Friday humour - December 08, 2000

     From Tony at Bluehaze:

    This week we've got contributions from Steve [redacted], Rudi Pillig,
    Nestor Zaluzec, the QCAT list, Nicki Scarlett, Colin MacRae, Colin Nexhip,
    Russell MacKinnon, David McCallum and Jenny Chong.  (Yep - this *is* a
    super-sized edition :-)

    And since our ol' Westerly list seems to have gone a tad quiet over the
    last few weeks, I might also copy this weeks lot onto there as well
    (Woz's own suggestion).
                                   #   #   #

    Being that time of the year, the Christmas humour is starting to ripple
    through.  So, first up - this one from Steve [redacted]:

                           THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

   December 14

 My dearest John,

I went to the door today and the postman had for me a partridge in a pear
tree.  What a delightful gift they are.  Thank you for the wonderful thought.

       With deep love and affection,
                   Your ever loving Agnes.

   December 15

 Dearest John,

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift - 2 turtle doves.  I am
delighted, they are adorable.

       All my love,
                   Yours, Agnes

   December 16

 Dear John,

Oh, how extravagant you are.  I really must protest.  Three French Hens.  I
don't deserve such generosity, I insist you are too kind.

       Love, Agnes.

   December 17

 Dear John,

Yet another present.  This time 4 calling birds.   You really are spoiling me.
       Love, Agnes.

   December 18

 My dearest John,

What a lovely surprise.  Today the postman brought me five golden rings, one
for each finger.   You are impulsive, but I love you.  Frankly, all those
birds were beginning to get on my nerves with their constant squawking.

       Your ever loving Agnes

   December 19

 Dear John,

When I opened the door this morning there were actually six bloody great geese
laying eggs all over the front doorstep.  So we are back with the birds again.
Where on earth do you suppose I can keep them all?  The neighbours say they
can smell them and I can't sleep for the noise.  Please stop sending birds.

       Cordially, Agnes.

   December 20


What is it with these sodding birds?  Now I have seven bloody swans-a-swimming.
Is it some sort of goddam wheeze or what?  The house is full of birdshit
and the racket is such that I am becoming a nervous wreck.  It's not funny,
so stop sending me flaming birds.


   December 21

 O.K. Buster,

I think I prefer the birds.  What the hell am I going to do with eight maids-
a-milking?  Apart from the blasted birds, now I have eight bloody great cows-
a-shitting all over the house and mooing all night.

  Lay off, you smartarse,


   December 22

 Listen, Shithead,

What are you - some kind of nut?  Now I have nine pipers-a-playing and CHRIST
do they play.  When they aren't playing with their sodding pipes, they are
chasing the maids through the cow-shit.  The cows keep mooing and treading all
over the bloody birds, and the neighbours are threatening to have me evicted.

  You'll get yours.


   December 23

 You rotten bastard,

Now we have got ten ladies dancing.  How on earth anyone can call those whores
'ladies' is beyond me.  They are balling the pipers all night long and the
cows can't sleep and have got diarrhoea.  My living room is a river of shit
and the landlord just declared the building unfit to live in.

       PISS OFF

   December 24

 Listen Dickhead,

With the eleven lords-a-leaping all over the maids, the ladies and me, we may
never walk again.  The pipers are fighting the lords for the crumpet and are
committing buggery with the cows.  All the birds are dead and rotting amongst
the cowshit after being trampled in the orgy, but not before they had eaten
my golden rings.  I hope you are satisfied, you rotten, vicious, shithouse.

   Your sworn enemy,
          Agnes Fullbody

   December 25

   MACDONALD, FITCH & ABERCROMBIE, Barristers and Solicitors.

Dear Sir,

We are in receipt of your gift of 12 fiddlers fiddling with themselves.

We understand this is merely the latest infliction in your sustained
persecution of our client, Miss Agnes Fullbody, who is at present residing in
the Happy House Rest Home.  We are under instructions to charge you with the
destruction of our client's home, sanity and genitalia.

You are warned not to attempt to contact her as she has given the Rest Home
staff instructions to shoot you on sight.  A warrant has been issued for
your arrest.

     We are, Sir,
          Yours faithfully ...

     Next, a little collection of one-liners from Rudi (art-of-glass) Pillig,
     courtesy of his son, Ken:


If someone with multiple personalities threatens to kill himself, is it
considered a hostage situation?

If a parsley farmer is sued, can they garnish his wages?

Would a fly without wings be called a "walk"?

Why do they lock petrol station bathrooms?  Are they afraid someone will clean

Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?

Does the Little Mermaid wear an algebra?

Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?

How is it possible to have a civil war?

