Humor...I Need Humor...

[Yznhymr]

The graduate with a Science degree asks, "Why does it work?" The graduate with an Engineering degree asks, "How does it work?" The graduate with an Accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?" The graduate with a Liberal Arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with that?"

[xoxoxoBruce]

A young man was strolling down a street in south London. As he passed a large building with a fence around it, he heard a group of people chanting “Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen” over and over again.
Curious, he tried to see over the fence, but couldn’t. Then he spotted a knot in the wood, and put his eye to the hole.
He just managed to spy some old people sitting in deckchairs chanting, before a finger came out of nowhere and poked him in the eye. As he staggered back, the old people started chanting, “Fourteen, fourteen, fourteen …”

[spudcon]

I ended up with an older woman at a club last night. She looked
pretty good for a 60-year-old. In fact, she wasn't too bad at all, and I
found myself thinking that she probably had a really hot daughter.
We drank a bit, and we had a bit of a snuggle, and she asked if
I ever had a 'Sportsman's Double?'.
'What's that?' I asked.
'It's a mother and daughter threesome,' she said.
'Oh,' I said as my mind began to embrace the idea, No I haven't.'
And I wondered what this daughter of hers might look like.
We drank a bit more, then she says with a wink that tonight was
'my lucky night'.
I went back to her place.
We walked in. She put on the hall light and shouted upstairs:
'Mom, You still awake?'

[BrianR]

Resent-From: ksr!warren@harvard.harvard.edu


(If you don't understand the T-shirt image, look at your copy of "The Design
and Implementation of the 4.3BSD UNIX Operating System" by Leffler, et. al.)

Resent-From: Charles Forsythe <convex!forsythe@uxc.cso.uiuc.edu>

This was sent to me by Linda Branagan--Convex doc. writer and Connie Dobbs look-alike. I think its an excellent illustration of why "Bob" began his mission in Dallas.

The following is a true story.

Last week I walked into a local "home style cookin' restaurant/watering hole" to pick up a take out order. I spoke briefly to the waitress behind the counter, who told me my order would be done in a few minutes.

So, while I was busy gazing at the farm implements hanging on the walls, I was approached by two, uh, um... well, let's call them "natives." These guys might just be the original Texas rednecks--complete with ten-gallon hats, snakeskin boots and the pervasive odor of cheap beer and whiskey.

"Pardon us, ma'am. Mind of we ask you a question?"

Well, people keep telling me that Texans are real friendly, so I nodded.

"Are you a Satanist?"

Well, at least they didn't ask me if I liked to party.

"Uh, no, I can't say that I am."

"Gee ma'am. Are you sure about that?" they asked.

I put on my biggest, brightest Dallas Cowboys cheerleader smile and said, "No, I'm positive. The closest I've ever come to Satanism is watching Geraldo."

"Hmm. Interesting. See, we was just wondering why it is you have the lord of darkness on your chest there."

I was this close to slapping one of them and causing a scene--then I stopped and noticed the T-shirt I happened to be wearing that day. Sure enough, it had a picture of a small, devilish looking creature that has for quite some time now been associated with a certain operating system. In this particular representation, the creature was wearing sneakers.

They continued: "See, ma'am, we don't exactly appreciate it when people show off pictures of the devil. Especially when he's lookin' so friendly."

These idiots sounded terrifyingly serious.

Me: "Oh, well, see, this isn't really the devil, it's just, well, it's sort of a mascot."

Native: "And what kind of football team has the devil as a mascot?"

Me: "Oh, it's not a team. It's an operating-- uh, a kind of computer."

I figured that an ATM machine was about as much technology as these guys could handle, and I knew that if I so much as uttered the word "unix" I would only make things worse.

Native: "Where does this satanical computer come from?"

Me: "California. And there's nothing satanical about it really."

Somewhere along the line here, the waitress has noticed my predicament--but these guys probably outweighed her by 600 pounds, so all she did was look at me sympathetically and run off into the kitchen.

Native: "Ma'am, I think you're lying. And we'd appreciate it if you'd leave the premises now."

Fortunately, the waitress returned that very instant with my order, and they agreed that it would be okay for me to actually pay for my food before I left. While I was at the cash register, they amused themselves by talking to each other.

Native #1: "Do you think the police know about these devil computers?"

Native #2: "If they come from California, then the FBI oughta know about 'em."

