HERE IS THE PUZZLE

Are you smart enough?
This puzzle is called Lateral Thinking.
Think like a wizard . . .


ground
-------------------------
feet feet feet feet feet feet


WHAT IS IT???

OK! HERE'S THE ANSWER TO THE ABOVE PUZZLE!

" 6 FEET UNDERGROUND"

LAUGHTER'S THE BEST MEDICINE

THE CHAUFFEUR

Mrs. Winterly was a very rich woman. Her husband was a multi-millionaire. She was quite young and he was quite old. She was twenty-eight and he was fifty-eight. They lived in a very large house in England. Mrs. Winterly never cooked or cleaned the house. She never worked and she never drove a car. When she wanted to go anywhere she would call Charles. Charles was her chauffeur. Mr. Winterly travelled a lot. He flew to many countries to do business. Mrs. Winterly did not like to fly so she often stayed at home. Once Mr. Winterly went to America for a week. Mrs. Winterly decided to go shopping so she walked to the garage to find Charles. She found him in his room above the garage.

Mrs. Winterly looked at him and said in a whisper,

“Charles, take off my hat”
“Certainly, madam,” Charles replied.

Then he took off Mrs. Winterly’s hat.

“Charles, take off my coat.”
“Certainly, madam,” Charles replied.

Then he took off Mrs. Winterly’s coat.

“Charles, take off my shoes.”
“Certainly, madam,” Charles replied.

Then he took off Mrs. Winterly’s shoes.

“Charles, take off my dress.”
“Certainly, madam,” Charles replied.

Then he took off Mrs. Winterly’s dress.

Then, Mrs. Winterly looked deep into the eyes of the chauffeur and said,

…“AND DON’T YOU DARE TO WEAR MY CLOTHES AGAIN!”…

(extracted from Lessons With Laughter – London 1996)

10 WISE QUESTIONS

I've found these questions interesting among friends. It's amazing what the simple answers to these questions reveal about a person's thoughts, feelings and beliefs. These 10 questions originally came from a French TV series, "Bouillon de Culture" hosted by Bernard Pivot. It is probably more familiar to many as the questions James Lipton (photo) asks at the end of the American TV series "Inside the Actor's Studio." Try to exercise them with your students and friends. H.C.


01. What is your favorite word?

02. What is your least favorite word?

03. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

04. What turns you off?

05. What is your favorite curse word?

06. What sound or noise do you love?

07. What sound or noise do you hate?

08. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

09. What profession would you not like to participate?

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

"BRITALIAN FOOD"

CLAUDIO HENRIQUE CALDAS MATTOS

I was reading an article the other day about “Britalian Food”, which is the Italian food sold in British supermarkets that doesn’t follow the original recipe and tastes differently. And it highlights the fact that British are taking advantage of Italian’s food popularity putting the authetic ingredients behind and changing it in order to satisfy the costumers.


I thought it might be outstanding because it is important to focus on keeping authenticity not only in Italian food but all of the other kinds of popular food, around the globe, like Thai, Chinese and Indian.

Basically, what it introduces is that quality has been compromised, in favor of low costs reaching popularity. The great supermarkets have such a large share of the market these days, that they can easily drive down prices and also they can shop around for the cheapest products, which is not the same as the best original ones.

What surprised me the most was the fact that if the supermarkets and companies did 100 per cent authentic produce and recipes, the customers would not be ready for using it with great satisfaction. I agree with it when it claims a balance, that means you can’t follow the recipe totally otherwise it will not make sucess, but also you can’t lose the original culture.

cacaldas2005@gmail.com
carpediemclaudio.blogspot.com
supertextosclaudio.blogspot.com

WHY CAN'T THE REST OF THE WORLD GET ALONG!?

MOTHER TIGER

In a zoo in California , a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to complications in the pregnancy, the cubs were born prematurely and due to their tiny size, they died shortly after birth.

The mother tiger after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically she was fine. The veterinarians felt that the loss of her litter had caused the tigress to fall into a depression. The doctors decided that if the tigress could surrogate another mother's cubs, perhaps she would improve.

