Jokes – Stories #4

The Politically Correct Little Red Riding Hood
There once was a young person named Little Red Riding Hood who lived on the edge of a large forest full of endangered owls and rare plants that would probably provide a cure for cancer if only someone took the time to study them. Red Riding Hood lived with a nurture giver whom she sometimes referred to as “Mother”, although she didn’t mean to imply by this term that she would have thought less of the person if a close biological link did not in fact exist. Nor did she intend to denigrate the equal value of nontraditional households, although she was sorry if this was the impression conveyed.

One day her Mother asked her to take a basket of organically grown fruit and mineral water to her Grandmother’s house. “But Mother, won’t this be stealing work from the unionized people who have struggled for years to earn the right to carry all packages between various people in the woods?” Red Riding Hood’s Mother assured her that she had called the union boss and gotten a special compassionate mission exemption form.

“But Mother, aren’t you oppressing me by ordering me to do this?” Red Riding Hood’s Mother pointed out that it was impossible for women to oppress each other, since all women were equally oppressed until all women were free. “But Mother, then shouldn’t you have my brother carry the basket, since he’s an oppressor, and should learn what it’s like to be oppressed?” And Red Riding Hood’s Mother explained that her brother was attending a special rally for animal rights, and besides, this wasn’t stereotypical women’s work, but an empowering deed that would help engender a feeling of community.

“But won’t I be oppressing Grandma, by implying that she’s sick and hence unable to independently further her own selfhood?” But Red Riding Hood’s Mother explained that her Grandmother wasn’t actually sick or incapacitated or mentally handicapped in any way, although that was not to imply that any of these conditions were inferior to what some people called “health”.

Thus Red Riding Hood felt that she could get behind the idea of delivering the basket to her Grandmother, and so she set off.

Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place, but Red Riding Hood knew that this was an irrational fear based on cultural paradigms instilled by a patriarchal society that regarded the natural world as an exploitable resource, and hence believed that natural predators were in fact intolerable competitors. Other people avoided the woods for fear of thieves and deviants, but Red Riding Hood felt that in a truly classless society all marginalized peoples would be able to “come out” of the woods and be accepted as valid lifestyle role models.

On her way to Grandma’s house, Red Riding Hood passed a woodchopper, and wandered off the path, in order to examine some flowers. She was startled to find herself standing before a Wolf, who asked her what was in her basket. Red Riding Hood’s teacher had warned her never to talk to strangers, but she was confident in taking control of her own budding sexuality, and chose to dialog with the Wolf. She replied, “I am taking my Grandmother some healthful snacks in a gesture of solidarity.”

The Wolf said, “You know, my dear, it isn’t safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone.”

Red Riding Hood said, “I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop an alternative and yet entirely valid world view. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would prefer to be on my way.”

Red Riding Hood returned to the main path, and proceeded towards her Grandmother’s house. But because his status outside society had freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the Wolf knew of a quicker route to Grandma’s house. He burst into the house and ate Grandma, a course of action affirmative and excusable by his nature as a predator. Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist gender role notions, he put on Grandma’s nightclothes, crawled under the bedcovers, and awaited developments.

Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said, “Grandma, I have brought you some cruelty free snacks to salute you in your role of wise and nurturing matriarch.”

The Wolf said softly, “Come closer, child, so that I might see you.”

Red Riding Hood said, “Goddess! Grandma, what big eyes you have!”

“You forget that I am optically challenged.”

“And Grandma, what an enormous, what a fine nose you have.”

“Naturally, I could have had it fixed to help my acting career, but I didn’t give in to such societal pressures, my child.”

“And Grandma, what very big, sharp teeth you have!”

The Wolf could not take any more of these slurs, and, in a reaction appropriate for his accustomed milieu, he leaped out of bed, grabbed Little Red Riding Hood, and opened his jaws so wide that she could see her poor Grandmother cowering in his belly.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Red Riding Hood bravely shouted. “You must request my permission before proceeding to a new level of intimacy!”

The Wolf was so startled by this statement that he loosened his grasp on her. At the same time, the woodchopper burst into the cottage, brandishing an ax.

“Hands off!” cried the woodchopper.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” cried Little Red Riding Hood. “If I let you help me now, I would be expressing a lack of confidence in my own abilities, which would lead to poor self esteem and lower achievement scores on my college entrance exams, as well as submitting to traditional gender defined roles of hero and damsel in distress.”

“Last chance, sister! Get your hands off that endangered species! This is an EPA sting!” screamed the woodchopper, and when Little Red Riding Hood made a sudden unexpected movement, he sliced off her head.

“Thank goodness you got here in time.” said the Wolf. “That brat and her Grandmother lured me in here. I thought I was a goner.”

“No, I think I’m the real victim, here.” said the woodchopper. “I’ve been dealing with my anger ever since I saw her picking those protected flowers earlier. And now I’m going to have such a trauma. Do you have any FDA approved pain relief products?”

“Surely.” said the Wolf.


“I feel your pain.” said the Wolf, and he patted the woodchopper on his firm, well padded back, gave a little belch, and said, “Do you have any non-addictive gastrointestinal distress relief products?”
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Yet Another Reason Why Caffeine Is Good For You
Worrying about the health of school kids, the California State Assembly has voted to ban soda sales at all elementary and junior high schools. Critics say the move will actually be unhealthy for the state’s schoolchildren, who need the sugar high to help them avoid getting shot.
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Super Salesman
A young guy from North Dakota moves to Florida and goes to a big “everything under one roof” department store looking for a job.

The Manager says, “Do you have any sales experience?”

The kid says “Yeah. I was a vacuum salesman back in North Dakota .”

