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Me | Today | Me

Posted on 07/25/2007 3:35:03 PM PDT by Sonora

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To: Sonora
Courtesy of Sheryl Crowe.

101 posted on 07/25/2007 5:36:52 PM PDT by submarinerswife ("If I win I can't be stopped! If I lose I shall be dead." - George S. Patton)
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To: free_life
Another home security system (post hurricane)

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

102 posted on 07/25/2007 5:43:27 PM PDT by dynachrome (Henry Bowman is right.)
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To: All

A Washington , DC airport ticket agent offers some examples of
why our country is in trouble!

1. I had a New Hampshire Congresswoman ask for an aisle seat so
that her hair wouldn’t get messed up by being near the window. (On an

2. I got a call from a candidate’s staffer, who wanted to go to
Capetown. I started to explain the length of the flight and the passport
information, then she interrupted me with, “I’m not trying to make you
look stupid, but Capetown is in Massachusetts ..” Without trying to
make her look stupid, I calmly explained,” Cape Cod is in Massachusetts ,
Capetown is in Africa .” . . . Her response - click.

3. A senior Vermont Congressman called, furious about a Florida
package we did. I asked what was wrong with the vacation in Orlando . He
said he was expecting an ocean-view room. I tried to explain that’s
not possible, since Orlando is in the middle of the state. He
replied, “Don’t lie to me, I looked on the map and Florida< /st1:State is a very thin
state!” (OMG)

4. I got a call from a lawmaker’s wife who asked, “Is it possible
to see England from Canada ?” I said, “No.” She said, “But they look
so close on the map.” (OMG, again!)

5. An aide for a cabinet member once called and asked if he could
rent a car in Dallas . When I pulled up the reservation, I noticed he
had only a 1-hour layover in Dallas .. When I asked him why he wanted to
rent a car, he said, “I heard Dallas was a big airport, and we will
need a car to drive between gates to save time.” (Aghhhh)

6. An Illinois Congresswoman called last week. She needed to know
how it was possible that her flight from Detroit left at 8:30 AM got
to Chicago at 8:33 am. I explained that Michigan was an hour ahead of
Ill inois, but she couldn’t understand the concept of time zones.
Finally,I told her the plane went really fast, and she bought that.

7. A New York lawmaker called and asked, “Do airlines put your
physical description on your bag so they know whose luggage belongs to
I said, “No, why do you ask?” She replied, “Well, when I checked in
with the airline, they put a tag on my luggage that said FAT, and I’m
overweight. I think that’s very rude!” After putting her on hold for
a minute while I looked into it (I was laughing). I came back and
explained the city code for Fresno, CA is (FAT - Fresno Air Terminal),and
the airline was just putting a destination tag on her luggage.

8. A Senator’s aide called to inquire about a trip package to
Hawaii . After going over all the cost info, she asked, “Would it be
cheaper to fly to California, and then take the train to Hawaii ?”

9.I just got off the phone with a freshman Congressman who asked,
“How do I know which plane to get on?”I asked him what exactly he
meant, to which he replied, “I was told my flight number is 823, but none of
these planes have numbers on them.”

10. A lady Senator called and said,”I need to fly to Pepsi-Cola,
Florida. Do I have to get on one of those little computer planes?” I
asked if she meant fly to Pensacola, Fl.on a commuter plane.
She said, “Yeah, whatever, smarty!”

11. A senior Senator called and had a question about the documents
he needed in order to fly to China. After a lengthy discussion about
passports, I reminded him that he needed a visa. “Oh, no I don’t. I’ve
been to China many times and never had to have one of those.”I double
checked,and sure enough, his stay required a visa. When I told him
this he said, “Look, I’ve been to China four times and every time
they have accepted my American Express!”

12. A New Mexico Congress woman called to make reservations, “I
want to go from Chicago to Rhino, New York .” I was at a loss for words.
Finally, I said, “Are you sure that’s the name of the town?” “Yes,
what flights do you have?” replied the lady. After some searching, I
came back with, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ve looked up every airport code in
the country and can’t find a Rhino anywhere.” The lady retorted, “Oh,
don’t be silly! Everyone knows where it is. Check your map!” So I
scoured a map of the state of New York and finally offered, “You don’t
mean Buffalo, do you?”

The reply? “Whatever! I knew it was a big animal.”

103 posted on 07/25/2007 5:50:03 PM PDT by LadyBuzz
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To: Sonora

The Ostrich

A man walks into a restaurant with a full-grown ostrich behind him. The waitress asks them for their orders.

The man says, “A hamburger, fries and a coke,” and turns to the ostrich, “What’s yours?” “I’ll have the same,” says the ostrich.

A short time later the waitress returns with the order “That will be $9.40 please,”

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.

The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and the man says, “A hamburger, fries and a coke.” The ostrich says, “I’ll have the same.”

Again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change.

This becomes routine until the two enter again. “The usual?” asks the waitress.

” No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato and a salad,” says the man. “Same,” says the ostrich.

