Digest for Sunday, June 22, 1997

There are 15 messages totalling 560 lines in this issue.




Topics of the day:

  1. The Contest
  2. Moore on English
  3. Ode to Four-Letter Words (language)
  4. Practical jokes: Bumper stinkers
  5. science jokes
  6. Another leper joke
  7. If Males Could Menstruate (Cleanish)
  8. new chairman JCS
  9. The Religious Bear
  10. NYC Restaurant Joke
  11. Definitely offensive to psychiatrists (mine hated this)
  12. Honeymoon
  13. Lite poetry, Leg Work
  14. What Does Your Daddy Do?
  15. Re-installing Windows


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Date:    Sat, 21 Jun 1997 23:47:36 -0700
From:    Todd C. Nessen <tnessen@IX.NETCOM.COM>
Subject: The Contest

This guy walks into a bar and notices a huge pot of cash sitting on the bar.
"what's this" he says "Some kind of contest?"

The bartenter says "Yea, for $50.00 you can get in on it".

"What do I have to do?" he says.

The bartender says "First, see that 350 pound bouncer by the door, you have
to beat his ass. Second, there is pitbull tied up out back, you have to pull
his abcessed tooth. Third, theres an 88 year old lady up stairs, you have to
go up and give her multiple orgasms."

The guy thinks and says "I'm in" and throws his money into the pot. He walks
over to the bouncer and coldcocks him, lays him out with one punch. He then
walks through the bar (everyone is staring now) and out the backdoor. They
hear the pitbull barking and yelping and barking, then silence.

The guy walks back into the bar and says "Okay, where's the old broad with
the abcessed tooth?"

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 03:45:25 -0400
From:    Jim Moore Jr <jimjr@PIPELINE.COM>
Subject: Moore on English

*   The 3rd grade teacher asked a student why he was not working on the
  assignment, and he replied, "I ain't got no pencil."
    Naturally, she attempted to correct him at once: "Billy, it's I don't
  have a pencil.  You don't have a pencil.  He doesn't have a pencil.  We
  don't have any pencils and they don't have any pencils. Is that clear ?
    "No teacher !" said the bewildered child.  "What the hell happened to
  all the damn pencils ?"
                                - - - - -

*   I had a secretary one time who was a language purist if ever there was
  one.  Naturally my correspondence and memos drove her up the wall.
    I remember one time a draft came back because I had ended a sentence
  in a preposition.  I attached a yellow sticky note which said: "Now
  this is just the kind of minor change up with which I will not put."
                                - - - - -

*   During a pre-employment physical a fellow from Texas was asked by the
  doctor about the scars on his scalp, shoulders and back.
    The young man replied, "Oh, that was when I was working on a ranch and
  got drugged."
    Naturally the doctor became somewhat alarmed and wanted more details
  after hearing that.
    The lad said, "Well... weren't much to it.  My horse bolted, and as I
  fell off, I got my foot caught in the stirrup and I was drugged."
                                - - - - -

* If lawyers are disbarred and ministers unfrocked, could:
  electricians get delighted ?             cashiers get distilled ?
  orchestra leaders be disbanded ?         artists' models deposed ?
  office clerks be defiled ?               mediums be dispirited ?
  cooks get deranged ?                     alpine climbers be dismounted ?
                                - - - - -

* I would also like to submit for your review and approval a new plural of
  the word "whim" --  women ! (Spelling not withstanding)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Enjoy jokes ?  Visit me @
http://www.corpcomm.net/~llittle/jimmy.html

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 11:47:44 +0200
From:    Brian Myers <bmyers@IAFRICA.COM>
Subject: Ode to Four-Letter Words (language)

Banish the use of those four-letter words
Whose meanings are never obscure.
The Angles and Saxons, those bawdy old birds,
Were vulgar, obscene, and impure.
But cherish the use of the weak-kneed phrase
That never quite says what you mean;
Far better you stick to your hypocrite ways
Than be vulgar, or coarse, or obscene.

When Nature is calling, plain speaking is out,
When ladies, God bless 'em, are milling about,
You make water, wee-wee, or empty the glass;
You can powder your nose; "Excuse me" may pass;
Shake the dew off the lily; see a man 'bout a dog;
Or when everyone's soused, it's condensing the fog,
But be pleased to consider and remember just this -
That only in Shakespeare do characters piss!

