In 1983 a driver hit a tree in Michigan. A tree surgeon repaired the damage, and the driver’s insurance paid the $550 bill, but the tree’s owner claimed $15,000 for pain and suffering; he said the “beautiful oak” was like someone dear to him. A lower court threw out the case, and the appeals court agreed. The three-judge panel declared:
We thought that we would never see
A suit to compensate a tree,
A suit whose claim in tort is prest
Upon a mangled tree’s behest;
A tree whose battered trunk was prest
Against a Chevy’s crumpled crest;
A tree that faces each new day
With bark and limb in disarray;
A tree that may forever bear
A lasting need for tender care.
Flora lovers though we three,
We must uphold the court’s decree.
(Fisher v. Lowe, 122 Mich. App. 418, 33 N.W.2d 67)
The following ad appeared in Craiglist:
Yoga mat for sale. Used once at lunch hour class in December 2009. Usage timeline as follows:
Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class package and purchase a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself.
Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It smells of breath, sweat and hot. Take spot on floor in back of room next to cute blonde. We will date.
I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. This is a problem because of the hot blonde to my left and our pending courtship. She will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 30 pounds before I propose to her. Continue reading
A guy goes to a girl’s house for the first time, and she shows him into the living room.
She excuses herself to go to the kitchen to make them a few drinks, and as he’s standing there alone, he notices a cute little vase on the mantel. He picks it up, and as he’s looking at it, she walks back in.
He asks, “What’s this?”
She says, “Oh, my father’s ashes are in there.”
He goes, “Oooh. Uh. Er. I didn’t know. I uh . . .”
She says, “Yeah, he’s too lazy to go to the kitchen to get an ashtray.”
A kind-hearted fellow was walking through New York and was astonished to see an old man, fishing rod in hand, fishing over a pothole.
“Tsk Tsk!” said the passerby to himself. “What a sad sight. That poor old man is fishing over a pothole. I’ll see if I can help.”
So the kind fellow walked up to the old man and asked, “What are you doing, my friend?”
“Fishin’, eh? Well, how would you like to come have a drink with me?”
The old man stood, put his rod away and followed the kind stranger to the corner bar. He ordered a large glass of beer and a fine cigar.
His host, the kind fellow, felt good about helping the old man, and he asked, “Tell me, old friend, how many did you catch this morning?”
The old fellow took a long drag on the cigar, blew a careful smoke ring and replied, “You’re the sixth today, sir!”