Digest for Wednesday, November 03, 1993
There are 27 messages totalling 851 lines in this issue.
Topics of the day:
- beer/condom humo(u)r
- Football
- Golf Club Regulations (WARNING: LANGUAGE!!)
- Bumpersticker
- Propaganda
- The Mulla Kyle meets nuns for the first time [G]
- Offensive to purple Tyrranosauridae
- Post-Halloween humor
- another lightbulb
- Re: Light Bulbs
- Cute kid story
- Re: Offensive to purple Tyrranosauridae
- Re: Light Bulb
- SEX,T-SHIRTS
- Re: SEX,T-SHIRTS
- Top Ten List for 11/1/93 (fwd)
- t-shirts
- bartender joke (clean)
- Two Dumb Jokes
- Clown Joke
- 11 reasons a cucumber is better.......
- Clow Joke (offensive language)
- X - Visual Joke (offensive subject matter)
- Life 2.U A collection of clean humor gather on: 25 Mar 88
- Netiquette
- Corny Joke about trained Snake
- Centepede, smarts, OPEC, WW1
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 10:22:55 GMT+10
From: Ken Price <KEN__PRI@ASGARD.CLARE.TASED.EDU.AU>
Subject: beer/condom humo(u)r
A well-known brand of Australian beer is called XXXX or Four-X (both names
are used). This has given rise to a few bits of humo(u)r.
One is that it had to be called XXXX because New Zealand visitors can't
spell BEER.
The other is its slogan (generally sung) : "I can feel a XXXX coming on"
The humour arise when the advertisements are shown to French tourists, as
apparently XXXX is a brand of condom in France.
Perhaps the two companies ought to merge...
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 16:36:08 GMT+10
From: Ken Price <KEN__PRI@ASGARD.CLARE.TASED.EDU.AU>
Subject: Football
Australian Rules Football is, like the games of many countries, a game of
spectator devotion. Kids are born as supporters of a team , and die that
way. Especially Collingwood supporters.
For example:
Friend of mine (yes, one of those sorts of jokes) went to the Grand
Final one year. Couldn't find a seat. Went into the Collingwood stand, saw
and old bloke sitting next to the empty seat. Went over to him.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
"No, sit down mate"
"How come this seat was empty?"
"Oh I booked two seats, one for me and one for my wife"
"Is she ill or something?"
"No: actually she died last week"
"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your grief"
"Its OK.."
"Why didn't you offer the seat to one of your workmates or family
friends?"
"I would have done, but they're all at the funeral"
Ken Price
_______________________________________________________
Claremont College
Link Road
Claremont
Tasmania 7011
Australia
_______________________________________________________
Internet: ken__pri@asgard.clare.tased.edu.au
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 09:53:52 SAT
From: Mazin Dabbagh <STUA472@SAUPM00.BITNET>
Subject: Golf Club Regulations (WARNING: LANGUAGE!!)
GOLF CLUB REGULATIONS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
REF: THE ADMISSION OF WOMEN TO THE CLUB.
Since the admission of women to the club, members are asked to obey the
following rules.
1. Ladies are prohibited from touching the gentlemen's balls either with
hands or club.
2. Players are requested to remain silent during the short strokes.
3. All players with partners are requested to come together. When the lady
partner comes first, the gentleman must not delay his strokes but
continue playing.
4. In cases where a long position is impossible, the players may so choose
a new position.
5. Players deciding on a new lay must start at least a club's length from
the hole.
6. Members are requested to stay out of any hole, showing signs of recent
repair or undergoing monthly overhaul until the red flag has been lifted.
7. All holes must be kept clean at all times.
8. Members are also urged to use reasonable precautions at all times as the
Management cannot be held responsible for balls lost in the bushes around
the holes.
Booking hours (based on the five stages of age)
Ages : 20 to 30 years. It's once in the morning and once at night.
30 to 40 years. He knocks off the morning and has it at night.
