“It is part of a good man to do great and noble deeds, though he risk everything.”
I was saddened Sunday when I heard that former Indianapolis Mayor Bill Hudnut had passed away. While Mayor Dick Lugar took our city to the starting gate of its rebirth it was Bill Hudnut who ran the race and took us to where we became the great city Indianapolis is today. He was mayor for an unprecedented 16 years and demonstrated a special brand of leadership.
I had the good fortune to be involved in his efforts from early in his administration until he left office. I will always be grateful for how he facilitated my involvement in our city and its renaissance. What made him special was his love of people and his unbridled optimism. He spent little time finding out why we could not do something and spent most of his time just getting it done. He surrounded himself with good people and he listened to them as he took us forward.
Yep, Mayor Bill was responsible in no small part in how we the people of Indianapolis learned that we could make our city someplace special and he did not do it by jumping in front of the parade but by acting as our guide. I could go on and on for he became a friend and a major influence on my life.
He led a full life as a Presbyterian minister, congressman, mayor, educator and as a caring human being. He is now at peace but he will always live on in the city he helped build and in the hearts of the thousands of people he touched.
So, so long Bill and thanks for everything.
Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.
Mayor Hudnut had a great sense of humor so I will add some again today
Two Alabama State Troopers were chasing a Camaro east on I-20 toward Georgia. When the suspect crossed the Georgia line, the first Trooper pulled over quickly.
The rookie Trooper pulled in behind him and said, “Hey sarge, why did you stop?”
The sarge replied, “Stupid rookie, he’s in Georgia now. They’re an hour ahead of us, so we’ll never catch him.”
Mediocrity thrives on standardization.
A judge was interviewing a woman regarding her pending divorce, and asked, “What are the grounds for your divorce?”
She replied, “About four acres and a nice little home in the middle of the property with a stream running by.”
“No,” he said, “I mean what is the foundation of this case?”
“It is made of concrete, brick and mortar,” she responded.
“I mean,” he continued, “What are your relations like?”
“I have an aunt and uncle living here in town, and so do my husband’s parents.”
He said, “Do you have a real grudge?”
“No,” she replied, “We have a large carport and have never really needed one.”
“Please,” he tried again, “is there any infidelity in your marriage?”
“Yes, both my son and daughter have stereo sets. We don’t necessarily like the music, but the answer to your questions is ‘yes’.”
“Ma’am, does your husband ever beat you up?”
“Yes,” she responded, “about twice a week he gets up earlier than I do.”
Finally, in frustration, the judge asked, “Lady, why do you want a divorce?”
“Oh, I don’t want a divorce,” she replied. “I’ve never wanted a divorce. My husband does. He said he can’t communicate with me.”
Cured ham? No thanks, pal. Cured of what? What if it has a relapse on my plate?
A nervous taxpayer was unhappily conversing with the IRS Tax auditor who had come to review his records. At one point the auditor exclaimed,
“Mr. Carr, we feel it is a great privilege to be allowed to live and work in the USA. As a citizen you have an obligation to pay taxes, and we expect you to eagerly pay them with a smile.”
“Thank goodness,” returned Mr. Carr, with a giant grin on his face from ear to ear” “I thought you were going to want me to pay with cash.”
The first line of the notice said, “Please Take Notice.” … So the guy standing next to me took it.
English has acquired the largest vocabulary of all the world’s languages, perhaps as many as two million words, and has generated one of the noblest bodies of literature in the annals of the human race. Nonetheless, it is now time to face the fact that English is a crazy language — the most loopy and wiggy of all tongues.
In what other language do people drive in a parkway and park in a driveway?
In what other language do people play at a recital and recite at a play?
Why does night fall but never break and day break but never fall?
Why is it that when we transport something by car, it’s called a shipment, but when we transport something by ship, it’s called cargo?
Why does a man get a hernia and a woman a hysterectomy?
Why do we pack suits in a garment bag and garments in a suitcase?
Why do privates eat in the general mess and generals eat in the private mess?
Why do we call it newsprint when it contains no printing but when we put print on it, we call it a newspaper?
Why are people who ride motorcycles called bikers and people who ride bikes called cyclists?
Why — in our crazy language — can your nose run and your feet smell?
My wife says I never listen to her. At least I think that’s what she said.
A wild-eyed man dressed in a Napoleonic costume and hiding his right hand inside his coat entered the psychiatrist’s office and nervously exclaimed, “Doctor, I need your help right away.”
“I can see that,” retorted the doctor. “Lie down on that couch and tell me your problem.”
“I don’t have any problem,” the man snapped. “In fact, as Emperor of France I have everything I could possibly want: money, women, power — everything! But I’m afraid my wife, Josephine, is in deep mental trouble.”
“I see,” said the psychiatrist, humoring his distraught patient. “And what seems to be her main problem?”
“For some strange reason,” answered the unhappy man, “she thinks she’s Mrs. Smith.”
The most precious thing we have is life. Yet it has absolutely no trade-in value.
Father: “Son, I’m very worried about you being at the bottom of your class.”
Son: “Don’t fret Dad. They teach the same stuff to both ends.”
If women can have PMS, then men can have ESPN.
Passing an office building late one night, a blonde saw a sign that said, “Press bell for night watchman.”
She did so, and after several minutes she heard the watchman clomping down the stairs.
The uniformed man proceeded to unlock first one gate, then another, shut down the alarm system, and finally made his way through the revolving door.
“Well,” he snarled at the blonde, “what do you want?”
“I just wanted to know why you can’t ring it for yourself.”
“The first step to be a good man is this: You must deeply feel the burden of the stones someone else carrying.”
Mehmet Murat ildan
Stay well, do good work, and have fun.
Management is not responsible for duplicates from previous dailies. The editor is somewhat senile.
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