Friday humour - September 17, 1999

     From Tony at Bluehaze:

   Being a tad lazy again this week and mainly grabbing a few of the more
   recent arrivals.

   This first one's from Brian McNicol in the U.K.  near Chester, who as you
   may remember was in the battery and fuel-cell business (first with Shell
   and then Kuwait Petroleum) until retiring last year.  He's known Dave Rand
   for many years (for which he has our endearing sympathy :-)  So, anyway -
   onto the story ...

A couple were invited to a swanky masked Halloween Party.  The girl got a
terrible headache and told her husband to go to the party alone.

He - being a devoted husband - protested, but she argued and said she was
going to take some aspirin and go to bed, and there was no need of his good
time being spoiled by not going.  So he took his costume and away he went.

The wife, after sleeping soundly for one hour, awakened without pain and as
it was still early, she decided to go the party.  In as much as her husband
did not know what her costume was, she thought she would have some fun by
watching her husband to see how he acted when she was not with him.  She
joined the party and soon spotted her husband cavorting around on the dance
floor, dancing with every nice chick he could, and copping a little feel here
and a little kiss there.

His wife sidled up to him, and being a very seductive babe, he dropped his
current partner like a hot potato and immediately proceeded to devote his
entire attention to her.  She let him go as far as he wished (naturally,
since he was her husband).  After a liitle while, he whispered a little
proposition in her ear.  She agreed, and off they went to one of the cars,
and did a little hot loving in the dark.

Just before unmasking at midnight, she slipped away and went home and put the
costume away and got into bed, wondering what kind of explanation he would
have for his behaviour.  She was sitting up reading when he came in and asked
what kind of a time he had.

He said, "Oh, the same old thing.  You know I never have a good time when
you're not there."

She asked, "Did you dance much?"

He replied, "Well - I'll tell you.  I never even danced one dance.  When I
got there, I met Pete, Bill Brown and some other guys, so we went into the
den and just ended up playing poker all night."

She stared at him accusingly.  He continued:

"But I'll tell you what, sweetheart - you're simply not going to *believe*
 what happened to this guy who borrowed my costume for the evening ..."

      Jean received this next one recently and thought you might appreciate
      it (and if there's any more such verse out there - do pass it on):

                           The End of the Raven
                          by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat

    On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting,
        I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
       Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,
      Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.

    "Raven's very tasty," thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the floor,
         "There is nothing I like more"
    Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed
    Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.

    While the bard and birdie chattered, I made sure that nothing clattered,
    Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the corridor;
    For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and weird decor -
               Bric-a-brac and junk galore.

    Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
    In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents' worth -

    While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,
    Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore.

    Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore -
                Only this and not much more.

    "Oooo!" my pickled poet cried out, "Pussycat, it's time I dried out!
         Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
    How I've wallowed in self-pity, while my gallant, valiant kitty
    Put and end to that damned ditty" - then I heard him start to snore.

    Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
              Jumped - and smashed it on the floor.


   Inspired by Colin's pictorial contribution last week, Jean also posted
    the following little philosophical observation.  Be a little patient if
    you do click on it though ... it'll take around 10 seconds to load:
           Click here

     Now it's time for a couple from the little ol' list out west:


When there's only one other person in the lift, tap them on the shoulder
and then pretend it wasn't you.

Call the Psychic Hotline from your bat phone and ask if they know what floor
you're on.

Drop a pen and wait until someone reaches to help pick it up, then scream,
"That's mine!"

Bring a camera and take pictures of everyone in the lift.

Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead and muttering "Shut up, all of
you, just shut up!"

Open your briefcase or purse, and while peering inside, ask, "Got enough air
in there?"

Stand silently and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting
off.  Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce in horror,
"You're one of THEM!!" and back away slowly.  Wear a puppet on your hand and
use it to talk to the other passengers.

Listen to the walls of the lift with your stethoscope.

Make explosion noises when anyone presses a button.

Stare, grinning at another passenger for a while, and then announce, "I have
new socks on."  Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to
the other passengers, "This is my personal space."


   ... and ...

                       SUBLIMINAL CORRESPONDENCE

   Dear Dad,

$chool i$ really great.  I am making lot$ of friend$ and
$tudying very hard.  With all my $tuff, I $imply can`t
think of anything I need, $o if you would like, you can
ju$t $end me a card, a$ I would love to hear from you.


       Your $on

                  The Reply:

   Dear Son,

I kNOw that astroNOmy, ecoNOmics, and oceaNOgraphy
are eNOugh to keep even an hoNOur student busy.  Do
NOt forget that the pursuit of kNOwledge is a NOble
task, and you can never study eNOugh.



