News anchor Dan Rather, The Reverend Jesse Jackson, NPR reporter Cokie Roberts, and an American Marine were hiking through the jungle one day when they were captured by cannibals.
They were tied up, led to the village and brought before the chief. The chief said, "I am familiar with your Western custom of granting the condemned a last wish. Before we kill and eat you, do you have any last requests?"
Dan Rather said, "Well, I'm a Texan; so I'd like one last bowlful of hot, spicy chili." The chief nodded to an underling, who left and returned with the chili. Rather ate it all and said, "Now I can die content."
Jesse Jackson said, "You know, the thing in this life I am proudest of is my work on behalf of the poor and oppressed. So before I go, I want to sing "We Shall Overcome" one last time." The chief said, "Go right ahead, we're listening." Jackson sang the song, and then said, "Now I can die in peace."
Cokie Roberts said, "I'm a reporter to the end. I want to take out my tape recorder and describe the scene here and what's about to happen. Maybe someday someone will hear it and know that I was on the job til the end." The chief directed an aide to hand over the tape recorder, and Roberts dictated some comments. She then said, "Now I can die happy."
The chief turned and said, "And now, Mr. Marine, what is your final wish?"
"Kick me in the ass," said the Marine.
"What?" said the chief. "Will you mock us in your last hour?"
"No, I'm not kidding. I want you to kick me in the ass," insisted the Marine.
So the chief shoved him into the open, and kicked him in the ass. The Marine went sprawling, but rolled to his knees, pulled a 9mm pistol from his waistband, and shot the chief dead. In the resulting confusion, he leapt to his knapsack, pulled out his M4 carbine, and sprayed the cannibals with gunfire. In a flash, the cannibals were dead or fleeing for their lives.
As the Marine was untying the others, they asked him, "Why didn't you just shoot them? Why did you ask them to kick you in the ass?"
"What!?" said the Marine, "And have you jerks call ME the aggressor?!"
A thousand hills, but no birds in flight, ten thousand paths, with no people's tracks. A lonely boat, a straw-hatted old man, fishing alone in the cold river snow.