Monday, March 17, 2014


A traveling salesman gets a new job with coverage of a very rural area. He drives out to a remote house on a cold call.

As he pulls up to the house, he sees a man holding a pig up in the air so that it can reach the apples on the tree in front of the house.

Salesman stops the car, gets out. Walks over to the fence, the man sees him and gives him a friendly nod. His arms are shaking, he's beet red from exertion and he's got sweat pouring down his face.

The salesman, bewildered, asks "What are you doing there, sir?"

The man turns his head, glaring and says with utter scorn in his voice, "Can't you see I'm feeding this pig?" The pig finishes the apple it has been eating, and the farmer scoots it over to a new apple. More shaking arms, more sweat.

The salesman sits and ponders this for a while, trying to make sense of what he sees.

Finally, he ventures "Seems like a pretty time-consuming way to feed a pig."

Once again, the withering glare and the scorching disdain. "Mister, time ain't nothing to a pig!"



A traveling salesman stays overnight with a farm family.

When the family gathers to eat there’s a pig seated at the table.

And the pig has three medals hanging around his neck and a peg leg. The salesman says, “Um, I see you have a pig having dinner with you.”

“Yes,” says the farmer. “That’s because he’s a very special pig. You see those medals around his neck? Well, the first medal is from when our youngest son fell in the pond, and he was drowning, and that pig swam out and saved his life. The second medal, that’s from when the barn caught fire and our little daughter was trapped in there and the pig ran inside, carried her out and saved her life. And the third medal, that’s from when our oldest boy was cornered in the stock yard by a mean bull, and that pig ran under the fence and bit the bull on the tail and saved the boy’s life.”

“Yes,” says the salesman, “I can see why you let that pig sit right at the table and have dinner with you. And I can see why you awarded him the medals. But how did he get the peg leg?”

“Well,” says, the farmer, “a pig like that–you don’t eat him all at once.”

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