Well, the boss was unsure, but he liked the kid and figured he’d give him a shot, so he gave him the job.

“You start tomorrow. I’ll come down after we close and see how you did.”

His first day on the job was rough, but he got through it. After the store was locked up, the boss came down to the sales floor.

“How many customers bought something from you today?” The kid frowns and looks at the floor and mutters, “One”. The boss says “Just one?!!?
Our sales people average sales to 20 to 30 customers a day.

That will have to change, and soon, if you’d like to continue your employment here. We have very strict standards for our sales force here in Florida . One sale a day might have been acceptable in North Dakota , but you’re not on the farm anymore, son.”

The kid took his beating, but continued to look at his shoes, so the boss felt kinda bad for chewing him out on his first day. He asked (semi-sarcastically), “So, how much was your one sale for?”

The kid looks up at his boss and says “$101,237.65″.

The boss, astonished, says $101,237.65?!? What the heck did you sell?”

The kid says, “Well, first, I sold him some new fish hooks. Then I sold him a new fishing rod to go with his new hooks. Then I asked him where he was going fishing and he said down the coast, so I told him he was going to need a boat, so we went down to the boat department and I sold him a twin engine Chris Craft. Then he said he didn’t think his Honda Civic would pull it, so I took him down to the automotive department and sold him that 4×4 Expedition.”

The boss said “A guy came in here to buy a fish hook and you sold him a boat and a TRUCK!?”

The kid said “No, the guy came in here to buy tampons for his wife, and I said, ‘Dude, your weekend’s shot, you should go fishing………’”
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This May Melt Your Heart
In 1986, Mkele Mbembe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Mbembe approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant’s foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it.

As carefully and as gently as he could, Mbembe worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.

The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments.

Mbembe stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled.
Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.
Mbembe never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later, Mbembe was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenage son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Mbembe and his son Tapu were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Mbembe, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down.

The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Mbembe couldn’t help wondering if this was the same elephant. Mbembe summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure.

He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.

The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Mbembe’s legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.

Probably wasn’t the same elephant.
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Why Denial Is So Important In A Marriage
‘Nice threads, man,’ commented Donald when his buddy showed up one day in a snappy new suit. ‘Where’d you pick ‘em up?’ Richard beamed. ‘My wife got them for me. Pretty sharp, huh?’ ‘I’ll say. What was the occasion?’ ‘Got me,’ admitted Richard with a cheerful shrug. ‘I came home from work early the other day and there they were, hanging over the chair in the bedroom.’
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The Dead President Sketch
Voter: Hello, I wish to register a complaint…hello? Miss?
Shopkeeper: What do you mean, miss?
V: Oh, I’m sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint.
S: Sorry, we’re closing for lunch.
V: Never mind that, my lad, I wish to complain about this President I elected not half an hour ago, from this very voting booth.
S: Oh, yes, the Northeastern Liberal. What’s wrong with it?
V: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. It’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it.
S: No, no sir, it’s not dead. It’s thinking.
V: Thinking?
S: Yeah, remarkable candidate the Northeastern Liberal, beautiful platform, innit?
V: The platform doesn’t enter into it — it’s stone dead.
S: No, no — it’s just thinking.
V: All right then, if it’s thinking I’ll divert its attention. (shouts at slumped form in navy suit) Hello President! I’ve got some lovely Socialized Medical Programs for you if you wake up!
S: (poking president’s head) There it moved.
V: No he didn’t. That was you moving his head.
S: I did not.
V: Yes, you did. (yanks president upright by his lapels, shouts) Hello President! (bangs head against the counter) Mr. President, wake up! President! (throws him in the air and lets him fall to the floor) Now that’s what I call a dead President.
S: No, no he’s a Democrat.
V: Look my lad, I’ve had just about enough of this. That President is definitely deceased. And when I elected it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out after a prolonged debate.
S: He’s probably pining for Thurgood Marshall.
V: Pining for Thurgood Marshall, what kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got it home?
S: The Northeastern Liberal is often found on its back. Beautiful politician, lovely platform.
V: Look, I took the liberty of examining that President, and I discovered that the only reason that it had been sitting at its desk in the first place was that it had been nailed there.
S: Well of course it was nailed there. Otherwise it would have jumped out the window of the Oval Office– and voom!
V: Look matey, (picks up President) this President wouldn’t voom if I put four thousand volts through it. It’s bleeding demised.
S: It’s not, it’s pining.
V: He’s not pining he’s passed on! This President is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late President! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life it rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed him to the desk, he would be pushing up the daisies! He’s off its twig! He’s shuffled off his mortal coil! He’s run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! He’s fucking snuffed it! This is an ex-President!!
S: Well, I’d better replace it then.
V: To get anything done in this country you’ve got to complain till you’re blue in the mouth.
S: Sorry guv, we’re right out of Presidents.
V: I see. I see. I get the picture.
S: I got a Queen.
V: A Queen.
S: Yeah.
V: Pray, does it address the deficit?
S: Not really, no.
V: Well then it’s scarcely a replacement, is it?
S: Want to come back to my place?
V: Thought you’d never ask.

The Dead President Sketch is by: Monty Python
except for the nasty bits which were written by: Elizabeth Barrett Revulsion and Whiplash Smile and Montgomery J. Moose.
(Ms. Revulsion is actually fond of liberals. Whiplash Smile is not. Montgomery J. Moose finds the liberals passionately exciting)

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Wedding Night Pranks
The wedding date was set and the grooms three pals- a carpenter, an electrician, and a dentist- were deciding what pranks to play on the couple on their wedding night.

The carpenter decided that he would saw the slats off their bed.

