Digest for Monday, September 09, 2002

There are 10 messages totalling 687 lines in this issue.

Topics of the day:

  1. Lettermans Top Ten Canadian Euphemisms For Sex
  2. The toilet secrets of ladies
  4. The Drunk
  5. Ode To Health Care
  6. September 9th ~ National Boss/Employee Exchange Day
  7. Court Humour.....
  8. Fun and games with Nike (Part 2 of 2)
  9. This Weeks Horoscopes < adult language >
  10. Where Do Pills Go?


Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 02:02:59 -0400
From:    Rollo Tomasi <rollotomasi@COMCAST.NET>
Subject: Letterman's Top Ten Canadian Euphemisms For Sex

10.  Playing mountie

9.  Fur trapping

8.  Making Peg whinny

7.  Entering parliament

6.  Pulling the goalie

5.  Doin' it, eh?

4.  Putting the "man" in Manitoba

3.  High sticking

2.  Stuffing a beaver -- the beaver is our national animal

1.  Oh, Oh, Oh Canada
©MMII, CBS Worldwide Inc.


        White House Reality Show Planned For The Fall

Reality television is about to take another step forward with a new White House Reality
Show planned to be released this fall on a major network.

According to reports, the show will chronicle the life of a politically inexperienced man
with limited knowledge of world events as he moves about the large mansion at 1600
Pennsylvania Avenue – with 15,000 journalists there to mark his every word and movement.

"We just thought it would be hilarious to bring a guy in and have him sign legislation to
drill for oil in the Arctic, reject the Kyoto pact on climate change and just plain tick
off our allies at every opportunity," said Republican Party Chairman Marc Racicot, the
creator the new program.

White House workers were said to be delighted with the concept for the new program, which
is expected to run at least four years.

"I’ll be right here to advise him whenever he needs me," said Vice President Dick Cheney.
Copyright © 2002 Chortler.com

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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 06:44:04 -0500
From:    Les Pourciau <pourciau@MEMPHIS.EDU>
Subject: The toilet secrets of ladies

This is for all the ladies who have "been there---done that" and for all

The men who never understood before now.......

My mother was a fanatic about public toilets.  As a little girl, she'd
me in the stall, teach me to wad up toilet paper and wipe the seat.
she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat.  Finally,
she'd instruct, "Never, never sit on a public toilet seat."  And she'd
demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of balancing over the toilet
in a
sitting position without actually letting any of your flesh make contact

with the toilet seat.  But by this time, I'd have peed down my
we'd go home.

That was a long time ago.  I've had lots of experience with public
since then, but I'm still not particularly fond of public toilets,
especially those with powerful, red-eye sensors.  Those toilets know
you want them to flush.  They are psychic toilets.  But I always confuse

their psychic ability by following my mother's advice and assuming The
stance. The Stance is excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's
bladder is especially full. This is most likely to occur after watching
full-length feature film.  During the movie pee, it is nearly impossible

to hold The Stance.  You know what I mean.  You drink a two liter cup of
Diet Coke, then sit still through a three-hour saga because, for
goodness's sake, even if you didn't wipe or wash your hands in the
bathroom, you'd still miss
the pivotal part of the movie or the second scene, in which they flash
leading man's naked derriere. So, you cross your legs and you hold it.
you hold it until that first credit rolls and you sprint to the
about ready to explode all over your internal organs.  And at the
you find a line of women that makes you think there's a half-price sale
Mel Gibson's underwear in there.

So, you wait and smile politely at all the other ladies, also crossing
legs and smiling politely.  And you finally get closer.  You check for
under the stall doors.  Every one is occupied.  You hope no one is doing

frivolous things behind those stall doors, like blowing her nose or
the contents of her purse.  Finally, a stall door opens and you dash,
nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.  You get in to find
door won't latch.  It doesn't matter.  You hang your handbag on the door

hook, yank down your pants and assume The Stance.  Relief.  More relief.

Then your thighs begin to shake. You'd love to sit down but you
hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you
The stance as your thighs experience a quake that would register an
on the Richter scale. To take your mind off it, you reach for the toilet
might as well be ready when you are done. The toilet paper dispenser is
empty. Your thighs shake more.  You remember the tiny napkin you wiped
fingers on after eating buttered popcorn. It would have to do. You
it in the puffiest way possible.  It is still smaller than your

Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work and
pocketbook whams you in the head.  "Occupied!" you scream as you reach
for the door, dropping your buttered popcorn napkin in a puddle and
backward,  directly onto the toilet seat.  You get up quickly, but it's
late. Your bare bottom has made contact with all the germs and life
forms on
the bare seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper, not that there
any, even if you had enough time to.  And your mother would be utterly
ashamed of you if she knew, because her bare bottom never touched a
toilet seat because, frankly, "You don't know what kind of diseases you
could get."

