Digest for Wednesday, December 11, 2002

There are 15 messages totalling 729 lines in this issue.




Topics of the day:

  1. US-Iraq Relation Normalized (non-off., just dark)
  2. 20 Things You Can Get Away With Saying At Christmas
  3. Robbery
  4. Did I Hear You Right???
  5. Santa Claus Goes on Atkins Diet, Asks Families to Leave Low-Carb Snacks
  6. Is anybody gonna do it?
  7. Good news, Bad news
  8. Official Resignation
  9. All About (Christmas) Eve
  10. church
  11. Breakfast
  12. cyber.confusion@french.language
  13. The Cobain Diaries
  14. Mid-life quickies
  15. December 11th ~ Jack Frost Day


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Date:    Tue, 10 Dec 2002 23:44:46 -0800
From:    Misnomeration <misnomeration@YAHOO.COM>
Subject: US-Iraq Relation Normalized (non-off., just dark)

BAGDAD [De-spin Zone] -- In a series of stunning developments, US and Iraq have normalized their relationship and gone back to business as usual. To summarize the amazing sequence of events:

1. 12/11/2002, 10PM GMT+5: Iraqi government declares that it regrets missing an item in its UN dossier. There is, in fact, an active nuclear program in its final stage.

2. 12/11/2002, 10:00:01PM GMT+5: Nuclear detonation in northern Iraq, shortly confirmed by monitoring stations in the euroasia region.

3. 12/11/2002, 10:10PM, GMT+5: White House spokesman Ari Fleischer tells reporters:"GODDAMNIT NO WE DIDN"T DROP THE F*CKING BOMB!!!", throws the mic at the crowd, and then has to be restrained by Secret Service agents and dragged out.

4. 12/11/2002, 10:11PM, GMT+5: Iraqi defence minister tells reporters:"Told'ya"

5. 12/11/2002, 10:30PM GMT+5: US strongly condemns the Iraqi nuclear test, shortly followed by all other nuclear powers and NATO members.

6. 12/11/2002, 10:40PM, GMT+5: Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Yemen, Kuwait, and Turkey all ask US troops to leave their respective territory.

7. 12/11/2002, 10:45PM, GMT+5: Unconfirmed witness reports of Israeli military aircrafts exploding mid-air, and massive number of US fighter jets over Israeli border.

8. 12/11/2002, 11PM, GMT+5: Employees working overtime at the Kinko's near Pentagon are told to "go home and take a well deserved rest." A recovered, though still pale, Mr. Ari Fleischer later explains that "it is consistent with this administration's long standing policy of conserving energy YOU F*CKING MORON OHGOD I HATE THIS F*CKING JOB." Moments later, UN Secretary General Kofi Anan announces that the UN inpsection team in Iraq has been recalled.

9. 1/10/2003: US and Iraq sign referendum on establishing temporary diplomatic offices in each other's capitol.

In an unrelated news, ten North Korean ships have been stopped and boarded on various oceans. When asked what have been discovered on the ships, Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld said:"Sometimes you just have this craving for cheese. You can't quite get your fingers on it. And then sometimes a tree falls in the forest...do I need to say more? (laughter)"

[LATE BREAKING NEWS] Over the past hour or so, 27 countries around the world have each declared having an active nuclear program in its final stage. Whitney Spears lips-sings John Lenin's "Imagine", making it to the top for 15th straight week. Hollywood releases a new hit movie "Can't We Just Get Along?" George Herbert Walker Bush resigns from former CIA director. Junior moves out of White House in U-haul.



[If you don't believe me, just remind yourself of India, Pakistan, and North Korea.]