You may speak of a movement, or sit on a seat,
Have a passage, or stool, or simply excrete;
Or say to the others, "I'm going out back,"
Then groan in pure joy in that smelly old shack.
You can go lay a cable, or do number two,
Or sit on the toidy and make a do-do,
But ladies and men who are socially fit
Under no provocation will go take a shit!

When your dinners are hearty with onions and beans,
With garlic and claret and bacon and greens;
Your bowels get so busy distilling a gas
That Nature insists you permit it to pass.
You are very polite, and you try to exhale
Without noise or odour - you frequently fail -
Expecting a zephyr, you carefully start,
But even a deaf one would call it a fart!

A woman has bosoms, a bust or a breast.
Those lily-white swellings that bulge 'neath her vest;
They are towers of ivory, sheaves of new wheat;
In a moment of passion, ripe apples to eat.
You may speak of her nipples as small rings of fire
With hardly a question of raising her ire;
But by Rabelais's beard, she'll throw fifteen fits
If you speak of them roundly as good honest tits!

It's a cavern of joy you are thinking of now,
A warm, tender field just awaiting the plough
It's a quivering pigeon caressing your hand,
Or that sweet little pussy that makes a man stand.
Or perhaps it's a flower, a grotto, a well,
The hope of the world, or a velvety hell.
But, friend, heed this warning, beware the affront
Of aping a Saxon: don't call it a cunt!

Though a lady repel your advance, she'll be kind
Just as long as you intimate what's on your mind.
You may tell her you're hungry, you need to be swung,
You may ask her to see how your etchings are hung.
You may mention the ashes that need to be hauled;
Put the lid on her sauce-pan, but don't be to bold;
For the moment you're forthright, get ready to duck -
The girl isn't born yet who'll stand for "Let's fuck!"

Banish the use of those four-letter words
Whose meanings are never obscure.
The Angles and Saxons, those bawdy old birds,
Were vulgar, obscene, and impure.
But cherish the use of the weak-kneed phrase
That never quite says what you mean;
Far better you stick to your hypocrite ways
Than be vulgar, or coarse, or obscene.

(from the Comedy list)
=================================================
Brian Myers, an American in Cape Town.  To join a virtual campfire of story-
tellers/listeners from all over the world, the Coolest Campfire on Wires,
e-mail to: majordomo@story.nerdnosh.org   Type "subscribe nerdnosh"
personal: capekid@bigfoot.com, capekid@hotmail.com, bmyers@iafrica.com

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 11:28:48 -0400
From:    George Hughes <hughie@MINDSPRING.COM>
Subject: Practical jokes: Bumper stinkers

        You may be like me when it comes to practical jokes. I'm just plain
clueless. So I did some research.

        One of the easiest pranks to pull in the great automobile culture
(the USA) is to make an unauthorized application of an ironic or sardonic
bumper sticker (b.s.) to your victim's car.

        Now I'm not talking about putting a "Clinton-Gore 96" b.s. on a
Republican's car, or a "Don't blame me, I voted Bush" b.s. on a Democrat's
car. Putting a "God is my Co-Pilot" b.s. on a athetist's vehicle is too
obvious to be funny. A good practical jokes doesn't necessarily make your
mark angry. Actually, a I knew a diehard conversative who left an
unauthorized b.s. "Yes, I think Newt is Smart" on his car for a month after
he finally noticed it. But he took "Rush Limbaugh is really boring" off
immediately. (Note for international readers: Newt refers to Newt Gingrich.
He is the current Speaker of the U. S. House <lower chamber of Congress>,
has a Ph.D. in history, couldn't get tenure at a small Georgia government
college, then got elected to congress, and he tries to downsize the
government. Rush Limbaugh failed his college public speaking course and now
he talked for three hours five days a week on about 500 America radio
stations, espousing Republican ideology and telling Clinton jokes.)

        Okay, here are some examples of practical joke bumper stinkers and
an example of a good target for the joke:

"Honk if your horny" --- Grandmother's car
"HIV Negative" --- a friend with a reputation for multiple partners
"Too much sex is still not enough" --- brother's car (he still a virgin at 25)
"One wife is too many, Four girlsfriends Enough" --- A two-timing guy
        Easily adapted for a two-timing gal.
"Born to be hugged" --- someone who has less than satisfactory hygienic habits
"I vote Selfish" --- made for a Republican
"Welfare Works" --- made for a Democrat
"World's best mother" --- thoughtless, intolerant, insensitive brute
        You can change the word "best" to "biggest" with a marker pen.
A b.s. with only the colors of the driver's archrival school is neat
        You can include the score of the archrival's most recent victory over
        the driver's school
"Happiness is ballroom dancing" --- 17 year-old brother, immediately before he
        drives over to meet with his gang
"My other car is a Porsche" --- on any Rolls-Royce
"Family Car" --- owner is a recent, first-time parent
        Nice if it is a sports car which will obviously need to be sold
"For this I went to college?" --- on any extravagant, luxurious car.
"Safety First" --- on any Yugo, or other cheap compacts
"I love Shakespare" --- English teacher
"Pies are Square" --- Math teacher"
"Make an Appointment" --- any professional person
"How's my driving?" --- teenager's car: Include parent's telephone number

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 16:58:09 +0100
From:    Joe Clark <smooth@BIOCH.OX.AC.UK>
Subject: science jokes <offensive to scientists>

Where does liquid mercury come from?

Little H.G. Wells.
-----------------------------

A Biochemist walks into a biochemistry shop and requests a cup of
Adenosine Tri-Phosphate. The shop keeper present the shopper with a cup
and says, 'That will be A-T-P.'  [[Sounds like eighty P]]

==============================================================

Explanations: Hg is the symbol for mercury, and ATP is the abbreviation
for adenosine tri-phosphate - in England eighty P is eighty pence.

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 12:28:05 -0400
From:    Alan <mailalan@BELLSOUTH.NET>
Subject: Another leper joke <off to lepers>

Q: Why did they interrupt the hockey game at the leper colony??

A:There was a face off in the corner...

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 20:25:34 +0200
From:    Brian Myers <bmyers@IAFRICA.COM>
Subject: If Males Could Menstruate (Cleanish)

     Male human beings have built whole culturesaround the idea that
penis-envy is "natural" to women - though havingsuch an unprotected organ
might be said to make men more vulnerable,and the power to give birth makes
womb-envy at least logical.
     In short, the characteristics of the powerful, whatever they may be,
are thought to be better than the characteristics of the of the
powerless- and logic has nothing to do with it.  What would happen, for
instance, if suddenly, magically, men could menstruate and women could not?
The answer is clear - menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy,
masculine event:
     Men would brag about how long and how much.
     Boys would mark the onset of menses, that longed-for proof of manhood,
with religious ritual and stag parties.
     Congress would fund a National Institute of Dysmenorrhea to help stamp
out monthly discomforts.
     Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. (Of course, some
men would still pay for the prestige of commercial brands such as John
Wayne Tampons, Muhammed Ali's Rope-a-dope Pads, Joe Namath Jock Shields -
"For Those Light Bachelor Days," and Robert "Baretta" Blake Maxi-Pads.)
     Military men, right-wing politicians, and religious fundamentalists
would cite menstruation ("MENstruation") as proof that only men could serve
in the army ("You have to give blood to take blood"), occupy political
office ("Can women be aggresive without that steadfast cycle governed by
the planet Mars?"), be priests and ministers ("how could a woman give her
blood for our sins"), or rabbis ("Without the monthly loss of impurities,
women remain unclean").
     Male radicals, left-wing politicians, and mystics, however, would
insist that women are equal, just different; and that any woman could enter
their ranks if only she were willing to self-inflict a major wound every
month ("You MUST give blood for the revolution"),
recognize the preeminence of menstrual issues, or subordinate her selfness
to all men in their Cycle of Enlightenment.
     Street guys would brag ("I'm a three-pad man") or answer praise from a
buddy ("Man, you are lookin' good") by giving fives and saying, Yeah, man,
I'm on the rag!"
     TV shows would treat the subject at length. ("Happy Days": Richie and
Potsie try to convince Fonzie that he is still "The Fonz," though he has
missed two periods in a row.) So would newspapers. (SHARK SCARE THREATENS
MENSTRUATING MEN. JUDGE CITES MONTHLY STRESS IN PARDONING RAPIST.) And
movies. (Newman and Redford in "Blood Brothers"!)
     Men would convince women that intercourse was more pleasurable at
"that time of the month." Lesbians would be said to fear blood and
therefore life itself - though probably only because they needed a good
menstruating man.
     Of course, male intellectuals would offer the most moral and logical
arguements. How could a woman master any discipline that demanded a sense
of time, space, mathematics, or measurement, for instance, without that
in-built gift for measuring the cycles of the moon and planets - and thus
for measuring anything at all? In the rarefied fields of philosophy and
religion, could women compensate for missing the rhythm of the universe? Or
for their lack of symbolic death-and-resurrection every month?
     Liberal males in every field would be kind: the fact that "these
people" have no gift for measuring life or connecting the universe,
the liberals would explain, should be punishment enough.