The electrician figured that wiring the bed with alternating current would give them a few chuckles.

The dentist would not tell what he had done, but wore a sly grin and swore that it would be memorable.

The wedding and reception went as planned.

A few days later, each of the groom’s three friends received a letter saying the following: “Dear friends, we did not mind the bed slats being sawed. The electric shock was only a minor setback but I swear to God Almighty, I am going to kill the mother fucker that put Novocain in the K-Y Jelly.”
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The B-2 Stealth Bomber
By Dave Barry

I have some news that is going to cause you taxpayers to want to throw down this newspaper and dance the Funky Chicken of Joy.

Here it is: The B-2 “Stealth” bomber can get wet! Hurrah!

In case you’re wondering why this is so exciting, let me give you some background. The B-2 is…


a bomber that is invisible to enemy radar because it is made of high-tech “stealthy” materials such as (to judge from the price) caviar.

The original mission of the B-2 was to fly from overseas bases deep into the Soviet Union and drop nuclear bombs. Of course there is no Soviet Union any more, which means that now the mission of the B-2 bomber is… The mission is… Hang on, it’ll come to me…

OK, never mind the pesky detail of what the military mission is. The important thing is, the B-2 has demonstrated a breathtaking capability, unmatched in aviation history, to deliver, with pinpoint accuracy, extremely large payloads of taxpayer dollars into the districts of strategic members of Congress.

So far the B-2 project has cost us taxpayers $45 billion, which has purchased us 21 bombers, which works out to around $2 billion per bomber, making it the most expensive airplane ever built (bear in mind, however, that it comes with floor mats).

Now here’s the problem: The General Accounting Office did a big study of the B-2 bomber, concluding that — I will try to put this in layperson’s terms — flying is bad for it.

Yes. It turns out that the secret stealthy materials are sensitive to moisture, which as luck would have it (Who could have predicted this?) is plentiful in the atmosphere, so according to the GAO, after the B-2 flies, it tends to need lots of costly repairs.

I can relate to this. I used to own a boat, and whenever I made the stupid mistake of putting it in the actual water, expensive pieces of it would immediately fall off. I wound up deploying my boat permanently on a trailer. Using similar reasoning, the Air Force has decided that, instead of putting the B-2′s at bases around the world, it will deploy all of them in — get ready for a strategic location — Missouri.

Really. That’s where the Air Force has special climate-controlled maintenance facilities. So let’s just recap the B-2 history:

ORIGINAL IDEA: Station overseas; fly deep into Soviet Union; drop nuclear bombs.

CURRENT ACTUAL USE: Station in Missouri; fly deep into Kansas; get repaired.

So, OK, things have not worked out exactly as planned. But how many of us can honestly say that we have never, in a moment of absentmindedness, purchased an unnecessary weapons system for $45 billion? I didn’t think so! Nevertheless, when the GAO report came out, there were a lot of snide remarks from the media about the B-2 bomber not being able to fly in the rain.

So in September, the Air Force struck back with a bold strategic move: It flew several dozen reporters and photographers from Washington to Missouri, where they witnessed as a team of airmen — I swear I am not making this bold strategic move up — wash a B-2 bomber.

“This airplane does not melt in water.” stated an Air Force official in a quote that I am also not making up. “We do this all the time. We just get out here with the brushes and scrub away.”

I don’t know about the rest of you taxpayers, but when I read those words, I get a proud feeling deep in my stomach, knowing that there is no way that any enemy of this nation could disable our B-2 bomber fleet by having agents sneak into Missouri and wash the planes.

Despite the fact that the B-2 has been shown to be capable, with proper maintenance, of withstanding moisture, the Pentagon has decided that it does not want to buy any more of these planes. In other words, even our top military experts believe that 21 is a sufficient number of extremely expensive bombers with no apparent function.

So guess what a bunch of congresspersons recently tried to do? Right! They tried to have the taxpayers buy nine more! For another $27 billion! Guess why they did this? Right! To enhance the National Security! By which I mean, get themselves re-elected! It doesn’t even matter if the B-2 can fly! We could make it entirely out of a fragile type of cheese that spoils on contact with air and has to be completely replaced every 45 minutes! As long as the money gets spent in these congresspersons’ districts!

Unfortunately for our National Security, Congress decided to cancel the new B-2′s and spend the money on other things. (What, you thought they’d give the money back to YOU?) Nevertheless we can all take comfort in the fact that for many years, we will be paying millions and millions of dollars to maintain the original fleet of Stealth bombers stationed strategically in Missouri, scrubbed and ready to fly out and bomb enemy targets.

Or maybe it will turn out to be more cost-effective to fly the enemy targets to Missouri, so our B-2′s can bomb them without getting too far from the climate-controlled maintenance facilities. So as a taxpayer, I applaud all the congresspersons who helped make this amazing weapon possible. I hope they get rewarded for their efforts by being taken for lengthy VIP flights on the B-2. In the rain. Strapped to a wing.
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What Happens When A Fly Falls Into A Coffee Cup?
The Italian – throws the cup and walks away in a fit of rage
The Frenchman – takes out the fly, and drinks the coffee
The Chinese – eats the fly and throws away the coffee
The Russian – drinks the coffee with the fly, since it was extra with no charge
The Israeli – sells the coffee to the Frenchman, the fly to the Chinese, buys himself a new cup of coffee and uses the extra money to invent a Device that prevents flies from falling into coffee

The Palestinian – blames the Israeli for the fly falling into his coffee, protests the act of aggression to the UN, takes a loan from the European Union for a new cup of coffee, uses the money to purchase explosives and then blows up the coffee house where the Italian, the Frenchman, the Chinese, and the Russian are trying to explain to the Israeli why he should give away his cup of coffee to the Palestinian.
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Tactics Of Social Discourse
I argue very well. Ask any of my remaining friends. I can win an argument on any topic, against any opponent. People know this, and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a sign of their great respect, they don’t even invite me.

