Friday humour - December 22, 2000
From Tony at Bluehaze:
Yo,
Okay, and it's onto the final Friday humour for the year 2000 and the
"real" millennium. I'm also going to attempt to make it the last one
for all time - ie: I don't think I'll be continuing it next year.
It's certainly been a satisfying experience, most especially as a means
of "maintaining links" with ex-colleagues who have left CSIRO at various
times over the past 5 years or so. Too many good people were prematurely
pushed out by the merge that was forced upon us from above, and even
a silly mail list like this does help people to stay in touch a bit.
But steadily increasing demands on my time this year have been making the
regular weekly posting more difficult as each week has gone by, and I
really do need to call a halt now.
--------
Oh - one other thing: somehow or other some spammer got wind of the
list name and sent a piece of junk mail last week (and thanks to Jenny
over at NEC for pointing this out to me). So I've quickly re-named the
list this week, so anything they send to the old name will just bounce.
Anyway, enough housekeeping! It's almost Christmas, so onto the first
contribution for this week - from one David (Fifi) McCallum:
------------------
A PSYCHIATRIST'S CHRISTMAS CAROLS
SCHIZOPHRENIA:
Do you Hear What I hear?
MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER:
We Three Kings Disoriented Are.
DEMENTIA:
I Think I'll Be Home for Christmas.
NARCISSISTIC:
Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me.
MANIC:
Deck the Hall and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office
and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and ...
PARANOID:
Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me.
PERSONALITY DISORDER:
You Better Watch Our, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll tell you why.
PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE PERSONALITY:
On the First Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me (and then took it
all away).
BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER:
Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire.
OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE DISORDER:
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell,
Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle
Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle
Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell
Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle
Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell,
Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle
Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle
Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock.
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This next one was forwarded on by Steve [redacted] back in October:
------------------
There was this little guy sitting inside a bar, just looking at his drink.
He didn't move for a half-an-hour. Then, this big trouble-making truck driver
stepped up right next to him, took the drink from the guy, and just drank
it all down.
The poor man started crying.
The truckie turned and said: "Aww, come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll
buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man crying."
"No no, it's not that. Today is the worst day of my life. First, I overslept
and was late for an important meeting. My boss became outraged and then fired
me. When I left the building to my car, I found out that it was stolen. The
police said they could do nothing.
So I had to get a cab home, except after I paid the cab driver and the cab
had gone, I found that I left my wallet in the cab.
Then I got inside only to find my wife in bed with the gardener. I left home
depressed and came to this bar. And NOW ... just when I was finally getting
the courage to put an end to it all, YOU had to show up and drink the poison."
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Now to a short one from the other Steve (Harding) - also from October:
------------------
One afternoon a little girl returned from school, and announced that her friend
had told her where babies come from.
Amused, her mother replied: "Really, sweetie, why don't you tell me all
about it?"
The little girl explained, "Well ... okay ... the Mummy and Daddy take off all
of their clothes, and the Daddy's thing sort of stands up, and then Mummy puts
it in her mouth, and then it sort of explodes, and that's how you get babies."
Her Mum shook her head, leaned over to meet her eye to eye and said, "Oh, honey,
that's sweet, but that's not how you get babies. That's how you get jewellery."
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Now for a longer one - just forwarded on by David over at Telstra:
------------------
TERROR ON FLIGHT 611 - THERE'S BABY ON BOARD
by Dave Barry
Recently, my wife and I took our eight-month-old daughter on a trip involving
five plane flights in one week. Many people would be reluctant to travel with a
baby that small, but we had a compelling reason: We have Fig Newtons for brains.
An intelligent person, or even a reasonably bright fungus, would know that two
people cannot possibly carry both a baby and all the supplies the baby needs,
including stroller, car seat, clothes, nappies, industrial-sized bale of wipes,
stuffed bear, stuffed tiger, stuffed frog, stuffed paramecium, etc. The total
weight of all these supplies can be hundreds of times the weight of the actual
baby. This is why your famous explorers rarely travelled with babies.
If Magellan had tried to sail around the world with a baby on board, his ship
would have sunk at the dock from the weight of the formula alone.
We were one of those wretched travelling families you see getting on planes -
the kind where you don't actually see the people, just this mound of baby
equipment shuffling slowly down the aisle toward you. This sight is always
hugely popular with the other passengers, some of whom will yank open the
emergency exits and dive out of the plane. Because they know what babies do on
planes: They stand on their parents' laps and stick their heads up over the
seats, so they can get maximum range when they shriek. On a baby-intensive
airplane, you see shrieking baby heads constantly popping up all over, like
prairie dogs from hell.
