A Quaker farmer was milking his cows, and near the end of the milking one of the cows lifted tail, swished him hard across the face, shifted legs and, with the free leg, kicked both the farmer and the milk pail (nearly full of milk) spilling it into the farmer’s shoes.

“Oh, dear cow,” said the Quaker, “thou knowest that my pacifism dost not allow me to beat thee, that I canst not even curse thee for these impertinent actions. Thou mayest believe that thou canst escape retribution for this pagan action. And, thou mayest even thinkest thee smarter than myself.

“But what thou knowest not is that I can sell thee to Ole, my Norwegian Lutheran neighbor, who canst beat the living tar out of thee.” __________________________________________________