40 to 50 years. It's now and then (anytime).
50 to 60 years. God knows when.
60 TO 70 YEARS. IF HE SAYS HE IS STILL INCLINED, TAKE NO NOTICE;
HE IS OUT OF HIS MIND.
70 to 80 years. If he can lift his club, go ahead.
NOTICE: FOR MEMEBERSHIP AND INFORMATION, WRITE ME STRIGHT TO MY ACCOUNT!
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 12:47:33 MET
From: Jan Kucera <kuc@FCE.VUTBR.CZ>
Subject: Bumpersticker
I saw this not as a bumpersticker (it was part of a person's e-mail signature)
but it might be one:
Make laugh not war.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 08:34:22 EST
From: Tommy Hughes <HUE@USCN.BITNET>
Subject: Propaganda <a fable>
A very proper gander by James Thurber
Not so very long ago there was a very fine gander. He was strong and
smooth and beautiful and he spent most of his time singing to his wife and
children.
One day somebody who saw him strutting up and down in his yard and singing
remarked, "There is a very proper gander."
An old hen overheard this and told her husband about it tht night in the
roost. "They said something about propaganda," she said. "I have always
suspected that," said the rooster, and he went around the barnyard the
next day telling everybody that the very fine gander was a dangerous bird,
more than likely a hawk in gander's clothing. A small brown hen remembered
a time when at a great distance she had seen the gander talking with some
hawks in the forest. "They were up to no good," she said. A duck
remembered that the gander had once told him he did not believe in
anything. "He said he hated the flag too," said the duck. A guinea hen
recalled that she had once seen somebody who looked very much like the
gander throw something that looked a great deal like a bomb.
Finally everybody snatched up sticks and stones and descended on the
gander's house. He was strutting in his front yard, singing to his
children and his wife. "There he is!" everybody cried. "Hawk-lover!"
"Unbeliever!" "Flag-hater!" "Bomb-thrower!" So they set upon him and drove
him out of the country.
Moral: Anybody who you or your wife thinks is going to overthrow the
government by violence must be driven out of the country.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 08:39:00 EST
From: Musat, Bob <bmusat%oscs@IBM4381.ONET.EDU>
Subject: The Mulla Kyle meets nuns for the first time [G]
This series of stories does not presume to be anything remotely resembling
an allusion to the fact that my son, Kyle, might be as sage as the Mulla
Nasrudin, yet i think these are tales which need to be told. If you should
ever happen to meet him, please tell him that you know of him through the
writings of his early-lifetime experiences. - oxo
Collecting with Kyle
One of my many occupations, while I was between jobs, was home delivery of
The Cleveland Plain Dealer, our local morning newspaper. You only have to
work for about three hours each day, before the sun is up, and usually
collect from your customers once a month. For about $100 per week, it was
easy work. I even had my son, Kyle help me, on occasion.
In order to simplify my monthly collection process, I would leave an
envelope with the customers' papers one week in advance of the last Saturday
of the month. Then, as I was making my deliveries on the last Saturday, I
would pick up those envelopes which were left out for me. I would pick up
the remaining ones some time during the day.
One February, my son, Kyle, (then five years old) and I went out collecting
in the early afternoon. When we got to the house of the Sisters of St.
Joseph, they invited us in due to the harshly inclement weather. While we
were waiting for the check to be written, practically every other phrase out
of their collective mouths was "God bless you." I knew they meant it in
earnest, since they are probably experts on the subject. I didn't even give
it another thought, once we left, and hadn't realised how carefully Kyle had
noted their demeanor.
Then, in May, they had left their envelope out for me to pick up in the
morning, so when Kyle and I got to their house during the afternoon rounds,
I passed them by.
Kyle, however, knowing the route pretty well, pointed at their house and
said, "wait, Daddy! You have to collect from the nuts' house!"