________________________________________________________________

Can you imagine a pair of breasts, bare and full, approaching your face...at 100mph?
 -- Dr. Misnomeration
________________________________________________________________


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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 06:25:46 -0500
From:    Terry Galan <galante@MCMASTER.CA>
Subject: 20 Things You Can Get Away With Saying At Christmas

1. I prefer breasts to legs

2. Tying the legs together keeps the inside moist.

3. Smother the butter all over the breasts!

4. If I don't undo my trousers, I'll burst!

5. I've never seen a better spread!

6. I'm in the mood for a little dark meat.

7. Are you ready for seconds yet?

8. It's a little dry, do you still want to eat it?

9. Just wait your turn, you'll get some!

10. Don't play with your meat.

11. Stuff it up between the legs as far as it will go.

12. Do you think you'll be able to handle all these people at once?

13. I didn't expect everyone to come at the same time!

14. You still have a little bit on your chin.

15. How long will it take after you put it in?

16. You'll know it's ready when it pops up.

17. Just pull the end and wait for the bang.

18. That's the biggest bird I've ever had!

19. I'm so full, I've been gobbling nuts all morning.

20. Wow, I didn't think I could handle all that and still want more!

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 03:33:12 -0800
From:    Grady Lacy <gradylacy@YAHOO.COM>
Subject: Robbery <Possibly offensive to Friends>

A burglar entered the house of a Quaker and proceeded to rob it. The
Quaker heard the noise and took his shotgun downstairs. Upon finding the
burglar he aimed his gun and said gently, "Friend, I mean thee no harm,
but thou standest where I am about to shoot."

From R. Sissel


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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 07:27:10 -0500
From:    Paul Benoit <phyfendrum@HOTMAIL.COM>
Subject: Did I Hear You Right???

Words you wish you would hear.... and OFTEN!!!!

- "Try to gain a few pounds."

- "You're flossing too much."

- "It was only a loose wire; there's no charge."

- "You can retire right now."

- "I think you need a smaller size, ma'am."

- "Let's go to lunch. I'll treat."

- "I found this hundred-dollar bill right at your feet.
   It must be yours."

- "No, Sir, I'm not a telemarketer. I'm with the prize
   division, and you've just won a new car."

- "No, I don't think we should get married. In fact,
   let's keep separate residences. I'll pay all the
   bills for both of them."

- "No, honey, you control the remote tonight. It's
   too big a burden on me."

- "I'm with the IRS. We found an error on your return.
   It seems we owe you a lot of money."

- "No, your check didn't bounce. In fact, you have
   plenty of money in your account."

- "I know we just met, but would you consider going
   to the Bahamas with me for two weeks?"

- "You've lost weight!"

- "Your house sold for twice what you thought it would!"

- "This is not something for the garage sale. This is
   a rare and valuable antique!"






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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 07:40:10 -0500
From:    Rollo Tomasi <RolloTomasi@COMCAST.NET>
Subject: Santa Claus Goes on Atkins Diet, Asks Families to Leave Low-Carb Snacks

        Cookies and milk out; eggs, beef, chicken, cheese in

North Pole – Santa Claus announced today in his annual pre-holiday
press conference that he has begun the popular Atkins diet, and is
asking for help from families around the globe.  Atkins dieters are
allowed to consume large amounts of high-fat foods such as eggs, beef,
and cheese.  Carbohydrates, which are found in pasta, breads, and
fruits, and sweets, are not allowed.

Mr. Claus said that he decided to start the diet after he could not
fit into the pants he wore to deliver gifts last year.

"I couldn't bring myself to buy new pants, and I haven't had a good
body image lately.  I had to do something, and quick", said
Claus.  "Having a belly like a bowl full of jelly is one thing, but
being a complete fat ass is another.  I mean, even my jolly little toe
has fat on it."  According to inside sources, Mrs. Claus may have also
played a part in his decision to lose weight.

An elf, who wished to remain anonymous, said that Mrs. Claus "is
getting more and more involved" with day-to-day operations, especially
as Christmas nears.  "She pretty much runs the toy factory, and she is
making all the elves work a lot of overtime.  Plus, she made us all
sign waivers saying we wouldn't sue if we got injured on the job.
Now, Santa suddenly goes on the Atkins diet?  I guarantee that is her
doing.  She's a real pain in the ass.  We've all started calling
her 'Yoko'".

Santa says that his goal is to lose twenty pounds before he delivers
gifts on Christmas Eve, leaving him plump, but not grossly obese.
And, says Claus, he needs everyone's help to stick to his diet.

"I am asking the families of the world to leave snacks for me that are
low in carbohydrates.  Unfortunately, this means that the traditional
snack of cookies and milk is not acceptable.  Good alternatives are
scrambled eggs, cheese, beef, or chicken".

