God created orgasms so that a woman can still moan even if she is satisfied.
Jokes anyone? -
- Thread starter p thompson
- Start date
Peter Delaney
GT40s Supporter
A man and his wife are dining at a table in a plush restaurant, and the husband keeps staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sits alone at a nearby table.
The wife asks, "Do you know her?"
"Yes," sighs the husband, "She's my ex-girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up seven years ago, and I hear she hasn't been sober since."
"My God!" says the wife, "Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"
"Yes," sighs the husband, "She's my ex-girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up seven years ago, and I hear she hasn't been sober since."
"My God!" says the wife, "Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"
David Morton
Lifetime Supporter
July 8, 1947, and its significance in our time:
Many will recall that on July 8, 1947, witnesses claimed that an Unidentified object with five aliens aboard crashed onto a sheep and cattle Ranch just outside Roswell, New Mexico. This is a well-known incident that Many say has long been covered up by the US Air Force and the federal Government.
However, you may NOT know that in the month of March 1948, exactly nine Months after that historic day, George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Bill O'Reilly and Rush Limbaugh were born.
See what happens when aliens breed with sheep?
This piece of information may clear up a lot of things.
Many will recall that on July 8, 1947, witnesses claimed that an Unidentified object with five aliens aboard crashed onto a sheep and cattle Ranch just outside Roswell, New Mexico. This is a well-known incident that Many say has long been covered up by the US Air Force and the federal Government.
However, you may NOT know that in the month of March 1948, exactly nine Months after that historic day, George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Bill O'Reilly and Rush Limbaugh were born.
See what happens when aliens breed with sheep?
This piece of information may clear up a lot of things.
Peter Delaney
GT40s Supporter
GRANNIES ON THE ROAD AGAIN.....
Sitting on the side of the road waiting to catch speeding drivers, a state trooper sees a car puttering along at 22 mph. He thinks to himself, "This driver is as dangerous as a speeder!"
So he turns on his lights and pulls the driver over. Approaching the car, he notices that there are five elderly ladies - two in the front
seat and three in the back, wide-eyed and white as ghosts.
The driver, obviously confused, says to him, "Officer, I don't
understand. I was going the exact speed limit. What seems to be the problem?"
The trooper trying to contain a chuckle, explains to her that 22 was the route number, not the speed limit. A bit embarrassed, the woman grinned and thanked the officer for pointing out her error.
"But before you go, Ma'am, I have to ask, is everyone in this car OK? These women seem awfully shaken."
"Oh, they'll be all right in a minute, officer. We just got off Route 127.
Sitting on the side of the road waiting to catch speeding drivers, a state trooper sees a car puttering along at 22 mph. He thinks to himself, "This driver is as dangerous as a speeder!"
So he turns on his lights and pulls the driver over. Approaching the car, he notices that there are five elderly ladies - two in the front
seat and three in the back, wide-eyed and white as ghosts.
The driver, obviously confused, says to him, "Officer, I don't
understand. I was going the exact speed limit. What seems to be the problem?"
The trooper trying to contain a chuckle, explains to her that 22 was the route number, not the speed limit. A bit embarrassed, the woman grinned and thanked the officer for pointing out her error.
"But before you go, Ma'am, I have to ask, is everyone in this car OK? These women seem awfully shaken."
"Oh, they'll be all right in a minute, officer. We just got off Route 127.
Friendship between Women:
A woman didn't come home one night. The next morning she told her husband that she had slept over at a friend's house. The man called his wife's 10 best friends. None of them knew anything about it.
Friendship between Men:
A man didn't come home one night. The next morning he told his wife that he had slept over at a friend's house. The woman called her husband's 10 best friends, eight of which confirmed that he had slept over, and two said that he was still there.
A woman didn't come home one night. The next morning she told her husband that she had slept over at a friend's house. The man called his wife's 10 best friends. None of them knew anything about it.
Friendship between Men:
A man didn't come home one night. The next morning he told his wife that he had slept over at a friend's house. The woman called her husband's 10 best friends, eight of which confirmed that he had slept over, and two said that he was still there.
A small zoo in Edgefield, SC obtained a very rare species of gorilla.
Within a few weeks the gorilla, a female, became very difficult to
handle. Upon examination, the veterinarian determined the problem. The
gorilla was in heat. To make matters worse, there was no male gorilla
available.