You too can win arguments. Simply follow these rules:

Drink Liquor
Suppose you’re at a party and some hotshot intellectual is expounding on the economy of Peru, a subject you know nothing about. If you’re drinking some health-fanatic drink like grapefruit juice, you’ll hang back, afraid to display your ignorance, while the hotshot enthralls your date.

But if you drink several large shots of Jack Daniels, you’ll discover you have strong views about the Peruvian economy. You’ll be a wealth of information. You’ll argue forcefully, offering searing insights and possibly upsetting furniture. People will be impressed. Some may leave the room.

Make things up
Suppose, in the Peruvian economy argument, you are trying to prove Peruvians are underpaid, a position you base solely on the fact that you are underpaid, and you’re damned if you’re going to let a bunch of Peruvians be better off. Don’t say: “I think Peruvians are underpaid.” Say: “The average Peruvian’s salary in 1981 dollars adjusted for the revised tax base is $1,452.81 per annum, which is $836.07 below the mean gross poverty level.”

Note: Always make up exact figures.

If an opponent asks you where you got your information, make that up, too. Say: “This information comes from Dr. Hovel T. Moon’s study for the Buford Commission published May 9, 1982. Didn’t you read it?” Say this in the same tone of voice you would use to say “You left your soiled underwear in my bath house.”

Use meaningless but weighty-sounding words and phrases
Memorize this list:
• Let me put it this way
• In terms of
• Vis-a-vis
• Per se
• As it were
• Qua
• So to speak
• well, any-who

You should also memorize some Latin abbreviations such as “Q.E.D.,” “e.g.,” and “i.e.” These are all short for “I speak Latin, and you do not.”

Here’s how to use these words and phrases. Suppose you want to say:
“Peruvians would like to order appetizers more often, but they don’t have enough money.”

You never win arguments talking like that. But you will win if you say: “Let me put it this way. In terms of appetizers vis-a-vis Peruvians qua Peruvians, they would like to order them more often, so to speak, but they do not have enough money per se, as it were. Q.E.D.”

Only a fool would challenge that statement.

Use snappy and irrelevant comebacks
You need an arsenal of all-purpose irrelevant phrases to fire back at your opponents when they make valid points. The best are:
• You’re begging the question.
• You’re being defensive.
• Don’t compare apples and oranges.
• What are your parameters?

This last one is especially valuable. Nobody, other than mathematicians, has the vaguest idea what “parameters” means.

Here’s how to use your comebacks:

You say “As Abraham Lincoln said in 1873…”
Your opponents says “But Lincoln died in 1865.”
You say “You’re begging the question.”
You say “Liberians, like most Asians…”
Your opponents says “But Liberia is in Africa.”
You say “You’re being defensive.”

Compare your opponent to Adolf Hitler
This is your heavy artillery, for when your opponent is obviously right and you are spectacularly wrong. Bring Hitler up subtly. Say: “That sounds suspiciously like something Adolf Hitler might say” or “You certainly do remind me of Adolf Hitler.”

You now know how to out-argue anybody.

Warning: Do not try to pull any of this on people who generally carry weapons.
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Who Is Jack Schitt?
The lineage revealed…

Many people are at a loss for a response when someone says, “you don’t know Jack Schitt.”

Soon you will be able to handle this situation.

Jack is the only son of Awe Schitt and O. Schitt.

Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, married O.Schitt, the owner of Knee-Deep Schitt Inc. In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt and the deeply religious couple produced six children: Holie, the twins Deep and Dip, Fulla, Giva and Bull Schitt.

Against his parent’s strong objections, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school drop out. After being married for 15 years, Jack and Noe divorced. Noe Schitt married Mr. Scherlock and because her kids were living with them, decided to keep her previous name also. She became known as Noe Schitt Scherlock.

Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt and the produced a cowardly son – Chick Noe Schitt (Chick N. Schitt for short). Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt were inseparable throughout childhood, and consequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony. The Schitt-Happens children are Dawg, Byrd and Horse Schitt.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world.

He recently returned with his new Italin bride, Pisa Schitt.

Now, when someone says that you don’t know Jack Schitt, you can correct them and ask if they are related to any of the above.
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That’s Life!!!
5 minutes ago you were traveling to your office at 80mph, in your brand new car.
Now you are traveling to the hospital at double that speed in an ambulance.
- You just think, if there was an ‘undo’ in life.

You are already late, and your keys are missing.
- You just think, if there was a ‘find’ tool in life.

One day you realize that you are turning bald.
- You just think, If there was a ‘cut and paste’ in life.

You are bankrupt, after investing in some weird business.
- You just think, If there was a ‘rebuild all’ in life.

The train is so crowded that you cannot get anywhere near that nice girl at the other end of the car.
- You just think, If there was a ‘zoom’ & ‘view full screen’ in life.

After marriage you realize that there is bound to be a mismatch
-You just think, If there was an ‘evaluation period’ or at least a ‘sample down load’ or a ‘demo’ version.

That’s Life………………….TAKE IT EASY
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Well, It’s Better Then Saying Get Off My Land
An old farmer had owned a farm for several years. He had a large pond in the back, fixed up nice – picnic tables, horseshoe courts, and some apple and peach trees. The pond was properly shaped and fixed up for swimming when it was built. One evening, the old farmer decided to go down to look over the pond, as he hadn’t been there for a while. He grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he came closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond. He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end of the pond. One of the women shouted to him, “We’re not coming out until you leave!” The old man frowned, “I didn’t come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond.” Holding the bucket up he said, “I’m here to feed the alligator!”
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The Internet Explained
by Dave Barry

An excerpt from the book “Dave Barry in Cyberspace”

Q: What, exactly, is the Internet?
A: The Internet is a worldwide network of university, government, business, and private computer systems.

