reindeer downsizing was made possible through the purchase of a late model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard Business School, is anticipated and should take up the slack with no discernible loss of service. Reduction in reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has been cited and received unfavorable press.
I am pleased to inform you and yours that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole. Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose got that way not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of year when he is known to be under executive stress.
As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary:
The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance.
The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated.
The three French hens will remain intact. (After all, everyone loves the French.)
The four calling birds were replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked.
The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals as well as a mix of T-Bills and high technology stocks appear to be in order.
The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from now on every goose it gets will be a good one.
The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes and therefore enhance their outplacement.
As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching.
Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps.
Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the expense of international air travel prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen this year.
Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce savings which will drop right down to the bottom line.We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved.
Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing"), action is pending.
Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to stay competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number

'Twas the Internet Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hackers a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.
The emails were stacked by the modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Javascript danced in their dreams.
My wife on the sofa, and me with a snack,
Had just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).

When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
To a new page my ol' Mac flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle and started to crash.

I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.

When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then Nick glanced at my screen and Mac called them by name:

"Now Compaq! Now Acer!" my speaker did reel.
"On Apple! On Gateway!" Santa started to squeal.
"Jump on the circuits! And into the chip!
Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing rip!"

The screen gave a flicker, he was into my RAM,
Then into my room came a full hologram!
He was dressed all in red, from his head to his shoes,
Which were black (with white socks he really should lose).

He pulled out some discs he had stored in his pack.
He looked like a dude who was rarin' to hack!
His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno!
This ain't the same Santa that I used to know!

With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Santa soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word. Gave my Mac a quick poke,
And accessed my hard drive with only a stroke.

He defragged my hard drive and added a DIMM,
And threw in some cool games, just on a whim!
He worked without noise, his fingers they flew!
He distorted some pictures with Kai's Power Goo!

He updated Office, Excel and Quicken,
Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken!
My eyes widened a bit at the work of this gnome,
As he instantly added a new version of Chrome.

The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased,
St. Nick coyly smiled, the computer appeased.
Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose,
Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros!

He flew back into my screen and through my uplink,Back into the net with barely a blink.
But I heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight,
"Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!"

'Twas the night after Christmas and all through the trailer,
The beer had gone flat and the pizza was staler.
The tube socks hung empty, no candies or toys,
And I was camped out on my old Lay-Z-Boy.

The kids they weren't talking to me or my wife,
The worst Christmas, they said, they had had in their lives.
My wife couldn't argue and neither could I,
So I watched TV and my wife, she just cried.

When out in the yard the dog started barkin',
I stood up and looked and I saw Sheriff Larkin.
He yelled, "Roy, I am sworn to uphold the laws
And I got a complaint here from a feller named Claus."

I said, "Claus, I don't know nobody named Claus,
And you ain't taking me in without probable cause."
Then the Sheriff he said, "The man was shot at last night."
I said, "That might have been me, just what's he look like?"

The Sheriff replied, "He's a jolly old feller, with a big beer gut belly,
That shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly.
He sports a long beard, and a nose like a cherry."
I said, "Sheriff that sounds like my wife's sister, Sherri."

"It's no time for jokes, Roy," the Sheriff, he said.
"The man I'm describing is dressed all in red.
I'm here for the truth now, it's time to come clean.
Tell me what you've done, tell me what you've seen."

Well I started to lie then I thought what the he..,
It wouldn't have been the first time that I've spent New Years in jail.
I said, Sheriff, it happened last night about ten,
And I thought that my wife had been drinking again.

When she walked in from work she was as white as a ghost.
I thought maybe she had seen one of them UFO's.
But she said that a bunch of deer had just flown over her head,
And stopped on the roof of our good neighbor, Red.

Well, I ran outside to look and the sight made me shudder,
A freezer full of venison standing right on Red's gutter.
Well, my hands were a shakin' as I grabbed my gun,
When outta Red's chimney this feller did run.

And slung on his back was this bag over flowin';
I thought he'd stolen Red's stuff while old Red was out bowling'.
So I yelled, "Drop, fat boy! Hands in the air!"
But he went about his business like he hadn't a care.

So I popped a warning shot over his head.
Well, he dropped that bag and he jumped in that sled
And, as he flew off, I heard him extort,
"That's assault with intent, Roy. I'll see ya in court!"