Thinking about their problem, the Zoo Keeper thought of Bobby Lee
Walton, a redneck part-time worker responsible for cleaning the animal
cages. Bobby Lee, like most rednecks, had little sense but possessed
ample ability to satisfy a female of any species.
The Zoo Keeper thought they might have a solution.
Bobby Lee was approached with a proposition. Would he be willing to
mate with the gorilla for $500.00?
Bobby Lee showed some interest, but said he would have to think the
matter over carefully. The following day, he announced that he would
accept their offer, but only under five conditions:
"First", Bobby Lee said, "I ain't gonna kiss her on the lips." The
Keeper quickly agreed to this condition.
"Second", he said, "She must wear a 'Dale Earnhardt Forever' T-Shirt."
The keeper again readily agreed to this condition.
"Third", he said, "you can't never tell no one about this." The keeper
again readily agreed to this condition.
"Fourth", Bobby Lee said, "I want all the children raised Southern
Baptist." Once again it was agreed.
"And last," Bobby Lee said, "I'll need another week to come up with the
$500.00
Within a few weeks the gorilla, a female, became very difficult to
handle. Upon examination, the veterinarian determined the problem. The
gorilla was in heat. To make matters worse, there was no male gorilla
available.
Thinking about their problem, the Zoo Keeper thought of Bobby Lee
Walton, a redneck part-time worker responsible for cleaning the animal
cages. Bobby Lee, like most rednecks, had little sense but possessed
ample ability to satisfy a female of any species.
The Zoo Keeper thought they might have a solution.
Bobby Lee was approached with a proposition. Would he be willing to
mate with the gorilla for $500.00?
Bobby Lee showed some interest, but said he would have to think the
matter over carefully. The following day, he announced that he would
accept their offer, but only under five conditions:
"First", Bobby Lee said, "I ain't gonna kiss her on the lips." The
Keeper quickly agreed to this condition.
"Second", he said, "She must wear a 'Dale Earnhardt Forever' T-Shirt."
The keeper again readily agreed to this condition.
"Third", he said, "you can't never tell no one about this." The keeper
again readily agreed to this condition.
"Fourth", Bobby Lee said, "I want all the children raised Southern
Baptist." Once again it was agreed.
"And last," Bobby Lee said, "I'll need another week to come up with the
$500.00
Pete McCluskey.
Lifetime Supporter
The recent hurricanes and gasoline issues are proof of
the existence of a new chemical element. A major
research institution has recently announced the
discovery in 2008 of the heaviest element yet known
to science. The new element has been named
Governmentium. Governmentium (Gv) has one neutron, 25
assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198
assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of
312. These 312 particles are held together by forces
called morons, which are surrounded by vast
quantities of lepton-like particles called peons.
Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert.
However, it can be detected, because it impedes every
reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute
amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that
would normally take less than a second to take over
four days to complete. Governmentium has a normal
half-life of 4 years; it does not decay, but instead
undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the
assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange
places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually
increase over time, since each reorganization will
cause more morons to become neutrons, forming
isodopes.
This characteristic of moron promotion leads some
scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed
whenever morons reach a critical concentration. This
hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical
morass.
When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes
Administratium -- an element which radiates just as
much energy as Governmentium since it has half as
many peons but twice as many morons.
the existence of a new chemical element. A major
research institution has recently announced the
discovery in 2008 of the heaviest element yet known
to science. The new element has been named
Governmentium. Governmentium (Gv) has one neutron, 25
assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198
assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of
312. These 312 particles are held together by forces
called morons, which are surrounded by vast
quantities of lepton-like particles called peons.
Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert.
However, it can be detected, because it impedes every
reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute
amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that
would normally take less than a second to take over
four days to complete. Governmentium has a normal
half-life of 4 years; it does not decay, but instead
undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the
assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange
places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually
increase over time, since each reorganization will
cause more morons to become neutrons, forming
isodopes.
This characteristic of moron promotion leads some
scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed
whenever morons reach a critical concentration. This
hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical
morass.
When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes
Administratium -- an element which radiates just as
much energy as Governmentium since it has half as
many peons but twice as many morons.
Pete, it is obvious that you have Democrats in Australia Too!