Q: Who runs it?
A: A 13-year-old named Jason.

Q: How can I get on the Internet?
A: The easiest way is to sign up with one of the popular commercial “on-line” services, such as Prodigy, CompuServe, or America Online, which will give you their program disks for free. Or, if you just leave your house unlocked, they’ll sneak in some night and install their programs on your computer when you’re sleeping. They really want your business.

Q: What are the benefits of these services?
A: The major benefit is that they all have simple, “user-friendly” interfaces that enable you-even if you have no previous computer experience-to provide the on-line services with the information they need to automatically put monthly charges on your credit card bill forever.

Q: What if I die?
A: They don’t care.

Q: Can’t I cancel my account?
A: Of course! You can cancel your account at anytime.

Q: How?
A: Nobody has ever been able to find out. Some of us have been trying for years to cancel our on-line service accounts, but no matter what we do, the charges keep appearing on our bills. We’re thinking of entering the Federal Witness Protection Program.

Q: What if I have children?
A: You’ll want an anesthetic, because it really hurts.

Q: No, I mean: What if my children also use my Internet account?
A: You should just sign your house and major internal organs over to the on-line service right now.

Q: Aside from running up charges, what else can I do once I’m connected to an on-line service?
A: Millions of things! An incredible array of things! No end of things!

Q: Like what?
A: You can… ummmm … OK! I have one! You can chat.

Q: Chat?
A: Chat.

Q: I can already chat. I chat with my friends.
A: Yes, but on the Internet, which connects millions of people all over the entire globe, you can chat with total strangers, many of whom are boring and stupid!

Q: Sounds great! How does it work?
A: Well, first you decide which type of area you wish to chat in. Some areas are just for general chatting, and some are for specific interest groups, such as Teens, Poets, Cat Lovers, Religious People, Gays, Gay Teens Who Read Religious Poetry to Cats, and of course Guys Having Pointless Arguments About Sports. At any given moment, an area can contain anywhere from two to dozens of people, who use clever fake names such as “ByteMe2″ so nobody will know their real identities.

Q: What are their real identities?
A: They represent an incredible range of people, people of all ages, in all kinds of fascinating fields from scientists to singers, from writers to wranglers, from actors to athletes – you could be talking to almost anybody on the Internet!

Q: Really?
A: No. You re almost always talking to losers and hormone-crazed 13-year-old boys. But they pretend to be writers, wranglers, scientists, singers, etc.

Q: What do people talk about in chat areas?
A: Most chat-area discussions revolve around the fascinating topic of who is entering and leaving the chat area. A secondary, but equally fascinating, topic is where everybody lives. Also, for a change of pace, every now and then the discussion is interrupted by a hormone-crazed 13-year-old boy wishing to talk dirty to women. To give you an idea of how scintillating the repartee can be, here’s a re-creation of a typical chat area dialog (do not read this scintillating repartee while operating heavy machinery):
LilBrisket: Hi everybody
Wazootyman: Hi LilBrisket
Toadster: Hi Bris
Lungftook: Hi B
LilBrisket: What’s going on?
Toadster: Not much
Lungftook: Pretty quiet
Wazootyman: Anybody here from Texas?
LilBrisket: No
Toadster: Nope
Lungftook: Sorry

UvulaBob: Hi everybody
Toadster: Hi UvulaBob
Lungftook: Hi Uvula
LilBrisket: Hi UB
Wazootyman: Hi U
UvulaBob: What’s happening?
LilBrisket: Kinda slow
Toadster: Same old same old
Lungflook: Pretty quiet
Jason56243837: LilBrisket, take off your panties
LilBrisket: OK, but I’m a man


Wazootyman: UvulaBob, are you from Texas?
UvulaBob: No


Lungftook: Well, gotta run
Toadster: ‘bye, Lungflook
LilBrisket: Take ‘er easy, Lungster
Wazootyman: See ya around, Lung
UvulaBob: So long, L


PolypMaster: Hi everybody
LilBrisket: Hey, PolypMaster
Toadster: Yo, Polyp
UvulaBob: Hi, P
PolypMaster: What’s going on?
LilBrisket: Not much
Toadster: Pretty quiet
UvulaBob: Kinda slow…
And so it goes in the chat areas, hour after riveting hour, where the ideas flow fast and furious, and at any moment you could learn some fascinating nugget of global-network information, such as whether or not PolypMaster comes from Texas.

Q: Aside from chatting, what else can I do on the Internet?
A: You can join one of the thousands of forums wherein people, by posting messages, discuss political topics of the day.

Q: Like what?
A: Barry Manilow.

Q: There’s a forum for Barry Manilow?
A: There’s a forum for everything.

Q: What happens on these forums?
A: Well, on the Barry Manilow forum, for example, fans post messages about how much they love Barry Manilow, and other fans respond by posting messages about how much they love Barry Manilow, too. And then sometimes the forum is invaded by people posting messages about how much they hate Barry Manilow, which in turn leads to angry counter messages and vicious name-calling that can go on for months.

Q: Just like junior high school!
A: But even more pointless.

Q: Are there forums about sex?
A: Zillions of them.

Q: What do people talk about on those?
A: Barry Manilow.

Q: No, really.
A: OK, they talk about sex, but it is not all titillating. Often you’ll find highly scientific discussions that expand the frontiers of human understanding.