"No, Kyle, I got their envelope this morning. And it's nuns, not nuts," I
replied, gently.
He insisted, "no, they're nuts."
To which I rejoined, "no, they're nuns!"
He then said, with a tone of finality, "Well, they're nuts about you!"
I know when I'm licked. I shut up.
be seeing you,
oxo
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 09:32:39 EST
From: Rick Dahm <dahm@CVAX.IPFW.INDIANA.EDU>
Subject: Offensive to purple Tyrranosauridae
I recently overheard a group of schoolchildren singing this in the sweetest of
tones:
I hate you, you hate me
Let's team up and waste Barney.
With a great big hug we'll zap him in the head
Pull the lever, Barney's dead!
Charming, isn't it?
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 08:29:00 CDT
From: Jeanne Karns <HDEV008@UNLVM.BITNET>
Subject: Post-Halloween humor
How do you fix a broken Jack-o-lantern?
With a pumpkin patch.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 09:32:44 EST
From: David_Douglas <DHDAD@ACADVM1.UOTTAWA.CA>
Subject: another lightbulb
HOW MANY FEMINISTS DOES IT TAKE TO SCREW IN A LIGHTBULB?
One. AND IT'S NOT FUNNY
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 09:13:00 EST
From: Frank Patnaude <fwpatnau@THAMA1.APGEA.ARMY.MIL>
Subject: Re: Light Bulbs
In Annapolis Maryland, the US Naval Academy and St. Johns University
(specializing in philosophy) have a friendly rivalry and the following
jokes:
How many mid-shipmen does it take to change a lightbulb?
One. He just stands there and the world rotates around him.
How many St. Johns' students does it take to change a lightbulb?
Define 'change'.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 09:03:37 CDT
From: STACY BICHELMEYER <SBICHELM@OZ.UMB.KSU.EDU>
Subject: Cute kid story
I read these two true story in Reader's Digest a few years ago.
#1
A first-grade teacher wanted to expose her students to unusual foods.
Every day for a week she brought in samples of a different type of
food for them to try.
One day, she brought in some deer meat. As she passed out the samples
to the children, she said "Let's try to guess what kind of meat
this is." After a few incorrect guesses, she said "I'll give you a
hint. It's something your mom calls your dad."
Suddenly, a little boy in the back of the class jumped up and yelled
"DON'T EAT IT!!!!!"
#2
One day, as a man was walking home from work, he saw a little boy
straining to reach the doorbell of a house. He was jumping and
reaching, but he just couldn't ring the bell. So, the man felt sorry
for him and went and rang the doorbell for him.
The little boy said "Thanks, mister!!! Now let's run!"
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 10:06:03 EST
From: Michael S. McCord <Michael.S.McCord@DARTMOUTH.EDU>
Subject: Re: Offensive to purple Tyrranosauridae
The one that I heard went:
I hate you, you hate me
Let's get a gun and kill Barney
With a bang, bang Barney's on the floor
No more purple dinosaur.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 08:34:32 CST
From: Baiping Xie <xie@LBM.COM>
Subject: Re: Light Bulb
I tried your method to signoff. But I keep getting Mailer Daemon saying
host unknown. Please help me. I want to be out as soon as possible. Thank you.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 10:42:24 -0400
From: Victoria L Hill <vhill@UOGUELPH.CA>
Subject: SEX,T-SHIRTS
I BROUGHT A T-SHIRT IN TORONTO THIS WEEKEND,
AND THIS IS WHAT IT SAID ON IT,(I THOUGHT IT
WAS HILARIOUS)
BEAT ME
BITE ME
WHIP ME
F**K ME (i can't remeber if we are allowed to swear)
LIKE THE DIRTY PIG THAT I AM
CUM ALL OVER MY TITS
AND TELL ME THAT YOU
LOVE ME
THEN GET THE F**K OUT !
NEEDLESS TO SAY I GET SOME INTERESTING LOOKS AND
COMMENTS WHEN I WEAR THE SHIRT!
