A Friendly Subject

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  • [FONT=&quot]WOMEN CAN BE SO INSENSITIVE


    [/FONT]Ralph returns from the doctor and tells his wife that the doctor
    has told him he has only 24 hours to live.


    Given this prognosis, Ralph asks his wife for sex. Naturally,
    she agrees, and they make love.



    About six hours later, the husband goes to his wife and says,
    "Honey, you know I now have only 18 hours to live. Could we please do it one more time?"


    Of course, the wife agrees and they do it again.


    Later, as the man gets into bed, he looks at his watch and
    realizes he now has only 8 hours left. He touches his wife's shoulder and asks,
    Honey, please... just one more time before I die?" she says, "Of course, dear."


    And they make love for the third time.


    After this session, the wife rolls over & falls
    asleep.


    Ralph, however, worried about his impending death, tosses &
    turns until he's down to 4 more hours.


    He taps his wife, who rouses. "Honey, I have only 4 more hour! s.
    Do you think we could...?"


    At this point the wife rolls over and says, "Listen Ralph, I have to get up in the morning...


    You Don't"

  • As you may already know, it is a sin for a Muslim male to see any woman other than his wife naked, and that he must commit suicide if he does. So next Saturday at 4 PM. Eastern Time, all American women are asked to walk out of their house completely naked to help weed out any neighborhood terrorists. Circling your block for one hour is recommended for this anti-terrorist effort.


    All men are to position themselves in lawn chairs in front of their house to prove they are not Muslims, and to demonstrate they think it's okay to see nude women other than their wife and to show support for all American women. Since Islam also does not approve of alcohol, a cold 6-pack of beer at your side is further proof of your anti-Muslim sentiment.


    The American government appreciates your efforts to root out terrorists and applauds your participation in this anti-terrorist activity. God bless America.


    It is your patriotic duty to pass this on.

    De gustibus non est disputandum

  • In another topic, the tragedy of how the American Indian was wronged in the history of the West came up. It reminded me of a cartoon my future Son-In-Law (who's an Indian) shared with me. I got a good chuckle out of it, so I thought I'd share it with the group.

    Mark

    "I couldn't go to sleep at night if the director didn't call 'cut'. "

  • Love that cartoon, Mark.

    I also love it every time the courts side with the Indians when states or the feds are trying to screw them again. They've been screwed enough.

    De gustibus non est disputandum

  • Got the following in an email today . . . WARNING . . . the Mrs. and I were laughing so hard we were practically crying . . . if you are eating or drinking right now, swallow before you start reading. BTW, this is NOT about me, or even anybody I know!



    Walmart and Chili

    I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that said course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'You're definitely going to mess yourself' chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next day both of your butt cheeks WILL fall off.


    Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No 'Watson's Movement 2'. Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.


    Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of when, I bravely set off for the market; a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often haunt in search of tasty tidbits. Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase.


    It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me. Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm referring to that 'Uh oh, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different. The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.


    There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly woman turned into it.


    I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at least will be able to relate. I could've warned that poor woman but didn't. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh. Mistake.


    Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped down', if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.


    Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grand Mal assplosion took place.


    Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the inevitable 'Oh my God', floating above the toilet seat because my butt is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, ' Oh my God!', then quickly left.


    Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart, intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, 'Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem.'


    That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!' then ran off, returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.


    Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Albertson's. I can't say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter. They claim they're going to have to repaint the store.

  • chester

    thanks for the laugh it bought tears to my eyes laughing so much, really brighten my weekend after all of time i spent at work thanks again

    cheers smokey

    " its not all black and white, but different shades of grey"

  • A lot of folks can't understand how we came to have an oil shortage here in our country.
    ~~~
    Well, there's a very simple answer.
    ~~~
    Nobody bothered to check the oil.
    ~~~
    We just didn't know we were getting low.
    ~~~
    The reason for that is purely geographical.
    ~~~
    Our OIL is located in
    ~~~
    ALASKA
    ~~~
    California
    ~~~
    Coastal Florida
    ~~~
    Coastal Louisiana
    ~~~
    Kansas
    ~~~
    Oklahoma
    ~~~
    Pennsylvania
    and
    Texas
    ~~~
    Our
    DIPSTICKS
    are located in
    Washington, DC !!!
    Any Questions ???
    NO? I didn't Think So.

    De gustibus non est disputandum