A memory joke

As my longtime readers know, I’m tortured by my keen memory.

Yesterday I was at a luncheon, and a gentleman at my table was telling us he went to a workshop on improving memory. The speaker had solicited a list of 11 things and was able to remember each item and its number.

Hell, when I was subbing, I would call roll, then tell the kids to shuffle seats. Throughout the period, when a kid raised his hand, I would call on him by name. It was my running parlor trick.

The guy at the luncheon said he Googled memory jokes before the event, so he’d have a good one to tell when he introduced the speaker.

I wish he’d called me. I have a good one:

A man was bragging to his friend about some new pills he’d discovered that improved his memory.

“What are they called?” asked his buddy.

“I’ll tell you. You know that flower you give on Valentine’s Day? The red one?”

“A rose?”

“That’s it!” Leans back toward the doorway. “Rose? Honey, what’s the name of those pills I’m taking?”

I say skip the pills and workshops, and treasure the ability to forget.


2 Responses to “A memory joke”

  1. Fred Bauman Says:

    I too got some pills that will help my memory. Unfortunately I forgot where I put them.

  2. gunky Says:

    i have an incredible ability to forget!

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