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Top Silly!
Woohoo!!
Top Ten!
Early top 10!
At work. Top ten.
And...
GO ARMY! BEAT NAVY!
Recently I was honoured to be selected as an outstanding famous celebrity in Texas, to be a judge at a Chili cook-off, because no one else wanted to do it. Also the original person called in sick at the last moment, and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking for directions to the beer wagon when the call came. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy, and besides, they told me that I could have free beer during the tasting. So I accepted.
Here are the scorecards from the event:
CHILI # 1: MIKE'S MANIC MONSTER CHILI
JUDGE ONE: A little to heavy on tomato. Amusing kick.
JUDGE TWO: Nice, smooth tomato flavour. Very mild.
FRANK: Holy Shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway with this stuff. I needed two beers to put the flames out. Hope that's the worst one. Those Texans are crazy.
CHILI # 2: ARTHUR'S AFTERBURNER CHILI
JUDGE ONE: Smokey, with a hint of pork. Slight Jalapeno tang.
JUDGE TWO: Exciting BBQ flavour. Needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
FRANK: Keep this out of reach of children! I'm not sure what I am supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave of two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre. They had to walkie-talkie in three extra beers when they saw the look on my face.
CHILI # 3: FRED'S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI
JUDGE ONE: Excellent firehouse chili! Great kick. Needs more beans.
JUDGE TWO: A beanless chili. A bit salty. Good use of red peppers.
FRANK: Call the EPA, I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Barmaid pounded me on the back; now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting shit-faced.
CHILI # 4: BUBBA'S BLACK MAGIC
JUDGE ONE: Black Bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
JUDGE TWO: Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods. Not much of a chili.
FRANK: I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Sally, the barmaid, was standing behind me with fresh refills; that 300 lb bitch is starting to look HOT, just like this nuclear-waste I'm eating.
CHILI # 5: LINDA'S LEGAL LIP REMOVER
JUDGE ONE: Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
JUDGE TWO: Chili using shredded beef; could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
FRANK: My ears are ringing, and I can no linger focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly from a pitcher onto it. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Freakin' Rednecks! ! !
CHILI # 6: VERA'S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY
JUDGE ONE: Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spice and peppers.
JUDGE TWO: The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions and garlic.
FRANK: My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulphuric flames. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that slut Sally. I need to wipe my ass with a snow cone!
CHILI # 7: SUSAN'S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI
JUDGE ONE: A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
JUDGE TWO: Ho Hum. Tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. I should note that I am worried about Judge # 3.
FRANK: You could put a #)$^@#*&! Grenade in my mouth, pull the #)$^@#*&! pin, and I wouldn't feel a damn thing. I've lost the sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my X*$(@#^&$ mouth. My pants are full of lava-like shit, to match my X*$(@#^&$ shirt. At least the during the autopsy they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing, it's too painful. I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the four inch hole in my stomach.
CHILI # 8: HELEN'S MOUNT SAINT CHILI
JUDGE ONE: A perfect ending. This is a nice blend chili, safe for all; not too bold, but spicy enough to declare its existence.
JUDGE TWO: This final entry is a good balanced chili, neither mild now hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge # 3 passed out, fell and pulled the chili pot on top of himself. Not sure if he's going to make it. Poor Yank.
FRANK: - - - - - Mama?- - -
(Editor's Note: Judge # 3 was unable to report).
THAT'S SILLY!!
An old Nissan full of bearded, young, loud Muslims, shouting Anti-American slogans, with a half-burned American Flag duct-taped on the trunk of their car, and a "Remember 9-11" slogan spray painted on the side, stopped next to me.
Suddenly they yelled, "Allah Akbar! Praise Allah! Death to America" and took off before the light changed.
Out of nowhere an Semi came speeding through the intersection and ran directly over their car, crushing it completely and killing everyone in it.
For several minutes I sat in my car thinking to myself, "Man, that could have been me!"
So today, bright and early, I went out and got a job as a truck driver!
There are three major reasons why strippers (male or female) should not be tipped with Susan B. Anthony dollars:
Logistics.
Not only do strippers gyrate more than your average working person, but one may often find them hanging upside-down, careening from the ceiling, and/or sliding seductively down long metal poles. While a habit of frequenting these types of activities is alone enough to prohibit most individuals from carrying pocket change, the stripper’s decision to wear little or no clothing further complicates the matter, as s/he has no pockets.
Most strippers maintain possession of their tips through the use of an elastic strap known as a garter. Said garter is placed around a leg or an arm and is designed by garter design specialists to accommodate loose dollar bills of any denomination. However, most garter manufacturers never intended their devices to be employed to harvest legal tender in coin form, and thus engaging such activity would undoubtedly void the garter’s warranty.