After checking with many other zoos across the country, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce to the mourning mother. The veterinarians decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment.

Sometimes a mother of one species will take on the care of a different species. The only "orphans" that could be found quickly, were a litter of weanling pigs. The zoo keepers and vets wrapped the piglets in tiger skin and placed the babies around the mother tiger. Would they become cubs or pork chops? Take a look, you won't believe your eyes!!

Now, please tell me ..........why can't the rest of the world get along?

Editor's Note:
The text above was supplied by Ana Ligia Almeida a friend and a very good English teacher.

WORD OF THE DAY

Dilly-Dally

Function: verb (no object)

Inflected forms:
dilly-dallies; dilly-dallied; dilly-dallying

Status: informal

Meaning: to waste time
e.g. "We need to stop dilly-dallying (dawdling, fooling around) and get to work."

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"The first draught a man drinks ought to be for thirst, the second for nourishment, the third for pleasure, the fourth for madness."
William Shakespeare - Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 - 1616)

LAUGHTER'S THE BEST MEDICINE

NAVAJO CULTURE

Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona
when she saw an elderly Navajo woman walking on the side of the road.

As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she would like a ride.

After a bit of small talk while resuming the journey, the Navajo woman noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.

"What's in the bag?" asked the woman.
Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, "It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband."

The Navajo woman was silent for a moment, then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder said, "Good trade."

Teaching Tips & Ideas

POLITE FORMS IN ENGLISH

There are many ways of asking people to do things. You can order people: “Stand up!” “Go to bed!” These are all right in military situations, but orders or commands like these are not usually very polite in ordinary conversation.

In everyday conversation, you "request" people to do things, not "order" them: “Stand up, please”. “Sit down, please”. “Go to bed, please”. And to be more polite, you ask people if they will do things. “Will you bring me a cup of coffee, please?” “Would you sit down, please?”

In general, direct commands or requests are not as polite as less direct ones. A direct order or request is “harsh”, and you can “soften” it with “Please…. “Will you….?” Or “Would you….?” In other words, you can soften it by making it less direct. The more you soften a request, the more polite it becomes.

Compare “Be quiet!” and “Would you please be quiet for just a few minutes?” Actually, the expression “be quiet” is a little bit harsh in meaning, and you can soften it by using “quiet down,” “lower your voice,” or …. not talk for a few minutes.”

In learning a language, it is very important to find out how speakers of that language show politeness. In English, people show politeness or rudeness by the use of three important features:

1 – Sentence structure Will you….please? Would you mind?
2 – Choice of words be quiet or quiet down, instead of the rude
form shut up.
3 – Intonation of the voice in general, final rise for politeness,
instead of final fall.

THE CITY OF THE LONER - Chapter 16

THE
NINTH DAY

It’s almost ten o’clock.
I woke up a few minutes ago and am still sleepy. The torture of silence of the Maximum Security Prison has already begun in this useless institution. At this moment, my body and soul ache recalling the contrast between last night’s riotous noise and this morning’s terrible calm.

I have to write.
I need to kill time.
There are still three days — three centuries — until I will be released.
The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is to pass by the Town Square to relieve my curiosity. I will look at the Loner’s Trophy that now reflects Champion’s features.

On the way there, I’ll stop for a protective dip in the waters of the manmade lake, The Lake of the City. Then I’ll pick up my mother and father and together we’ll go to the CSC to see the Gallery of Heroes for the first time. It will be moving to see the four of us lined up in a row of portraits: Teto, the hero of the Waters; Silvio, the hero of track and field; and my own face along side Pilungo’s as the heroes of the stadium. I know my heart will fill with pride. And as my family and I look up, from above, watching over us all for all posterity we will see the City’s greatest hero of all: Champion.

THE END



THE AUTHOR
Luiz Gonzaga Lopes, was born under the sign of Taurus, on May 18, in the city of Campina Grande, in the state of Paraiba, Brazil. In the Borborema foothills, was born his passion for learning that would lead him to a doctorate in Economics. Since what seems forever to him, he worked for the Bank of Brazil as well as doing consulting work for private enterprises.