And by this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so
confused that it flushes, sending up a stream of water akin to a
and then it suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab

onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged to China.

At that point, you give up.  You're finished peeing.  You're soaked by
splashing water.  You're exhausted.  You try to wipe with a Chicklet
you found in your pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the sinks with the automatic
so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past a
of women, still waiting, cross-legged and unable to smile politely at
point.  One kind soul at the very end of the line points out that you
trailing a piece of toilet paper on your shoe as long as the Mississippi

River.  You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand
say warmly, "Here. You might need this."

At this moment you see your spouse...who has entered, used and exited
bathroom and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for you.  "What
you so long?" he asks, clearly annoyed.  This is when you kick him
in the shin and go home.

This is dedicated to all women everywhere who have ever had to deal with

a public toilet.  And it finally explains to all you men what takes us

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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 07:45:43 -0400
From:    Paul Benoit <PBenoit@COOKSONELECTRONICS.COM>
Subject: COPING


Dr. Andrea Herman, a University of Maryland psychiatrist
and licensed grief counselor, has developed the following
set of guidelines to help Americans get through the
anniversary of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks:

  - Remember that you are not alone. An estimated 150 million
    people will be watching the three major networks.

  - No one channel is the "right" one to watch. Find the
    programming that is best for you and believe in your choice.

  - Look to your elders. Find comfort in the wisdom and guiding
    hand of experienced leaders like Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, and
    Peter Jennings.

  - Take a break. If non-stop television coverage becomes
    overwhelming, you may need to get away by occasionally
    checking out a game show or sitcom rerun.

  - Turn to your community for support. Tune into local news
    coverage, as well as national news programming.

  - Seek out your peers. Get support from niche-oriented networks
    with which you personally identify, such as BET, Lifetime, or MTV.

  - If needed, seek therapy. There is no stigma attached to turning
    to a counselor like Dr. Phil for help.

            (c) Onion, Inc., All rights reserved.

Get Some Fresh Air...

This message (including any attachments) contains confidential information
intended for a specific individual and purpose, and is protected by law.  -
If you are not the intended recipient, you should delete this message and
are hereby notified that any disclosure, copying, or distribution of this
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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 07:09:07 -0600
From:    Emko Witteveen <emko@MAC.COM>
Subject: The Drunk <language>

An inebriated gentleman staggers into a liquor store
at one AM and bellies up to the counter and says
"Gimme some gin."

The clerk is not about to sell liquor to a drunk but
thinks he will have fun with him. He says "Well we
got three kinds of gin. We have oxy-gin, nitro-gin,
and hydro-gin."

The drunk fixes the clerk with a steely glare and
stomps out of the store. The clerk is still chuckling
a few minutes later when in comes the drunk again.

The drunk staggers up to the counter and says "Gimme
some turd."

"What are you talking about." queries the clerk.

The inebriate responds "There are three kinds of turd,
mus-turd, cus-turd, and you, you simple sh*t."
"You have reached the pinnacle of success as soon as you become
uninterested in money, compliments, or publicity."

       ~Dr. O. A. Battista

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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 09:12:58 -0400
From:    Bill Stebbins <bs16@CORNELL.EDU>
Subject: Ode To Health Care

More and more doctors are running their practices like an assembly
lines.  One fella walked into a doctor's office and the
receptionist asked him what he had.  He said, "Shingles."

So she took down his name, address, medical insurance number and
told him to have a seat.  Fifteen minutes later a nurse's aid came
out and asked him what he had.  He said, "Shingles."

So she took down his height, weight, a complete medical history,
and told him to wait in the examining room.  A half-hour later a
nurse came in and asked him what he had.  He said, "Shingles."

So she gave him a blood test, a blood pressure test, an electro-
cardiogram, told him to take off all his clothes, and wait for the
doctor.  An hour later the doctor came in and asked him what he
had.  He said, "Shingles."

The doctor said, "Where?"