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 11:23:13 +0000
From: George M. Cohen Jr. <gcohen@BEACH.UTMB.EDU>
Subject: Re: SEX,T-SHIRTS
Male chavaunist pig version of your virginia's t-shirt seen worn by Rush
Linbrough on his interview with Barbarra Walters. ( Barbarra looked
interested in his offer)
>
> Let me BEAT you
> Don't BITE ME while you'r blowing me
> let me WHIP you
> F**K ME
> LIKE THE DIRTY PIG THAT you Are
> let me CUM ALL OVER MY TITS
> AND don't TELL ME THAT YOU
> LOVE ME
> Stay till the morning and cook me breakfast
THEN GET THE F**K OUT !
He is realy funny to watch. I wonder how he handles himself with barbarra.
We will have to see on thursday's 20/20.
**************************************************************
George M. Cohen Jr Internet
gcohen@beach.utmb.ed
u
Department of Family Medicine, H-53
Universtity of Texas Medical Branch
Galveston, TX 77555-0853
Voice 409-772-8516
Fax 409-772-7296
*************************************************************
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 12:36:28 -0500
From: Amy L. Ward <cecalw@GWUNIX2.GWU.EDU>
Subject: Top Ten List for 11/1/93 (fwd)
---> November 1, 1993 <---
=========================================================
Top Ten Ways To Make The Pillsbury Bake-Off More Exciting
=========================================================
10. Oven mitts full of angry hornets
9. To increase likelihood of thrilling bake-off avalanche, hold bake-off at
bottom of snow-covered mountain
8. Claudia Schiffer marches around in nothing but a couple dabs of frosting
7. Allow steroids
6. See how long it takes to hail a cab at rush hour
5. President Clinton can attack at any time and try to eat your entry before
the judges see it
4. First prize: $10,000. Second prize: Death!
3. All recipies must contain both "nitro" and "glycerin"
2. Have that little doughboy "do it" with Mrs. Butterworth
1. Guess what? That ain't meringue!
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 13:00:00 -0500
From: T.C. Borne <Front.Desk@UC.EDU>
Subject: t-shirts
i got a t-shirt about a year ago, made by C/Z records which reads
thusly:
Because it's fame, fame, fame and the promise of danger and excitement
at every turn that get the hottest babes with the lowest self esteem
wet, wet, wet. I ought to know. I've been there.
Needless to say, I only wear this when i'm around people i know, or if
i'm in the mood for arguing with feminists.
and here's a question: a long time ago i heard a joke which i *loved*,
but i can only remember the punch line now...if anyone could help me
out with i would die...the punchline was "fuck you, clown"....anyone,
anyone?
t.c. borne
frontdsk@ucorl.san.uc.edu
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 15:28:25 -0500
From: TJMCKENNA@PSUCES.BITNET
Subject: bartender joke (clean)
I N T E R O F F I C E M E M O R A N D U M
Date: 03-Nov-1993 03:25pm EST
From: Tom Mckenna
TJMCKENNA
Dept: Audio Visual Services
Tel No: (814) 863-3102
TO: Remote Network Mail User ( _IN%HUMOR@UGA.BITNET )
Subject: bartender joke (clean)
A physician goes into the bar and orders a Walnut Daiquiri. The bartender, who
prides himself with his repertoire of drinks, is stumped and consults his
source books. After much research, he fails to find the Walnut Daiquiri. He
tells the customer,"I'm sorry, I can't make you a Walnut Daiquiri. How 'bout a
Hickory Daiquiri, Doc?"
sorry, that's the best i could come up with on a grey wednesday afternoon.
tom
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 13:48:42 MST
From: Phil Corless <APUCORLE@IDBSU.BITNET>
Subject: Two Dumb Jokes
Q: Why did the bellhop play a horn outside Jerry Garcia's
room at 7 in the morning?