Shortly the waitress brings the order and says, “That will be $32.62.” Once again the man pulls the exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table.
The waitress cannot hold back her curiosity any longer. “Excuse me sir. How do you manage to always come up with the exact change in your pocket every ime?”

“Well,” says the man, “several years ago I was cleaning the attic and found an old lamp. When I rubbed it, a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes.

My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there.”

“That’s brilliant!” says the waitress. “Most people would ask for a million dollars or something, but you’ll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!”

” That’s right. Whether it’s a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there,” says the man.

The waitress asks, “What’s with the ostrich?”

The man sighs, pauses and answers, “My second wish was for a tall chick with a big ass and long legs who agrees with everything I say.”

104 posted on 07/25/2007 5:51:19 PM PDT by hgro (Jerry Riversd)
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To: All

A tourist walked into a pet shop and was looking at the animals on display. While he was there, a platoon sergeant walked in and said to the shopkeeper, “I’ll have a PFC monkey please.” The shopkeeper nodded, went over to a small crowded cage at the side of the shop and removed one of several monkeys. He fit a collar and leash, handed it to the customer, saying, “That’ll be $1000.” The platoon sergeant paid and walked out with his monkey.

Startled, the tourist went over to the shopkeeper and said, “That was a very expensive monkey. Most of them are only a few hundred dollars. Why did it cost so much?” The shopkeeper answered, “Ah, that monkey can fire expert with small arms, score 300 on the APFT, and perform Drill & Ceremony and Small Unit Tactics with no mistakes. They’re also really amazing at cleaning things, taking things apart, and putting them back together again. And they’re pretty fearless. I’ve seen ‘em take on bear, dragon and towel-headed monkeys at better than 10:1 odds (and win). Well worth the money.”

The tourist looked at a few monkeys in another much bigger cage. “Oh, my, these monkey’s are even more expensive! $10,000! What do they do?” “Oh, those are NCO monkeys; they can instruct BRM, CTT, PT, D&C and SUT, and even do some paperwork. They’re really useful for keeping a bunch of PFC monkey’s in line, that sometimes do a lot of bickering and squabbling amonst themselves (or pretend they’re sick). Its really amazing to watch a bunch of reclining and sick looking PFC monkeys suddenly spring up and jump into action when an NCO monkey is put into the group. Quite amazing at how those NCO monkeys interact with PFC monkeys. I’ve seen ‘em sit next to an apparently sad PFC monkey for a little while, and before you new it that PFC monkey was right as rain; never a clue there was anything wrong with it. All really pretty usefull stuff, you know; especially if you have problems with your PFC monkeys. They’re really not much use all by themselves though (not without some PFC monkeys around)” said the shopkeeper.

The tourist looked around for a little longer and saw a third monkey in a much much larger cage of its own. The price tag posted on the cage read $50,000. He gasped to the shopkeeper, “That one costs more than all the others combined! What on earth does it do?”

The shopkeeper replied, “Well, I haven’t actually SEEN it do ANYTHING, but the import paperwork indicated that it’s a Colonel monkey.”

105 posted on 07/25/2007 5:57:43 PM PDT by raygun (Look, if you're going to be surfin' & downloading porn on you iPhone, pull over first, o.k?)
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To: Attention Surplus Disorder
Wots the difference between a Jewish mother and a terrorist?

Occasionally, you can reason with a terrorist.

106 posted on 07/25/2007 6:07:44 PM PDT by Lonesome in Massachussets (I never consented to live in the Camp of the Saints.)
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To: alarm rider

or BOB.

107 posted on 07/25/2007 6:10:12 PM PDT by aliquando (A Scout is T, L, H, F, C, K, O, C, T, B, C, and R.)
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To: Sonora


108 posted on 07/25/2007 6:11:20 PM PDT by Peace Is Coming
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To: Sonora

109 posted on 07/25/2007 6:11:28 PM PDT by pookie18
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To: RaceBannon

Hey Dude, that needs to go on a horror thread instead of humor.

After the first 50 I went into the closet to hide.

110 posted on 07/25/2007 6:20:12 PM PDT by TASMANIANRED (Taz Struck By Lightning Faces Battery Charge)
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To: malamute
Personally, I can't stand blonde jokes because they are really POLISH jokes trying to be PC.
111 posted on 07/25/2007 6:22:25 PM PDT by southern rock
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To: Sonora

So, a guy walks into a talent agents office and says, “Oh boy! Do I have an act for you!”

Talent agent says, “What kind of an act is it?”

The man replies, “It’s a family act! You’ll love it!”

Talent agent replies, “Unnghh. I hate family acts. They are hokey, hackey, and worn out.”

Man says, “This one is different. You will be amazed”

Talent agent says, “You have 5 minutes.”

Then the man brings a small whistle out his pocket and blows it. In comes the man’s wife, daughter, son, elderly grandparents, his dog, cat, Ron Jeremy, and the entire FAMU marching band playing “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

..... (I prefer the Bob Saget version here)

After its all over the talent agent sits there stunned, confused, and thoroughly disgusted. After a few minutes go by he says “That’s quite an act... What do you call that?”

And the man replies, “The Aristocrats!”