Working not only as full professor in the College of Economic Science and the School of Engineering, at the Federal University of Campina Grande, he also lectured in the College of Social Services at Paraiba State University.

In Recife, the capital of the state of Pernambuco, he met his wife, Silvia and the Limongi Lopes clan came into being with the birth of their three sons: Tercio, Marcio, and Silvio Luiz. He doesn’t know exactly what prompted him to try his hand at writing. It's a mistery.

Yet, he enjoys vivid memories of the publishing of his first novel, A Imagem Refletida (The Reflected Image), followed by Entre Aspas (Quote, End Quote), Presença Poética (Poetic Presence), Página Rasgada de um Diário (Torn from a Diary), A Competição (The Contest) and Somos Iguais (Equals).

THE TRANSLATOR

Martha Luhrs Viegas, was born on July 17, 1951 in Toledo, Ohio. Her love of reading was nurtured by her parents who were avid readers and by the Homeville Circle Toledo Public Library.

When Sputnik frightened Americans into the need to know foreign languages, she began a long, unsuccessful struggle to learn French in elementary school. Sadly, even after receiving Bachelor of Arts degree in English from Miami University, she was dismally deficient in language learning.

Upon meeting Brazilian exchange students at Miami U, however, the seed for wanting to master a language was planted and resulted in her seeking a Peace Corps assignment in Brazil, where she would acquire the language through living.

Thirty some years later, Mrs. Viegas, still has an atrocious accent in Portuguese, due to daily English teaching at the American School of Recife. Her love of Portuguese language and the Brazilian people have brought with it insights into the culture that made it possible for her to translate more than words. Mrs. Viegas takes readers into the magic reality of Luiz Gonzaga Lopes in The City of the Loner.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

I don't want to achieve immortality through my work... I want to achieve it through not dying. Woody Allen - US movie actor, comedian, & director

LAUGHTER'S THE BEST MEDICINE

George and his wife Martha went to the state fair every year and every year George would say,

- "Martha, I'd like to ride in that airplane over there."

And every year Martha would say,

- "I know George, but that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars."

One year George and Martha went to the fair and George said,

- "Martha, I'm 71 years old. If I don't ride that airplane this year I may never get another chance."

Martha replied,

- "George, that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars."

The pilot overheard them and said,

- "Folks, I'll make you a deal, I'll take you both up for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say one word, I won't charge you, but if you say one word it's ten dollars."

George and Martha agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word was heard. He did all his tricks over again, but still not a word. They landed and the pilot turned to George,

- "By golly, I did everything I could think of to get you to yell out, but you didn't."

George replied,

- "Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out, but ten dollars is ten dollars."

WORD OF THE DAY

DUFF

Function: noun (count)

Plural: DUFFS

Status: US, informal

Meaning:
The part of the body you sit on : buttocks

e.g.: "Get off your duff (butt, rear) and help me!"

Teaching Tips & Ideas

LET’S FACE IT! ENGLISH IS A CRAZY LANGUAGE - PART 1

We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes; but the plural of ox became oxen not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice; yet the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is always called men, why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

If I spoke of my foot and show you my feet, and I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those, yet hat in the plural would never be hose, and the plural of cat is cats, not cose.

We speak of a brother and also of brethren, but though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, now imagine the feminine, she, shis and shim...!

THE CITY OF THE LONER - Chapter 15

A VICTORY CELEBRATION

It hadn’t lasted long.
Not a single hour had passed during my absence from the Maximum Security Prison. After five days of suffocation within those walls, my escape opened a valve flowing with oxygen and I came back to life. My liberty, though short-lived, gave me the strength to finish off my time. During my stolen freedom I had lived intensely. I had lived my moment of glory and would never forget the happy faces of my fans, smiling, whistling, and yelling as they applauded my unforgettable ride on the shoulders of Chief of Police.

Five days of confinement had opened my eyes and taught me that only those who could control their actions deserve to be free.

I had learned my lesson.
From now on, I would be careful. I hoped that I would not run into anyone who would provoke my temper, but if I did, I promised myself I would control the rage that had landed me in jail for nine days.