Only top-of-the-line, tailor-made garters provide a coin purse option, which is usually intended only for novelty purposes, such as providing individuals with “change†for their tip, or for the storage of a small tube of lipstick (and/or tabs of Ecstasy). And due to the added technology (additional silk, spandex, microprocessors, servos, etc.) required for the production of these high-end garters, they are highly expensive items and thus one is much less likely to find a stripper equipped with such a device at his or her local house of burlesque.
As a result, handing a stripper one or more Susan B. Anthony dollars (or any coins, for that matter) places said stripper (who is, presumably, nude) in the unfortunate position of having to hold the money in her hand, mouth, or some other area for the duration of the performance. This can be terribly distracting for both the stripper and the audience.
History.
The image of Susan Brownell Anthony was placed on the US dollar coin in 1979 in recognition of her years spent fighting for what we today call “women’s rights,†but what at the time were called “basic rights everyone with a dick already has.†Anthony was a leader in the women’s suffrage movement, the abolitionist movement, and other progressive campaigns.
And you want to take this beacon of hope and strength, this memorial of one of the United States’ greatest heroes—you want to take her shining face and shove it into some stripper’s nether regions?
You sick, twisted perv. You may think you’re being all ironic and cute, but you’re really just a dumbass with some kind of coin fetish who probably beats his wife with a claw hammer. We have a place for people like you; a van will be by shortly to collect your worthless ass. Please be out front, packed and ready to go.
Respect. The problem with Susan B. Anthony dollars was that they looked and felt about the same size, shape, and color as a US quarter. This is why they were eventually discontinued and replaced with the gold-colored Sacagawea dollar coins, which are the same size, shape, and color as a US quarter that has been urinated on.
Regardless of what culture you’re from, according to contemporary stripping etiquette, tipping a stripper US$0.25 is the moral equivalent of giving your mother a nicely wrapped turd for her birthday. It’s simply not done; it is not only considered rude, but a slap to the face of morality itself.
And since your Susan B. Anthony dollar is very likely to be mistaken for a quarter (as explained above), the act of tipping said stripper with said coin is very likely to offend said stripper, who has done nothing but be nice to you, generously taking the time to display her breasts (or his dick, depending on what kind of joint you like to frequent) for you. Offending a person in this vulnerable position would likely prove to be an unwise move, as it may result in you receiving a stiletto heel to the forehead, a trauma that several case studies have revealed to be one of the leading causes of learning disabilities in America.
So in conclusion, don’t do it. Before you go to the strip club, hit the ATM, ask your mom, or go knock over a convenience store. Do not just use the local laundromat’s change machine. As a result, your stripper will be happier, one of the greatest women’s rights activists won’t be spinning in her grave, and you’ll still be able to read and process the English language when the evening is over. Trust me: you’ll thank yourself later.
IN!!
A termite walked into a bar and said, “Is the bar tender here?”
A man walks into a bar with a cheese sandwich under his arm.
“A pint of Guinness for me and the cheese sandwich,” he says to the barman.
“I’m sorry, sir,” replies the barman, “we don’t serve food in here.”
A dog walks into a bar, with a bandage around one of his feet.
He surveys the room and then says, “I’m looking for the man who shot my paw!”
E-flat walks into a bar.
The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve minors.”
A cowboy walked into a bar and ordered a whiskey.
When the bartender delivered the drink, the cowboy asked, “Where is everybody?”
The bartender replied, “They’ve gone to the hanging.”
“Hanging? Who are they hanging?”
“Brown Paper Pete,” the bartender replied.
“What kind of a name is that?” the cowboy asked.
“Well,” said the bartender, “he wears a brown paper hat, brown paper shirt, brown paper trousers and brown paper shoes.”
“Weird guy,” said the cowboy. “What are they hanging him for?”
“Rustling,” said the bartender.
Two guys are sitting at a bar. One guy says to the other, “Do you know that lions have sex 10 or 15 times a night?”.
The other guy says, “Damn, I just joined the Rotary Club.”
A guy walks into a bar. There’s nobody there except the bartender and a beautiful woman sitting at the other end of the bar.
The man says, “I’m buying that woman a drink.”
The bartender says, “You don’t want to do that. She’s a lesbian.”
The man says, “I don’t care, give the drink.”
After the woman gets the drink, she raises the glass to her benefactor. The man strolls over to her.
He says, “Hi. I’m Bill Williams from Terre Haute. So how are things in Beirut?”