112 posted on 07/25/2007 6:22:29 PM PDT by Illuminatas (Being conservative means never having to say; "Don't you dare question my patriotism")
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To: Kevmo


113 posted on 07/25/2007 6:37:05 PM PDT by Lonesome in Massachussets (I never consented to live in the Camp of the Saints.)
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To: aliquando

what do you call a man with no arms or legs hanging on the wall?
What do you call a woman who has one leg shorter than the other?

114 posted on 07/25/2007 6:38:54 PM PDT by Yorlik803 ( When are we going to draw a line a say"this far and no farther")
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To: Sonora
After early Mass on Sunday, Mary Maguire walks up to Father O'Brien and says:

"Father, my poor Paddy passed away last night"

Father O'Brien said "May the the Good Lord have mercy, Mary. Was it sudden?"

Mary said "Yes it was, Father".

Father O'Brien asked "Did he have any last words?"

"Yes". He said "Mary, please put down that gun".

115 posted on 07/25/2007 6:41:24 PM PDT by Eagles6
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Comment #116 Removed by Moderator

To: All

A crusty old Master Sergeant found himself at a gala event, hosted by a local liberal arts college. There was no shortage of extremely young, idealistic ladies in attendance, one of whom approached the Sergeant for conversation.

She said, “Excuse me, Sergeant , but you seem to be a very serious man. Is something bothering you?”

“Negative, ma’am,” the Sergeant said, “Just serious by nature.”

The young lady looked at his awards and decorations and said, “It looks like you have seen a lot of action.”

The Sergeant’s short reply was, “Yes, ma’am, a lot of action.”

The young lady, tiring of trying to start up a conversation, said, “You know, you should lighten up a little. Relax and enjoy yourself.”

The Sergeant just stared at her in his serious manner.

Finally the young lady said, “You know, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but when is the last time you had sex?”

The Sergeant looked at her with piercing steel grey eyes and after a long un-blinking moment replied, “1955.”

She said, “Well, there you are. You really need to chill out and quit taking everything so seriously! I mean, no sex since 1955! Isn’t that a little extreme?”

The Sergeant, glancing at his watch, said in his matter-of-fact voice, “You think so? It’s only 2130 now.”

117 posted on 07/25/2007 7:34:35 PM PDT by raygun (Look, if you're going to be surfin' & downloading porn on you iPhone, pull over first, o.k?)
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To: Sonora; davidlachnicht; prisoner6; Bringbackthedraft

A recently married young couple, Bob and Jane, were both lapsed Catholics who hastily eloped and were married by a Justice of the Peace. Coming up on their first wedding anniversary and ready to start a family, they both had a change of heart and decided that they wanted to return to the Church and to celebrate their anniversary and love for each other, be married again by a priest.

Bob and Jane went to see Father Doyle. The kindly priest counseled them to attend Mass every day for a month. Bob and Jane said, “That’s no problem Father, we can do that.”

Father Doyle also told them they must obtain their baptismal records and complete a standard marriage-investigation prenuptial form and attend prenuptial classes three times a week for the next month. Holding hands and deeply gazing into each others eyes, Bob and Jane responded, “We will gladly do that Father”.

And one more thing, the priest said, “As a sign of your commitment and as an act of contrition, you must abstain from marital relations for the next month.”

Bob and Jane looked at the priest, then at each other and after taking a deep breath, Jane said, “Father, Bob and I are committed to doing whatever you and the Church asks of us”.

After four weeks passed, Bob and Jane returned to see Father Doyle. The priest asked, “So how did things go?”

Jane said, “We went to Mass every day and we got our baptismal records and completed the standard marriage-investigation prenuptial form and attended all the prenuptial classes just as you instructed.”

“And”?, asked Father Doyle.

Bob and Jane hesitated to answer and blushed and then Bob said, “Well I have to tell you Father, the first day was agony!”

“The second day was nearly unbearable but I took a lot of cold showers.”

“But we have to admit, that on the morning of the third day, well I don’t know what happened, but my beautiful wife had a carton of orange juice in her hand and we looked into each others eyes and she dropped the orange juice and the carton split open and orange juice was all over the floor and we just snapped! I’m embarrassed and sorry to say we disrobed right there and then and did it on the floor.”

Father Doyle shook his head and said, “I’m sorely disappointed in you both”. “I’m afraid I cannot allow you back into the Church”.

Bob said, “I understand Father.” “The manager of the 7-11 said we weren’t welcome back there either”.

118 posted on 07/25/2007 7:36:09 PM PDT by Caramelgal (Rely on the spirit and meaning of the teachings, not on the words or superficial interpretations)
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To: Sonora
A woman who recently broke up with her boyfriend of several years decides she's going to be more spontaneous.

She goes to town and gets a make over, dies her beautiful blond hair red, buys a whole new wardrobe and buys a new car.

On her way home, she passes a sheep farm and decides "Why not?  A sheep might make a good pet."

She drives up and greets the owner of the farm on his porch, asking him "May I buy one of your sheep?"

He replies, "Sorry, they're not for sale."

Not to be deterred, she thinks a minute and says, "If I guess how many sheep you own may I have one?"