Experts agree that a thinner Claus may be a healthier Claus, but think
that the new snack requests may spoil some of the fun and tradition of
Christmas.

"I think it's great that Santa wants to lose a few pounds", says
holiday expert Michelle Bosler.  "But a great Christmas traditions is
being altered.  Leaving cookies and milk for Santa Claus dates back
hundreds of years.  I don't think families will enjoy scrambling eggs
or broiling a T-bone for Santa quite as much.  And these low
carbohydrate snacks are much more expensive than a couple of store-
bought cookies."

Despite the criticism, Claus vows to stick to his Atkins diet.  "I'm
going to do this.  I've tried other diets, and I just can't stick to
them.  I mean, have you ever had a SlimFast shake?  Tastes like
liquefied wood."

North Pole spokesperson Sandy Ashton said that if families are
uncomfortable leaving eggs or meat as a snack, they could opt to leave
no snack at all.

"We'd rather Santa not have a snack than eat foods that are high in
carbohydrates.  For families who don't wish to leave a low-carb snack,
we ask that they leave a note of encouragement for Santa, or some
bourbon, which is a low-carbohydrate beverage.  Dieting is difficult,
and he needs support if he is going to succeed."
__
Copyright © 2002 Doug Small / The Blue Brick

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 06:53:18 -0600
From:    Les Pourciau <pourciau@MEMPHIS.EDU>
Subject: Is anybody gonna do it?

(To the tune of "If You're Happy And You Know It Clap Your Hands")

If we cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets hurt your Mama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are Saudi
And the bank takes back your Audi
And the TV shows are bawdy,
Bomb Iraq.

If the corporate scandals growin', bomb Iraq.
And your ties to them are showin', bomb Iraq.
If the smoking gun ain't smokin'
We don't care, and we're not jokin'.
That Saddam will soon be croakin',
Bomb Iraq.

Even if we have no allies, bomb Iraq.
From the sand dunes to the valleys, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections;
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.

While the globe is slowly warming, bomb Iraq.
Yay! the clouds of war are storming, bomb Iraq.
If the ozone hole is growing,
Some things we prefer not knowing.
(Though our ignorance is! showing),
Bomb Iraq.

So here's one for dear old daddy, bomb Iraq,
From his favorite little laddy, bomb Iraq.
Saying "no" would look like treason.
It's the Hussein hunting season.
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 15:28:52 +0200
From:    Maurizio Mariotti <mariotti@VENTURENET.CO.ZA>
Subject: Good news, Bad news <pathetic>

There is the story of a pastor who got up one Sunday and announced to
his congregation: "I have good news and bad news. The good news is, we
have enough money to pay for our new building program. The bad news is,
it's still out there in your pockets."

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 08:54:12 -0500
From:    Bill Stebbins <bs16@CORNELL.EDU>
Subject: Official Resignation

To Whom It May Concern

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult in
order to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year old.

The tax base is lower. I want to be six again.I want to go to
McDonald's and think it's the best place in the world to eat. I
want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make waves with
rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money 'cause you can
eat them. I want to play kickball during recess and stay up on
Christmas Eve waiting to hear Santa and Rudolph on the roof.  I
long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were
your colors, the addition tables and simple nursery rhymes, but
it didn't bother you because you didn't know what you didn't know,
and you didn't care.

I want to go to school and have snack time, recess, gym, and field
trips.  I want to be happy because I don't know what should make
me upset.  I want to think the world is fair, and everyone in it
is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
That Santa really reads my letter and will bring me what I want.

Sometime, while I  was maturing, I learned too much. I learned of
nuclear weapons, prejudice, starving and abused kids, lies,
unhappy marriages, illness, pain and mortality. I learned that Santa
is parents!  I want to be six again.

I want to think that everyone, including myself, will live forever
because I don't know the concept of death. I want to be oblivious
to the complexity of life, and be overly excited by the little
things again. I want television to be something I watch for fun,
not something I use for escape from the things I should be doing.
I want to live knowing the little things I find exciting will
always make me as happy as when I first learned them.....I want
to be six again.