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 15:09:09 -0400
From:    Gwendolyn E Eckman <geckman@POLARIS.UMUC.EDU>
Subject: new chairman JCS

EARLY BIRD - WINTER 1998

AP WASHINGTON.  Army PFC to be Chairman of JCS.

After eighteen months of relentless sexual and morality purges, Secretary
of Defense William Cohen announced that he will recommend Army PFC Ed
Andrus to be the next Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  According to
Cohen, "It was a damn tough choice, because every one of the eight
personnel remaining in America's fighting services was extremely well
qualified."  Cohen went on to praise Andrus' record as a wheeled vehicle
mechanic and his fine performance as Charge of Quarters and Day Room
Orderly in the 2nd Battalion, 21st Infantry.  "Ed is the best and he will
do a great job for our country as we enter the 21st Century," said Cohen.

AP learned that Andrus' closest competitor was U.S. Navy Petty Officer
Willie Huckabee.  But when investigators found out that Huckabee had
kissed a girl, who was not his wife, while attending the Lee Harvey Oswald
Elementary School, his name was dropped from the list.  In a public
statement, Huckabee said, "I knew I was wrong when I did it, but damn she
was pretty.  I regret any embarassment that I have caused the Navy."
Cohen's previous choice, Marine Staff Sergeant Henley Dood, was found to
have smoked in the Boys' Room while attending junior high school in
Mobile, Alabama.  Dood is now serving a life sentence at the United
States' Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.

In his first public statement, Chairman-designate Andrus made the
following comments, "You know, growing up all alone in the jungle didn't
give me much of an opportunity to meet women.  Heck, I couldn't even speak
English until I was fifteen years old, and even then, those darn priests
told me they'd cut my ___ off if they caught me with a girl.  But, I
really do believe that I might like them, if I had the chance."  Andrus
continued, "The eight of us that are left are real good folks.  Ernie
Weed's a Mennonite, and I'm told that Seaman Godly used to be a nun before
she joined up.  Don't worry America...you can count on us!"

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 14:50:39 -0500
From:    PHREdd <phredd@MCS.NET>
Subject: The Religious Bear

It seems a pastor from Maine skipped services one Sunday to go bear
hunting in the mountains. As he turned the corner along the path, he and a
bear collided. The pastor stumbled backwards, slipped off the trail, and
began tumbling down the mountain -- with the bear in hot pursuit. Finally
the pastor crashed into a boulder, sending his rifle flying in one
direction and breaking both his legs. As the bear closed in, the pastor
cried out in desperation, "Lord, I'm sorry for what I have done. Please
forgive me and save me! Lord, please make that bear a Christian." Suddenly
the bear skidded to a halt at the pastor's feet, fell to its knees,
clasped its paws together and said, "God, bless this food which I am about
to eat."

(Blaine)
(phredd@mcs.net)

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 16:07:58 EDT
From:    Donald E. Chesnel <dches@JUNO.COM>
Subject: NYC Restaurant Joke <Offensive to NYC Restauranters and Japanese
         Businessmen>

A waitress walks up to one of her tables in a New York City restaurant
and notices that the three Japanese businessmen seated there are
furiously masturbating.

She says, "What the hell do you guys think you are doing?"  One of the
Japanese men says, "We are all berry hungry."  The waitress says, "So how
is whacking off in this restaurant going to help that situation?"

One of the other businessmen replies, "Because menu say, FIRST COME,
FIRST SERVED."

Ah so.

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 17:25:16 -0400
From:    Gail Katz <GKat86573@AOL.COM>
Subject: Definitely offensive to psychiatrists (mine hated this)

A gorgeous bimbo goes to the psychiatrists quite depressed.  The psychiatrist
suggests that she tell him about her dreams as maybe they have some
significance.
"Well, last night, I dreamt that I was on the Eiffel Tower, and then I was
falling, and I fell onto a sharp arrow, and then a man ran to me with
fountain pen, and....."
"Oh, my dear, it appears your dreams are full of phallic symbols."
"I don't understand," said the maiden. "What are phallic symbols?"
"A phallic symbol is anything that relates to the phallus."
"I still don't get it.  What is a phallus?"
"You know", said the psychiatrist.  "Maybe it would be easier if I showed
you."  At that point the dr stood up, unzipped his pants and showed the lady.
"Oh, I get it" she muttered,  "It's just like a prick, only smaller!"