Amused, the farmer agrees.

Without missing a beet she says "63!"

Surprised the farmer says "Wow.  That's right....amazing.  A deal's a deal: go ahead and take one."

She walks around the herd, finds the one she likes the most and leads it to her car.

As she is trying to stuff it in her car, the farmer gets up off the porch and walks over to her.

He watches her struggle with the animal a couple more minutes and then asks, "Say, ma'am.  If I guess you're real hair color, may I have my dog back?

119 posted on 07/25/2007 8:01:25 PM PDT by Psycho_Bunny
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To: prisoner6
Utilikilts or more formal attire?

I love my utilikilt. Want more of them. My standard response to folks wondering why I'm wearing a kilt, is that it's proper attire in ANY civilized country.

120 posted on 07/25/2007 8:16:01 PM PDT by zeugma (If I eat right, don't smoke and exercise, I might live long enough to see the last Baby Boomer die.)
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To: Sonora

Why did the three wise men have ashes in their beards?

They had just come from afar.

121 posted on 07/25/2007 8:19:12 PM PDT by pax_et_bonum (I will always love you, Flyer.)
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To: LadyBuzz
5. An aide for a cabinet member once called and asked if he could
rent a car in Dallas . When I pulled up the reservation, I noticed he
had only a 1-hour layover in Dallas .. When I asked him why he wanted to
rent a car, he said, “I heard Dallas was a big airport, and we will
need a car to drive between gates to save time.” (Aghhhh)

This one wins the Ultimate Insane Understatement Award! Anyone driving around DFW for the first time is in for extreme culture shock. You feel like Pascual Perez, lost on Interstate 285, trying to get to the starting game while being cutoff by shuttles, buses, limos, taxis and fellow forlorn travelers on turnout ramps every fifty yards around identical figure-eight loops with no comprehensible signage. Better to use the shuttle or ask Pascual to drive the rental car. When he gets you lost he won't have to explain.

122 posted on 07/25/2007 8:57:13 PM PDT by higgmeister (In the Shadow of The Big Chicken)
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To: Lost Dutchman

        One night when his charge was pretty high, Micro-Farad
decided to seek out a cute coil to let him discharge.
        He picked up Milli-Amp and took her for a ride on his
Megacycle. They rode across the Wheatstone Bridge, around
the sine waves, and stopped in the magnetic field by a flowing
        Micro-Farad, attracted by Milli-Amp's characteristic
curves, soon had her fully charged and excited her resistance
to a minimum. He laid her on the ground potential, raised
her frequency, and lowered her reluctance.
        He pulled out his high voltage probe and inserted it in
her socket, connecting them in parallel and began short
circuiting her resistance shunt. Fully excited, Milli-Amp
mumbled, "OHM-OHM-OHM."
        With his tube operating at a maximum and her field
vibrating with his current flow, it caused her shunt to
overheat, and Micro-Farad was rapidly discharged and drained
off every electron.
        They fluxed all night trying various connections and
sockets until his magnet had a soft core and lost all of
its field strength.

        Afterwards, Milli-Amp tried self-induction and damaged
her solenoids. With his battery fully discharged, Micro-
Farad was unable to excite his field, so they spent the
rest of the night reversing polarity and blowing each
other's fuses.

                                THE END

123 posted on 07/25/2007 9:06:00 PM PDT by higgmeister (In the Shadow of The Big Chicken)
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To: Sonora

This morning, I was in a huge hurry and on my way to work. I was preoccupied with what my day held and I rear-ended a car at a stop light because I was not really paying attention. I had hot coffee in my lap and I was running late.

“Great, just great”, I moaned.

The driver opened his door........leaned out of his car and stared at me. He was a dwarf. He got out, studied the damage on his bumper, and walked towards me as I rolled down my window.

He said, “I am not happy”..............

To which I replied, “Well.....Which one are you then?”

124 posted on 07/25/2007 9:13:44 PM PDT by kalee (The offenses we give, we write in the dust; Those we take, we write in marble. JHuett)
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To: Sonora

“President Hellary”

125 posted on 07/25/2007 9:21:07 PM PDT by rbosque ("To educate a person in mind and not in morals is to educate a menace to society." - Teddy Roosevelt)
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To: Sonora
I'll try to do this joke justice:

Irish guy walking home drunk from a bar. Knows his wife is going to be real pissed that he stopped by the pub after work.

He gets home and his wife is waiting for him at the door with fire in her eyes. "I can't believe you went to the pub again!" she says.

"I didn't!" he retorts.

"Yes you did! And you even threw up all over your shirt!" He looks down and sees puke on his shirt. "No," he states, "some guy threw up on me and paid me $5 to have the shirt cleaned. The money's in my shirt pocket!"

She reaches in and pulls out a $10 bill. "If he paid you $5 for your shirt, then why is there a $10 in your pocket?"

"Well, he also took a crap in my pants."

126 posted on 07/25/2007 9:31:36 PM PDT by thefactor
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To: Sonora

Little Johnny was sitting in his Sunday School class, conducted by Sister Mathilde. The lesson plan for the day called for the sister to utilize the scriptures to teach the children about mortality, and the necessity of using one’s life for a good and valuable purpose.