I remember not seeing the world as a whole, but rather being aware
of only the things that directly concerned me. I want to be naive
enough to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else. I want to
walk down the beach and think only of the sand beneath my feet,
and the possibility of finding that blue piece of sea glass I'm
looking for.  I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and
riding my bike, letting the grownups worry about time, the
dentist, and how to find the money to fix the old car. I want to
wonder what I'll do when I  grow up, and what I'll be, who I'll
be, and not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out. I
want that time back.  I want to use it now as an escape, so that
when my computer crashes, or I have a mountain of paperwork, or
two depressed friends, or a  fight with my significant other, or
bittersweet memories of times gone by, or second thoughts about
so many things, I can travel back, and build a snowman, without
thinking about anything except whether the snow sticks together,
and what I can possibly use for the snowman's mouth.

I want to be six again, especially now, as Christmas approaches.
I want to expect nothing except presents and goodies. No terrorism,
no fears, no worries.  Expecting only that Santa coming 'cause I've
been good (and somehow, mysteriously, even if I've not been all
that good?).  No unemployment or job worries, no taking care of
ailing, elderly parents, no homeless in the streets.  No aching
joints or blurred vision, just the joy of Christmas and meeting
with all my friends to share what we got.

I want to be six again.

http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/bs16

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 11:30:20 -0500
From:    CharlieIn@AOL.COM
Subject: All About (Christmas) Eve

All About (Christmas) Eve

I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be interesting for a non-Italian girl to see the way an Italian family spends the holidays. I thought my mother and my date would hit it off like a partridge in a pear tree.

So I was wrong. So sue me.

I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended the invitation. "I know these family things can be a little weird," I told her, "but my folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun on Christmas Eve."

"Sounds fine to me," Karen said.

I had only known my mother for 31 years when I told her I'd be brining Karen with me. "She's a very nice girl and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you."

"Sounds fine to me," my mother said.

And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two sounds-fine-to-me's. What more could I want?

I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian households, Christmas Eve is the social event of the season- an Italian women's raison d'être. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening. Christmas Eve is what Italian women live for.

I should also point out, I suppose, that when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being.

I brought her anyway.

7pm -- We Arrive

Karen and I walk in and putter around for half an hour waiting for other guests to show up. During the half hour, my mother grills Karen like cheeseburger and cannily determines that Karen does not clean, cook or bake. My father is equally observant. He pulls me into the living room and notes, "She has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being."

7:30 pm -- Other Guests Arrive

Uncle Ziti walks in with my Aunt Mafalde, assorted kids, assorted gifts. We sit around the dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black olives, salami, provolone and anchovies. When I offer to make Karen's plate she says, "Thank you. But none of those things, okay?" She points to the anchovies.

"You don't like anchovies?" I ask.

"I don't like fish," Karen announces to one and all as 67 other varieties of food-that-swim bake, broil and simmer in the next room.

My mother makes the sign of the cross. Things are getting uncomfortable. Aunt Mafalde asks Karen what her family eats on Christmas Eve. Karen says "Knockwurst." My father, who is still staring, in a daze, at Karen's chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmur, "Knockers?" My mother kicks him so hard he gets a blood clot. None of this is turning out the way I hoped.

8pm -- Second Course

The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the table. Karen declines the crab sauce and says she'll make her own with butter and ketchup. My mother asks me to join her in the kitchen. I take my "Merry Christmas" napkin and place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen.

"I don't want to start any trouble," my merry mother says calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands. "But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm going to throw acid in her face."

"Come on," I tell her. "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants."

My mother considers the situation, then nods. As I turn to walk back into the dining room, she grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth", she says, "are you serious with this tramp?"

"She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks."

"Well, it's your life," she tells me, "but if you marry her, she'll poison you."

8:30 pm -- More Fish

My stomach is knotted like one of those macramé' plant hangers that are always three times larger than the plants they hold. All the women get up to clear the spaghetti dishes, except for Karen, who, instead, lights a cigarette. "Why don't you give them a little hand?" I politely suggest.

Karen makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks. "Dear, you don't have to do that," my mother tells her, smiling painfully.

"Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the forks in the sink. As she reenters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head and smashes against the wall. From the kitchen, my mother says, "Whoops."

I vaguely remember that line from Torch Song Trilogy: "'Whoops?' No. 'Whoops' is when you fall down an elevator shaft."

