Jokes
Moderator: scott
re: Jokes
Racer... refined humor, you have! :{)
re: Jokes
New Chemical Element: Governmentium
The Heaviest Element
A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest chemical element yet known to science. The new element has been tentatively named "Governmentium." Governmentiumï has 1 neutron, 12 assistant neutrons, 36 deputy neutrons, and 50 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 99. These 99 particles are held together by forces called morons. These forces, in turn, are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected as it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of governmentium causes one reaction to take over 4 weeks to complete when it would normally take less than a second.
Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2 years; it does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause some morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.
This characteristic of moron-promotion leads some scientists to speculate that governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as: "Critical Morass."
The Heaviest Element
A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest chemical element yet known to science. The new element has been tentatively named "Governmentium." Governmentiumï has 1 neutron, 12 assistant neutrons, 36 deputy neutrons, and 50 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 99. These 99 particles are held together by forces called morons. These forces, in turn, are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected as it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of governmentium causes one reaction to take over 4 weeks to complete when it would normally take less than a second.
Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2 years; it does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause some morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.
This characteristic of moron-promotion leads some scientists to speculate that governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as: "Critical Morass."
re: Jokes
Judge Jokes
More great information is available through F.A.C.T. See our home page at www.fact.on.ca
With the massive amount of damage done by the judiciary to the youth of this country, it is difficult to many ways to react except with anger at the pain they bring your children. However, if you step back, you will see why many Canadians have come to to hold in such low regard the family court judges, and those on the Divisional COurt, the Court of Appeal, and the Supreme Court. The judges have transformed the judiciary into a three ring circus and they are the clowns.
In keeping with their gallant efforts, we are pleased to provide you with a few judge jokes -- feel free to add to the collection (please note, keep the jokes so that your/my kids can read them too) by sending them to judgejok@fact.on.ca.
We were tempted to dedicate this section to the judges of the Ontario Court of Appeal who have ruled that judges are never to be subject to "retribution" (which means what they deserve...look it up). However, since they didn't publish their judgement, we won't publish ours.
A father fresh from another irrational court ruling comes into a bar. Angrily he shouts "I think all family court judges are assholes!!"
A slurred response from the back of the bar is heard: "I resent that!"
The father peers into the back and asks "Why, are you a family court judge?"
"No," the voice slurs, "I'm an asshole."
Good news for all those heading off to court. You cannot catch SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome) from a family court judge.
Apparently SARS requires a human host to infect you.
What's the difference between God and a family court judge?
God does not think he is a family court judge.
How many Supreme Court judges does it take to change a light bulb?
Just one, she holds the bulb still and the world revolves around her.
How many family law judges does it take to change a light bulb?
Just one, but two lawyers have to explain how to do it.
Family Law Judge to Mother: Do you understand that you have sworn to tell the truth?
Mother: I do.
Judge: Do you understand what will happen if you are not truthful?
Mother: Sure. I get everything I want.
Family Law Judge to Father: Do you have anything to offer this court before I issue my judgement?
Father: No your honour, my lawyer took it all.
A family law judge wandered by mistake into a criminal court one morning. He immediately gave custody of the kid to the first women he saw and then headed back to his chambers.
In the meantime, back at the court, the Crown Attorney is trying to figure out what to do now that she had custody of Melbo the bank robbing midget.
What do you call a lawyer with an IQ of 40?
Your Honour.
An attorney passed on and found himself in Heaven (obviously not a family law lawyer), but was not at all happy with his accommodations. He complained to Saint Peter, who told him his only course of action was to appeal. The lawyer immediately appealed and was told it would take 3 years to hear his appeal. The attorney protested that this was unconscionable, but to no avail.
The lawyer was then approached by the devil who told him that he could have the appeal heard within a few days if the lawyer would change the venue to Hell. When the lawyer asked why appeals were heard so much sooner in Hell, he was told "We have all the judges."
Two duck hungers ran into one another early one morning. One of them noticed that the other's dog was just sitting there, who no interest in retrieving any of the fowl his master downed.
The first hunter asked, "What's wrong with your dog? The last time I saw him he was one of the best bird dogs I'd ever seen!"
"Well," the other hunter replied. "His name's Lawyer. He used to run all over creation working hard and getting the job done. The one day, someone made the mistake of calling him Judge. Now all he does is sit on his ass and bark."
"All in all, I'd rather have been a judge than a miner. And what's more, being a miner, as soon as you are too old and tired and sick and stupid to do the job properly, you have to go. Well, the very opposite applies with judges."
-- Peter Cook
The Generous Family Law Judge
"Mr. Quinn, I have reviewed this case very carefully," the divorce court judge said, "and I've decided to give your wife $775 a week."
"That's very generous and fair of you, your honor," the husband said. "And every now and then I'll try to send her a few bucks myself."
Dead Judge
An family law attorney telephoned the governor just after midnight, insisting that he talk to him regarding a matter of utmost urgency. An aide eventually agreed to wake up the governor.
"So, what is it?" grumbled the governor.
"Judge Garber has just died" said the attorney, "and I want to take his place."
Replied the governor "Well, its OK with me if its OK with the undertaker."
A tourist wanders into a back-alley antique shop in San FranciscoÂ’s Chinatown. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs.
"Twelve dollars for the rat, sir," says the shop owner, "and a thousand dollars more for the story behind it."
"You can keep the story, old man," he replies, "but IÂ’ll take the rat."
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another sewer drain, more rats come out and follow him. By the time heÂ’s walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and abandoned cars. Rats by the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the waterfront at the bottom of the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt. No matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but millions, so that by the time he comes rushing up to the waterÂ’s edge a trail of rats twelve city blocks long is behind him. Making a mighty leap, he jumps up onto a light post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze rat into San Francisco Bay with the other, as far as he can heave it. Pulling his legs up and clinging to the light post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the sea, where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.
"Ah, so youÂ’ve come back for the rest of the story," says the owner.
