It was October and the Native Americans on a remote reservation...
Asked their new Chief if the coming winter was going to be cold or mild.
Since he was a Chief in a modern society he had never been taught he old secrets.
When he looked at the sky he couldn't tell what the winter was going to be like.
Nevertheless, to be on the safe side he told his tribe that the winter was indeed going to be cold and that the members of the village should collect firewood to be prepared.
But being a practical leader, after several days he got an idea. He went to the phone booth, called the National Weather Service and asked,
"Is the coming winter going to be cold?"
"It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold," the meteorologist at the weather service responded.
So the Chief went back to his people and told them to collect even more firewood in order to be prepared.
A week later he called the National Weather Service again. "Does it still look like it is going to be a very cold winter?"
"Yes," the man at National Weather Service again replied, "it's going to be a very cold winter."
The Chief again went back to his people and ordered them to collect every scrap of firewood they could find.
Two weeks later the Chief called the National Weather Service again. "Are you absolutely sure that the winter is going to be very cold?"
"Absolutely," the man replied. "It's looking more and more like it is going to be one of the coldest winters ever."
"How can you be so sure?" the Chief asked.
The weatherman replied, "We're sure it's going to be cold because the Native Americans are collecting firewood like crazy!"
A legend of the Native Americans
While many people know of Sequoya, the Native American genius who developed the Cherokee alphabet, fewer have heard of another visionary – yet he made a discovery no less groundbreaking, owing nothing to the white man’s knowledge.
It fell out like this: In the early 1800s, a certain chief, renowned among his people for his wise leadership, skilful hunting and (when necessary) prowess in battle, went to his medicine man with a highly personal problem: Despite many years of marriage and three beautiful wives, the chief had no children to follow after him, and he had no idea why. The medicine man, after lengthy research, told him what the matter was. According to custom and tradition, the chief should have presented each of his wives with a rare and precious animal skin to lie upon when they were seeking to make a baby, and because he had omitted to do this, the wrathful spirits had closed the wombs of all three. After so many years, the chief would need to resort to heroic measures to appease the spirits – yet, said the medicine man, to such a great chief this should be well within his compass.
The task, he was told, was to journey further than any chief of legend, and find three animals that no red man had ever seen or imagined, and return with their hides to present to his wives. Then, and only then, would the spirits be satisfied. Accordingly, the chief prepared himself a great canoe and loaded it with supplies of all kind ready for the great journey; and one fine day he set off into the western ocean, not knowing where he was bound.
After a long voyage, the chief found himself in a land of arid deserts where black men threw strange sticks for weapons, and hunted a strange animal like a deer that went in great bounds upon its hind legs. Learning that this was a *kangaroo*, the chief hunted one, killed it, skinned it, and put the hide in his canoe.
Journeying on, the chief came to another land of brown men and tall grasses where there roamed a mighty creature far exceeding in size and power the mountain lion of his homeland, decked in a coat of orange and black. Learning that this was a *tiger*, the chief hunted one, killed it, skinned it, and put the hide in his canoe.
Finally, in a land of rivers and swamps, the chief learned of a monstrous grey terror with a maw as large as a tepee, with tusks that could rend a man limb from limb, and that this creature was a *hippopotamus*. Therefore he hunted one, killed it, skinned it, and put the hide in his canoe.
Returning home, the chief presented each of his wives with one of the wondrous hides, and the spirits were at last appeased, and within the year the chief was the proud father of four strong babies. The squaw who received the kangaroo skin bore a maiden as beautiful as the first dawn of Spring, the squaw who received the tiger skin bore a son as splendid as the tallest tree in the forest, while the third squaw bore twins, each as admirable as their brother and sister.
History has shamefully lost the name of this pioneer, who by his magnificent deeds unlocked a great secret for his people: that the squaw on the hippopotamus is equal to the sum of the squaws on the other two hides.

A frog goes into a bank “What can I help you with?” asks the Teller.
“I’d like to apply for a loan” says the frog.
“Oh” says the Teller “you need to speak with our Loan Officer, Miss Whack”.
The Teller leads the frog to Miss Whacks office and, informs her that the frog wants to apply for a loan. “What kind of loan are you in the market for?” asks the Loan Officer.
“Any loan will do” says the frog “I want to buy a Lilly pad.”
“I see.” says the Loan Officer “Well, in order to apply for a loan, I first need to know your name. What is your name?”
“My first name is Kermit” answers the frog.
“Your first name is Kermit?” asks the Loan Officer.
“Correct,” answers the frog “and my last name is Jagger”.
“Your name is Kermit Jagger?” The Loan Officer asks incredulously.
“Correct,” says the frog “my mother was a frog and my father is Мiск Jagger.”
“I see” says the Loan Officer “Well, in order to secure a loan, the bank needs some type of collateral. Do you have any real estate, bonds, precious metals, etc?”
“No,” answers the frog “all I have is this.” The frog produces a miniature, pink elephant and holds it up to her face.
Flustered, the Loan Officer (whose first name is Patty) snatches it from the frog and storms off to the Bank Managers office.
“Sir!” she says as she barrages into his office “there’s a frog out there who wants a loan for a Lilly pad, and he says his name is Kermit Jagger.”
“Kermit Jagger?” Asks the Bank Manager.
“Yes,” she says “his mother was a frog and his father is Мiск Jagger. Anyway, all he has for collateral is this tiny, pink elephant thing. I don’t even know what this is!” The Bank Manager exclaims:
“That’s a Knick-Knack, Patty Whack, give that frog a loan. His old man’s a Rolling Stone!”
An old lady goes into a bank...
Coutt's Bank, to be exact, and asks to open an account. She is told, politely but coolly, that they are a very exclusive bank and have stringent requirements for prospective clients. "I know," she says. "May I see the manager, please?"
She is shown into the manager's office and repeats her request to be allowed to open an account, and the manager explains that they very rarely take new customers, and she would need to have at least a million pounds in investable assets, not including real estate. (r/theydidtheresearch) But she says that is not a problem as she has over a million pounds in cash on her, and hands over a briefcase.
While the manager delegates the task of counting the money to an underling, he asks how she comes by so much cash. "Oh, I make bets," she says. "For instance, I am willing to bet £50,000 that by lunchtime on Monday your testicles will have turned square."
The manager, of course, takes the bet at once, and on learning that the briefcase did indeed hold over a million pounds, he gives his approval for her account to be opened. She bids him a good day and makes an appointment to see him again at noon the following Monday.
When she returns she is accompanied by a smartly dressed man, and explains to the manager that this is her lawyer, whom she has brought along as a witness. The bank manager smiles and says that he can understand this, but she is going to find she is out of luck. "Well, maybe," she says,
"But considering the money involved, I'm sure you'll agree that I am entitled to put you to the test."
She takes a large tablespoon from her handbag and says "Be so kind as to drop your trousers and underpants, please," and when he does so she cups his sсrотuм in the tablespoon and sighs sorrowfully. Meanwhile however her lawyer has begun silently ваnging his head on the bank manager's desk.
"Oh dear," says the manager, a little patronisingly, "I fear my learned friend is dismayed at your reckless gambling away of your wealth."
"Oh no," says the old lady, "it's just that last Thursday I bet him a hundred thousand pounds that I'd have your ваlls in a tablespoon before the banks shut on Monday."