“Now, children,” she announced, “we all know that life is not forever, and that while we are here on Earth we must use our limited time in a valuable way. When you are in your casket, and friends and family are grieving over you and mourning you, what would you like to hear them say about you?”

Ricky raised his hand.

“Yes, Ricky?” called out Sister Mathilde.

“Sister,” responded Ricky, “I would like to hear them say that I was a great doctor of my time, healed the sick, and that I was kind to my family.”

“That’s excellent, Ricky,” Sister Mathilde commented. “Anyone else?”

Patty raised her hand.

“Yes, Patty?” called Sister Mathilde.

“Sister,” said Patty, “I would like to hear that I was a wonderful wife and a school teacher who made a huge difference to our children of tomorrow.”

“That’s very commendable, Patty,” responded Sister Mathilde.

Then Little Johnny raised his hand, and, reluctantly, Sister Mathilde called on him.

“Yes, Johnny?” she said. “What would you like for them to say about you?”

“Sister,” Little Johnny answered, “I would like to hear them say, ‘Look! He’s moving!’”

At the same school, it was somewhat later in the year that a special day had been declared – Teacher’s Day – and Miss Smith was receiving gifts from her pupils.

The florist’s son handed her a wrapped gift, and, as she received it, she said with a warm smile, “I bet I know what it is – some flowers.”

“How did you know?” asked the young child.

“Just a guess,” Miss Smith replied with a knowing smile.

The candy store owner’s daughter next gave Miss Smith a small box.

Miss Smith shook it.

“I can guess,” she smiled again, “it’s a box of candy.”

“Yes!” said the little girl. “How did you know that, Miss Smith?”

“Just a lucky guess,” winked the savvy teacher.

Next, Little Johnny, whose father owned a wine shop, approached with a large, gift-wrapped box. When Miss Smith shook it, the package started leaking. She touched her finger to the leak and tasted it.

“Is it wine?”

Little Johnny shook his head, “No, teacher.”

She tasted again.


“No, Miss Smith,” said the boy.

“I give up,” said Miss Smith. “What is it?”

‘Oh, Miss Smith,” exclaimed Little Johnny, “it’s a puppy!”

127 posted on 07/25/2007 10:10:13 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: Sonora

A Marine gets out of the Corps and begins to enjoy the American dream. However, when the War in Iraq comes around forty years later, he goes down to the recruiting station, and tells the recruiter, “I want in. I want to fight.”

The recruiter, however, declines the offer of service, saying, “I’m sorry, Gunny, but you’re just too darn old.”

“Fine,” the guy replies. “If that’s your attitude, I’ll go straight to the Pentagon. I have a friend there, and he’ll see I’m let in.”

So he goes to the Pentagon and tells his friend, “I want in. I want to fight.”

Once again, however, the response is the same, and his friend tells him, “Sorry, Gunny, but you’re just too darn old.”

“Fine,” the guy says once more. “In that case, I’ll buy a boat and row to Iraq.”

So he goes out and buys himself a rowboat and starts rowing to Iraq, chanting, “Semper Fi, Do or Die, OO-Rah, OO-Rah!” over and over again.

St. Peter sees all this and reports to his Boss, saying, “What should I do to stop this hard-charging Marine?”

“Peter,” comes the answer, “you should take his brain; it’s the source of all his thoughts.”

So St. Peter takes the guy’s brain, but it doesn’t faze him. On and on he rows, chanting, “Semper Fi, Do or Die, OO-Rah, OO-Rah!”

“Now what!” exclaims St. Peter.

“Peter,” comes the answer, “why don’t you take his heart? It’s the seat of all his emotions.”

So St. Peter takes the guy’s heart, but it doesn’t faze him. On and on he rows, chanting, “Semper Fi, Do or Die, OO-Rah, OO-Rah!”

“Now what!” blurts St. Peter.

“Peter,” comes the answer, “take his gonads.”

So St. Peter lops off the guy’s gonads.

Immediately the guy stops rowing, looks around himself in confusion, begins to row his boat in circles, and commences chanting, “Off we go, into the wild blue yonder...”

128 posted on 07/25/2007 10:15:55 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: GSWarrior
A case of Schlitz.

Ah, Schlitz - the Big Girls beer.

129 posted on 07/25/2007 10:19:44 PM PDT by SoldierDad (Proud Father of a 2nd BCT 10th Mountain Soldier fighting the terrorists in the Triangle of Death)
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To: Sonora

Tom, a handsome young fellow, walked into the bar around 9:45 PM and sat down next to a blonde staring up at the TV. The 10:00 news soon came on and featured the story of a man on the ledge of a large building who was preparing to jump.

The blonde looked at Tom and said, “Do you think he’ll jump?”

Tom said, “You know, I bet he’ll jump.”

The blonde replied, “Well, I bet he won’t.”

Hearing this, Tom placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and said, “You’re on!”

Just as the blonde placed her money on the bar, the guy on the ledge did a swan dive off the building and fell to his death.