He said, "Outside in the truck.  Where do you want them?"

[Thanks to Mary C]


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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 07:20:26 -0700
From:    Sandy - AKA Ms Sam <sandy@CHUCKLESOFCHOICE.COM>
Subject: September 9th ~ National Boss/Employee Exchange Day

The Monday after Labor Day, bosses and employees switch jobs so they can
understand each other better. That means the bosses must work today, and the
workers get to take the day off. You can tell your boss I said that's the
way things have to be today.

When you take a long time, you're slow.
When your boss takes a long time, he's thorough.

When you don't do it, you're lazy.
When your boss doesn't do it, he's too busy.

When you make a mistake, you're an idiot.
When your boss makes a mistake, he's only human.

When doing something without being told, you're overstepping your authority.
When your boss does the same thing, that's initiative.

When you take a stand, you're being bull-headed.
When your boss does it, he's being firm.

When you overlooked a rule of etiquette, you're being rude.
When your boss skips a few rules, he's being original.

When you please your boss, you're apple polishing.
When your boss pleases his boss, he's being co-operative.

When you're out of the office, you're wandering around.
When your boss is out of the office, he's on business.

When you're on a day off sick, you're *always* sick.
When your boss is on a day off sick, he must be very ill.

When you apply for leave, you must be going for an interview.
When your boss applies for leave, it's because he's overworked.

Sandy (AKA Ms Sam)
Chuckles of Choice Web Site

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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 11:41:50 -0400
From:    Terry Galan <galante@MCMAIL.CIS.MCMASTER.CA>
Subject: Court Humour.....

These are from a book called "Disorder in the Court". These are things
people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published
by court reporters - who had the torment of trying to stay calm while
these exchanges were actually taking  place!. Some of these are excellent.
Don't miss the last one.

Q: Are you sexually active?
A: No, I just lie there.

Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July fifteenth.
Q: What year?
A: Every year.

Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

Q: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
A: Yes.
Q: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
A: I forget.
Q: You forget. Can you give us an example of something that you've

Q: How old is your son, the one living with you?
A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: Forty-five years.

Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke up that
A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.

Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo or the
A: We both do.
Q: Voodoo?
A: We do.
Q: You do?
A: Yes, voodoo.

Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he
   doesn't know about it until the next morning?

Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year old, how old is he?

Q: Were you present when your picture was taken?

Q: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
A: Yes.
Q: And what were you doing at that time?

Q: She had three children, right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many were boys?
A: None.
Q: Were there any girls?

Q: How was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?

Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: He was about medium height and had a beard.
Q: Was this a male, or a female?

Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice
   which I sent to your attorney?
A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.

Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.

Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
A: Oral.

Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?
A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.

Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?

Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for blood pressure?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for breathing?
A: No.
Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the
A: No.
Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
Q: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
A: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law

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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 18:49:44 -0700
From:    Terry Tubman <ttubman@ANGELFIRE.COM>
Subject: Fun and games with Nike (Part 2 of 2)

+Source: Randy's Random+

   From: "Jonah H. Peretti" <pere-@media.mit.edu>;
   To: "Personalize, NIKE iD" <nikeid_pe-@nike.com>;
   Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Dear NIKE iD,

Thank you for your quick response to my inquiry about my custom ZOOM
XC USA running shoes. Although I commend you for your prompt customer
service, I disagree with the claim that my personal iD was
inappropriate slang. After consulting Webster's Dictionary, I
discovered that "sweatshop" is in fact part of standard English, and
not slang.

The word means: "a shop or factory in which workers are employed for
long hours at low wages and under unhealthy conditions" and its
origin dates from 1892. So my personal iD does meet the criteria
detailed in your first email.

Your web site advertises that the NIKE iD program is "about freedom to
choose and freedom to express who you are." I share Nike's love of
freedom and personal expression. The site also says that "If you want
it done right...build it yourself." I was thrilled to be able to
build my own shoes, and my personal iD was offered as a small token of
appreciation for the sweatshop workers poised to help me realize my
vision. I hope that you will value my freedom of expression and
reconsider your decision to reject my order.