More fish comes out. After some goading, Karen tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy, like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like one of those old women you always see in the sixth row of a funeral home. Aunt Mafalde does the same. Karen, believing that this something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Uncle Ziti doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the table cloth.

10pm -- Coffee, desert

Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel.  When Karen asks for milk, my mother finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, picks up a cannoli and slaps my mother with it.

"This is fun," Karen says.

Fun? No. Fun is when you fall down and elevator shaft.

But, amazingly, everyone is laughing and smiling and filled with good cheer -- even my mother, who grabs me by the shoulder, laughs, and says, "Get this bitch out of my house."

Sounds fine to me.

Bill Ervolino
Nightlife Magazine
1992
Find more by Mr. Ervolino at www.northjersey.com


Charles Indelicato
Shopping for the holidays? Check out my affiliates: http://www.geocities.com/cindelicato

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 10:23:11 -1000
From:    Mickey&Karen <mhenn@GTE.NET>
Subject: church<adult off >

It was time for Father John's Saturday night bath, and young nun, Sister
Magdalene had prepared the bath water and towels just the way the old
nun had instructed.

Sister Magdalene was also instructed not to look at Father John's
nakedness if she could help it, do whatever he told her to do, and pray.

The next morning the old nun asked Sister Magdalene how the Saturday
night bath had gone.

"Oh, sister," said the young nun dreamily. "I've been saved."

"Saved? And how did that fine thing come about?" asked the old nun.

"Well, when Father John was soaking in the tub, he asked me to wash him,
and while I was washing him he guided my hand down between his legs
where he said the Lord keeps the Key to Heaven."

"Did he now?" said the old nun evenly.

Sister Magdalene continued, "And Father John said that if the Key to
Heaven fit my lock, the portals of Heaven would be opened to me and I
would be assured of salvation and eternal peace. And then Father John
guided his Key to Heaven into my lock."

"Is that a fact?" said the old nun even more evenly.

"At first it hurt terribly, but Father John said the pathway to
salvation was often painful and that the glory of God would soon swell
my heart with ecstasy. And it did, it felt so good being saved."

"That wicked old Devil!" said the old nun. "He told me it was Gabriel's
Horn, and I've been blowing it for 40 years!"

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 12:23:10 -0800
From:    Randall Woodman <wrwoodman@YAHOO.COM>
Subject: Breakfast

From: Dan Absher

From Paul Harvey

A man went for breakfast at his regular restaurant one morning.  He ordered
eggs Benedict.  The order was served on a bright, shiny upside down hubcap.
He asked the waiter why the unusual serving plate.  The waiter replied
"There's no plate like chrome for the Hollandaise."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
-=} Randall {=-  I'm an incorrigible punster, so don't corrige me!

Need a tagline?  Visit http://www.taglinesgalore.com/
Looking for a pun time?  Visit http://www.punsgalore.com/


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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 19:30:21 -0800
From:    Terry Tubman <ttubman@ANGELFIRE.COM>
Subject: cyber.confusion@french.language

  French is such a rich language that it now has, by state decree, two words for "@"
-- the "at" sign that has become a worldwide symbol for the Internet -- but only one official way to pronounce it.  A special commission struggling to defend French against the spread of English in cyberspace has decided that the popular e-mail sign can be named either "arobase" or "arrobe."
  But the august commission, which failed a few years ago to impose the name
"jeunes pousses" ("young sprouts") for Internet start-up companies, decreed that the French should only call it "arrobe" when they give out their e-mail addresses. The problem is that most people say "arobase" -- the traditional French name for the "at" sign -- and have never heard of the old Spanish measure of weight "arroba" that the commission used to create its new term.
  "Nobody uses arrobe," lexicographer Christine Ouvrard told the daily Liberation after the decree was published in the Official Journal Sunday. "The bureaucracy may issue its decrees, but in dictionaries, we reflect how people use words."  The same decree concerning the "at" sign also advised the French to say "le site" instead of "le site web" to describe a Web site.
  Even if these new terms never catch on, France's ever-active linguistic guardians have not worked completely in vain.  They have successfully fought off other English terms, imposing "ordinateur" for computer, "logiciel" for software and "informatique" for computer science.

