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On my 70th birthday, I received a gift certificate from my wife. The certificate paid for a visit to a medicine man living on the Pima Indian reservation who was rumored to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction. After being persuaded, I drove to the reservation, handed my certificate to the medicine man and nervously awaited what would happen next.


The old man slowly and methodically produced a potion, handed it to me, and with a grip on my shoulder, warned, "This is powerful medicine and it must be respected. You take only a teaspoonful and then say '1-2-3.' When you do that, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life, and you can perform as long as you want."

I was encouraged. As I walked away, I turned and asked, "How do I stop the action of the medicine?" "Your partner must say '1-2-3-4,' he responded. "But when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon."

I was very eager to see if it worked so I went home, showered, shaved, fluffed up the three remaining hairs I have on my head, put on lots of cologne, took a spoonful of the medicine, and then invited my wife to join me in the bedroom. When she came in, I took off my clothes and said, "1-2-3!"

Immediately, the glory of my manhood expanded to fulfill both of our longings. My wife was so excited that she began ripping off her clothes. When almost fully disrobed, she asked, "Honey, what was the 1-2-3 for?"

And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition! Otherwise you will end up with a dangling participle.