If you ate pasta and antipasta, would you still be hungry?

If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done?

Why are haemorrhoids called "haemorrhoids" instead of "assteroids"?

If the "blackbox" flight recorder is never damaged during a plane crash,
why isn't the whole damn airplane made out of that stuff?

        And this short piece comes courtesy of the humour list at QCAT:

                                SUCCESS IS ...

At age 4  . . . success is . . . not peeing in your pants.

At age 12 . . . success is . . . having friends.

At age 16 . . . success is . . . having a drivers license.

At age 20 . . . success is . . . having sex.

At age 35 . . . success is . . . having money.

At age 50 . . . success is . . . having money.

At age 60 . . . success is . . . having sex.

At age 70 . . . success is . . . having a drivers license.

At age 75 . . . success is . . . having friends.

At age 80 . . . success is . . . not peeing in your pants.

       To the pics now.  This first one from Nikki Scarlett is more bizarre
       than humorous (just the sort of accident that our litigation-prone
       society delights in nowadays!):

     MacChicken wings anyone?  Click here

       Here's a few more from the Steve [redacted] collection:

     A taxi record ... oops: Click here
     Hang on - one more ... Click here
     Hey, what th'...?  Click here
     Okay, I'm finally here:  Click here
     Discreet:  Click here
     Whew, that worked!  Click here
     Wow - look at THIS!  Click here

       This one was passed on from the QCAT humour list:

     Whip me:  Click here

       And this one was forwarded on by Russell MacKinnon:

     New Official Seal:  Click here

       Finally - some MPEGs (which Steve Harding has again kindly hosted
       over at his higher-bandwidth site).  This first contribution was
       passed on by Colin Nexhip:

     Walking the granny:  Click here

       Then, there was this one from Colin MacRae:

     Parasail:  Click here

       And finally - this one from David McCallum:

     Woman driver:  Click here


       Back to the U.S. election now - with this one from Nestor Zaluzec
       over in Illinois:


On learning of our national distress, collections have been taken up in major
cities to raise funds for relief.  So far, Japan has shipped 50,000 cases
of Viagra.  They want to do something positive because they have heard that
entire U.S.A. is unable to get an election.

      And this one's from another ex-elevator R&D engineer, Ms Jenny Chong:

This guy caddies for a pro PGA golfer.  One season they travel to Switzerland
for a tournament.

On the way to Switzerland the caddy sees a good looking Swiss stewardess.
Later that night the two are making out and the stewartdess says "Onadaga,
Onadaga".  The caddie, who speaks no Swiss, says "Oh yeah, uhh, Onadaga".

The next day the caddy and golfer run a practice round on the course.  The
golfer gets a whole in one.  The caddy decides to use his new found vocabulary
and says "Onadaga sir!"

The golfer gives him a funny look and says, "What do you mean wrong hole?"

                    Now for two more from Steve [redacted]:

                                LETTERS TO SANTA

  Dear Santa
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas.  Iv ben a gud boy al yeer.
  Yer Frend, Billy

  Dear Billy,
Nice spelling.  You're on your way to a career packing freezers at Big Fresh.
How about I send you a f**king book so you can learn to read and write?
I'm giving your older brother the space ranger - at least he can SPELL.
                                    #   #   #

  Dear Santa,
What do you do the other 364 days of the year?  Are you busy making toys?
  Your friend, Thomas

  Dear Thomas,
All the toys are made in China.  I have a condo in Vegas, where I spend
most of my time making low-budget porno films.

I unwind by drinking myself paralytic and squeezing the arses of cocktail
waitresses while losing money at the craps table.

And I'm not your friend.
                                    #   #   #

  Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and
joy in the world for everybody!

  Dear Sarah,
You're parents smoked dope when they had you, didn't they?  Here's an AK-47
instead.  Do yourself and the world a favour and remove the safety catch.
                                    #   #   #

  Dear Santa,
I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my mummy
and daddy to get back together.  Please see what you can do.

  Dear Teddy,
Look - your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane.
Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your frigid mum who nags
his arse constantly?  It's time to give up that dream.  Let me get you some
nice Lego instead.
                                    #   #   #

  Dear Santa,
I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your
  Love, Susan

  Dear Susan,
Milk gives me the runs and carrots make the deer fart in my face when riding
in the sleigh at high altitudes.
You want to do me a favour?  Leave out a bottle of Scotch.

       ... and ...

  My wife and I were happy for twenty years.  Then we met.

  After a quarrel, a wife said to her husband, "You know, I was a fool when
  I married you."
  The husband replied, "Yes, dear, but I was in love and didn't notice."

  I haven't spoken to my wife in 18 months - I don't like to interrupt her.

