Seems like only yesterday my son Whit was making up jokes like:
when the tree fell over the bushes were silly.
This weekend, he made this up:
Q: What do you call a highway with no toll booths?
A: A freeway.
Lear: And my poor fool is hanged. No, no life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no more, never, never, never. Pray you, undo this button. Thank you, sir. O, O, O, O.