The blonde was upset, but willingly handed her twenty dollars to Tom, saying, “Fair’s fair; here’s your money.”

Tom smiled knowingly, then replied, “I’m afraid I can’t really take it. You see, I watched the news at five PM and knew he’d jump.”

“Oh, I did, too, “the blond replied. “I just didn’t think he’d do it again.”

With that, Tom took the money.

130 posted on 07/25/2007 10:21:29 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: Sonora

An airliner was having engine trouble, so the pilot instructed the cabin crew to have the passengers take their seats and prepare for an emergency landing.

A few minutes later, the pilot asked the flight attendants if everyone was buckled in and ready.

“All set back here, Captain,” came the reply, “except the lawyers are still going around passing out business cards.”

131 posted on 07/25/2007 10:32:15 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: zeugma
BOTH! although I have to admit the "real" traditional kilts are a bit pricey for me. Instead I go with Stillwater and Frugal Corner. Amerikilts and Utilikilts are also in my closet along with a couple my Wife made.

Here are a couple of pics...they're thumbnails so click to enlarge.

A good friend and I at work before the Super Bowl a couple of years ago. I'm wearing an Amerikilt.

WIll and Cynthia

And my youngest son and I 4 wheelin' in our Durango late this past Spring.


Sorry about the pic's all I had on hand.

I often wonder how many other FReepers wear kilts.


132 posted on 07/25/2007 10:34:26 PM PDT by prisoner6 (Right Wing Nuts hold the country together as the loose screws of the Left fall out.)
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To: Sonora

A man was walking down the beach, when he came across an old bottle. Curious, he picked it up and began to rub the sand from its surface. With a puff of smoke, out pops a genie.

“Oh, Master,” the genie said, “thank you for freeing me from the bottle. In return for your kindness, I will grant you three wishes.”

“Really?” the man crowed. “Hey, this is great! First, I want one billion dollars in a Swiss bank account.”

Poof! There was a flash of light, and a piece of paper with account numbers written on it appeared in his hand.

“Next,” he continued, “I want a brand new, red Ferrari right here.”

Poof! There was a flash of light, and a bright red brand-new Ferrari appeared right next to him.

“Finally,” he continued, “I want to be irresistible to women.”

Poof! There was a flash of light, and in the man’s place there was a sign that read, “All merchandise, fifty percent off.”

133 posted on 07/25/2007 10:39:55 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: Sonora

One pleasant autumn afternoon, two old ladies, Lucinda and Bernice, decided to have a portrait taken, in order to send a copy to their many friends and relatives around the country. Accordingly, they got into their old black Ford and drove into town.

Arriving at the photographic studio, they walked through the door, whereupon the photographer, temporarily busy with some paperwork, greeted them and asked them to take a seat.

Unfortunately, Bernice was slightly deaf, and she turned to Lucinda and asked, “What did he say?”

“He said we should have a seat!” called out Lucinda.

“Oh,” said Bernice, sitting.

Having finished his administrative chores, the photographer ushered them into position in front of the camera, saying, “Ladies, could you please sit closer together so I can focus?”

“What did he say?” said Bernice.

“He said he wants to focus!” called out Lucinda.

Hearing these words, Bernice pulled up her dress and began rolling down her stockings with a bright smile, gushing, “What, both of us?”

134 posted on 07/25/2007 10:43:18 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: Jack Hammer

It is really, really, late and time to stop reading these jokes.

I wondered why taking her stockings off would help the woman focus.

135 posted on 07/25/2007 10:46:22 PM PDT by radiohead
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To: Sonora

Pinocchio had found himself a human girlfriend, but she would sometimes complain about splinters whenever they made love. The little wooden puppet therefore went to visit Gepetto, the carpenter who had built Pinocchio, to see if the craftsman could help.

“Hello, Pinocchio!” called out Gepetto, when the little man hove into sight. “How are you today?”

“Hello, Gepetto,” replied Pinocchio, “I’m fine, thank you, but I have a small problem. I’ve found myself a human girlfriend, and we get along very well. But, actually, whenever we make love she complains about the splinters. Can you help me?”

“Well, Pinocchio,” Gepetto answered. “Here’s all you need to do. Try rubbing your member with a sheet of number one, extra-fine sandpaper.”

Thanking Gepetto for this good advice, Pinocchio skipped away enlightened and happy.

A couple of weeks later, Gepetto saw Pinocchio bouncing happily through town and asked him, “Hello, Pinocchio! How’s the girlfriend?”

With a carefree laugh, Pinocchio replied, “Hello, Gepetto; who needs a girlfriend!”

136 posted on 07/25/2007 10:48:27 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: Sonora

An Irishman walks out of a bar.

137 posted on 07/25/2007 10:49:25 PM PDT by Fair Paul
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To: radiohead

Maybe you’ll get it if you focus.

138 posted on 07/25/2007 10:49:52 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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Comment #139 Removed by Moderator

To: Sonora

In the year 2030, a handsome and adventurous man and his attractive girlfriend decided to become astronauts. Due to their high intelligence and excellent education, they were selected for the first manned expedition to Mars. The flight went without a hitch, and, after a long trip together, they found themselves at last on the surface of that distant planet.