Dave
Dave
Peter Delaney
GT40s Supporter
Dave, surely you are not suggesting that there are any real differences between the two main "isodopes" of Governmentium !
Whilst each may appear to give off a different hue when being viewed through the common laboratory instrument known as TV (when it is switched to "Election BS Monitoring Mode"), both variants will decay to exactly the same stable and inert state (Administratium) as soon as the reaction (election) is completed.
Both "isodopes" are interesting to watch during the early phases of their overall half-lives - the atoms appear to become hyper-excited as an "event-horizon" (election) approaches. This can be a very confusing stage - each is capable of randomly radiating light energy at almost any frequency in the visible spectrum (& also quite a lot in the spectrum that we can't see - but it all costs money). I think its a bit like the Southern & Northern Lights/Auroras - depends on which way the wind is blowing, whether the poles (sic) are going hot or cold, etc.
However, when the "event horizon" hits, things are just like they are in astro-physics - a Black Hole ! All the fizz, glitter & promises all appear to be sucked down into a singularity from which nothing escapes.
But, do not lose all hope !! Governmentium has a unique property, yet to be explained - when it is catalysed by money & passes through the Event Horizon, it only sheds its outer shiny shell, then decays, leaving behind a truely base element - Administratium. Some may say that this is better than nothing (not me), but the world's leading scientists are puzzled by the fact that Administratium seems to be impervious to the laws of physics - it simply will not be sucked into a Black Hole & thus disappear !
Perpetual Motion might still be beyond our grasp, but Perpetual Immotion was discovered centuries ago !
Yours, in the pursuit of science,
Peter D.
Whilst each may appear to give off a different hue when being viewed through the common laboratory instrument known as TV (when it is switched to "Election BS Monitoring Mode"), both variants will decay to exactly the same stable and inert state (Administratium) as soon as the reaction (election) is completed.
Both "isodopes" are interesting to watch during the early phases of their overall half-lives - the atoms appear to become hyper-excited as an "event-horizon" (election) approaches. This can be a very confusing stage - each is capable of randomly radiating light energy at almost any frequency in the visible spectrum (& also quite a lot in the spectrum that we can't see - but it all costs money). I think its a bit like the Southern & Northern Lights/Auroras - depends on which way the wind is blowing, whether the poles (sic) are going hot or cold, etc.
However, when the "event horizon" hits, things are just like they are in astro-physics - a Black Hole ! All the fizz, glitter & promises all appear to be sucked down into a singularity from which nothing escapes.
But, do not lose all hope !! Governmentium has a unique property, yet to be explained - when it is catalysed by money & passes through the Event Horizon, it only sheds its outer shiny shell, then decays, leaving behind a truely base element - Administratium. Some may say that this is better than nothing (not me), but the world's leading scientists are puzzled by the fact that Administratium seems to be impervious to the laws of physics - it simply will not be sucked into a Black Hole & thus disappear !
Perpetual Motion might still be beyond our grasp, but Perpetual Immotion was discovered centuries ago !
Yours, in the pursuit of science,
Peter D.
Pete McCluskey.
Lifetime Supporter
Peter, bloody brilliant.:lol::lol::lol:
what we need is some iradium. This like some other elements in the periodic table is under the unobtanium group. Then we could getridofthem !!
The solution as I see it is that they all need a dope of sensium, the ordinary common variety would be OK. The problem with sensium is that it is a bit heavy.
The isodopes of governmentium with plumbago like attributes are shielded from the beneficial effects of sensium.
The solution as I see it is that they all need a dope of sensium, the ordinary common variety would be OK. The problem with sensium is that it is a bit heavy.
The isodopes of governmentium with plumbago like attributes are shielded from the beneficial effects of sensium.
One of the major issues with Govermentium is the ex- and gumma ray emissions. Even when not directly involved with the base element the amount of radiation is so great that areas with very high concentrations of Govermentium have such a large field of interaction due to gumma ray emission they effect extremely large areas. This "gumming it up" (slang term used by non-scientific observers) can be seen throughout vast areas and is a direct result of Govermentium's reaction as it decays into Administratium.
