As he grew older and older, he started losing his hair, until one day, on his deathbed, he was completely bald. That day, he called his children to a meeting.
He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."
"What I want you to do," the man continued, "is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."
So they did. Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them. And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.
I went to a monastery on Saturday. As I passed the kitchen I saw an old monk busy frying potato chips and asked him; "Are you the friar?" He turned to face me, shook his head and said; "No, I'm the chip monk".
A monocle walks into a bar. After a few drinks he starts to feel pretty good (and a little uncoordinated). He reaches for a cigarette, but the bartender stops him. "Sorry, buddy, but due to city ordinances we don't allow smoking in here. You'll have to step outside to smoke."
So the monocle hops off the bar stool and grabs his cigarettes to head outside. Meanwhile a second monocle emerges from the bathroom. They bump into each other as they cross paths and fall to the floor, hopelessly entangled. They try to get free but the more they struggle, the more tangled they become.
The bartender looks down on this travesty and shakes his head. "Hey you two!" he shouts. "Stop making spectacles of yourselves!"