"No," says the tourist, "I was wondering if you have a bronze judge.
Father (after being denied access to his children and having all his assets seized): Can I address the court?
Judge: Of course.
Father: If I called you a son of a bitch, what would you do?
Judge: I'd hold you in contempt and sentence you to five days in jail.
Father: What if I thought you were a son of a bitch?
Judge: I can't do anything about that. There's no law against thinking.
Father: In that case, I think you're a son of a bitch.
The young clerk's responsibilities included bringing the judge a hot cup of coffee at the start of every day. Each morning the judge was enraged that the coffee cup arrived two-thirds full. The clerk explained that he had to rush to get the coffee delivered while it was still hot, which caused him to spill much of it along the way.
None of the judge's yelling and insults produced a full cup of coffee, until he finally threatened to cut the clerk's pay by one-third if he continued to produce one-third less than the judge wanted.
The next morning he was greeted with a cup of coffee that was full to the brim, and the next morning and the morning after that. The judge couldn't resist gloating over his success and smugly complimented the clerk on his new technique.
"Oh, there's not much to it," admitted the clerk happily, "I take some coffee in my mouth right outside the coffee room, and spit it back in when I get outside your office."
While walking through a courthouse, a kid enters an empty courtroom. He sees a fine leather briefcase (the kind the lawyers carry) sitting on the table, picks it up and exits through the back door of the courtroom into the judge's chambers. And who should be sitting there - the judge.
Judge: "Hey kid, are you familiar with the liquor store across the street from the courthouse?"
Kid: "Yeah?"
Judge: "Good, I want you to go across the street and steal me a bottle of booze." The kid runs across the street, enters the liquor store, and when the proprietor is not looking, slips a fifth into the briefcase and brings it back to the judge. The judge immediately opens the bottle and swigs half of it.
Judge: "Hey kid, I need you to run another errand. There's a contractor, Slapdash Construction, next to the liquor store. Go to them and tell them that the judge sent you. They'll give you a brown paper bag. Bring it back to me."
The kid runs to Slapdash Construction, tells them that the judge sent him, receives a brown paper bag filled with fifties and hundreds, puts it into the briefcase and takes it to the judge.
Judge: "Kid, you did great. Now unzip my fly."
Kid: "Hey wait a minute mister. I'm not a real attorney; I just found this briefcase in the courtroom."
After his death, the family court judge found herself with the devil in a room filled with clocks. Each clock turned at a different speed and was labeled with the name of a different occupation. After examining all the clocks, the judge turned to the devil and said, "I have two questions. First, why does each clock move at a different speed?"
"They turn at the rate at which the members of that occupation collectively sin on earth," replied the devil.
"What's your second question?"
"Well," said the judge. "I can't seem to find my occupation. Where is the 'family court judges' clock?"
The devil momentarily looked confused, and he started checking the clocks. "They should all be here," he muttered, looking frantically, "It has to be here somewhere... Oh, there will be Hell to pay for this."
Suddenly, the devil relaxed, slapped himself on the forehead, and exclaimed, "Oh, yes! How silly of me. We keep that clock in the workshop and use it for a fan."
A judge was annoyed to find that his car wouldn't start. He called a taxi, and soon one arrived at his house.
Climbing in, he told the driver to take him to the halls of justice. "Where are they," asked the driver.
"You mean to say that you don't know where the courthouse is?" asked the incredulous judge.
"The courthouse? Of course I know where that is." replied the driver. "But I thought you said you wanted to go to the 'halls of justice.'
After many years of hard work, Joe rewarded himself with a long, luxurious stay at an exclusive Carribean resort. While relaxing on the beach, he was surprised to see a former high school classmate who he hadn't seen since they graduated. His old friend had been something of a "burnout" in high school, and this was the last place Joe expected to see him.
Joe approached the man, and seized his hand. "Pete, it's Joe. From high school. It's sure been a long time. You look great! You must really be doing okay for yourself."
"I am," whispered Pete. "I am a leading family court judge back home. But don't tell mother. She got the idea that I was a drug dealer back when I was in high school, and she would be terribly disappointed if she figured out how I really make my money."
A second grade teacher asked her students what their parents did for a living. "Tim, you be first," she said. "What does your mother do all day?"
Tim stood up and proudly said, "She's a doctor."
"That's wonderful," the teacher said, "and how about you, Annie?"
Annie shyly stood up, shuffled her feet and said, "My father is a mailman."
"Thank you, Annie. What about your father, Billy?"
Billy proudly stood up and announced, "My daddy plays piano in a whorehouse."
The teacher, stunned, promptly changed the subject to spelling. Later that day she called Billy's house. Billy's father answered the phone. The teacher explained what his son had said, and asked why he would say such a horrible thing.
Billy's father explained, "I'm actually a family court judge. But how can I explain a thing like that to a seven-year-old?"
A physician, an engineer and a judge were arguing about whose profession was the oldest. The surgeon announced, "Remember how God removed a rib from Adam to create Eve? Obviously, medicine is the oldest profession."
The engineer replied, "But before that, God created the heavens and the earth from chaos, in less than a week. You have to admit that was a remarkable feat of engineering, and that makes engineering an older profession than medicine."
The judge smirked, and said, "Who do you think created the chaos?"
The morning after a senior judge passed away unexpectedly, the court house receptionist answered the phone. "Is Madame Justice Smith there?" the caller asked. "I'm very sorry, but Justice Smith passed away last night," the receptionist answered.
"Is Madam Justice Smith there?" repeated the caller.
The receptionist was perplexed. "Perhaps you didn't understand me I'm afraid Justice Smith passed away last night."
"Is Madam Justice Smith there?" asked the caller again.
"Madam, do you understand what I'm saying?" said the exasperated receptionist. "Justice Smith is dead."
"I understand you perfectly," the caller sighed. "I just can't hear it often enough."