Q: It is a beautiful thing, the Internet.
A: It is.

Q: What is the “World Wide Web”?
A: The World Wide Web is the multimedia version of the Internet, where you can get not only text but also pictures and sounds on a semi-infinite range of topics. This information is stored on “Web pages,” which are maintained by companies, institutions, and individuals. Using special software, you can navigate to these pages and read, look at, or listen to all kinds of cool stuff.

Q: Wow! How can I get on the Web?
A: It’s easy! Suppose you’re interested in buying a boat from an Australian company that has a Web page featuring pictures and specifications of its various models. All you have to do is fire up your World Wide Web software and type in the company’s Web page address, which will probably be an intuitive, easy-to-remember string of characters like this:$.fle/fo/fum

Q: What if I type one single character wrong?
A: You will launch U.S. nuclear missiles against Norway.

Q: Ah.
A: But assuming you type in the correct address, you merely press Enter, and there you are!

Q: Where?
A: Sitting in front of your computer waiting for something to happen. It could take weeks. Entire new continents can emerge from the ocean in the time it takes for a Web page to show up on your screen. Contrary to what you may have heard, the Internet does not operate at the speed of light; it operates at the speed of the Department of Motor Vehicles.. It might be quicker for you to just go over to Australia and look at the boats in person.

Q: Does that mean that the World Wide Web is useless?
A: Heck no! If you’re willing to be patient, you’ll find that you can utilize the vast resources of the Web to waste time in ways that you never before dreamed possible.

Q: For example?
A: For example, recently I was messing around with a “Web browser,” which is a kind of software that lets you search all of cyberspace – millions of documents for references to a specific word or group of words. You can find pretty much everything that anybody has ever written on the Internet about that topic; it’s an incredibly powerful research tool.

Q: That is truly beautiful.
A: Yes. And it’s just one teensy little piece, one infinitesimally tiny fraction, of the gigantic, pulsating, mutating, multiplying mass of stuff out there on the Internet. Sooner or later, everything is going to be on there somewhere. You should be on there, too. Don’t be afraid! Be like the bold explorer Christopher Columbus, (E-mail address:ChrisCol@nina,pinta&santamaria.ahoy) setting out into uncharted waters, fearful of what you might encounter, but also mindful of the old inspirational maritime saying:

“If you don’t leave the land, then you’ll probably never have a chance to get scurvy and develop anemia, spongy gums, and bleeding from the mucous membranes.”

So come on! join me and millions of others on this exciting Cyber Frontier, with its limitless possibilities for the enhancement of knowledge and the betterment of the human race!

Wazootyman is waiting for you.
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We're Not The 'Lost Generation'
by Tami Larsen
If you were born between 1967 and 1977 (give or take a year or two), you will certainly enjoy this as much as I did. Don’t skip a line, read this when you have time to take it all in.

I am a child of the 70′s and 80′s. That is what I prefer to be called. The 90′s can do without me. Grunge isn’t here to stay, fashion is fickle and “Generation X” is a myth created by some over-40 writer trying to figure out why people wear flannel in the summer.

• When I got home from school, I played Atari 2600.

• I spent hours playing Pitfall or Combat or Breakout or Dodge’em Cars or Frogger.

• I never did beat Asteroids.

• Then I watched “Scooby Doo.” Daphne was a Goddess, and I thought Shaggy was smoking something synthetic in the back of the mystery machine. I hated Scrappy.

• I would sleep over at friends’ houses on the weekends.

• We played army with G.I. Joe figures, and I set up galactic wars between Autobots and Decepticons.

• We never beat Rubik’s cube, unless you count taking off the stickers.

• I got upon Saturday mornings at 6 a.m. to watch bad Hanna-Barbera cartoons like “Captain Caveman” and “SpaceGhost”. In between I would watch “School House Rock” (“Conjunction junction, what’s your function?!”)

• On Friday Night Daisy Duke was my future wife. I was going to own the General Lee and shoot dynamite arrows out the back. Why did they weld the doors shut?

• Did your dad turn from mild-mannered Bill Bixby into “The Incredible Hulk” when he got upset?

• At the movies the Nerds got revenge on the AlphaBetas by teaming up with the Omega Mu’s.

• I watched Indiana Jones save the Ark of the Covenant, and wondered what Yoda meant when he said, “No, there is another.”

• My family took summer vacations to South Florida and collected “Muppet Movie” glasses along the way. (We had the whole set)

• I listened to John Cougar Mellencamp sing about Little Pink Houses for Jack and Diane.

• I was bewildered by Boy George and the colors of his dreams, red, gold and green. I was a “Wild Boy” Duran Duran. MTV played MUSIC videos. Nickelodeon played “You can’t Do That On Television” and “Dangermouse”

• Does anyone remember the “Banana Splits”?

• I drank Dr. Pepper. “I’m a Pepper, you’re a Pepper, wouldn’t you like to be a Pepper too?” Shasta was for losers. TAB was a laboratory accident. Capri Sun was a social statement. Orange Juice wasn’t just for breakfast anymore.

• My Mom put a thousand Little Debbie Snack Cakes in my Charlie Brown lunchbox and filled my Snoopy Thermos with Grape Kool-Aid. I got two thousand cheese and cracker snack packs.

• I went to school and had recess. I went to the same classes everyday.

• Some weird guy from the 8th grade always won the science fair with the working hydroelectric plant that leaked on my project about music and plants.

• Field day was bigger than Christmas, but it always seemed to rain just enough to make everybody miserable.

• Rubber band fights were cool.

• A substitute teacher was a marked woman. Nobody deserved that.