As a parent in this situation, your fervent hope is that the other babies on
the plane will shriek louder than yours, thereby diverting passenger hatred
away from you. It would not surprise me to learn that some parents creep
under the seats and pinch other people's babies to set them off. I myself
would never do such a thing. I carry a slingshot.
The trick for keeping your baby from crying on the plane is to come up with a
new activity each time the baby gets bored. A standard baby gets bored every
15 seconds, so on a four-hour flight, you, as a parent, need to come up with
960 different activities. By the third hour of the flight, your standards are
pretty low. Baby wants to play in the airplane toilet? Sure! Baby wants to
crawl into the cockpit and bite the navigator on the ankle? Whatever baby
wants!
Here's what a stupid parent I am: On our first flight, I brought two newspapers
on board. I did not read one word of either one. What I read was a book called
Farm Faces, which is made entirely of cloth. There's a cow on the cover, and
each page has a new animal. Here's the entire text:
'Chick,' 'Lamb,' 'Pig,' 'Duck,' 'Horse,' 'Worm.''
I read this book to my daughter maybe 40 times, using a dramatic and excited
voice to show her how fascinating it was. I mean, talk about a surprise plot
twist! I NEVER would have guessed worm!
I also tried to interest Sophie in the in-flight movie, which was The Perfect
Storm, in which George Clooney goes to sea in a fishing boat and is killed by
special effects. Sophie did not care for it. I could see her point: I thought
Farm Faces was less formulaic.
It goes without saying that your baby will poop massively on the plane. This
must have something to do with atmospheric pressure, because it never fails.
Each year, more baby poop is produced on airplanes than in all of Portugal.
Fortunately, most planes have a little changing shelf in the bathroom, which
is the perfect size for a baby, provided that it is a baby gerbil. For human
babies, you have to use the seat, which then must be burned when the plane
lands.
The only really practical place to change a baby on an airplane would be on the
wing, but of course you can't take the baby out there. The other passengers
would never let you back inside.
You know what we need? We need an airline just for people with babies (it
could be called 'Shrieking Prairie Dogs From Hell Airlines'). The planes
would not have seats: Everyone would squat on the floor. The preflight safety
lecture would consist of a demonstration of how to get a Lego out of a child's
mouth. The inflight meal would be Cheerios eaten off the floor. If the noise
reached a certain decibel level, plastic tubes would automatically pop out
of the ceiling to dispense liquid horse tranquillser to the parents.
The inflight movie would be Farm Faces, starring George Clooney as: Worm.
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Okay - onto some pics. All from Bluehaze this week, so (as ever) they
may take 10-15 seconds to load down. First two from Steve [redacted]:
No parking: Click here
Frankston City Council: Click here
And some snowman cartoons as passed on by the QCAT guys:
Snowman 1: Click here
Snowman 2: Click here
Snowman 3: Click here
Snowman 4: Click here
Snowman 5: Click here
Meltdown: Click here
Arrh, what the heck - let's dig back and give you a few more classics
from Steve [redacted] to finish off the images department. Steve
passed these on to us a few months ago:
Pussy eyes: Click here
No windows: Click here
Watch out: Click here
That tickles: Click here
Austin: Click here
Ahhh, that's better: Click here
Hello! I'm Mr Zeb: Click here
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Now back to the character-level stuff, and it's another one from
Steve [redacted] ... all about affairs:
------------------
AFFAIR NUMBER ONE
There was a middle-aged couple who had two stunningly beautiful blonde teen-age
daughters. They decided to try one last time for the son they always wanted.
After months of trying, the wife became pregnant and sure enough, nine months
later delivered a healthy baby boy.
The joyful father rushed to the nursery to see his new son. He took one look
and was horrified to see the ugliest child he had ever seen. He went to his
wife and said that there was no way that he could be the father of that child.
"Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered." Then he gave her a stern
look and asked, "Have you been fooling around on me?"
The wife just smiled sweetly and said, "Not this time...."
AFFAIR NUMBER TWO
A mortician was working late one night. It was his job to examine the dead
bodies before they were sent off to be buried or cremated. As he examined
the body of Mr. Schwartz, who was about to be cremated, he made an amazing
discovery: Schwartz had the longest penis he had ever seen!
"I'm sorry, Mr. Schwartz," said the mortician, "But I can't send you off
to be cremated with a tremendously huge penis like this. It has to be saved
for posterity." And with that the coroner used his tools to remove the dead
man's penis.
He stuffed his prize into a briefcase and took it home. The first person he
showed was his wife. "I have something to show you that you won't believe," he
said, and opened his briefcase.