In the good hands of Cheif of Police and Judge, I was quickly and painlessly returned to the Maximum Security Prison in the comfort of Judge’s automobile.

I found it strange that he parked the car far from the prison and that he tiptoed in, quietly as a cat. Later, I realized that he wanted to check to see that Jailer was still locked up.

Silently opening the door, he listened carefully.
His eyes scanned the premises. The noise that emerged from within the prison was that of a lock being opened from inside. Judge’s heartbeat calmed down with relief. Jailer had obeyed his order.

“How can I help you, your honor?” he called from his cell.
“Here is the fugitive!” the judge answered.
No one needed to show me the way since I already knew where I was headed.
Back in my cell, I observed Jailer in the cell across from mine. His posture was the same as always — passive, eyes closed, and ears plugged into radio headphones.

Out of the blue, I came up with an idea. I asked Jailer for paper and a pencil and began to write just to kill time. Every once in awhile, I’d stop writing to check out Jailer’s indifference. In his expression, I hunted for a clue as to what was going on at the game. Finally, though I don’t know what I saw in his face, I knew that the game had ended with CC’s victory, thanks to Champion’s bold plan, Pilungo’s great defense, my goal, and to be fair, thanks to Jailer.

Ecstatic, after a while, I stopped jumping for joy and got back to my writing. The rest of my sentence in this lonely, silent hell no longer bothered me. When night fell, I stopped writing. In the distance, I heard the clamor of a multitude interspersed with firecrackers. It reminded me of the stadium. I listened more carefully and noticed that the volume was rising and seemed to be approaching. Fans armed with aqua flags were celebrating CC’s victory.

Making a deafening noise, the excited crowd that left the CSC, marched directly to the Maximum Security Prison. All of the fans, from the most humble to the most important, had joined the procession. In front was Priest with his robes flapping. With him were my parents, Secretary, Mayor, all of the CC team and Champion.

Even Chief of Police accompanied the group!
Only Judge was absent, because as everyone knows, he is not interested in sports.

I thought that I would die of happiness knowing that crowd outside was there on my behalf.
I jumped out of bed, stuck my arms out of the prison bars, and basked in the excitement. Everyone talked, yelled, sang, smiled, applauded in a cacophony, which ended only upon the arrival of Sazefeem playing the City Club fight song. After the last few chords, the captain, Commander, managed to silence the crowd, so he could begin the surprise solemnity planned for Champion, in the event that CC would win the inaugural game. Commander spoke as loud as humanly possible so that the fans could hear.

“On behalf of my CC teammates and the population of the City, as a token of our gratitude, we would like our coach, who is celebrating his birthday today, to accept the Loner’s Trophy."

Before finishing his sentence, Commander handed the splendid trophy to Champion, who as we expected was speechless. Overcome by emotion, he raised the trophy above his head. His vision clouded as tears washed down his face.

Mayor made a short speech expressing his great joy in not only for CC’s victory, but for all of the advantages the opening of the CSC had brought the City. He asked Secretary to read aloud the official decree that as mayor, he had signed that very afternoon.

“What’s going on?” people wondered.
Soon curiosities were appeased as Secretary proceeded to read the three items authorized by the Mayor. Looking quite uncomfortable, Secretary, who had been inching away from the mayor, returned to read the document.

Section 1

By the powers invested in me by the Municipal Constitution, as Mayor of the City, I hereby

A – commission Painter to produce a portrait of the Loner and his friends; and

B – request that said portraits be displayed in the existing frames in the City Museum’s Gallery of City Founders.

When he finished reading the first item, speaking rapidly, Secretary turned to Mayor, spitting out information:

“This request has already been fulfilled: the portraits of the Loner and his 100 friends are ready for viewing, each in its appropriate frame.”

Many people found the Secretary’s behavior odd. With beads of sweat sparkling on his forehead and upper lip, he seemed nervous and hurried. He did not even wait for applause to die down, before rushing through the second item.