Merry Christmas from the Supreme CourtPlease accept without obligation, express or implied, these best wishes for an environmentally safe, socially responsible, low stress, non addictive, and gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday as practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice (but with respect for the religious or secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or for their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all) and further for a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated onset of the generally accepted calendar year (including, but not limited to, the Christian calendar, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures). The preceding wishes are extended without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform, or sexual preference of the wishee(s).
More great information is available through F.A.C.T. See our home page at www.fact.on.ca
With the massive amount of damage done by the judiciary to the youth of this country, it is difficult to many ways to react except with anger at the pain they bring your children. However, if you step back, you will see why many Canadians have come to to hold in such low regard the family court judges, and those on the Divisional COurt, the Court of Appeal, and the Supreme Court. The judges have transformed the judiciary into a three ring circus and they are the clowns.
In keeping with their gallant efforts, we are pleased to provide you with a few judge jokes -- feel free to add to the collection (please note, keep the jokes so that your/my kids can read them too) by sending them to judgejok@fact.on.ca.
We were tempted to dedicate this section to the judges of the Ontario Court of Appeal who have ruled that judges are never to be subject to "retribution" (which means what they deserve...look it up). However, since they didn't publish their judgement, we won't publish ours.
A father fresh from another irrational court ruling comes into a bar. Angrily he shouts "I think all family court judges are assholes!!"
A slurred response from the back of the bar is heard: "I resent that!"
The father peers into the back and asks "Why, are you a family court judge?"
"No," the voice slurs, "I'm an asshole."
Good news for all those heading off to court. You cannot catch SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome) from a family court judge.
Apparently SARS requires a human host to infect you.
What's the difference between God and a family court judge?
God does not think he is a family court judge.
How many Supreme Court judges does it take to change a light bulb?
Just one, she holds the bulb still and the world revolves around her.
How many family law judges does it take to change a light bulb?
Just one, but two lawyers have to explain how to do it.
Family Law Judge to Mother: Do you understand that you have sworn to tell the truth?
Mother: I do.
Judge: Do you understand what will happen if you are not truthful?
Mother: Sure. I get everything I want.
Family Law Judge to Father: Do you have anything to offer this court before I issue my judgement?
Father: No your honour, my lawyer took it all.
A family law judge wandered by mistake into a criminal court one morning. He immediately gave custody of the kid to the first women he saw and then headed back to his chambers.
In the meantime, back at the court, the Crown Attorney is trying to figure out what to do now that she had custody of Melbo the bank robbing midget.
What do you call a lawyer with an IQ of 40?
Your Honour.
An attorney passed on and found himself in Heaven (obviously not a family law lawyer), but was not at all happy with his accommodations. He complained to Saint Peter, who told him his only course of action was to appeal. The lawyer immediately appealed and was told it would take 3 years to hear his appeal. The attorney protested that this was unconscionable, but to no avail.
The lawyer was then approached by the devil who told him that he could have the appeal heard within a few days if the lawyer would change the venue to Hell. When the lawyer asked why appeals were heard so much sooner in Hell, he was told "We have all the judges."
Two duck hungers ran into one another early one morning. One of them noticed that the other's dog was just sitting there, who no interest in retrieving any of the fowl his master downed.
The first hunter asked, "What's wrong with your dog? The last time I saw him he was one of the best bird dogs I'd ever seen!"
"Well," the other hunter replied. "His name's Lawyer. He used to run all over creation working hard and getting the job done. The one day, someone made the mistake of calling him Judge. Now all he does is sit on his ass and bark."
"All in all, I'd rather have been a judge than a miner. And what's more, being a miner, as soon as you are too old and tired and sick and stupid to do the job properly, you have to go. Well, the very opposite applies with judges."
-- Peter Cook
The Generous Family Law Judge
"Mr. Quinn, I have reviewed this case very carefully," the divorce court judge said, "and I've decided to give your wife $775 a week."
"That's very generous and fair of you, your honor," the husband said. "And every now and then I'll try to send her a few bucks myself."
Dead Judge
An family law attorney telephoned the governor just after midnight, insisting that he talk to him regarding a matter of utmost urgency. An aide eventually agreed to wake up the governor.
"So, what is it?" grumbled the governor.
"Judge Garber has just died" said the attorney, "and I want to take his place."
Replied the governor "Well, its OK with me if its OK with the undertaker."
A tourist wanders into a back-alley antique shop in San FranciscoÂ’s Chinatown. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs.
"Twelve dollars for the rat, sir," says the shop owner, "and a thousand dollars more for the story behind it."
"You can keep the story, old man," he replies, "but IÂ’ll take the rat."
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another sewer drain, more rats come out and follow him. By the time heÂ’s walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and abandoned cars. Rats by the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the waterfront at the bottom of the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt. No matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but millions, so that by the time he comes rushing up to the waterÂ’s edge a trail of rats twelve city blocks long is behind him. Making a mighty leap, he jumps up onto a light post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze rat into San Francisco Bay with the other, as far as he can heave it. Pulling his legs up and clinging to the light post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the sea, where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.
"Ah, so youÂ’ve come back for the rest of the story," says the owner.
"No," says the tourist, "I was wondering if you have a bronze judge.
Father (after being denied access to his children and having all his assets seized): Can I address the court?
Judge: Of course.
Father: If I called you a son of a bitch, what would you do?
Judge: I'd hold you in contempt and sentence you to five days in jail.
Father: What if I thought you were a son of a bitch?
Judge: I can't do anything about that. There's no law against thinking.
Father: In that case, I think you're a son of a bitch.
The young clerk's responsibilities included bringing the judge a hot cup of coffee at the start of every day. Each morning the judge was enraged that the coffee cup arrived two-thirds full. The clerk explained that he had to rush to get the coffee delivered while it was still hot, which caused him to spill much of it along the way.
None of the judge's yelling and insults produced a full cup of coffee, until he finally threatened to cut the clerk's pay by one-third if he continued to produce one-third less than the judge wanted.
