Friday humour - June 27, 2003

     From Tony at Bluehaze:

     Well, we missed out last week while Bluehaze was changing ISP "plans"
     (ie: its network connection) but things are finally more or less
     running again, so let's see how we go this week.

     Contributions are from QCAT, John (at CUB), Garry Jensen, Olivine
     (MolSci), Mandie the Matheson, Biggus, David (Mags), Digitronics Steve,
     Maria the H, Brett V, Jon Rumbelow (UK), and "Pierre" (France).

     Oh - Shorty (Greg) had this comment to pass on to our US readers first.
     Some of you may remember Brett's 'Monaro' pictures back on June 6th
     Click here if you missed them).

     I made a passing comment that "For our OS readers - a medium-sized V8
     sports sedan built in Oz by GMH.  Should always be driven with panavision
     shades and slicked-back hair."

     Well, Greg suggested mentioning that "... for our American readers,
     you could point out that the Monaro is being sold in the States as the
     new Pontiac GTO."  So there you go.

     To the humour then (and itsa big one this week, so read quickly) ...
     starting off with this piece from QCAT, way up north of here:

                           A SWIFT SEDUCTION

                           by Richard Lederer

The scenario begins in a bar:

"May I buy you a drink?" said Tom wryly.

"I guess so," she whined.

"We could both get stoned at my place," said Tom adamantly.

"No, let's go to my room," she said gamely.

"I'd love to come up for a visit," Tom guessed.

"Then let's go. I live in a garret apartment," she said loftily.

"Fair enough," said Tom with rising excitement.

"When we get there, we'll play around," she said skittishly.  [They arrive.]

"Now that we're here, shall I play the piano for you?" she said grandly.

"I prefer a blow job on the sax," Tom trumpeted.

"All right," she said hornily.

"Can you play in tune?" said Tom sharply.

"I guess not," she said flatly.

"Shall we go to your bedroom?" said Tom invitingly.

"My bed has good springs," she said coyly.

"I've got to go to the bathroom first," Tom stalled.

"It's right over there," she said cannily

"I won't be long," said Tom pithily

"Good," she said onomatopoetically

"I'm all done now," Tom flushed.

"Please brush your teeth," she said breathily.

"Oops, I dropped my toothpaste," said Tom, crestfallen.
[He enters the bedroom.]

"I think I'll take off my nightgown," she said silkily.

"You have a gorgeous body," said Tom figuratively.

"Want to nibble on my nipples?" she said succinctly

"Sure. Let me remove your bra," snapped Tom.

"All right," she said, making a clean breast of things.

"Boy, you've got great boobs," said Tom titillatingly.

"Why don't you take off your trousers now?" she panted.

"I'd like to start by kissing your feet," said Tom soulfully.

"Are you sure?" she said callously.

"Absolutely," said Tom archly.

"You're making me wet," she said fluently.

"Are you all ready to go at it?" said Tom stiffly.

"Mmmm. That looks good," she said, feeling crotchety.

"I'm glad you like it," said Tom testily.

"Wow! Your dick is so big," she said longingly.

"You're absolutely right," said Tom straightforwardly.

"I'm all ready to go," she said receptively.

"Thanks," said Tom pointedly.

"Did you bring condoms?" she said safely.

"No I didn't," said Tom apparently.

"Well, here's one of mine. It will help prevent VD," she said rashly.

"I don't really need one," said Tom inconceivably.

"Use one anyway," she said expectantly and pregnantly.

"Let's get to it!" probed Tom, driving home his point.

"Yes, let's! " she said, cracking up.

"Am I in deep enough?" said Tom penetratingly.

"Absolutely," she said entrancingly.

"I love this stuff," Tom bawled.

"Me too!" she said movingly

"Let's do it some more," Tom riposted.

"Fine by me," she rejoined.

"How about you getting on top now?" said Tom flippantly.

"Sure," she said with mounting excitement.

"How about let's doing it back door?" said Tom sheepishly.

"Sure, I love to do it doggy style," she said sternly.

"OK, let's go at it," Tom lambasted.

"Fine by me," she said cheekily

"I love doggy sex," muttered Tom.

"Me too," she said pugnaciously.

"I'll take off my boxer shorts," said Tom doggedly.

"Hurry up," she bitched.

"How about nine more times?" said Tom asininely.

"Sure," she rebutted.

"No, I'm really getting close to orgasm," said Tom becomingly.

"So am I " she said, whetting his appetite.

"Yyyeeeeeeeee!" Tom ejaculated.

"Ooohhhhhhhhh!" she said climactically.

"I came in like a lion!" said Tom pridefully.