Section 2

By the powers invested in me by the Municipal Constitution as Mayor of the City, I hereby

A– Commission Photographer to take portrait shots of the City’s authorities and distinguished citizens, whose names are listed in an appendix attached to this decree; and

B– request that said photographs be displayed in the existing frames in the City Museum’s Gallery of City Authorities and Distinguished Citizens.

After wiping at his face with his handkerchief, Secretary cleared his throat and zipped through the list of names.

Authorities:

Mayor
Judge
Priest
Chief of Police

After another quick pause, he read the very short list of distinguished citizens. In fact, the list included only one name: my father’s.

Just as before, when Secretary finished reading, he announced in a proud, but shaky voice:

“This edict has also already been taken care of. All of the photographs are hanging in their appropriate places.”

Whereas after the first notice he didn’t wait for applause to fade, this time he didn’t give the crowd any time to react at all before he started reading again.

Item 3

By the powers invested in me by the Municipal Constitution as Mayor of the City, I hereby request

A – that a Gallery of Heroes be created;

B – that said gallery be located in the entranceway of the City’s Sports Complex;

C – that photographs of those recognized as heroes by both the population and the City Counsel be displayed as City Heroes; and

D – that Photographer be commissioned to prepare these photos.

Paragraph 1: Below is an alphabetical list of the heroes:

Calunga: Hero of the Stadium
Champion: Hero of Heroes
Pilungo: Hero of the Stadium
Silvio: Hero of Track and Field
Teto: Hero of the Waters

Respectfully submitted: Mayor

Although he was proud of his office and his participation in the ceremony, Secretary had no time for further announcements. Stuffing the documents into his pocket, he ran moaning and holding onto his belly, pushing his way through the crowd in the direction of the public restrooms.
Only later on, did he return to the celebration. After completing his duties, he came back a relieved man. He danced happily all night long to the music of Sazefeem.

Inside my cell, I also danced and laughed and yelled as if I were outside mingling with the CC fans. I stuck my arms out of the prison bars and shook hands with lots of people. I kissed lots of people too, including my mother.

Jailer was still in the cell opposite mine. I looked over at him every once in awhile, and, believe it or not, he was always in the same position. His eyes were closed, ears plugged into the radio. Nothing could perturb him, not even the firecrackers or fireworks set off by Pyrotech. Not even the special Roman candle with over one hundred firecrackers could shake him up. Yet, the zombie didn’t miss a single attraction of the celebration. Tuned into the radio, he knew exactly what was going on. He also knew the latest news from the City. At dawn, a fantastic discovery had been made by a passerby. He and the group he was walking with, stumbled onto a big surprise at the crystal pedestal in the town square.

It was the Loner’s Trophy.
Their first reaction was good. They were pleased to finally see a statue placed on the beautiful pedestal in the park. The inscription on the plaque was short, but sweet:

In memory of the Loner.
After the initial shock, the group stopped to appreciate the trophy. They were startled to note that somehow the statue had changed. The Loner’s features had been transformed into the well known and well loved face of Champion. Whoever passed the Town Square stopped in awe unable to deny the truth, and soon a crowd had gathered to check out the mysterious transformation. Because truth often proves to be illusion, the occurrence generated many questions, and soon curious citizens showed up to investigate the phenomenon. They, in fact, believed that it must have been Painter, the same artist who had created the portrait of the Loner for the City Museum, who had touched up his work. It seemed like Painter had given both men the same features and expression. That would be easy enough to check out. All they had to do was visit the City Museum to compare the two faces. And that is exactly what they did, running to see the enigma solved.

The first to arrive were dumbfounded in front of the portraits. The portrait of the Loner had undergone the same transformation. From then on, the people had to accept the magical reality, especially after Painter went to the Town Square and Museum to investigate what had happened. He had no explanation.

So, the mystery continued.
No one in the City could imagine what had occurred. No one. Not even Priest. People believed that perhaps Champion would be able to shed some light on the subject, but that was another enigma. Where was Champion?

From the moment that he received the trophy from Commander, the old hero had disappeared from sight like water absorbed by the earth.
He left only a token to remember him by: the Loner’s Trophy — a memorial that the people would zealously care for in the prettiest spot of the City.

The Town Square — on top of the pedestal.