The next morning he was greeted with a cup of coffee that was full to the brim, and the next morning and the morning after that. The judge couldn't resist gloating over his success and smugly complimented the clerk on his new technique.
"Oh, there's not much to it," admitted the clerk happily, "I take some coffee in my mouth right outside the coffee room, and spit it back in when I get outside your office."
While walking through a courthouse, a kid enters an empty courtroom. He sees a fine leather briefcase (the kind the lawyers carry) sitting on the table, picks it up and exits through the back door of the courtroom into the judge's chambers. And who should be sitting there - the judge.
Judge: "Hey kid, are you familiar with the liquor store across the street from the courthouse?"
Kid: "Yeah?"
Judge: "Good, I want you to go across the street and steal me a bottle of booze." The kid runs across the street, enters the liquor store, and when the proprietor is not looking, slips a fifth into the briefcase and brings it back to the judge. The judge immediately opens the bottle and swigs half of it.
Judge: "Hey kid, I need you to run another errand. There's a contractor, Slapdash Construction, next to the liquor store. Go to them and tell them that the judge sent you. They'll give you a brown paper bag. Bring it back to me."
The kid runs to Slapdash Construction, tells them that the judge sent him, receives a brown paper bag filled with fifties and hundreds, puts it into the briefcase and takes it to the judge.
Judge: "Kid, you did great. Now unzip my fly."
Kid: "Hey wait a minute mister. I'm not a real attorney; I just found this briefcase in the courtroom."
After his death, the family court judge found herself with the devil in a room filled with clocks. Each clock turned at a different speed and was labeled with the name of a different occupation. After examining all the clocks, the judge turned to the devil and said, "I have two questions. First, why does each clock move at a different speed?"
"They turn at the rate at which the members of that occupation collectively sin on earth," replied the devil.
"What's your second question?"
"Well," said the judge. "I can't seem to find my occupation. Where is the 'family court judges' clock?"
The devil momentarily looked confused, and he started checking the clocks. "They should all be here," he muttered, looking frantically, "It has to be here somewhere... Oh, there will be Hell to pay for this."
Suddenly, the devil relaxed, slapped himself on the forehead, and exclaimed, "Oh, yes! How silly of me. We keep that clock in the workshop and use it for a fan."
A judge was annoyed to find that his car wouldn't start. He called a taxi, and soon one arrived at his house.
Climbing in, he told the driver to take him to the halls of justice. "Where are they," asked the driver.
"You mean to say that you don't know where the courthouse is?" asked the incredulous judge.
"The courthouse? Of course I know where that is." replied the driver. "But I thought you said you wanted to go to the 'halls of justice.'
After many years of hard work, Joe rewarded himself with a long, luxurious stay at an exclusive Carribean resort. While relaxing on the beach, he was surprised to see a former high school classmate who he hadn't seen since they graduated. His old friend had been something of a "burnout" in high school, and this was the last place Joe expected to see him.
Joe approached the man, and seized his hand. "Pete, it's Joe. From high school. It's sure been a long time. You look great! You must really be doing okay for yourself."
"I am," whispered Pete. "I am a leading family court judge back home. But don't tell mother. She got the idea that I was a drug dealer back when I was in high school, and she would be terribly disappointed if she figured out how I really make my money."
A second grade teacher asked her students what their parents did for a living. "Tim, you be first," she said. "What does your mother do all day?"
Tim stood up and proudly said, "She's a doctor."
"That's wonderful," the teacher said, "and how about you, Annie?"
Annie shyly stood up, shuffled her feet and said, "My father is a mailman."
"Thank you, Annie. What about your father, Billy?"
Billy proudly stood up and announced, "My daddy plays piano in a whorehouse."
The teacher, stunned, promptly changed the subject to spelling. Later that day she called Billy's house. Billy's father answered the phone. The teacher explained what his son had said, and asked why he would say such a horrible thing.
Billy's father explained, "I'm actually a family court judge. But how can I explain a thing like that to a seven-year-old?"
A physician, an engineer and a judge were arguing about whose profession was the oldest. The surgeon announced, "Remember how God removed a rib from Adam to create Eve? Obviously, medicine is the oldest profession."
The engineer replied, "But before that, God created the heavens and the earth from chaos, in less than a week. You have to admit that was a remarkable feat of engineering, and that makes engineering an older profession than medicine."
The judge smirked, and said, "Who do you think created the chaos?"
The morning after a senior judge passed away unexpectedly, the court house receptionist answered the phone. "Is Madame Justice Smith there?" the caller asked. "I'm very sorry, but Justice Smith passed away last night," the receptionist answered.
"Is Madam Justice Smith there?" repeated the caller.
The receptionist was perplexed. "Perhaps you didn't understand me I'm afraid Justice Smith passed away last night."
"Is Madam Justice Smith there?" asked the caller again.
"Madam, do you understand what I'm saying?" said the exasperated receptionist. "Justice Smith is dead."
"I understand you perfectly," the caller sighed. "I just can't hear it often enough."
Merry Christmas from the Supreme CourtPlease accept without obligation, express or implied, these best wishes for an environmentally safe, socially responsible, low stress, non addictive, and gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday as practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice (but with respect for the religious or secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or for their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all) and further for a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated onset of the generally accepted calendar year (including, but not limited to, the Christian calendar, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures). The preceding wishes are extended without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform, or sexual preference of the wishee(s).
re: Jokes
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has." - Margaret Mead
re: Jokes
LITTLE JOHNNY STRIKES AGAIN
The teacher asked the class to use the word "fascinate" in a sentence.
Molly put up her hand and said, "My family went to my granddad's farm, and we all saw his pet sheep. It was fascinating."
The teacher said, "That was good, but I wanted you to use the word "fascinate, not fascinating".
Sally raised her hand. She said, "My family went to see Rock City and I was "fascinated."The teacher said, "Well, that was good Sally, but I wanted you to use the word "fascinate."