"And out like a lamb," she bleated

"I need a rest now," Tom derided.

"Me too," she delayed.

"Screwing is so depleting," said Tom limply.

"I agree," she said dryly.

"I always feel so spent after intercourse," said Tom excruciatingly.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," she said rhetorically.

          This one from John (CUB) makes interesting reading ...

  Below is an article written by Rick Reilly for Sports Illustrated. He
  details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in a F-14

  Now this message for America's most famous athletes:

Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your country's
most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have - John Elway, John
Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge
you, with the greatest sincerity ... move to Guam. Change your name. Fake
your own death. Whatever you do, do not go. I know.

The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was
toast! I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff)
King of Fighter Squadron213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia
Beach. Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks
like, triple it. He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair,
finger-crippling handshake-the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators
in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast.

Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voiceof
NASA missions. ("T-minus 15 seconds and counting...."  Remember?)

Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad.
Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him
to say, "We have a liftoff."

Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million
weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie.
I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked
Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.

"Bananas," he said.

"For the potassium?" I asked.

"No," Biff said, "because they taste about the same coming up as they
do going down."

The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name
sewn over the left breast. (No call sign-like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot-but,
still, very cool.)

I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever
in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, that was it.  A fighter
pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me into my
ejection seat, which, when employed, would "egress" me out of the plane at
such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.

Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me,
and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In minutes we were firing nose up
at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another F-14. Those
20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80.

It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without
rails. We did barrel rolls, sap rolls, loops, yanks and banks.  We dived,
rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet
per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us. We broke the speed
of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree
turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if
6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life
as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.

And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before.
And the lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade.
I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G's, I was egressing stuff
that did not even want to be egressed. I went through not one airsick bag,
but two.

Biff said I passed out. Twice.

I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a
banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G's were flattening me like a
tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first
person in history to throw down.

I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman
making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like Biff,
men with cast-iron stomachs and Freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there again
for Derek Jeter's black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less
a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.

A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and
the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he'd send it on a patch
for my flight suit.

"What is it?", I asked.

"Two Bags."

      A few pics (and the odd movie) now.  As Garry says, "This is the
      latest internet cartoon doing the rounds in accounting and financial
      services offices.  Drag your mouse over the grid ..."

What economists do all day: Click here

                  And a collection from QCAT up north ...

State Of Origin: Click here
Pickup line #1: Click here
Pickup line #2: Click here
Pickup line #3: Click here
Pickup line #4: Click here
Pickup line #5: Click here
My letterbox (1): Click here
My letterbox (more intimate): Click here
Mutual insults #1: Click here
Mutual insults #2: Click here
Mutual insults #3: Click here
Mutual insults #4: Click here
Mutual insults #5: Click here

                 Maria the H sent this lot over for you:

M11: Click here
Let me show you all my trick ... Click here
Scared of spiders?  You should be.  The brown recluse can bite:
The recluse: Click here
Day3: Click here
Day4: Click here
Day5: Click here
Day6: Click here
Day9: Click here
Day10: Click here

                 And from Olivine over in Molecular Science:

Meet at last ... Click here
Romeo and Juliet: Click here

                      Doug Knight came across this one ...

Fold your money and you get ... Click here

      Brett found time between deliveries to dig these up for you ...

                               CARS FOR SALE

#1: Click here
#2: Click here
#3: Click here
#4: Click here
#5: Click here
#6: Click here
#7: Click here

        And Mandie the Matheson felt you might just enjoy this lot ...

How to get a man to clean the house ...  Click here
Okay, come on ...  Click here
Who's surfing?  Click here
Hello dear?  I may be late tonight ...  Click here
New office plan: Click here
Gorn fishing ...  Click here
Hmmmm ...  Click here
Wow!  Click here
Nuf said ...  Click here
Get the message?  Click here

                       Malisja passed this one on ...

Walking around the world (cute 'n clever): Click here

                 And these were from Digitronics Steve Harding:

Loaded train ...  Click here
Latest Disney T-shirts: Click here
Bang - you're dead!  Click here
Let's not get too worried there, guys ...  Click here
Don't hurry ...  Click here
7 Up: Click here
HAZCHEM data sheet: Click here
Shopping: Click here
After marriage, it's ...  Click here

        And finally, from "Pierre" (France), some classic Don Martin
        (with more to come) ...

Prison: Click here

     Okay, back to the written stuff to finish off now, and this super-quick
     one from Biggus McCallum:

Q: How many kids with ADD does it take to change a lightbulb?

A: Wanna go bike riding?

      And this ASCII collection from Mandie the Matheson also drifted in ...

  (This first one's an oldie, but somewhat expanded ...)