Oddly enough, they were greeted by a Martian couple, and a great deal of excited conversation and cultural exchange followed. At length, and in the course of this discussion, the subject of sex was mentioned.

“Just how do you people do it, anyway?” asked the beautiful lady astronaut.

“Well,” responded the Martian woman, “I think we must do it in a similar way to you. How do you do it?”

This topic dominated the discussion for quite a while, but finally it was agreed that the best way to understand the differences and similarities would be to swap partners for the night and experience one another’s customs.

With this in mind, and with the Martian night falling, the female astronaut went off with the Martian man, while the handsome man went with the Martian woman.

Arriving in the Martian man’s bedroom, the woman waited as her lover for the night stripped off his Martian clothes. When he was fully naked, however, she saw that, unfortunately, he had only a teeny, weeny organ, about half an inch long and just a quarter inch thick.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” she said.

“Why?” asked the Martian. “What’s the matter?”

“Well,” she replied. “I’m afraid it’s your… your… That!” she blurted out at last, pointing to his member. “It’s just not long enough to reach me!”

“No problem,” he answered her. With those words, he proceeded to slap his forehead with his palm. With each slap, his member grew longer, until it was more than eight inches.

“Well!” said the girl. “That’s quite impressive, but, you know… well… I mean… it’s still pretty narrow.”

“No problem,” he said. With that, he started pulling his ears, and, with each pull, his item grew wider and wider, until the entire measurement was an extreme turn-on to the excited woman.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, and they fell into bed and made mad, passionate love.

The next day the couples rejoined their normal partners and went their separate ways; the astronauts to explore the planet, the Martians back to their ordinary jobs.

As the two astronauts walked along, taking soil and mineral samples for analysis, the man finally asked his companion, “Well, was it any good?”

“I hate to say it,” said the woman, “but, yes, it was, indeed, pretty good. In fact, it was great! How about you?”

“It was horrible,” the man replied with a sour expression on his face. “All night long that Martian woman kept slapping my forehead and pulling my ears.”

140 posted on 07/25/2007 11:02:15 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: Jack Hammer

I got it. It just took me a minute.

141 posted on 07/25/2007 11:05:36 PM PDT by radiohead
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To: Sonora

A blind man in the Pacific Northwest had grown tired of sitting at home and living off his disability allotment. Wishing to work and support himself, he had been looking for some suitable job for a long time, and finally went to an interview as a quality controller at the local wood mill.

As the morning wore on, the manager called out, “Next!” and, hearing this, the blind man walked into his office.

The manager took one look at him, and said, “Oh, listen, Buddy. I understand your problem, and how you want to be able to take care of yourself and all. Heck, I admire you for that. But just how do you expect to examine our lumber when you can’t see?”

“I can do it by smell,” the blind man responded.

“By smell?”

“Yes, that’s right. If you don’t believe me, try me out. Give me a test. If I fail, I’ll leave. But if I succeed, then give me the job.”

“Well,” shrugged the manager, thinking that such a test was an easy way to get rid of the poor fellow without hurting his feelings.

Pressing the button on his intercom, there came the sound of his secretary’s voice.

“Yes?” she inquired.

“Phyllis, will you please bring some wood samples in here. Just anything that’s in the waiting room. An assortment, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a moment, the secretary had done as she was requested, and the manager had laid out several wood samples on a table for him to smell.

“First one,” said the blind man, as he bent over, “a good piece of fir.”

“Well, I’ll be…” responded the manager. “That’s correct.

“Second one,” said the blind man, “that’s a bad piece of willow.”

“Son of a gun,” said the manager. “Right again.”

“Third one,” said the blind man. “Pine; second quality.”

“That’s amazing!” exclaimed the manager.

However, still not convinced, and worried that hiring the blind man would be more trouble than it was worth, he decided to play a trick on the poor fellow.

“Keep going,” he said.

There were no more wood samples, however. Instead, Phyllis, his secretary was standing at the end of the table. Now the manager motioned to her silently to lift up her skirt.

As she did so, she stared at the blind man with a certain amount of discomfort as, without knowing it, he lowered his face to her panties.

The blind man sniffed for a moment, then paused and said, “I’m confused. Could you turn it around?”

Phyllis turned around, and once again the blind man bent to take a sniff.

At last he straightened up with a broad smile on his face and chuckled to himself.

“Oh, I get it,” he said at last. “You’re having some fun with me. But you’ll be pleased to hear I know exactly what this is. It’s a piece of the bathroom door off a tuna boat!”

142 posted on 07/25/2007 11:10:26 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: zeugma
BTW after reading your post I checked out this month's Utilikiltarian newsletter and found they've posted the Mock-u-mercials on their webpage. Here's a link if you want to check 'em out. So far my fav is still the one from a couple of years ago with a workamn on a ladder with 3 office girls borrowing his tools.

Utilikilt Mock-u-mercials!