Even Administratium has an insidious effect as it is a very strong emitter of high energy ex-rays. As all the ex-Govermentium isodopes orbits expand outside the high concentration areas we can see many taking up new stable positions as main players with other elements by a newly discovered and not quite understood process named Concentric Electron Orbits, or CEO's. After the initial analysis was made we see many isodopes that have been generated by Govermentiums decay into Administratium and emitted as ex-rays taking up CEO positions. This, unfortunately, spreads gumma ray emitters throughout heretofore unaffected areas.
Even Administratium has an insidious effect as it is a very strong emitter of high energy ex-rays. As all the ex-Govermentium isodopes orbits expand outside the high concentration areas we can see many taking up new stable positions as main players with other elements by a newly discovered and not quite understood process named Concentric Electron Orbits, or CEO's. After the initial analysis was made we see many isodopes that have been generated by Govermentiums decay into Administratium and emitted as ex-rays taking up CEO positions. This, unfortunately, spreads gumma ray emitters throughout heretofore unaffected areas.
Pete McCluskey.
Lifetime Supporter
A letter from camp.
Dear Mum & Dad,
Our Scout Leader told us to write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and are worried.
We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.
Oh yes, please call Adam's mother and tell her he is okay. He can't write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search and rescue 4WDs.It was neat. We never would have found Adam in the dark if it hadn't been for the lightning.
Scout Leader Keith got mad at Adam for going on a hike alone with out telling anyone. Adam said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas will blow up?
The wet wood didn't burn, but one of the tents did and also some of our clothes. Matthew is going to look weird until his hair grows back.
We will be home on Saturday if Scout Leader Keith gets the bus fixed. It wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked okay when we left.
Scout Leader Keith said that with a bus that old you have to expect something to break down; that's probably why he can't get insurance.
We think it's a neat bus. He doesn't care if we get it dirty and if it's hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the bull bar. It gets pretty hot with 45 people in a bus made for 24. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrol man stopped and talked to us.
Scout Leader Keith is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is a good driver. In fact, he is teaching Jessie how to drive on the mountain roads where there isn't any cops. All we ever see up there are logging trucks.
This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out to the rapids. Scout Leader Keith wouldn't let me because I can't swim, and Adam was afraid he would sink because of his cast, it's concrete because we didn't have any plaster, so he let us take the canoe out. It was great.
You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood.
Scout Leader Keith isn't crabby like some scout leaders. He didn't even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of time working on the bus so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.
Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Andrew dived into the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works.
Steven and I threw up, but Scout Leader Keith said it probably was just food poisoning from the leftover chicken. He said they got sick that way with food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and became our scout leader.
He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By the way, what is a pedal-file?
I have to go now. We are going to town to mail our letters & buy some more beer and ammo. Don't worry about anything. We are fine and tonight it's my turn to sleep in the Scout Leader's tent.
Love, Jimmie
Dear Mum & Dad,
Our Scout Leader told us to write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and are worried.
We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.
Oh yes, please call Adam's mother and tell her he is okay. He can't write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search and rescue 4WDs.It was neat. We never would have found Adam in the dark if it hadn't been for the lightning.
Scout Leader Keith got mad at Adam for going on a hike alone with out telling anyone. Adam said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas will blow up?
The wet wood didn't burn, but one of the tents did and also some of our clothes. Matthew is going to look weird until his hair grows back.
We will be home on Saturday if Scout Leader Keith gets the bus fixed. It wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked okay when we left.
Scout Leader Keith said that with a bus that old you have to expect something to break down; that's probably why he can't get insurance.
We think it's a neat bus. He doesn't care if we get it dirty and if it's hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the bull bar. It gets pretty hot with 45 people in a bus made for 24. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrol man stopped and talked to us.
Scout Leader Keith is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is a good driver. In fact, he is teaching Jessie how to drive on the mountain roads where there isn't any cops. All we ever see up there are logging trucks.
This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out to the rapids. Scout Leader Keith wouldn't let me because I can't swim, and Adam was afraid he would sink because of his cast, it's concrete because we didn't have any plaster, so he let us take the canoe out. It was great.
You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood.
Scout Leader Keith isn't crabby like some scout leaders. He didn't even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of time working on the bus so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.
Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Andrew dived into the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works.
Steven and I threw up, but Scout Leader Keith said it probably was just food poisoning from the leftover chicken. He said they got sick that way with food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and became our scout leader.
He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By the way, what is a pedal-file?