+Source: Reuters, Dec. 10, 2002+



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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 23:19:13 -0500
From:    Punk Stutter <The-Punk-With-The-Stutter@COMCAST.NET>
Subject: The Cobain Diaries

"Journals", a book culled from the journal entries of Kurt Cobain,
recently hit bookstores.  Among the revelations:

•  Admitted he has all of Sonic Youth's albums only so people would
think he was cool

•  Smoked pot once at summer camp

•  Got to sixth base with Courtney Love

•  Margins filled with drawings of monster trucks

•  Thought racism, sexism were wrong

•  Regretted his K Records tattoo from Day One

•  Aug. 8, 1987: "The cackling vampires dance on our graves"

•  Aug. 9, 1987: "Note to self: Tequila and mushrooms don't mix"

•  Couldn't spell word "restaurant" to save his life

•  Was upset Hüsker Dü never wrote back

•  Sometimes kinda wondered if maybe Love was a power-hungry,
attention-craving bitch with violent tendencies and no discernible
talent who was riding his coattails to a major record deal and would
eventually drive him to an early grave

•  Despite all the problems they had together, always maintained a
deep, abiding love for heroin
___    ___    ___    ___    ___
© Copyright 2002 Onion, Inc.

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 22:21:14 -0600
From:    Tom and Carrol <tcr@CHARTER.NET>
Subject: Mid-life quickies

I've seen two shows lately that went on and on about how mid-life is a great
time for women. Just last week Oprah had a whole show on how great menopause
will be....

Puhleeeeeeeze!

I've had a few thoughts of my own and would like to share them with you.
Whether you are pushing 40, 50, 60 (or maybe even just pushing your luck)
you'll probably relate.

Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down. This gives us
plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.

In mid-life women no longer have upper arms, we have wingspans. We are no
longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels in drag.

Mid-life is when you can stand naked in front of a mirror and you can see
your rear without turning around.

Mid-life is when you go for a mammogram and you realize that this is the
only time someone will ask you to appear topless.

Mid-life is when you want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube top and
scream, "Listen honey, even the Roman empire fell and those will too."

Mid-life brings wisdom to know that life throws us curves and we're sitting
on our biggest ones.

Mid-life is when you look at your-know-it-all, beeper-wearing teenager and
think: "For this I have stretch marks?"

In mid-life your memory starts to go. In fact the only thing we can retain
is water.

Mid-life means that your Body By Jake now includes Legs By Rand McNally --
more red and blue lines than an accurately scaled map of Wisconsin.

Mid-life means that you become more reflective... You start pondering the
"big" questions. What is life? Why am I here? How much Healthy Choice ice
cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?

But mid-life also brings with it an appreciation for what is important.

We realize that breasts sag, hips expand and chins double, but our loved
ones make the journey worthwhile. Would any of you trade the knowledge that
you have now for the body you had way back when?

Maybe our bodies simply have to expand to hold all the wisdom and love we've
acquired.

That's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it!

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Date:    Wed, 11 Dec 2002 22:53:57 -0800
From:    Sandy - AKA Ms Sam <sandy@CHUCKLESOFCHOICE.COM>
Subject: December 11th ~ Jack Frost Day <ADULT>

On December 11, 1998, the movie "Jack Frost," starring Michael Keaton and
Kelly Preston, premiered nationwide. Celebrate all frost today!

FROSTY THE HITMAN
(sung to the tune "Frosty The Snowman")

Frosty the Hitman
was a very cruel soul,
With a private jet and a .44
and two eyes as red as coal.
Frosty the Hitman
was a fairy tale they say,
But the hitmen knew that
he really blew off someone's head that day.

There must have been some bullets in the gun that Frosty bought
For a hitman died when Frosty tried to take the safety off!

So Frosty the Hitman
was forced to run away,
Never lookin' back
at the run-down shack
Where the gang had used to stay.

While running through the streets of town he saw a traffic cop,
But cleaned him out with a couple rounds when he heard him holler stop

Well Frosty the Hitman
had to hurry on his way,
And no one ever saw him again
Right up to this day.
Well Frosty the...

Sandy (AKA MsSam)
http://chucklesofchoice.com

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