Ms Brooks was having trouble with one of her first-grade pupils.

"Johnny, what is your problem?"

Johnny answered, "I'm too smart for the first Grade. My sister is in third
grade and I'm smarter than she is! I think I should be in the third-grade too!"

Ms Brooks had had enough, so she took Johnny to the principal's office.

The principal agreed that he would give the boy a test and if he failed to
answer any of his questions he was to go back to the first-grade and behave.

He started by asking Johhny some simple arithmetic. "What is three times

"Nine, Sir."

"How much is nine times six?"


And so it went with every question the principal thought a third-grade
should know.

The principal looked at Ms Brooks and said, "I think Johnny can go to third
grade! He seems smart enough."

Ms Brooks said to the principal, "Let me ask him some questions?"
The principal and Johnny both agreed.

Ms Brooks asked, "What does a cow have four of that I have only two of?

Johnny, after a moment, answered "Legs, Ma'am"

"What is in your pants that you have but I do not have?"


"OK, what does a dog do that a man steps into?"


"What starts with a C and ends with a T, is hairy, oval, delicious and
contains thin whitish liquid?"


"What goes in hard and pink then comes out soft and sticky?"

The principal's eyes opened really wide, but before he could stop the answer,
Johnny was taking charge.


"What does a man do standing up, a woman does sitting down and a dog does
on three legs?"

"Shake hands, Ma'am."

"Now for some "Who am I" sort of questions, OK? First one. You stick your
poles inside me, you tie me down to get me up, and I get wet before you do."

Johnny, quick as ever, answered, "Tent!"

"OK, a finger goes in me. You fiddle with me when you're bored.  The best
man always has me first."

The Principal was looking restless and a bit tense. But Johnny was on the
ball with "Wedding Ring!"

"I come in many sizes. When I'm not well, I drip. When you blow me, you
feel good."


"Right, I have a stiff shaft, my tip penetrates, and I come with a quiver."


"Good, now for the last one. What word starts with an 'F', ends in K',
and means a lot of heat and excitement?"

"Firetruck, Ma'am!"

The principal breathed a sigh of relief and said to the teacher, "Send him
to university - I got the last ten questions wrong myself!"


                              THE INTERVIEW

An office manager was given the task of hiring an individual to fill a job
opening. After sorting through a stack of resumes he found Four people who
were equally qualified. He decided to call the four in and ask them one
question and their answer would determine who would get the job.

The day came and as the four sat around the conference room table the
interviewer asked "What is the fastest thing you know of?"  Pointing to the
man on his right.

The first man replied, "A thought. It pops into your head.  There's no
forewarning that it's on the way, it's just there. A thought is the fastest
thing I know of."

"That's very good!" replied the interviewer. "And now you sir?" he asked
the second man.

"Hmm....let me see, A blink! It comes and goes and you don't know it ever
happened. A blink is the fastest thing I know of."

"Excellent!" said the interviewer "The blink of an eye. That's a very popular
cliche for speed." As he turned to the third man who was contemplating
his reply.

"Well, out at my Dad's ranch, you step out of the house and on the wall
there's a light switch, when you flip that switch, way out across the pasture
the light at the barn comes on in an instant.  Turning on a light is the
fastest thing I can think of."

The interviewer was very impressed with the third answer and thought he had
found his man. "It's hard to beat the speed of light."  he said.

Turning to the fourth man, he posed the question.

"After hearing the three previous answers, it's obvious to me that the
fastest thing known is diarrhoea."

"WHAT!?" said the interviewer, stunned by the response.

"Oh I can explain." said the fourth man. "You see, the other day I wasn't
feeling so well and ran for the bathroom. But, before I could think, blink
or turn on the light, I'd sh#t my pants!"

He got the job.

             Some quick nonsense as passed on by Jon Rumbelow (UK):

                           IF IT WASN'T FOR BAD LUCK

 Got a bottle of Chlorhexadine Gluconate mouthwash at home.
 On the bottle, in red capital letters 7 or 8 mm high, it says "FOR ORAL USE
 Only found out after I'd taken 2 doses aurally.
 Could have been worse I s'pose...

 Qualified to fly "stealth" bombers, me.
 Licence came through early in 2001.
 Took the Air Force 'til Christmas 2002 to find one for me...

 (NB See Click here for the TRUE

 story of the US spyplane that had to be flown back from China - in a Russian
 "Antonov 124" cargo plane)

 While I was at a loose end, big chief got me to call "Ev-Ov Big Planes
 'R' Russ" in Moscow.  And their side of the conversation went ...

 "Hi - my name's Sergei - how can I help you?"