I have to go now. We are going to town to mail our letters & buy some more beer and ammo. Don't worry about anything. We are fine and tonight it's my turn to sleep in the Scout Leader's tent.
Love, Jimmie
“True Friendship"
(With none of that mushy Crap!!!!)
Are you tired of those mushy "friendship" poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality?
Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.
You will see no cutesy little smiley faces in this message - just the stone cold truth of our friendship.
1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you that way.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5.When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want to catch whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask?, "Because you are my friend".
Friendship is like peeing your pants: everyone can see it, but only you can feel the true warmth.
Send this to "all 10" of your friends, then get depressed because you can only think of four!!! (don't send it back to me...I don't want to hear it!!!)
And remember....when life hands you Lemons, get some tequila and salt and call me
(With none of that mushy Crap!!!!)
Are you tired of those mushy "friendship" poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality?
Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.
You will see no cutesy little smiley faces in this message - just the stone cold truth of our friendship.
1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you that way.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5.When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want to catch whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask?, "Because you are my friend".
Friendship is like peeing your pants: everyone can see it, but only you can feel the true warmth.
Send this to "all 10" of your friends, then get depressed because you can only think of four!!! (don't send it back to me...I don't want to hear it!!!)
And remember....when life hands you Lemons, get some tequila and salt and call me
All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from Taco Bell, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go shopping for the wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:
1.Occupied.
2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
3.Poo on seat.
4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot. I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet. There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know. I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the shitter. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
1.Occupied.
2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
3.Poo on seat.
4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot. I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet. There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know. I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the shitter. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
Pete McCluskey.
Lifetime Supporter
Subject: The True Origin of the Internet
In ancient Israel, it came to pass that a trader called Abraham of Com did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dot.
And Dot of Com was a comely woman, broad of shoulder and long of leg. Indeed, she had been called
'Amazon Dot Com'.
And she said unto Abraham, her husband, 'Why dost thou travel far from town to town with thy goods when thou canst trade without ever leaving thy tent?'
And Abraham did look at her as though she were several saddle bags short of a camel load, but simply said, 'How, dear?'
And Dot replied, 'I will place drums in all the towns and drums in between to send messages saying what you have for sale and they will reply telling you which hath the best price. And the sale can be made on the drums and delivery made by
Uriah's Pony Stable (UPS).'
Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with the drums. And the drums rang out and were an immediate success.
Abraham sold all the goods he had at the top price, without ever moving from his tent. But this success did arouse envy.
A man named Maccabia did secrete (look it up, it means to hide) himself inside Abraham's drum and was accused of insider trading. And the young man did take to Dot Com's trading as doth the greedy horsefly take to camel dung.
He called together several of his friends to imitate Dot Com's method of trading, and they were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Siderites, or NERDS for short.
And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the deafening sound of drums that no one noticed that the real riches were going to the drum maker, one Brother William of Gates, who bought up every drum company in the land. And indeed did insist on making drums that would work only with Brother Gates' drumheads and drumsticks.
And Dot did say, Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken over by others.'
And as Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel, or as it came to be known 'eBay' he said, 'We need a name that reflects what we are.'
And Dot replied, 'Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators.'
'YAHOO!' said Abraham.
And that is how it all began.
Al Gore had absolutely nothing to do with it.
In ancient Israel, it came to pass that a trader called Abraham of Com did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dot.
And Dot of Com was a comely woman, broad of shoulder and long of leg. Indeed, she had been called
'Amazon Dot Com'.
And she said unto Abraham, her husband, 'Why dost thou travel far from town to town with thy goods when thou canst trade without ever leaving thy tent?'
And Abraham did look at her as though she were several saddle bags short of a camel load, but simply said, 'How, dear?'
And Dot replied, 'I will place drums in all the towns and drums in between to send messages saying what you have for sale and they will reply telling you which hath the best price. And the sale can be made on the drums and delivery made by
Uriah's Pony Stable (UPS).'
Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with the drums. And the drums rang out and were an immediate success.
Abraham sold all the goods he had at the top price, without ever moving from his tent. But this success did arouse envy.
A man named Maccabia did secrete (look it up, it means to hide) himself inside Abraham's drum and was accused of insider trading. And the young man did take to Dot Com's trading as doth the greedy horsefly take to camel dung.
