There once was a primitive tribe that had not yet begun to use stone construction. They lived in a variety of huts, made of grass and mud. Their chief was a very vain man, and he possessed a throne carved from bone and ivory which only he could sit in. He was intensely jealous of this privilege, and so when he was not sitting in his throne he would have his right hand man hoist it up with a rope into an alcove where it could be safely stowed. This went on for several years, but the rope gradually became worn. One day it snapped, and the throne fell to the ground, smashing apart. The chief was horrified, but the right hand man simply shook his head, and said sagely...
People in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
Did you hear the one about the dyslexic devil-worshipper? He sold his soul to Santa.