The Dishonest Note A man returned from shopping to find his car had been badly dented, and the culprit was no where in sight. As he got closer he felt relieved when he saw a note had been placed under his windshield-wiper. Laughing at himself for doubting the honesty of the average person, he pulled the note loose and read it, it said :"THE PEOPLE WATCHING ME THINK I'M LEAVING MY NAME AND ADDRESS, BUT I'M NOT." Pillsbury Doughboy It is with deep sorrow that we report the loss of an American icon. The Pillsbury Doughboy passed on early this month from yeast infection and complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71. Many celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies and Captain Crunch. The gravesite was piled high with flours, as longtime friend, Aunt Jamima, delivered the eulogy. She remembered Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. He rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie and was a crumby businessman, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he was considered, even as a crusty old man, to be a roll model for millions. The closing prayer reminded that he would rise again. Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough, his two children, John Dough and Jane Dough (plus one in the oven). He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart. Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. The funeral was held at 3:50 for 15 to 20 minutes. Working With The FBI The phone rings at FBI headquarters. "Hello?" "Hello, is this the FBI?" "Yes. What do you want?" "I'm calling to report my neighbor Adrian Thibodeaux! He is hiding marijuana inside his firewood." "Thank you very much for the call, sir." The next day, the FBI agents descend on Thibodeaux's house. They search the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood, but find no marijuana. They swear at Thibodeaux and leave. The phone rings at Thibodeaux's house. "Hey, Adrian! Did the FBI come?" "Yeah!" "Did they chop your firewood?" "Yep" "Great, now it's your turn to call. I need my garden plowed."