• I went to Cub Scouts. I got my arrow-of-light, but never managed to win the Pinewood Derby. I got almost every skill award but don’t remember ever doing anything.

• The world stopped when the Challenger exploded.

• Half of your friend’s parents got divorced.

• People did not just say “no” to drugs.

• AIDS started, but you knew more people who had a grandparent die from cancer.

• Somebody in your school died before they graduated.

• We are the ones who played with Lego Building Blocks when they were just building blocks and gave Malibu Barbie crew cuts with safety scissors that never really cut.

• Big wheels and bicycles with streamers were the way to go, and sidewalk chalk was all you needed to build a city.

• Imagination was the key. It made the Ewok Treehouse big enough for you to be Luke. And the kitchen table and that old sheet, dark enough to be a tent in the forest.

• Your world was the backyard and it was all you needed.

• With your pink portable tape player, Debbie Gibson sang back up to you and everyone wanted a skirt like the Material Girl and a glove like Michael Jackson’s.

• Today, we are the ones who sing along with Bruce Springsteen and The Bangles perfectly and have no idea why.

• We recite lines with Ghostbusters and still look to the Goonies for a great adventure.

• We flip through T.V. stations and stop at the A-Team and Knight Rider and Fame, and laugh with The Cosby Show and Family Ties and Punky Brewster and “What you talkin’ bout Willis?”

• We hold strong affections for The Muppets and why did they take the Smurfs off of the air?

• After school specials were about cigarettes and step families.

• The Polka Dot Door was nothing like Barney, and aren’t the Power Rangers just Voltron reincarnated?

• We are the ones who read Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, The Bobbsey Twins, Beverly Cleary, and Judy Blume.

• Friendship bracelets were ties you couldn’t break and friendship pins went on shoes preferably hightop velcro Reebok. And pegged jeans were in, as were unit belts and layered socks and jean jackets and JAMS and charm necklaces and side pony tails and just tails.

• Rave was a girl’s best friend; braces with colored rubber bands made you rad.

• The back door was always open and Mom served only red Kool-Aid to the neighborhood kids. You never drank the New Coke.

• Entertainment was cheap and lasted for hours:

• All you needed to be a princess was high heels and an apron

• The Sit’n’Spin always made you dizzy but never made you stop

• Pogoballs were dangerous weapons

• Chinese Jump Ropes never failed to trip someone

• In your underoos you were Wonder Woman, Spider Man, or Robin

• In your tree house you were king.

• Star Wars was not only a movie.

• Did you ever play in a bomb shelter?

• We didn’t start the fire Billy Joel.

• We had neighborhoods where in the day we could play kick-the-can, “guns” and all of the things that made us grow up.

• There was always that one field” that could be used for either baseball, football, homerun derby, or just a place to hang out. That was my field of dreams Mr. Costner.

• At night we would play flashlight tag. Just like we could trick-or-treat at night without the fear of being shot and killed.

• Our guns had caps or “lasers”. If we didn’t have the Jessie James guns we could just get a rock and smash the caps on the ground!

• We loved those orange race tracks…that was until our mother realized she could smack us with them.

• We too collected football and baseball cards but it was because we wanted to be the first in the neighborhood to have the “complete” set.

• In our neighborhoods we played with He-man and Skelator.

• Going to get a Happy Meal on Saturday with Dad or Mom was worth waiting the other six days of the week.

• How many people melted their army figures that were given to them by their parents?

• Was Green Latern the Coolest Super Hero or Aquaman? “Wonder twin powers activate!”

• How’s about coming home at night and separating your Halloween candy into: The cool stuff, the homemade stuff, and the pennies… how’s about the candy that came in that awful orange and black wax paper? Did you ever try it?

• Do you remember the one house that had a sign in the candy bowl that said, “Take One”. How many did you take if you liked it?

• Were you desperate one year and as a teenager you trick-or-treated?

• Our generation had character and heart. We played with real baseballs and “Putt Putt” for the fun-of-it.”

• “Hey, my Mom will take us if your Mom picks up!”

• Could you ever really beat Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom?

• Did you have sliced oranges or grapes for your half-time treat? How about the hot dog and coke after each football and baseball games? Star Crunches? Whippy Dip? Twinkies? Ho-ho’s?

• No, we are the furthest thing from a lost generation. Does — going to arcades on Saturday, getting car pooled to football with your best friend, eating fruit roll-ups, having birthday parties at McDonalds or Chuck E Cheeses pizza or Noble Romans where you could make your own pizza — express you are lost?

This is what WE are all about! When you put all this stuff together, you have my childhood. If this stuff sounds familiar, then I bet you are one, too. We are the children of the “80′s”. That is what I prefer they call us. We are not the first “lost generation” nor today’s lost generation.

In fact, we think we know just where we stand – or are discovering it as we speak. So if you are reading this and it ALL hits home then you do indeed have a heritage or a generation. This is what makes us the most unique generation of all.
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This Is Why GI Food Is So Good Now
It was World War II, and the captain was attempting to rally the GIs on the eve of a big offensive. ‘Out there,’ said the captain, ‘is your enemy. The man who has made your life miserable, who is working to destroy you; the man who has been trying to kill you day after day throughout this war.’ Private Johnson jumped to his feet. Holy Shit; the cook’s working for the Germans!’
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Two Aliens
It’s a long way to go for a punch line but it’s worth it!
Two aliens landed in the Arizona desert near a gas station that was closed for the night. They approached one of the gas pumps and the younger alien addressed it saying, ‘Greetings,Earthling. We come in peace. Take us to your leader.’ The gas pump, of course, didn’t respond.
The younger alien became angry at the lack of response.