They escorted me to the door. I tried one last time: "You're really blowing this all out of proportion. A lot of people use this `kind of computers.' Universities, researchers, businesses. They're actually very useful."

Big, big, BIG mistake. I should have guessed at what came next.

Native: "Does the government use these devil computers?"

Me: "Yes."

Another BIG boo-boo.

Native: "And does the government pay for 'em? With our tax dollars?"

I decided that it was time to jump ship.

Me: "No. Nope. Not at all. You're tax dollars never entered the picture at all. I promise. No sir, not a penny. Our good Christian congressmen would never let something like that happen. Nope. Never. Bye."

Texas. What a country.

[BrianR]

Rrriiiiinnnnggg, rrriiiinnnngg

'Hello?'

'Hi honey. This is Daddy. Is Mommy near the phone?'

'No, Daddy.

She's upstairs in the bedroom with Uncle Paul.'

After a brief pause, Daddy says,
'But honey, you haven't got an Uncle Paul.'

Oh yes I do, and he's upstairs in the room with Mommy,
right now.'

Brief pause.

'Uh, okay then, this is what I want you to do. Put the phone
down on the table, run upstairs and knock on the bedroom door
and shout to Mommy that Daddy's car just pulled into the
driveway.'

'Okay, Daddy, Just a minute.'

A few minutes later, the little girl comes back to the phone.
'I did it, Daddy.'

'And what happened, honey?'

'Well, Mommy got all scared, jumped out of bed with no
clothes on and ran around screaming. Then she tripped over
the rug, hit her head on the dresser and now she isn't moving
at all!'

'Oh my God!!! What about your Uncle Paul?'

'He jumped out of the bed with no clothes on, too. He was all
scared and he jumped out of the back window and into the
swimming pool. But I guess he didn't know that you took out
the water last week so you could paint the pool. He hit the
bottom of the pool and I think he's dead.'

*****Long Pause*****

*****Longer Pause*****

*****Even Longer Pause*****

Then Daddy says, 'Swimming pool?........

Is this 486-5731?'

No, I think you have the wrong number.......

[BrianR]

Cat Got Your Tongue?
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying. On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating.

I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.

The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially the new acquisition was no problem, but one morning I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.

"Ed! the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it."

You know where the button is," I protested through the shower (pitter-patter). "Reset it yourself!"

"I am scared!" She pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" (Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second."

So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was, but not without consequence.

I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances.

Nay, it wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink.

At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.

Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed.

Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step manner.

Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option.

Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.

When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter.

At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

If they had only known!!

[Kagen4o4]

ok i just cant be fucked

[Stress Puppy]

Try viagara, or smoother pickup lines.

[Kagen4o4]

ok...great...i just went out and tried those things. you forgot to mention not to try them in that order.

[Stress Puppy]

Why not? If you're smooth, it shouldn't matter if you're also a flagpole.

[classicman]

Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year, and every year Morris would say,
'Esther, I'd sure like to ride in that helicopter.'

Esther always replied, 'I know Morris, but that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars!'

One year Esther and Morris went to the fair, and Morris said,
'Esther, I'm 85 years old. If I don't ride that helicopter, I might never get another chance'

To this, Esther replied, 'Morris that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars.'

The pilot overheard the couple and said, 'Folks I'll make you a deal. I'll take the both of you for a ride.
If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say a word, I won't charge you!
But if you say one word, it's fifty dollars.'

Morris and Esther agreed and up they went.
The pilot did all kinds of fancy maneuvers, but not a word was heard.
He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, but still not a word.

When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris and said,
'By golly, I did everything I could to get you to yell out, but you didn't. I'm impressed!'

Morris replied, 'Well, to tell you the truth, I almost said something when Esther fell out,
but you know, fifty dollars is fifty dollars!'

[classicman]

.

[classicman]

..

[BrianR]

Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register.

I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.

Why do I tell you this?

Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950’s:

1. Teaching Math In 1950’s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit ?
2. Teaching Math In 1960’s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100 His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?
3. Teaching Math In 1970’s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Math In 1980’s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
5. Teaching Math In 1990’s
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers, and if you feel like crying, it’s ok. )
6. Teaching Math In 2008
Un hachero vende una carretada de madera para $100. El costo de la producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?

[lookout123]

Brilliant. sad, true, but brilliant.