He called together several of his friends to imitate Dot Com's method of trading, and they were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Siderites, or NERDS for short.
And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the deafening sound of drums that no one noticed that the real riches were going to the drum maker, one Brother William of Gates, who bought up every drum company in the land. And indeed did insist on making drums that would work only with Brother Gates' drumheads and drumsticks.
And Dot did say, Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken over by others.'
And as Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel, or as it came to be known 'eBay' he said, 'We need a name that reflects what we are.'
And Dot replied, 'Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators.'
'YAHOO!' said Abraham.
And that is how it all began.
Al Gore had absolutely nothing to do with it.
David Morton
Lifetime Supporter
Another funny - is this another about felching?
If this story doesn't make you cry for laughing so hard, let me know and
I'll ask someone to pray for you.
This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years.
The only friction in their marriage was the husband's habit of farting
loudly every morning when he awoke. The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air.
Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn't.stop it and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor, she was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out.
The years went by and he continued to rip them out. Then one
thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he
was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the innards and neck, gizzard,
liver and all the spare parts and a malicious thought came to her.
She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling the bed covers back, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts
Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting
which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic
foot steps as he ran into the bath room. The wife could hardly control
herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, tears in her eyes! After
years of torture she reckoned she had got him back pre tt y good..
About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his
bloodstained underpants with a look of horror on his face. She bit her
lip as she asked him what was the matter.
He said, 'Honey you were right.' 'All these years you have warned me a
and I didn't listen to you'.
'What do you mean?' asked his wife.
'Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out, and today it finally happened' he said.
‘But, by the grace of god, some vaseline and two fingers. I think I got
most of them back in.'
If this story doesn't make you cry for laughing so hard, let me know and
I'll ask someone to pray for you.
This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years.
The only friction in their marriage was the husband's habit of farting
loudly every morning when he awoke. The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air.
Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn't.stop it and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor, she was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out.
The years went by and he continued to rip them out. Then one
thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he
was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the innards and neck, gizzard,
liver and all the spare parts and a malicious thought came to her.
She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling the bed covers back, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts
Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting
which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic
foot steps as he ran into the bath room. The wife could hardly control
herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, tears in her eyes! After
years of torture she reckoned she had got him back pre tt y good..
About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his
bloodstained underpants with a look of horror on his face. She bit her
lip as she asked him what was the matter.
He said, 'Honey you were right.' 'All these years you have warned me a
and I didn't listen to you'.
'What do you mean?' asked his wife.
'Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out, and today it finally happened' he said.
‘But, by the grace of god, some vaseline and two fingers. I think I got
most of them back in.'
As the teacher was asking what the childrens fathers did for a living, she noticed Little Johnny was getting quieter and quieter. Knowing he was a rambunctious child, she was becoming nervous about what was going to be coming out of his mouth when it was his turn.
Little Johnny barely had his head above the desk when the teacher asked what his father did for a living. He blurted out, "Daddy works as a dancer in a gay bar where men stuff money in his underwear. Sometimes they pay him to go home with them for the night and I don't see him for a day or two."
The teacher was shocked and very embarrassed for poor Little Johnny, and she quickly changed the subject and went on as if nothing had happened. Later, when Johnny was alone, she went up to talk to him about it.
She asked if there was anything she could do for him or if he needed to talk to someone about his father. Little Johnny said, "Nah, he ain't really a gay stripper. He works as a political advisor for the Clinton campaign. I was just to embarressed to admit that, though."
Little Johnny barely had his head above the desk when the teacher asked what his father did for a living. He blurted out, "Daddy works as a dancer in a gay bar where men stuff money in his underwear. Sometimes they pay him to go home with them for the night and I don't see him for a day or two."
The teacher was shocked and very embarrassed for poor Little Johnny, and she quickly changed the subject and went on as if nothing had happened. Later, when Johnny was alone, she went up to talk to him about it.
She asked if there was anything she could do for him or if he needed to talk to someone about his father. Little Johnny said, "Nah, he ain't really a gay stripper. He works as a political advisor for the Clinton campaign. I was just to embarressed to admit that, though."
The Buffalo Theory :
A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the lowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.
In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine.
And that, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers.'
Cheers,
A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the lowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.
In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine.
And that, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers.'
Cheers,