The older alien said, ‘I’d calm down if I were you.’ The younger alien ignored the warning and repeated his greeting. Again, there was no response.

Annoyed by what he perceived to be the pump’s naughty attitude, he drew his ray gun and said impatiently, ‘Greetings, Earthling. We come in peace. Do not ignore us this way! Take us to your leader or I will fire!’

The older alien again warned his comrade saying, ‘You probably don’t want to do that! I really don’t think you should make him mad.’

‘Rubbish,’ replied the cocky, young alien. He aimed his weapon at the pump and opened fire. There was a huge explosion. A massive fireball roared towards them and blew the younger alien off his feet and deposited him a burnt, smoking mess about 200 yards away in a cactus patch.

Half an hour passed. When he finally regained consciousness, he refocused his three eyes, straightened his bent antenna, and looked dazedly at the older, wiser alien who was standing over him shaking his big, green head.

‘What a ferocious creature!’ exclaimed the young, fried alien. ‘He damn near killed me! How did you know he was so dangerous?’

The older alien leaned over, placed a friendly feeler on his crispy friend and replied, ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my intergalactic travels, you don’t want to mess with a guy who can loop his penis over his shoulder twice and then stick it in his ear.’
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The Miracle Of Nature
A farmer was helping one of his cows give birth when he noticed his four-year-old son standing at the fence with wide eyes, taking in the whole event. The man thought to himself, “Great, he’s four years old and I’m gonna have to start explaining the birds and bees now. No need to jump the gun. I guess I’ll let him ask and then I’ll answer.”

After everything was over, the man walked over to his son and said, “Well son, do you have any questions?”

“Just one,” gasped the wide-eyed lad. “How fast was that calf going when he hit the cow?”
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Traffic And Driving
Traffic is terrible these days, and parking is even worse. The other day I saw a city tow truck impounding a car illegally parked. While the guy was hooking up the car, another motorist was stopped behind him, patiently waiting to pull into the spot.

My daughter asked me one time, “Daddy, before you married Mommy, who told you how to drive?”

Man I hate tailgaters! But you know who I hate even more than tailgaters?
It’s the damn people who drive too slow.

Actually if ya think about it, you really don’t need a whole lot of manners if you’re in a 35 ton truck.

Why is it that when most people drive everyone going slower than they are is a moron, and those going faster are maniacs?

I can’t understand why funerals are allowed to go through red lights?
I mean, what’s the big hurry?

In most big cities in the US, everything is built with the car in mind. You can eat in your car, bank in your car, even pick-up prescriptions in your car. It won’t be long before you’ll be able to get married, go on a honeymoon, then get divorced, all without ever getting out of your car.

The old narrow trails where two carts could barely pass without colliding were eventually replaced with paved highways. In modern times though, we’ve really made advances. Now, with splendid multi-lane wide, high speed Inter State highways, six or eight vehicles can all collide at one time.

• Your passenger seat is on the National Register of Historic Places
• Instead of an airbag, there’s a whoopie cushion taped to your steering wheel
• You lose the stop-light challenge to a 14-year old on a mountain bike
• Thieves repeatedly break into your car just to take “The Club”
• When you gas up, the attendant asks “Can I re-duct tape that windshield for you?”
• While waiting at stop light, people run up asking if anyone was hurt
• For the last year, you’ve had to settle for making “vroom vroom” noises while sitting in the driveway
• Traffic reporters start referring to you by name when discussing morning tie-ups
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Tips From Wyatt Earp
It’s the 1880′s, wild west, Dodge City, Kansas, Saw Dust Saloon.

A young gunslinger walks into the bar, looks over, and there’s Wyatt Earp sitting there, playing cards. The gunslinger saunters over to the table and says, “Mr. Earp, I really admire you, and I just wanted you to know that I plan on being the best gunslinger the west has ever seen, and I was wondering if you had any tips for me.”

Well, Wyatt leans his chair back and says, “I don’t normally give out tips in this business, as it could be hazardous to my health, but let me look at ya.”

The boy steps back, and Wyatt carefully overlooks him.

He nods, and says, “Why yes, I reckon you’re a gunslinger alright. Got the leather pants, the waxed holsters, the ivory handled guns… You look nice… But can ye shoot?”

The boy draws a gun, fires, and clips off the right cuff-link off the piano player.

Wyatt nods, and asks, “What about yer left hand?” Before Earp even finished his sentence, the boy had drawn his left gun, fired, and shot off the left cufflink.

Wyatt nods, and says, “Why I reckon that’s pretty good shootin’, and yes, I do have a tip for ya. Go back there in that kitchen and get the cook to give you a big bucket of lard. Take your guns and dip them way down into the lard. Make sure you get the handles and everything. That’s my tip.”

The boy looks at him, confused, and says, “Well, why on Earth would I do that?”

Wyatt lowers his seat back to the table and looks at his cards and says, “‘Cause as soon as Doc Holiday over there finishes playing the piano, he’s gonna come over here, take those two guns of yours and stick em….”

The boy didn’t even stay around for the rest of the tip.
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Who Knew Parrots Were So Smart
A burglar broke into a house one night.

He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables when a voice in the dark said, ‘Jesus’ knows you’re here.’

He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze.

When he heard nothing more, after a bit, he shook his head and continued.

Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard ‘Jesus is watching you.’

Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice.

Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.

‘Did you say that?’ he hissed at the parrot.

‘Yep’, the parrot confessed, then squawked, ‘I’m just trying to warn you that he is watching you.’

The burglar relaxed. ‘Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?’

‘Moses,’ replied the bird.

‘Moses?’ the burglar laughed.

‘What kind of people would name a bird Moses?’

‘The kind of people that would name a Rottweiler Jesus.’
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