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[Personal experience.]

After reading rec.humor and rec.humor.funny, I figured I was well
prepared for somebody calling me up to sell cemetery plots on the
(ahem) layaway plan.  Yesterday, I got the call.

I let the guy launch his spiel, and at the first closing question:

HE: "Doesn't it make sense to save your family the trouble of searching
	for a burial plot at a difficult moment?"

ME: [In my best Firesign Theater voice.]  "Sorry, you have the wrong
	guy.  I spell my name `Danger.'"

HE: "Oh, I must have been misinformed.  The nice lady at the telephone
	company said you were Salman Rushdie.  Well, goodbye, and my
	best regards to Ms. Wiggins, if she's still known as _______
	________."  (He named correctly the person I live with, and
	owner of the phone number.)  "I'll call back in a month, and
	see if you're still in a condition to discuss this marvelous
	opportunity."

Moral: Never shit a shitter.
--	
Oded Feingold

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