 "Oh ... you're ringing from America ... "
 (Then there must have been a crossed line, 'cos this muffled voice
 asked who had Tuesday in the Sweepstake)
 "Is there anything we can help you with then?"

 "Ohhh ... you've got a broken aeroplane ...    Ohhh dearrrrrr, ...
  and where is it .... exactly?"

 (And then something must have really gone wrong with their telephone -
 sounded just like 5 or 6 people laughing in the background ...)

        And to wrap up for this week, David Mags found this interesting
        and passed it on to me during the week ...


                   by Gwynne Dyer, Monday June 09, 2003

The first British mission is on its way to Mars: a sophisticated package the
size of a portable barbecue called Beagle 2 that is traveling as a passenger
on the European Space Agency's Mars Express, launched by a Russian rocket from
Baikonur cosmodrome on June 1. It will land on Dec. 25 to search for signs of
life on Mars, and will be joined within a month by two American robotic landers
called Mars Exploration Rovers that NASA has sent mainly to search for water.

In fact, there is going to be something of a traffic jam around Mars, which
is making a particularly close approach to Earth this year, with a Japanese
probe called Planet B/Nozomi also arriving to study the planet from orbit
next January. And then there's the tiny Muses-C probe that blasted off from
Japan last month to visit an asteroid called 1998 SF36 and bring back half
a teaspoonful of rock.

That's how the developed countries do their deep-space exploration these days:
small robot probes packed with highly sensitive instruments that don't cost
too much to boost out of our planet's gravity well. It's three decades now
since any human being went further than a couple of hundred miles from Earth,
and with all the surviving American shuttle craft grounded indefinitely since
the Columbia disaster last February, only Russia currently has the capacity
to send a person into orbit at all. But that's all going to change shortly:
The Asians are coming.

"The cohorts of space exploration will benefit from the strong and richly
creative force of the Chinese people," boasted the New China News Agency in
January, celebrating the successful unmanned test of the space capsule Shenzou
(Divine Vessel) IV and announcing that the vehicle's next launch, scheduled
for the second half of this year, will carry at least one Chinese taikonaut
(astronaut) into space. Not long afterwards, India's Prime Minister Atal
Bihari Vajpayee startled a Bombay conference by revealing that his scientists
were now also talking of sending a man into space.

That's not all. In April the Indian Space Research Organization's chairman,
Krishnaswamy Kasturirangan, announced in Bangalore that his agency planned
to send an unmanned probe to orbit the moon by 2005, and to follow that up
with a manned mission by 2015. The mission to the moon would "electrify
the nation and show the world that India is capable of taking up complex
projects at the cutting edge of space research," he said. Cynical observers
noted that it would also show the Chinese, India's great rivals, just who
is who in the emerging Asian space race.  But that's all right. After all,
it was rivalry between the United States and the old Soviet Union that got
the first human beings into orbit and then on to the moon.

It's early days yet, but there is no doubt that both India and China can
get people back on the moon within 10 or 12 years if they are willing to
spend the money. The technology they have right now is already considerably
better than what was available to the Apollo missions almost 40 years ago;
it's just a matter of scaling it up and getting some experience with it. The
Chinese news media even refer to plans for permanent space stations and moon
bases, though it's unlikely that these are concrete projects yet.

What may be emerging here, indeed, is the next major era of manned space
exploration -- something that will annoy those who believe that space is
a primarily scientific enterprise, and delight those who think it is about
something larger. These unashamed romantics use historical analogies about the
discovery of new lands and wax eloquent about humanity's destiny when asked
exactly what that larger thing is, because the very nature of exploration is
that you don't know what is there before you find it. But they don't want
to be ruled by the accountants and they don't want to leave it all to the
robots -- and in the industrialized world, they have been losing most of
the arguments for a long time now.

When they were winning them, back in the '60s and early '70s it was thanks to
the acute rivalry between the United States and the Soviet Union, which was
just as much about prestige as it was about military power. Men in orbit and
on the moon translated into prestige then, and it would do so all the more
for Asia's great rivals, China and India, because they would essentially be
supplanting the first-generation space powers of the industrialized world.

Would it be money down the drain in the end? Nobody will know the answer
to that for certain until manned space exploration has gone a lot further
than Americans and Russians took it before they retreated to near-Earth
orbit. Would it help to divert and sublimate the potentially lethal nuclear
rivalry between the two Asian giants? Maybe. And would it force the old
space powers to get back in the manned exploration game too, for fear of
being left behind by the upstarts?

      Gwynne Dyer is a London-based independent journalist whose articles
      are published in 45 countries.  See original at: Click here via Slashdot

[ End Fri humour ]

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