A: To wake the dead.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Q: What does President Clinton do when he wants a day off?
A: He calls in slick.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 16:18:16 EST
From: RiffRaff <PCONNER@WVNVM.BITNET>
Subject: Clown Joke
well, you asked for it...
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who went to the circus with his
parents. Halfway through the show, a clown came up to him and said "Hey
you." The kid (we'll call him Fred) said "Who, me?" "Yeah, you." said the
clown. "Are you the horse's head?" "No", said Fred. "Well then, you
must be the horse's ass!" the audience roared with laughter, and Fred
was so embarrassed, he ran out of the tent in shame.
Later, he vowed that he would get back at the clown, and so he went to
his teacher to ask what he should do. The teacher said "Oh, yes, I know that
clown. He's a tough one... I suggest you join the snappy comebacks club
that we have here at school, and see what you can learn."
So, Fred joined the club, and he did very well...in fact, by the time he
was in 9th grade, he was the president of the club, and had won many
trophies at snappy comebacks competitions. At the end of the year, he went
to his teacher and asked if he thought he was ready to face the clown.
"I don't know" said the teacher "That clown is a true master... maybe you
should wait a while longer." So fred went to high school and joined the
varsity snappy comebacks squad. his team went to all sorts of
snappy comebacks competitions, where judges would insult you to see what
sort of lines you would come back with. Fred became the captain of the team,
and was known throughout the school as a master of witty remarks. At
the end of High school, he decided that he was still not ready to face the
clown. so, he went to college and majoerd in snappy comebacks. he got his
bachelors degree in snappy comebacks, then went on to get his master's degree.
When he finished his doctorate thesis (titled "Snappy comebacks throughout
history") he was known throughout the country as the supreme master of
snappy comebacks and general witticisms. And so now he was finally sure
that he could face the clown.
that year, when the circus came to town, Fred was sitting in the exact same
seat as he was on that first fateful day. Sure enough, in the middle of the
show, the clown came up... but he pointed at the guy on fred's left.
"Are you the horse's head?" he asked. "No.", said the man. "Well, you
must be the horse's ass!" Fred went to the show every night. on the second
night, the clown called on the guy to fred's right. The third night, it
was the guy in front of him. The fourth night, it was the guy behind him.
Finally, on the last performance, the clown came up and pointed straight at
Fred. "Hey, you." "Who, me?" "Yeah, you. Are you the horse's head?" "No."
"well, you must be the horse's ass!"
"Fuck you, clown."
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 17:32:43 -0400
From: Sometimes I really wish I could be what I was when I wanted to be what I am now. <JBOLOGNA@BENTLEY.EDU>
Subject: 11 reasons a cucumber is better.......
Eleven reasons a cucumber is better than a man:
1) Cucumbers can stay up all night, and you won't have to sleep
in the wet spot.
2) Cucumbers don't play the guitar and try to find themselves.
3) You won't find out that your cucumber
... is married
... is on penicillin
... likes you -- but loves your brother!
4) A cucumber won't care what time of the month it is.
5) A cucumber never wants to get it on when your nails are wet.
6) Cucumbers dont say "Let's keep trying until we have a boy".
7) Cucumbers won't tell you size doesn't count.
8) A cucumber won't leave you for a cheerleader or an ex-nun.
9) Cucumbers don't fall asleep on your chest or drool on the pillow.
10)Cucumbers don't care of you make more money than they do.
11)With a cucumber, the toilet seat is always the way you left it.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 18:00:14 EST
From: Ron Chibnik <chibnik@REACH.COM>
Subject: Clow Joke (offensive language)
This kid LOVES clowns. He's got clown posters in his room, clown
t-shirts, clown bed sheets, clown pajamas, clown books. He loves to
watch clown movies, clown tv shows, and read clown magazines. He's
even got a clown hat for his shaggy dog. Anyway, one day he finds out
that the circus is coming to town, and boy is he excited. He takes his
entire savings to buy the best steats he can, front row center, and
he's jumping out of his skin to see real live clowns for the first
time in his life. It's all he can talk about, people run the other way
when the see him coming, 'cause they've heard about the clowns from
him thousands of times, they can't stand it.
