Monday, March 26, 2007

SEVERAL FARMERS, idling away a rainy day at the crossroads filling station, got to arguing the merits of various church denominations. All expressed opinions except one old, gray-bearded man who sat quietly whittling but listening attentively.

Finally, someone asked, "What do you think, Grandpa?"

"I'm thinkin'," replied the old man, "that there are three ways from here to the cotton gin. But when you get there, the ginner ain't goin' to ask which way you took. He's goin' to ask, 'How good is your cotton?'"

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