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 02:17:50 -1000
From:    Ian Ibbetson <ian@PTSPLUMBING.CO.CK>
Subject: Honeymoon <rude>

On their 30th wedding anniversary, a couple decides to re-live their
honeymoon.  They went to the same resort, stayed in the same room, ate in the
same restaurant and danced in the same nightclub.  After this lovely,
romantic evening, they returned to their room.  The husband took off his
clothes,  got into bed and turned off the light.  The wife went into the
bathroom, took off her clothes and, leaning nude and provocatively backlit
against the bathroom door, asked her husband what he was thinking at this
very moment 30 years ago.  He said "To be honest, I was thinking that I would
like to fuck your brains out and suck your tits dry."  "What are you thinking
now", she asked.  "I think I did a pretty good job."

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 22:16:51 EDT
From:    Bill Edwards <EDWARDS@UGA.CC.UGA.EDU>
Subject: Lite poetry, Leg Work

Leg Work by Felicia Lamport

The doctors all say
   When a diet's beginning
That a walk every day
   Is both healthy and thinning.

But it's hard to arrive
   At a method for balking
The impulse to drive
   When we ought to be walking:

>From cradle to grave
   There's an absence of leeway
In the home of the brave
   And the land of the freeway.

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Date:    Mon, 23 Jun 1997 00:15:03 -0500
From:    Ossama Alami <oalami@MNSINC.COM>
Subject: What Does Your Daddy Do?

What Does Your Daddy Do?

(From The Laugh Page - http://www.mnsinc.com/oalami/LaughPage/)

A grade school teacher was asking students what their parents did for
a living.

"Tim, you be first," she said. "What does your daddy do all
day?"

Tim stood up and proudly said, "He's a doctor."

"That's wonderful. How about you, Amie?"

Amie shyly stood up, scuffed her feet and said, "My father is a
mailman."

"Thank you, Amie," said the teacher.

"What about your father, Billy?"

Billy proudly stood up and announced, "My daddy plays piano in a
whorehouse."

The teacher was aghast and promptly changed the subject to geography.
Later that day she went to Billy's house and rang the bell. Billy's
father answered the door. The teacher explained what his son had said
and demanded an explanation.

Billy's father said, "I'm actually an attorney. How can I explain a
thing like that to a seven-year-old?"

_______________________________________________________________
Ossama O. Alami                   http://www.mnsinc.com/oalami/
oalami@mnsinc.com                              ICQ UIN: 1020287
    "Life's full of mysteries. Consider this one of them."

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Date:    Sun, 22 Jun 1997 21:16:31 -0700
From:    Jack Kolb <KOLB@UCLA.EDU>
Subject: Re-installing Windows

Thanks Varda Ullman Novick <vunovick@netcom.com>, Peter Langston
<psl@langston.com> and Barbara Millikan <millikan@pnn.com>.

     REINSTALLING WINDOWS

This is to be sung to the tune of "When I'm Cleaning Windows"

I bought a new computer,
It cost two thousand pound;
But every time I switch it on
I keeps on falling down.

I used to think it was my friend
Now it drives me round the bend;
You'd be surprised the time I spend
Reinstalling Windows.

I switch it on; what is this?
Something wrong with config.sys;
This isn't my idea of bliss,
Reinstalling Windows.

I want to share my printers and
I want to share my files,
I want to share my anger 'cos
It drives me bloomin' wild.

Load disk four, oh what fun!
It says it helps you get things done;
Every day now everyone's
Reinstalling Windows.

Load disk ten; it will say
All you do is plug and play
Why do I spend every day
Reinstalling Windows?

It can't find my printer
It can't locate my mouse;
The other day it told me that
They were in some other house.

Still unplugged, still unplayed,
E-mailed God in search of aid
He's far too busy I'm afraid
Reinstalling Windows.

Up at dawn for one more try;
Does it work? Can pigs fly?
How do I expect to die?
Reinstalling Windows.

It doesn't like my modem and
Detests all CD-ROMs;
Let's see if the setup wizard
Recognizes bombs.

I used to like a drink or three;
No time now, don't call for me;
I'm going to spend eternity
Reinstalling Windows.
                 - Author unknown

Thanks to Giuseppe Paccani for this contribution

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