"Oh my god!" she screamed, "Schwartz is dead!"
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Next - a couple of quickies from Maria the Harding:
------------------
Instructor Nursing School.
A woman enrolled in nursing school was attending an anatomy class. The subject
of the day was involuntary muscles.
The instructor, hoping to perk up the students a bit, asked a woman, "Do you
know what your arse-hole does when you're having an orgasm?"
"Sure" she said. "He's at home, taking care of the kids."
... and ...
A woman walked up to a little old man rocking in a chair on his porch. "I
couldn't help noticing how happy you look," she said. "What's your secret for
a long happy life?"
"I smoke three packs of cigarettes a day," he said. "I also do a gram of
cocaine a day, a case of whisky a week, eat junk food and never exercise."
"That's amazing," said the woman, "how old are you?"
"Twenty-six," he said.
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Nikki Scarlett (our resident CSIRO bass player) just forwarded on
some "muzo" humour. So all you muzo types out there, get into these
(and gidday to Harrers and to Thermo Bob):
------------------
Q: What do you call a beautiful woman on a trombonist's arm?
A: A tattoo.
Q: What do you call a drummer in a three-piece suit?
A: "The Defendant"
Q: What's the similarity between a drummer and a philosopher?
A: They both perceive time as an abstract concept.
Q: Why do some people have an instant aversion to banjo players?
A: It saves time in the long run.
Q: What's the difference between a jet airplane and a trumpet?
A: About three decibels.
Q: What's the latest crime wave in New York City?
A: Drive-by trombone solos.
Q: What is another term for trombone?
A: A wind driven, manually operated, pitch approximator.
Q: What is the dynamic range of a bass trombone?
A: On or off.
Q: Why do people play trombone?
A: Because they can't move their fingers and read music at the same time.
Q: What do a viola and a lawsuit have in common?
A: Everyone is relieved when the case is closed.
Q: Why are harps like elderly parents?
A: Both are unforgiving and hard to get into and out of cars.
Q: What's the difference between an oboe and a bassoon?
A: You can hit a baseball further with a bassoon.
Q: How are a banjo player and a blind javelin thrower alike?
A: Both command immediate attention and alarm, and force everyone to move
out of range.
Q: What's the best recording of the Walton Violin Concerto?
A: "Music Minus One"
Tuba Player: "Did you hear my last recital?"
Friend: "I hope so."
Q: What's the difference between alto clef and Greek?
A: Some conductors actually read Greek.
Musica ficta: When you lose your place and have to bluff until you find it
again.
Vibrato: Used by singers to hide the fact that they are on the wrong pitch.
# # #
Female vocalist asks her keyboard player, "I'd like to do 'My Funny Valentine'
tonight, but can you think of a way to 'jazz' it up?"
Keyboard player replies, "Sure, we can do the first chorus in G minor, then
modulate to G#minor for the second chorus in 5/4 time, then modulate to A
minor in 3/4 time for the bridge, then cut off the last 3 bars!"
She claims, "that might be too complicated to do without a rehearsal!"
Keyboard player responds, "Well, that's how you did it last night!"
# # #
A reason to practice
The following advice, given by a teacher to his student combo, was overheard
at a summer jazz camp. To protect the guilty, the teacher will remain
anonymous. Nonetheless, it remains one of the Great, Ultimate Truisms of
jazz (let alone any style of music). It's verisimilitude is timeless:
"Man, if you play like that, you are NEVER gonna get laid."
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Now to some material that floated past on our ol' Westerly list
recently (well, this first one was recent):
------------------
A fellow bought a new Mercedes and was out on the interstate for a nice
evening drive. The top was down, the breeze was blowing through his hair and
he decided to open her up. As the needle jumped up to 80mph he suddenly saw
a flashing red and blue light behind him.
"There ain't no way they can catch a Mercedes," he thought to himself and
opened her up further. The needle hit 90, 100 110 and finally 120 with the
lights still behind him.
"What in hell am I doing?" he thought and pulled over.
The cop came up to him, took his licence without a word and examined it and
the car. "I've had a tough shift and this is my last pull over. I don't feel
like more paperwork, so if you can give me an excuse for that driving that
I haven't heard before, you can go!"
"Last week my wife ran off with a cop," the man said, "and I was afraid you
were trying to give her back!"
"Have a nice night", said the officer.
----====#=#=#=#====----
... and ... (this one floated through back in July):
A guy has been asking the prettiest girl in town for a date and finally she
agrees to go out with him. He takes her to a nice restaurant, buys her a fancy
dinner with expensive wine and on the way home he pulls over to the side
of the road in a secluded spot.