Finally, the fateful day comes and he shows up for the circus. He's
the first one there, sitting in his seat, with his clown banner. So
excited is he that he can barely contain himself. Finally, the
colliseum fills up and the lights go down. Out drives the little
clown car. All four doors open and out comes hundreds of clowns.
Finally, after 5 minutes of impossible number of clowns coming out of
the car, the head clown comes out, with big shoes and orange hair, and
comes directly up to the little boy.
Holding out his hand, he says to the boy "Hello, young man! Are you a
horses head?" The kid is confused, and replys "Why, no." "Then you
must be a horses ass!" replies the clown. And the whole arena erupts
in laugher. Our boy is mortified! He runs from the arena, vowing
revenge. From this day forward, he hates clowns.
He goes home, burns his clown posters, books, bedsheets, shaggy dog
collar. He begins the study of snappy come-backs, because he's going
to get his revenge. He studies hard in school, goes to college,
studies english literature so that he will know every snappy come-back
ever thought of. He takes a graduate degree and writes his doctoral
thesis on hostile interactions and snappy come-backs. Finally, he's
ready. THe circus comes to town and he gets the best seats in the
house.
Arriving early, he can't wait for the clowns to come. He's beside
himself with pent up hostility toward the clowns. Finally, the
colliseum fills up and the lights go down. Out drives the little
clown car. All four doors open and out comes hundreds of clowns.
Finally, after 5 minutes of impossible number of clowns coming out of
the car, the head clown comes out, with big shoes and orange hair, and
comes directly up to our hero.
Holding out his hand, he says to the boy "Hello, young man! Are you a
horses head?" Our man replies " o." "Then you must be a horses ass!"
replies the clown. And the whole arena erupts in laugher. When the
laughter dies down, the guy looks at the clown, and says,
"Clown. Clown.... Fuck you, clown!"
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 20:02:28 EST
From: Ryan J. McMillen <Ryan.J.McMillen@DARTMOUTH.EDU>
Subject: X - Visual Joke (offensive subject matter)
This joke requires the teller to snap his fingers after each name. The reason
will be obvious by the end.
A father and a son are arguing over who has slept with more women. They are
arguing and arguing and neither one will give way to the other. Finally, the
dad hits on a plan. They'll both go on their errands and whenever they come
across someone they've slept with, they'll snap their fingers.
So, they're walking down the street
and the Dad goes "Hi, Mrs. Crabtree" and snaps his fingers. The son goes,
"Hey, Judy" and snaps his fingers. So they keep walking and the Dad goes,
"Hey Mrs. Brady" *snap*. The son goes, "Hey, Dorothy" *snap*. They keep
walking and the Dad goes, "Hey, Mrs. Lincoln" *snap* and the son goes "Hey,
Mary" *snap*.
They get to the supermarket
and they go up to the checkout counter and the Dad goes to the checkout girl
"Hey, Kathy" *snap* and the sone goes "Hey, Kathy" *snap*. By this time, the
dad is shitting a brick. He can't lose to his son in this! So he hits on a
plan. He'll go home.
They get home and the father
goes up to his wife and goes "Hey, honey" *snap*. The son goes up to his mom
and goes
"Hey mom *snap*, is sis *snap* back from grandma's *snap*?
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 17:08:31 PST
From: HCate.OSBU_North@XEROX.COM
Subject: Life 2.U A collection of clean humor gather on: 25 Mar 88
----------------------------------------------------
The lecturer on physiology addressed the student nurses. "We will take
up the heart, kidneys, lung, and liver in that order." "Oh dear, another
organ recital," whispered on nurse to the other.