Little Johnny raised his hand. The teacher hesitated because she had been burned by Little Johnny before. She finally decided there was no way he could damage the word "fascinate", so she called on him. Johnny said, "My aunt Gina has a sweater with ten buttons, but her tits are so big she can only fasten eight."
The teacher sat down and cried
The teacher asked the class to use the word "fascinate" in a sentence.
Molly put up her hand and said, "My family went to my granddad's farm, and we all saw his pet sheep. It was fascinating."
The teacher said, "That was good, but I wanted you to use the word "fascinate, not fascinating".
Sally raised her hand. She said, "My family went to see Rock City and I was "fascinated."The teacher said, "Well, that was good Sally, but I wanted you to use the word "fascinate."
Little Johnny raised his hand. The teacher hesitated because she had been burned by Little Johnny before. She finally decided there was no way he could damage the word "fascinate", so she called on him. Johnny said, "My aunt Gina has a sweater with ten buttons, but her tits are so big she can only fasten eight."
The teacher sat down and cried
re: Jokes
JOKE 1
| a guy and his wife walk into the doctors
|
| the doctor calls them in and says what seems to be the problem
|
| the woman takes off her top and her bra and one tit falls to
| the ground. the
| other is of normal size and rather pert.
|
| the doctor asks if they have any idea what could of caused this.
|
| the husband replys 'well i do like to go so sleep with my
| wifes left tit in
| my hand'
|
| the doctor replys that that is actually not that uncommon
| between a man and
| his wife and that he had known several others who also liked
| to do the same
| thing and it hadn't caused any problems
|
| the husband replied
|
| 'yeah, but we sleep in a bunkbed'
|
| JOKE 2
|
| There was this couple that had been married for 20 years.
| Every time they
| made love the husband always insisted on shutting off the light.
|
| Well, after 20 years the wife felt this was ridiculous. She
| figured she
| would break him out of this crazy habit. So one night, while
| they were in
| the middle of a wild, screaming, romantic session, she turned
| on the lights.
| She looked down. and saw her husband was holding a
| battery-operated leisure
| device... a vibrator! Soft, wonderful and larger than a real one.
|
| She went completely ballistic. "You impotent bastard," She
| screamed at him,
| "how could you be lying to me all of these years? You better explain
| yourself!"
|
| The husband looks her straight in the eyes and says calmly:
| "I'll explain the toy . . you explain the kids."
|
| a guy and his wife walk into the doctors
|
| the doctor calls them in and says what seems to be the problem
|
| the woman takes off her top and her bra and one tit falls to
| the ground. the
| other is of normal size and rather pert.
|
| the doctor asks if they have any idea what could of caused this.
|
| the husband replys 'well i do like to go so sleep with my
| wifes left tit in
| my hand'
|
| the doctor replys that that is actually not that uncommon
| between a man and
| his wife and that he had known several others who also liked
| to do the same
| thing and it hadn't caused any problems
|
| the husband replied
|
| 'yeah, but we sleep in a bunkbed'
|
| JOKE 2
|
| There was this couple that had been married for 20 years.
| Every time they
| made love the husband always insisted on shutting off the light.
|
| Well, after 20 years the wife felt this was ridiculous. She
| figured she
| would break him out of this crazy habit. So one night, while
| they were in
| the middle of a wild, screaming, romantic session, she turned
| on the lights.
| She looked down. and saw her husband was holding a
| battery-operated leisure
| device... a vibrator! Soft, wonderful and larger than a real one.
|
| She went completely ballistic. "You impotent bastard," She
| screamed at him,
| "how could you be lying to me all of these years? You better explain
| yourself!"
|
| The husband looks her straight in the eyes and says calmly:
| "I'll explain the toy . . you explain the kids."
|
re: Jokes
Economic Models explained with cows...
SOCIALISM:
You have 2 cows, and you give one to your neighbour.
COMMUNISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and gives you some milk.
FASCISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and sells you some milk.
NAZISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and shoots you.
BUREAUCRATISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then
throws the milk away...
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM:
You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income.
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk
of four cows. Later, you hire a consultant to analyze why the cow has dropped dead.
FRENCH CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called Cowkimon and market it worldwide.
A GERMAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are. You decide to have lunch.
A RUSSIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You count them and learn you have five cows. You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. You count them again and learn you have 2 cows. You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.
A SWISS CORPORATION:
You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you. You charge the owners
for storing them.
A CHINESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim that you
have full employment, and high bovine productivity, and arrest the
newsman who reported the real situation.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You feed one to the other and the remaining one goes mad.
IRAQI CORPORATION:
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. No-one believes you, so they bomb the **** out of you and invade your country. You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy.... sorry, that should be 'catastrophe'.
SURREALISM:
You have two giraffes. The government requires you to take harmonica
lessons
HONG KONG CAPITALISM:
You have two cows. You sell 3 of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank. Then you execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all 4 cows back, with a tax deduction for keeping 5 cows. The milk rights of 6 cows are transferred via a Panamanian intermediary to a Cayman Islands company secretly owned by the majority shareholder. He sells the rights to all 7 cows' milk back to the listed company, and proceeds from the sale are deferred. The annual report says that the
company owns 8 cows, with an option on one more. Meanwhile, you kill the 2 cows because the feng shui is bad.
NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION:
You have two cows. The one on the left looks very attractive.
AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. Business seems pretty good. You close the office and
go for a few beers to celebrate.
SOCIALISM:
You have 2 cows, and you give one to your neighbour.
COMMUNISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and gives you some milk.
FASCISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and sells you some milk.
NAZISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both and shoots you.
BUREAUCRATISM:
You have 2 cows. The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then
throws the milk away...
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM:
You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income.
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk
of four cows. Later, you hire a consultant to analyze why the cow has dropped dead.
FRENCH CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called Cowkimon and market it worldwide.
A GERMAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are. You decide to have lunch.
A RUSSIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You count them and learn you have five cows. You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. You count them again and learn you have 2 cows. You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.
A SWISS CORPORATION:
You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you. You charge the owners
for storing them.
A CHINESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim that you
have full employment, and high bovine productivity, and arrest the
newsman who reported the real situation.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION:
You have two cows. You feed one to the other and the remaining one goes mad.
IRAQI CORPORATION:
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. No-one believes you, so they bomb the **** out of you and invade your country. You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy.... sorry, that should be 'catastrophe'.
SURREALISM:
You have two giraffes. The government requires you to take harmonica
lessons
HONG KONG CAPITALISM:
You have two cows. You sell 3 of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank. Then you execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all 4 cows back, with a tax deduction for keeping 5 cows. The milk rights of 6 cows are transferred via a Panamanian intermediary to a Cayman Islands company secretly owned by the majority shareholder. He sells the rights to all 7 cows' milk back to the listed company, and proceeds from the sale are deferred. The annual report says that the
company owns 8 cows, with an option on one more. Meanwhile, you kill the 2 cows because the feng shui is bad.
NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION:
You have two cows. The one on the left looks very attractive.
AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows. Business seems pretty good. You close the office and
go for a few beers to celebrate.
re: Jokes
An Irishman wants a job, but the foreman won't hire him
until he passes
a little math test.
Here is your first question, the foreman said. "Without
using numbers,
represent the number 9."
"Without numbers?" TheIrishman says, "Dat is easy." And
proceeds to draw
three trees.
<@>
"What's this?" the boss asks?
"Ave you got no brain? Tree and tree and tree make nine,"
says the Irishman.
"Fair enough," says the boss. "Here's your second question.
Use the same
rules, but this time the number is 99."
The Irishman stares into space for a while, then picks up
the picture that
he has just drawn and makes a smudge on each tree. "Ere you go."
<@>
The boss scratches his head and says, "How on earth do you
get that to
represent 99?"
"Each of da trees is dirty now. So, it's dirty tree, and
dirty tree, and
dirty tree. Dat is 99."
The boss is getting worried that he's going to actually
have to hire this
Irishman, so he says, "All right, last question. Same rules
again, but represent
the number 100."
The Irishman stares into space some more, then he picks up
the picture
again and makes a little mark at the base of each tree and
says, "Ere you
go. One hundred."
<@>
The boss looks at the attempt. "You must be nuts if you
think that represents
a hundred!"
The Irishman leans forward and points to the marks at the
base of each
tree and says, "A little dog come along and crap by each
tree. So now you
got dirty tree and a turd, dirty tree and a turd, and dirty
tree and a turd,
which makes one hundred."
"So, when I start?"
until he passes
a little math test.
Here is your first question, the foreman said. "Without
using numbers,
represent the number 9."
"Without numbers?" TheIrishman says, "Dat is easy." And
proceeds to draw
three trees.
<@>
"What's this?" the boss asks?
"Ave you got no brain? Tree and tree and tree make nine,"
says the Irishman.
"Fair enough," says the boss. "Here's your second question.
Use the same
rules, but this time the number is 99."
The Irishman stares into space for a while, then picks up
the picture that
he has just drawn and makes a smudge on each tree. "Ere you go."
<@>
The boss scratches his head and says, "How on earth do you
get that to
represent 99?"
"Each of da trees is dirty now. So, it's dirty tree, and
dirty tree, and
dirty tree. Dat is 99."
The boss is getting worried that he's going to actually
have to hire this
Irishman, so he says, "All right, last question. Same rules
again, but represent
the number 100."
The Irishman stares into space some more, then he picks up
the picture
again and makes a little mark at the base of each tree and
says, "Ere you
go. One hundred."
<@>
The boss looks at the attempt. "You must be nuts if you
think that represents
a hundred!"
The Irishman leans forward and points to the marks at the
base of each
tree and says, "A little dog come along and crap by each
tree. So now you
got dirty tree and a turd, dirty tree and a turd, and dirty
tree and a turd,
which makes one hundred."
"So, when I start?"
re: Jokes
When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just
need to take it
out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out
on someone you don't know. I was sitting at my desk when I
remembered a phone
call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialled it. A man
answered, saying "Hello." I Politely said, "This is David.
Could I please
speak with Robert Campbell ?"Suddenly a manic voice yelled
out in my ear
"Get the right f*kinnumber!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I
couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked
down Robert's
correct number to call him, I found that I had accidentally
transposed the
last two digits.After hanging up with him, I decided to call
the 'wrong'
number again.When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled
"You're a
Wanker!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word
'Wanker' next to
it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when
I was paying
bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell,
"You're Wanker!" It
always cheered me up.When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my
therapeutic 'Wanker' calling would have to stop. So, I called
his number and
said,"Hi,this is John Smith from BT . I'm calling to see if
you're familiar
with our Caller ID Program?"He yelled "NO!" and slammed down
the phone. I
quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a
Wanker!"One day I
was at Lakeside Shopping Centre, getting ready to pull
into a parking spot.
Some guy in a gunmetal grey Land Rover cut me off and pulled
into the spot I
had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd
been waiting
for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.I noticed a "For
Sale" sign in his
back window, so I wrote down his number.A couple of days
later, right after
calling the first Wanker ( I had his number on speed dial,) I
thought that
I'd better call the Land Rover Wanker,too. I said, "Is this
the man with the
gunmetal grey Land Rover for sale?"Yes, it is", he said. "Can
you tell me
where I can see it?" I asked."Yes,I live at 129 Alice
Street, in Ilford.