  A man said his credit card was stolen but he decided not to report it since
  the thief was spending much less than his wife did.

  A little boy asked his father, "Daddy, how much does it cost to get married?"
  The father replied, "Dunno, son.  I'm still paying."

  Young Son: Is it true, Dad, that in some parts of Africa a man doesn't know
  his wife until he marries her?
  Dad: That happens in every country, son.

  I never knew what real happiness was until I got married; then it was
  too late.

  If you want your spouse to listen and pay strict attention to every word
  you say, talk in your sleep.

  I married Miss Right.  I just didn't know her first name was Always.

  It's not true that married men live longer than single men.  It only seems

  Losing a wife can be very hard.  In my case, it was almost impossible.

  A man was complaining to a friend: "I had it all - money, a beautiful house,
  a big car, the love of a beautiful woman - and then, BAM!, it was all gone!"
  "What happened?" asked his friend. "My wife found out..."

  Just think, if it weren't for marriage, men would go through life thinking
  they had no faults at all.

  How do most men define marriage?
  An expensive way to get your laundry done free.

  The most effective way to remember your wife's birthday is to forget it once.

         And to finish off for the week - a couple more contributions from
         the QCAT humour list:

                                 RULES OF LOVE

1.  Never have sex with a stranger - unless you are stranger than them.

2.  Abstain from wine, women, and song, mostly song.

3.  Never argue with a women when she's tired... or rested.

4.  A woman never forgets the men she could have had, a man never
    forgets the women he couldn't.

5.  It is better to be looked over, than overlooked.

6.  Don't say no, say maybe, say any old thing, say come back in the
spring, but don't say no.

7.  A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he doesn't love her.

8.  Beauty is skin deep, ugly goes right to the bone.

9.  Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation, the other eight
    are unimportant.

10. Go up and you'll find heaven.  Go down and you'll find salvation.

11. Take two at bedtime.

12. Confusing sexuality, beastiality, morality and reality ... can really
    mess you up.

13. Original sin is hard to find - but the digitally enhanced version is
    readily available.

    ... and ...

                         THE STAR RANKING HANGOVER GUIDE

  * One star hangover

No pain.  No real feeling of illness.  Your sleep last night was a mere disco
nap, which is giving you a whole lot of misplaced energy.  Be glad that you
are able to function relatively well.  However, you are still parched.  You
can drink 10 sodas and still feel this way.  Even vegetarians are craving a
cheeseburger and fries.

  ** Two star hangover

No pain.  Something is definitely amiss.  You may look okay but you have the
attention span and mental capacity of a stapler.  The coffee you chug to try
and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving
a rootie tootie fresh and fruity pancake breakfast.

Last night has wreaked havoc on your bowels and even though you have a nice
demeanour about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because
all you really can handle is surfing Internet porn and writing junk e-mails.

  *** Three star hangover

Slight headache.  Stomach feels crappy.  You are definitely a space shot and
so not productive.  Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume
reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends
after the bouncer 86'd you at 1:45a.m.

Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen doughnuts
and a litre of Coke watching Good Morning with Richard and Judy.  You've had 4
cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 2 Sausage Rolls and a litre of diet coke -
yet you haven't peed once.

  **** Four star hangover

Life sucks.  Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else
you might puke.  Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has
given you a lecture for reeking of booze.  You wore nice clothes, but that
can't hide the fact that you missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving, (girls,
it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the bumper cars), your
teeth have sweaters, your eyes look like one big vein and your hair style
makes you look like a reject from the class picture of Revere High, '76.

You would shoot your mother for one or all of the following:
 1. The clock to strike 6pm
 2. The entire appetiser list from TGI Fridays, or
 3. A time machine so you could go back and NOT have gone out the night before.

  ***** Five star hangover (aka Dante's 4th Circle of Hell)

You have a second heartbeat in your head which is actually annoying the
person who sits in the next cube.  Vodka vapour is seeping out of every
pore and making you dizzy.  You still have toothpaste crust in the corners
of your mouth from brushing your teeth.  Your body has lost the ability to
generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you.  You'd cry but that
would only take the last trace of moisture left in your body.  Death seems
pretty good right now.

Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your
dog just died because you look so pathetic.  You should have called in sick
because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is bitch about your state -
which is a mystery to you because you definitely don't remember who you
were with, where you were, what you drank and why there is a stranger still
sleeping unaccompanied in your bed at your house.

The only thing you can do is smoke a bong and pass out.  It's when you wake
up a few hours later with a lesser star hangover that you eat a large pizza,
an order of Kung Pao Chicken, a ham and cheese omelette and a batch of rice
crispy treats.
[ End Friday humour ]

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