A paper ran an item staing that "The departing Mr. Smithers was a member
of the defective bureau of the police force."
The chief of police made a strong protest, whereupon the paper published
an apology as follows: "Our announcement should have read "The detective
branch of the police farce."
MAY THE NET FORCE BE WITH YOU
Did you know that 'gullible' is not in Webster's Dictionary?
There used to be a saying:
"The sun never sets on the British empire,
because God doesn't trust an Englishman in the dark."
The Poles have a saying about how communist governments rewrite history:
"Only the future is certain; the past is always changing"
Re: the "college age girl" "in affluent area of Santa Monica" who "couldn't
come up with the significance of the figure 1492."
Everyone has his own favorite statistic about the failures of American
education
.
One awfully good one (William Buckley's favorite, as it happens) is that
60% of the college seniors in Texas cannot name the country to the south.
----------------------------------------------------
Pat and mike were walking down the street when their old
friendly-sort-of-nemesi
s
approached them. He thought he'd have a good laugh at their expense because
they, reputedly, weren't too bright. He said: "Hey Pat! Hey Mike! Did you
hear the news?" "The news?" asked Mike. "What is it?" asked Pat. "It's
incredible, I read in the papers this morning that the devil died!!!" Said
the old nemesis. "Is that so?" asked Mike. "The truth is it?" asked Pat,
and they bogh dug into their pockets and each gave the man a coin. Thinking
this teribly strange, "What on earth is this for?" asked the man. Pat began
to explain: "In the old country, when someone dies," and Mike finished:
"We all contribute a little something to help the surviving children."
----------------------------------------------------
There is no time like the pleasant.
The busy lawyer wanted an alert young woman to act as deceptionist.
He thought all women were biased. "Buy us this." and "Buy us that."
He didn't like cycling with friends, he wanted to clyclone along.
The man told the ghost to go away, "You don't have a haunting license."
Why did they hang the picture? They culdn't find the artist.
He had untold wealth, it wasn't reported to the IRS.
Greta Barbo dreamed one night that she sprinkled boxes of grass seed
in her hair. She awoke moaning, "I vant to be a lawn."
=========================================================================
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 21:59:14 EST
From: Bill <BEDWARDS@UGA.CC.UGA.EDU>
Subject: Netiquette <satire, sarcasm>
Original-author: brad@looking.on.ca (Brad Templeton)
Last-change: 30 Nov 91 by brad@looking.on.ca (Brad Templeton)
(adapted)
"Dear Emily Postnews" Emily Postnews, foremost authority
on proper net behavior, gives her advice on how to act
on the net.
-----------
Q: What is the measure of a worthwhile group?
A: Why, it's Volume, Volume, Volume. Any group that has lots of noise
in it must be good. Remember, the higher the volume of material in a
group, the higher percentage of useful, factual and insightful
articles you will find. In fact, if a group can't demonstrate a high
enough volume, it should be deleted from the net. You can contribute
to your group's volume, if you reply quickly (be sure in include the
entire message so people will know what you are reply to). Remember
you would probably put Dorothy Parker's wit to shame. So the more
flippant, sarcastic, and oblique, the better. Reader really like
obscure puns. This generate more questions about your comment (but
forget to include a complete record of all previous posts, so the
reader can appreciate your winning wit.
Q: I want to sign off the list. There is too much volume and the posts
are getting dreadfully boring. I misplaced the instructions for
signing off the list. What should I do?
A: What that list needs is some excitement. Whoever heard of a
listserv. The damn listowner probably stopped reading this dumb list
months ago, so no need to write him. Don't merely send the message
SIGNOFF HUMOR to the public list. Be sure to include a comment
about how inconsiderate, dull, and repetitious the messages are (hey,
these folks have never seen a kiss-off message before). If you want
to be nice, say "please help me get off this list before I suffocate."
People on the net are very compassionate (there will always be some
helpful soul who will reply to the public list about how to signoff).