It's a terraced house, and the car's parked right out in
front.""What's your
name?" I asked. "My name is Steve Hansen,"he said. "When's a
good time to
catch you, Steve?""I'm home most days as I'm currently
unemployed.""Listen,
Steve, can I tell you something?""Yes?""Steve, you're a
Wanker!" Then I
hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.Now, when I had a
problem, I had two arseholes to call.Then I came up with an
idea. I called
Wanker #1.Hello." "You're a Wanker!" (But I didn't hang
up.)"Are you still
there?" he asked."Yeah," I said."Stop calling me," he
screamed."Make me," I
said."Who are you?" he asked."My name is Steve
Hansen.""Yeah? Where do you
live?""I live at 129 Alice Street, Ilford, a terraced house,with my
gunmetal grey Land Rover parked out the front."He said, "I'm
coming over
right now, Steve.And you had better start saying your
prayers."I said,
"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Wanker," and hung up.Then I
called Wanker
#2. "Hello?" he said."Hello, Wanker," I said.He yelled, "If
I ever find out
who you are...""You'll do what?" I said."I'll kick your arse," he
exclaimed.I answered, "Well, Wanker, here's your chance. I'm
coming over
right now."Then I hung up and immediately called the police,
saying that I
live dat129Alice Street, Ilford , and that I was on my way
over there to
kill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 5 News about the
hoodie wargoing
down in Alice Street, Ilford .I quickly got into my car and
headed over to
Alice Street. I got there just in time to watch two Wankers
beating the crap
out of eachotherin front of six police cars, an overhead
police helicopter
and aNews crew.NOW I feel much better.Anger management
really works...
need to take it
out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out
on someone you don't know. I was sitting at my desk when I
remembered a phone
call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialled it. A man
answered, saying "Hello." I Politely said, "This is David.
Could I please
speak with Robert Campbell ?"Suddenly a manic voice yelled
out in my ear
"Get the right f*kinnumber!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I
couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked
down Robert's
correct number to call him, I found that I had accidentally
transposed the
last two digits.After hanging up with him, I decided to call
the 'wrong'
number again.When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled
"You're a
Wanker!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word
'Wanker' next to
it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when
I was paying
bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell,
"You're Wanker!" It
always cheered me up.When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my
therapeutic 'Wanker' calling would have to stop. So, I called
his number and
said,"Hi,this is John Smith from BT . I'm calling to see if
you're familiar
with our Caller ID Program?"He yelled "NO!" and slammed down
the phone. I
quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a
Wanker!"One day I
was at Lakeside Shopping Centre, getting ready to pull
into a parking spot.
Some guy in a gunmetal grey Land Rover cut me off and pulled
into the spot I
had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd
been waiting
for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.I noticed a "For
Sale" sign in his
back window, so I wrote down his number.A couple of days
later, right after
calling the first Wanker ( I had his number on speed dial,) I
thought that
I'd better call the Land Rover Wanker,too. I said, "Is this
the man with the
gunmetal grey Land Rover for sale?"Yes, it is", he said. "Can
you tell me
where I can see it?" I asked."Yes,I live at 129 Alice
Street, in Ilford.
It's a terraced house, and the car's parked right out in
front.""What's your
name?" I asked. "My name is Steve Hansen,"he said. "When's a
good time to
catch you, Steve?""I'm home most days as I'm currently
unemployed.""Listen,
Steve, can I tell you something?""Yes?""Steve, you're a
Wanker!" Then I
hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.Now, when I had a
problem, I had two arseholes to call.Then I came up with an
idea. I called
Wanker #1.Hello." "You're a Wanker!" (But I didn't hang
up.)"Are you still
there?" he asked."Yeah," I said."Stop calling me," he
screamed."Make me," I
said."Who are you?" he asked."My name is Steve
Hansen.""Yeah? Where do you
live?""I live at 129 Alice Street, Ilford, a terraced house,with my
gunmetal grey Land Rover parked out the front."He said, "I'm
coming over
right now, Steve.And you had better start saying your
prayers."I said,
"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Wanker," and hung up.Then I
called Wanker
#2. "Hello?" he said."Hello, Wanker," I said.He yelled, "If
I ever find out
who you are...""You'll do what?" I said."I'll kick your arse," he
exclaimed.I answered, "Well, Wanker, here's your chance. I'm
coming over
right now."Then I hung up and immediately called the police,
saying that I
live dat129Alice Street, Ilford , and that I was on my way
over there to
kill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 5 News about the
hoodie wargoing
down in Alice Street, Ilford .I quickly got into my car and
headed over to
Alice Street. I got there just in time to watch two Wankers
beating the crap
out of eachotherin front of six police cars, an overhead
police helicopter
and aNews crew.NOW I feel much better.Anger management
really works...
re: Jokes
TERRORIST ACTIVITY HAS CAUSED THE DEMOCRATS TO TAKE MEASURES IN ORDER TO PROTECT THEIR FAIR-HAIRED CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENCY. FOR SECURITY REASONS, THEY HAVE SUGGESTED THAT HILLARY HAVE A MUSLIM NAME.
SO, FROM NOW ON, PLEASE REFER TO HER BY HER NEW MUSLIM NAME:
'SELDOM BIN LAYED'
SO, FROM NOW ON, PLEASE REFER TO HER BY HER NEW MUSLIM NAME:
'SELDOM BIN LAYED'
re: Jokes
It's a very sad world we live in when Sir Paul McCartney and his wife are
facing divorce and all anyone seems to want to do is make jokes about her
false leg. Personally, I think it's prosthetic.
News reports have confirmed that Paul McCartney has separated from his
wife Heather Mills-McCartney. Mrs Mills-McCartney is said to be distraught
over the split. "He has been my crutch for so long"! She said in an
earlier briefing, "I have no idea why this has happened, I'm really
stumped"
"She's running around in circles", according to a close friend, "she needs
all the support she can get. It's not like its easy to walk out on a
relationship like this"
After his break up with Heather, Paul was asked if he would ever consider
going down on one knee again. Paul said he would prefer it if we called
her Heather.
It is not known whether a pre-nuptial agreement was signed prior to the
marriage. Paul McCartney is one of the richest men in the world, and if an
agreement has been signed it is believed that she won't have a leg to
stand on.