Thank you, Jonah Peretti

   From: "Personalize, NIKE iD" <nikeid_pe-@nike.com>;
   To: "'Jonah H. Peretti'" <pere-@media.mit.edu>;
   Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Dear NIKE iD Customer,

Regarding the rules for personalization it also states on the NIKE iD
web site that "Nike reserves the right to cancel any personal iD up to
24 hours after it has been submitted". In addition, it further
explains: "While we honor most personal iDs, we cannot honor every

Some may be (or contain) other's trademarks, or the names of certain
professional sports teams, athletes or celebrities that Nike does not
have the right to use. Others may contain material that we consider
inappropriate or simply do not want to place on our products.
Unfortunately, at times this obliges us to decline personal iDs that
may otherwise seem unobjectionable. In any event, we will let you
know if we decline your personal iD, and we will offer you the chance
to submit another." With these rules in mind, we cannot accept your
order as submitted. If you wish to reorder your NIKE iD product with
a new personalization please visit us again at www.nike.com

Thank you, NIKE iD

   From: "Jonah H. Peretti" <pere-@media.mit.edu
   To: "Personalize, NIKE iD" <nikeid_pe-@nike.com
   Subject: RE: Your NIKE iD order o16468000

Dear NIKE iD,

Thank you for the time and energy you have spent on my request. I have
decided to order the shoes with a different iD, but I would like to
make one small request. Could you please send me a color snapshot of
the ten-year-old Vietnamese girl who makes my shoes?

Jonah Peretti

<no response>

Is your boss reading your email? ....Probably
Keep your messages private by using Lycos Mail.
Sign up today at http://mail.lycos.com

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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 23:00:16 -0400
From:    The Punk <the-punk-with-the-stutter@COMCAST.NET>
Subject: This Week's Horoscopes  < adult language >

By Lloyd Schumner Sr.
Retired Machinist and A.A.P.B.-Certified Astrologer

Aries: (March 21—April 19)
   You'll barely be able to make it through the day knowing that Ben Vereen is
disappointed in you.

Taurus: (April 20—May 20)
   The stars appreciate that you want to protest rampant corporate corruption, but they
don't see what you think the giant puppets are going to accomplish.

Gemini: (May 21—June 21)
   You will be the first person in almost three millennia whom the gods see fit to punish
for an astounding lack of hubris.

Cancer: (June 22—July 22)
   You understand that if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem, but
you still aren't sure which is supposed to be better.

Leo: (July 23—Aug. 22)
   This Saturday, evil gangsters will target an FBI crime dog who lives with a goofy
mailman.  Fortunately, it will happen on HBO, so you're still safe for the time being.

Virgo: (Aug. 23—Sept. 22)
   The reality is, if people can't believe that yellow grease is not butter, this country
is seriously fucked up.

Libra: (Sept. 23—Oct. 23)
   Your confusion over the baffling ordeal of modern life is only made worse by the strobe
lights and klaxons.

Scorpio: (Oct. 24—Nov. 21)
   You may not be able to walk, but you refuse to think of yourself as handicapped.  You
prefer to see yourself as "handi-crippled."

Sagittarius: (Nov. 22—Dec. 21)
   You understand that Alaska's economy has been hit hard by the poor salmon season, but
you don't see how hunting you will improve matters.

Capricorn: (Dec. 22—Jan. 19)
   You will soon discover the only brand of stylish, functional, high-tech sunglasses that
make you feel like a complete man.

Aquarius: (Jan. 20—Feb. 18)
   You thought you'd heard of all the kinky fetishes, but that was before next week's
launch of a 24-hour doll-collecting channel.

Pisces: (Feb. 19—March 20)
   You're familiar with the saying "throw the baby out with the bathwater," but you never
imagined you'd actually find yourself in the situation.
___   ___   ___   ___   ___
© Copyright 2002 Onion, Inc.

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Date:    Mon, 9 Sep 2002 23:30:15 -0500
From:    Tom and Carrol <tcr@CHARTER.NET>
Subject: Where Do Pills Go?

      A row of bottles on my shelf
      Caused me to analyze myself
      One yellow pill I have to pop
      Goes to my heart so it won't stop

      A little white one that I take
      Goes to my hands so they won't shake
      The blue ones that I use a lot
      Tell me I'm happy when I'm not

      The purple pill goes to my brain
      And tells me that I have no pain
      The capsules tell me not to wheeze
      Or cough or choke or even sneeze

      The red ones, smallest of them all
      Go to my blood so I won't fall
      The orange ones so big and bright
      Stop my leg cramps in the night

      Such an array of brilliant pills
      Helping to cure all kinds of ills
      But what I'd really like to know
      Is what tells each one where to go.

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