And if someone dares tell you that you could have found out how to
sign off the list by asking someone at your computer center, ignore
them. After all you have reputation--what if the people in the
computer center found out how stupid and inconsiderate you are. Oh,
you think they already know; sorry! Any suggestion that you should
have written the list's listserv to ask for LIST DETAIL is outrageous.
What do they think you are? Only a nerd or geek would waste time doing
something like that.
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 23:41:03 EDT
From: Dan Hotopp <tron!ami1.bwi.wec.com!HOTOPP@UUNET.UU.NET>
Subject: Corny Joke about trained Snake
There were once two men walking through the desert. While walking, they
happened upon a large lever that had a sign on it saying, "Pull me and the
world will explode!!". Well shit, they thought, we can't have that happen.
So they went to the next town and bought a large boa constrictor named Nate.
They took Nate out to the spot where the handle was and trained him to hiss
at anyone that came near it to scare them away, and went back to town, proud
as hell for saving the world from an untimely demise.
One of the old gentlemen sitting on the town's one streetcorner said to them,
"You took a snake out there and didn't leave him any water? He'll die!"
Well shit, they thought, and decided to go out there and build Nate a
swimming pool. Then they had to retrain Nate to go to the swimming pool and
drink when he was thirsty, and swim when he was hot, and leave the pool to go
hiss at anyone that got too close to the lever.
After a run of weeks, everything was great. Nate and his owners were famous,
as they were keeping the world from exploding. Then the city came along and
decided to build a road directly between the swimming pool and the lever. So
the two men had to go retrain Nate to look both ways before crossing the road
after leaving his pool because he was hot to go over to the lever to hiss at
anyone that came near it (whew!).
Until one fateful day....
A truck driver came down the road. He saw Nate, but Nate didn't see him.
The truck driver could either swerve and hit the lever, swerve and go into
the swimming pool, or run into Nate. So he splatted Nate all over the road.
The truck driver was asked about his decision to run over the famous snake
a few days later. Do you know what he said?
"Well, I gave it some thought, and figured it's *Better Nate than lever*"
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Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1993 23:59:16 -0600
From: Ian Chai <spectre@UIUC.EDU>
Subject: Centepede, smarts, OPEC, WW1
----------------------------------------------------------------------
(A poem by Ogden Nash)
The centipede was happy quite
Until a toad, in fun,
Said, "Pray, which leg goes after which
When you begin to run?
That worked her mind to such a pitch,
She lay distracted in a ditch,
Considering how to run.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Several years ago, a major meat packer decided to run a series of radio
commercials. The idea was to hold contests on radio stations in which
the first 10 callers would win large supplies of sirloin steaks. So
they hired a market researcher to prepare a report on how the whole
thing should be run.
The report contained a paragraph like so --
After careful research, we feel that an appropriate name
for the contest would be "High Steaks." We believe that
the majority of radio listeners are intelligent enough
to understand the double entendre. The only geographical
area in which we found the intellectual sophistication
lacking is Memphis, TN, and there we recommend that you call
the contest "Free Meat."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
In Omaha, KQKQ pulls a practical joke of sorts on every holiday that is
celebrated with picnics (4th of July, Labor day, etc.). They say that
OPEC (Organization of Potato-salad Exporting Countries) is trying to
force up the price of potato-salad, they also have "reports" of potato-
salad shortages and roits. Listeners often call in and report things
like persons selling potato-salad without a permit and people stealing
potato-salad.
The station also reports places that 'still' have potato-salad for
$xx.xx a pound (usually a real high price $20.00). Last time the
leaders of OPEC forced the annoucer of the air, then he locked them out
and made a last report before they broke the door down and drug him
screaming from the room.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm told that one of the Vienna newspapers ran a huge
headline on 1 April 1919:
Archduke Franz Ferdinand found alive.
World War fought by mistake.
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