Rumours abound over the split which have suggested that infidelity may
have been the cause. "She's terrible" a source stated, "always trying to
get her leg over".
Another source has suggested that her battle with alcoholism was the
cause. "Macca couldn't handle it anymore" a friend said, "he would get
home at night and find her legless"
Many have attributed this to a problem which started with the present that
Paul bought her prior to the wedding. He gave her a new prosthetic leg for
Christmas but that was just a stocking-filler.
A miner in Africa has an accident and loses a leg. He says to his mate
"I'm f---ed, who will want a one legged gold digger?" His mate says "try
Paul McCartney"
Finally a poem by Sir Paul McCartney:
I lay upon a grassy bank
My hands were all a quiver
I slowly removed her suspender belt and her leg fell in the river
These jokes are funny but lets spare a thought for Paul please. Now she
has left him, he's going to struggle to find another woman who can fill
her shoe.
facing divorce and all anyone seems to want to do is make jokes about her
false leg. Personally, I think it's prosthetic.
News reports have confirmed that Paul McCartney has separated from his
wife Heather Mills-McCartney. Mrs Mills-McCartney is said to be distraught
over the split. "He has been my crutch for so long"! She said in an
earlier briefing, "I have no idea why this has happened, I'm really
stumped"
"She's running around in circles", according to a close friend, "she needs
all the support she can get. It's not like its easy to walk out on a
relationship like this"
After his break up with Heather, Paul was asked if he would ever consider
going down on one knee again. Paul said he would prefer it if we called
her Heather.
It is not known whether a pre-nuptial agreement was signed prior to the
marriage. Paul McCartney is one of the richest men in the world, and if an
agreement has been signed it is believed that she won't have a leg to
stand on.
Rumours abound over the split which have suggested that infidelity may
have been the cause. "She's terrible" a source stated, "always trying to
get her leg over".
Another source has suggested that her battle with alcoholism was the
cause. "Macca couldn't handle it anymore" a friend said, "he would get
home at night and find her legless"
Many have attributed this to a problem which started with the present that
Paul bought her prior to the wedding. He gave her a new prosthetic leg for
Christmas but that was just a stocking-filler.
A miner in Africa has an accident and loses a leg. He says to his mate
"I'm f---ed, who will want a one legged gold digger?" His mate says "try
Paul McCartney"
Finally a poem by Sir Paul McCartney:
I lay upon a grassy bank
My hands were all a quiver
I slowly removed her suspender belt and her leg fell in the river
These jokes are funny but lets spare a thought for Paul please. Now she
has left him, he's going to struggle to find another woman who can fill
her shoe.
re: Jokes
A good place to start is at the annual international one legged "Butt Kicking Contest"
How Bessler's wheel works! Stand in front of your computer desk. Place one foot upon the edge of it. while holding it there do the same with the other. This will physically substantiate the acceleration of a falling object.
Ralph
How Bessler's wheel works! Stand in front of your computer desk. Place one foot upon the edge of it. while holding it there do the same with the other. This will physically substantiate the acceleration of a falling object.
Ralph
re: Jokes
Subject: Christmas Greetings
Dear Family and Friends
With Christmas almost upon us, I'd like to extend my heartfelt appreciation
to all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me "forwards"
over
the past 12 months. Thank you for making me feel safe, secure, blessed and
healthy.
Extra thanks to whoever sent me the email about rat crap in the glue on
envelopes - cause I now have to go get a wet towel every time I need to
seal
an envelope. Also, I scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.
Because of your genuine concern, I no longer drink Coca Cola because I
know it can remove toilet stains, which is not exactly an appealing characteristic.
I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked
with a needle infected with AIDS.
I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a
water
buffalo on a hot day.
I no longer go to shopping centres because someone might drug me with
a
cologne sample and rob me.
I no longer eat KFC because their "chickens" are actually horrible mutant
freaks with no eyes or feathers.
I no longer worry about my soul because at last count, I have 363,214
angels
looking out for me.
Thanks to you, I have learned that God only answers my prayers if I forward
an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.
I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl on the Internet
who is about to die in the hospital (for the 1,387,258th time).
I no longer have any money at all, in fact - but that will change once
I receive the £15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating
in their special on-line email program.
Yes, I want to thank you all so much for looking out for me that I will
now return the favour! If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000
people in the next 7 minutes, a large pigeon with a wicked case of diahorrea
will land on your head at 4:00PM tomorrow afternoon. I know this will occur
because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbour's ex-mother-in-law's
second husband's cousin's beautician.
Merry Christmas!
Dear Family and Friends
With Christmas almost upon us, I'd like to extend my heartfelt appreciation
to all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me "forwards"
over
the past 12 months. Thank you for making me feel safe, secure, blessed and
healthy.
Extra thanks to whoever sent me the email about rat crap in the glue on
envelopes - cause I now have to go get a wet towel every time I need to
seal
an envelope. Also, I scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.
Because of your genuine concern, I no longer drink Coca Cola because I
know it can remove toilet stains, which is not exactly an appealing characteristic.
I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked
with a needle infected with AIDS.
I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a
water
buffalo on a hot day.
I no longer go to shopping centres because someone might drug me with
a
cologne sample and rob me.
I no longer eat KFC because their "chickens" are actually horrible mutant
freaks with no eyes or feathers.
I no longer worry about my soul because at last count, I have 363,214
angels
looking out for me.
Thanks to you, I have learned that God only answers my prayers if I forward
an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.
I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl on the Internet
who is about to die in the hospital (for the 1,387,258th time).
I no longer have any money at all, in fact - but that will change once
I receive the £15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating
in their special on-line email program.
Yes, I want to thank you all so much for looking out for me that I will
now return the favour! If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000
people in the next 7 minutes, a large pigeon with a wicked case of diahorrea
will land on your head at 4:00PM tomorrow afternoon. I know this will occur
because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbour's ex-mother-in-law's
second husband's cousin's beautician.
Merry Christmas!