143 posted on 07/25/2007 11:13:48 PM PDT by prisoner6 (Right Wing Nuts hold the country together as the loose screws of the Left fall out.)
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To: Sonora

A young woman buys a mirror at an antique shop and hangs it on her bathroom door. One evening, while getting undressed, she playfully intones, “Mirror, mirror, on my door, make my bust-line forty-four.”
Instantly, there’s a brilliant flash of light, and her breasts grow to enormous proportions.
Excitedly, she runs to tell her husband what happened, and, in minutes, they both return. This time, the husband crosses his fingers and chants, “Mirror, mirror on the door, make my p*nis touch the floor!”
Again, there’s a brilliant flash of light, and... both his legs fall off.

144 posted on 07/25/2007 11:17:21 PM PDT by Jack Hammer
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To: alarm rider

LOL I thought it was “Bob”...

145 posted on 07/26/2007 5:09:34 AM PDT by Hand em their arse
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To: prisoner6
I often wonder how many other FReepers wear kilts.

Maybe I'll make a thread for it some day :-) 

146 posted on 07/26/2007 6:06:02 AM PDT by zeugma (If I eat right, don't smoke and exercise, I might live long enough to see the last Baby Boomer die.)
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To: stylin19a
This joke is a bit dated, somewhat sacreligious, but still good.

By coincidence Bill Clinton and Pope John Paul II die on the same day. When the smoke clears the Pope realizes he's standing at the entry way to Hell. The devil sees him standing there and comes over with a very puzzled expression on his face. He assures the Pope that there must be some mistake and goes off to check. He comes back in a few minutes, very apologetic, and explains that there was a mix-up in destinations for him and another person, and that of course the Pope is in the wrong place. He tells the Pope that it'll take about 24 hours to straighten things out. The Pope assures the devil that he understands that 'these things happen' and he spends the 24 hours ministering to the tormented souls in hell, trying to comfort them.

The next morning the devil leads the Pope to a long escalator going up. He thanks the Pope again for his understanding and patience, and directs him to the escalator explaining that it will deposit him outside the Pearly Gates. As the Pope is heading up the escalator, he see Bill Clinton on his way down. They meet half way and pause to chat and renew their acquaintence. The Pope tells Clinton that he's sorry he's headed for Hell, but Clinton shrugs and tells the Pope that Heaven is indeed a wonderful place, and asks the Pope what is the first thing he wants to do there.

"Well," says the Pope, "I come from Poland and as a people we have always had a deep, spiritual relationship with the Mother of God. So I suppose what I'm looking forward most to is meeting the Virgin Mary at last.

Clinton turns and heads down, and calls over his shoulder, "You're a day late."

147 posted on 07/26/2007 6:13:08 AM PDT by Non-Sequitur (Save Fredericksburg. Support CVBT.)
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To: Fair Paul

thats my joke! post 126.

148 posted on 07/26/2007 6:39:42 AM PDT by thefactor
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To: All


A small zoo in Arkansas had a very rare species of gorilla.

Within a few weeks the gorilla, a female, became very difficult to

Upon examination, the veterinarian determined the problem: the
gorilla was in season. 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 four conditions.

1. “First”, Bobby Lee said, “I ain’t gonna kiss her on the lips.”

The Keeper quickly agreed to this condition.

2. “Second”, he said, “You can’t never tell no one about this.”

The Keeper again readily agreed to this condition.

3. “Third”, Bobby Lee said, “I want all the chil’run raised
Southern Baptist.”

Once again, the Keeper agreed.

4. “And last of all,” Bobby Lee stated, “You gotta give me another
week to come up with the $500.00.”

149 posted on 07/26/2007 8:32:28 AM PDT by Bringbackthedraft (Impeach Hillary 08')
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To: Sonora; OESY

Stolen from a post by OESY......

My wife, Gretchen, is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something akin to, “hey y’all, hold my beer and watch this!” Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes.

Last weekend I spied something at Larry’s Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my “fancy” is easily tickled). I bought something really cool for Gretchen. The occasion was our 14th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl.

What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Taser gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. Tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you’ve never seen one of these things in action, then you’re truly missing out-way too cool!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don’t need no stinkin’ directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I’d get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!

Yipeeeeee . . I’m easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to Toni what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog , Moscow, looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Moscow) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Moscow for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet dog, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to Barb to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time... So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the while I’m looking at this little device (measuring about 5” long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, “no friggin’ way!”

Friggin’ way-trust me, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best. Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I’m sitting there alone, Moscow looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, “don’t do it buddy,” reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil’ ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight-always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. (Don’t ya hate that?)

I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY SHIT! DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!! I’m pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Moscow was standing over me making barking sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, “do it again, do it again!” (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Taser, one note of caution.)

There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You’re not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you’re lucky, you won’t dislodge one of the prongs 1/4” deep in your thigh like yours truly. SON-OF-A-BIT%CH that hurt! A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or take an ounce or two, I’m pretty sure.

By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I’m offering a reward. They’re round, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. Miss ‘em . . . sure would like to get ‘em back!


150 posted on 07/26/2007 8:47:47 AM PDT by Responsibility2nd
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