They start necking and he's getting pretty randy. He starts to reach under
her skirt and she stops him, saying she's a virgin and wants to stay that
way.
"Well ... okay," he says, "then how about a blow job?"
"EEEEyyyyyyeeeewwwwwww!" she screams. "I'm not putting that thing in my mouth!"
He says, "Well then, how about a hand job?"
"I've never done that," she says. "What do I have to do?"
"Well," he answers, "remember when you were a kid and you used to shake up
a Coke bottle and spray your brother with it?" She nods. "Well, it's just
like that."
So he pulls it out and she grabs hold of it and starts shaking it. A few
seconds later, his head flops back on the headrest, his eyes close, snot starts
to run out of his nose, wax blows out of his ears and he screams out in pain.
"What's wrong?!" she cries out.
"TAKE YOUR BLOODY THUMB OFF OF THE END!!"
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And to finish off for the week, the year, the millennium, and
probably for all time ... a couple more from Steve [redacted]:
------------------
Two guys in a bar - one says "Did your hear the news - Mike is dead!"
"Whooo - what the hell happened to him?"
"Well, he was on his way over to my house the other day and when he arrived
outside the house, he didn't brake properly and boom - he hit the pavement
and the car flips up and he crashed through the sunroof. Went flying through
the air and smashed through my upstairs bedroom window."
"What a horrible way to die!"
"No no, he survived that, that didn't kill him at all. So, he's landed in my
upstairs bedroom and he's all covered in broken glass on the floor. Then, he
spots the big old antique wardrobe we have in the room and reaches up for the
handle to try to pull himself up. He's just dragging himself up when bang,
this massive wardrobe comes crashing down on top of him, crushing him and
breaking most of his bones."
"Oh, what a way to go ... that's terrible!"
"No no, that didn't kill him - he survived that. He managed to get the wardrobe
off him and crawls out onto the landing, then he tries to pull himself up on
the banister - but under his weight, the banister breaks and he goes falling
down on to the first floor. In mid air, all the broken banister poles spin
and fall on him, pinning him to the floor, sticking right through him."
"Now that is the most unfortunate way to go!"
"No no, that didn't kill him, he even survived that. So he's on the downstairs
landing, just beside the kitchen. He crawls in to the kitchen, tries to pull
himself up on the cooker, but reached for a big pot of boiling hot water,
and ... whoosh, the whole thing came down on him and burned most of his skin
off."
"Man, what a way to go!"
"No no, he survived that, he survived that! He's lying on the ground, covered
in boiling water and he spots the phone and tries to pull himself up to call
for help, but instead he grabs the light switch and pulls the whole thing off
the wall, and the water and electricity didn't mix and so he got electrocuted -
wallop - 10,000 volts through him."
"Now that is one AWFUL way to go!"
"No no, he survived that, he ..."
"Hold on now, just how the hell DID he die?"
"I shot him!"
"You shot him? What the hell did you shoot him for?"
"He was wrecking my bloody house."
----====#=#=#=#====----
... and ...
The year is 2222 and Mike and Maureen land on Mars after accumulating enough
frequent flier points. They meet a Martian couple and are talking about all
sorts of things. Mike asks if Mars has a stock market, if they have laptop
computers, how they make money, etc.
Finally, Maureen bring up the subject of sex.
"Just how do you guys do it?" asks Maureen.
"Pretty much the way you do," responds the Martian.
Discussion ensues, and finally the couples decide to swap partners for the
night and experience one another.
Maureen and the male Martian go off to a bedroom where the Martian strips.
He's got only a teeny, weeny member - about half an inch long and just a
quarter inch thick.
"I don't think this is going to work," says Maureen.
"Why?" he asks, "What's the matter?"
"Well," she replies, "It's just not long enough to go inside me!"
"No problem," he says, and proceeds to slap his forehead with his palm. With
each slap of his forehead, his member grows until it's quite impressively long.
"Well now," she says, "That is quite impressive, but it's still pretty narrow."
"That's no problem either," he says, and starts pulling his ears. With each
pull, his member grows wider and wider until the entire measurement is
extremely exciting to the woman.
"Oh, wow!" she exclaims, as they fell into bed and made mad, passionate love.
The next day the couples rejoin their normal partners and go their separate
ways. As they walk along, Mike asks "Well, was it any good?"
"Well, I hate to say it," says Maureen, "but it was pretty wonderful. How
about you?"
"Arrgghh - it was horrible," he replies, "I just got a headache. All she kept
doing the whole time was slapping my forehead and pulling my ears."
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[ End Friday humour ]
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