       This next one's from an export - one glass-twisting Rudi Pillig:

Q: How many journalists does it take to screw in a light-globe?

A: Three.  One to report it as an inspired government program to bring
   light to the people, one to report it as a diabolical government
   plot to deprive the poor of darkness, and one to win a pulitzer
   prize for reporting that Electric Company hired a lightbulb-assassin
   to break the bulb in the first place.

Q: How many heterosexual males does it take to screw in a light bulb in
   San Francisco?

A: Both of them.

      Now as we all know, John Stevens is valiantly trying to make
      the best of a three week study trip in Hawaii at the moment,
      and between lectures, he thought you might enjoy these two:

A lady is at her doctor's office, and she says to the Doctor, "Doctor,
please ... kiss me."

The doctor says, "Hrumph ... err, now look here, young lady - I can't do that
... I mean to say ... I'm your Doctor."

A few minutes pass and then once again she says "Oh please, *please* kiss me,

The doctor groaned again and explained, "Look, I'm sorry, but it would be
against my oath as a member of the medical professional to do such a thing."

A few more minutes pass, and this time she shouts, "Oh Doctor, Doctor ...
please ... kiss me ... now!"

The doctor says, "Now look ... I just can't kiss you ... I mean ... I
shouldn't even be screwing you!"


   ... and ...

Seeing Eye Dog  :

A blind man is walking down the street with his seeing eye dog one day.  They
come to a busy intersection, and the dog, ignoring the high volume of traffic
zooming by on the street, leads the blind man right out into the thick of
traffic.  This is followed by the screech of tyres and the noise of blaring
horns as a number of panic-stricken drivers try desperately not to run the
pair down.

The blind man and the dog finally reach the safety of the footpath on the
other side of the road, and the blind man pulls a biscuit out of his coat
pocket and offers it to the dog.

A passerby, having observed this near fatal incident, can't control his
amazement, and exclaims to the blind man, "Why on earth are you rewarding
your dog with a biscuit?  He nearly got you killed."

The blind man turns partially in his direction and replies, "I'm just making
sure where his head is so I can kick him up the arse."

          And another contribution from David McCallum:

                           I THINK I'M A MULE-DOG

God created the mule, and told him:  "You will be Mule, working constantly
from dusk to dawn, carrying heavy loads on your back.  you will eat grass and
you will lack intelligence.  You will live for 50 years."

The mule answered:  "To live like this for 50 years is too much.  please,
give me no more than 20."  And it was so.

Then God created the dog, and told him:  "You will hold vigilance over the
dwellings of Man, to whom you will be his greatest companion.  You will eat
his table scraps and live for 25 years."

And the dog responded:  "Lord, to live 25 years as a dog is too much.
Please, no more than 10 years."  And it was so.

God then created the monkey, and told him:  "You are Monkey.  You will swing
from tree to tree, acting like an idiot.  You will be funny, and you shall
live for 20 years."

And the monkey responded:  "Lord, to live 20 years as the clown of the world
is too much.  Please, Lord, give me no more than 10 years."  And it was so.

Finally, God created Man and told him:  "You are Man, the only rational being
that walks the earth.  You will use your intelligence to have mastery over
the creatures of the world.  You will dominate the earth and live for 20

And the man responded:  "Lord, to be Man for only 20 years is too little.
Please, Lord, give me the 20 years the mule refused, the 15 years the dog
refused, and the ten years the monkey rejected."  And it was so.

And so God made Man to live 20 years as a man, then marry and live 20 years
like a mule working and carrying heavy loads on his back.  Then, he is to
have children and live 15 years as a dog, guarding his house and eating the
leftovers after they empty the pantry; then, in his old age, to live 10 years
as a monkey, acting like a clown to amuse his grandchildren.  And it was so.

          And (trivia time) - another one from out west - a few factoids:

Ancient Egyptians shaved off their eyebrows to mourn the deaths of their cats.

A bowling pin need only tilt 7.5 degrees in order to fall down.

The right side of a boat was called the starboard side due to the fact that
the astronavigators used to stand out on the plank (which was on the right
side) to get an unobstructed view of the stars.  The left side was called the
port side because that was the side you put in on at the port.  This was so
that they didn't knock off the starboard!

The Japanese word "Arigato" meaning thank you is derived from the Portuguese
word "Obrigado".  Portugal once had a thriving trade with Japan.

The bubbles in Guiness Beer sink to the bottom rather than float to the top
like all other beers.  No one knows why.  (Yet another reason why only we
Irish would drink the stuff!)

Jupiter's core is in fact made of a non-metal, but due to the immense pressure
inside Jupiter the core has become a metal.  This metal is hydrogen.

The word "karate" means "empty hand."

A hamlet is a village without a church and a town is not a city until it has
a cathedral.

The reason that fire-stations have circular stairways is from the days of
yore when the engines were pulled by horses.  The horses were stabled on the
ground floor and often worked out how to walk up normal stairs.

The first song played on Armed Forces Radio during operation Desert Shield
was "Rock the Casbah" by the Clash.

The launching mechanism of a carrier ship that helps planes to take off,
could throw a pickup truck over a mile. (That'll teach that poor schmuck not
to park there again!)

A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why.  [I just pass 'em on - Ed.]

The fingerprints of koalas are virtually indistinguishable from those of
humans, so much so that they could be confused at a crime scene.

Croatia was the first country to recognise the United States in 1776.

Pinocchio is Italian for "pine eyes."

The Chinese ideogram for 'trouble' depicts two women living under one roof.
The Chinese words for crisis and opportunity are the same.

       Now for a cupla shortish ones from Nestor Zaluzec:

The residents of Silicon Valley are more confused than usual after a
billboard campaign by the National Multiple Sclerosis Society of America used
this line in an ad slogan:

    "MS: It's not a software company"

 - exploiting the fame of a certain company to draw attention to an
altogether worthier cause.

Requests to comment on the campaign have been met by a surly silence by
Microsoft, which doesn't relish the association of ideas, but is painfully
aware that it can't afford to appear insensitive over such an issue.

Seasoned information technology professionals will have no trouble telling
the two MS's apart: One is a debilitating and surprisingly widespread
affliction that renders the sufferer barely able to perform the simplest
task.  The other is a disease.


    ... and ...

A guy met a girl at a nightclub, and she invited him back to her place for
the night.

When they arrived at her house, they went right into her bedroom.  The guy
saw that the room was filled with stuffed animals.  There were hundreds of
them all over the place.  Giant stuffed animals were on top of the wardrobe.
Large stuffed animals were on the bookshelf and on the window sill, and a lot
of smaller stuffed animals were on the bottom shelf.

Much later, after they had sex, he turned to her and asked, "So ... how was I?"

"Well," she said, "You can take anything from the bottom shelf."

 And to wind up for the week - another humour aficionado from the U.K.
    in the form of one Mad Mick (cousin of mad David) Rand just posted this:

Most people are vaguely familiar with the story of Quasimodo, the Hunchback
of Notre Dame.  Most, however have not heard the whole tale, now told

Not only did Quasimodo live in the Cathedral Notre Dame, he was responsible
for ringing the big tower bell on the hour.  Clearly, he had a special
technique, because no one else could produce bell tones so pure, so beautiful
as could Quasimodo.  This unique skill provided job security for over forty

By the end of this time, the City Fathers of Paris became worried about
Quasimodo's advancing age and they became even more worried about doing
without the wonderful sound from Quasimodo's bell.  Pressure was exerted, and
Quasimodo was induced to take on an apprentice and teach him everything he

With his misshapen head and face smiling down on his new apprentice,
Quasimodo said that there was a very special technique he used to produce his
bell tones.  Mostly, it was a matter of timing and he should watch

The two went up into the bell tower, and upon the hour, Quasimodo pulled the
rope that moved the giant bell hanging from the ceiling.  Then, with perfect
timing, Quasimodo thrust his head between the bell clapper and the side of
the bell.  Modulated by his head between the clapper and bell, the note was
very beautiful.  That was Quasimodo's secret.

Having heard the marvellous effect, the apprentice felt that he was ready to
try to ring the bell on the next hour.  Quasimodo was sceptical, but
reluctantly agreed to the trial.

Exactly on the hour, the apprentice gave a great pull on the bell rope, then
jumped to place his head between clapper and bell.  He almost got it right,
but his head was turned ninety degrees in the wrong direction and the clapper
hit him squarely in the face.  It killed him, of course.

But the bell did sound a note.  Not only did the bell ring true, but also
the sound was beautiful.  Not only was it beautiful, it was exquisite.  Time
stood still for a moment.  People all over Paris stopped what they were
doing - awed by the sound coming from the Cathedral.  Quasimodo was good, but
never before had such a magnificent sound graced their ears.

The Ambulance was called to treat the poor fellow, but it was too late.  They
could only haul the body away in the ambulance.  "Who is this guy?" asked one
of the ambulance attendants.

"Dunno his name," said the other, "but his face sure rings a bell."

Epilogue:  The ambulance drivers then delivered the body to storage.  One of
the morgue attendants asked, "Who is this guy?"

"I don't know", the other answered, "but he's a dead ringer for Quasimodo."
[ End Fri humour ]

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