Humor...I Need Humor...

[Carruthers]

I once had a girlfriend who was a mermaid.

It shouldn't surprise anyone I suppose, but the relationship was doomed.








She wanted to remain halibut.

[xoxoxoBruce]

Congratulations, you proved me wrong, I swore it couldn't get worse than Dracula.

[fargon]

Bad Carruthers!!!

[Ianumalsa]

By Bob WallaceStory about Grammy Gordon - Airline

Charges were dropped yesterday against Ruth 'Grammy'Gordon, an 83-year-old wheelchair-bound grandmother, who was originally charged with assault and battery, and assault with a deadly weapon, because of an altercation she had last week with six airport security guards, that left all six hospitalised.

'Justice has been served', said the 95-pound mother of three and grandmother of six, as she sat in her wheelchair, aided in her breathing by an oxygen bottle. 'Now I'm going to sue every fool in the federal government for ignorance, stupidity, and just plain general incompetence. I'm an American, and I won'tbe treated like this.'

The problem began last month as Gordon was attempting to board an airplane. 'These guys are supposed to be some kind of professionals', she said, 'but they're dumber than rocks. Here they were letting guys who looked just like terrorists walk through without searching them, and then they pull me aside and tell me they're going to search me? I don'tthink so.'

According to one witness, Bud Cort of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, one guard, 'who weighed about 300 pounds, looked like he was drunk, and had his shirt out, told this woman she couldn'tboard the plane unless they searched her. He was really rude. That's when the trouble started.' Security guard Ruth 'Grammy' Gordon

Videotapes showed that Gordon ran the guard down with her motorized wheelchair, then sat on top of the screaming man while spinning her chair in circles. 'Doofus was so fat he couldn'tget up', said Gordon with a giggle.

One guard who attempted to pull Gordon's wheelchair off of the screaming man from behind was hit over the head with an oxygen bottle and knocked unconscious. A third guard, who approached Gordon from the front, was also left dazed on the floor. Witnesses said she was cackling, 'Put your hands on an old lady, will you?'as she bashed both guards. The tape also showed a fourth guard attempting to grab Gordon's wheelchair. Gordon removed a knitting needle from her purse and stabbed him in his left buttock.'What a wimp, 'she told reporters.'He started screaming and grabbing his butt and running like a puppy that someone kicked.'

'It was amazing', said another witness, a Scott Ryan. 'The whole crowd just stood there cheering and clapping. I mean, she was whupping butt.'

A fifth guard that attempted to grab Gordon had the seat of his pants set on fire with a cigarette lighter than had escaped detection.'He just went whoosh across the concourse, screaming and slapping at all these flames flying out of his rear, 'said Ryan.

A sixth guard did finally manage to get Gordon in a body hug. 'I think that was the wrong thing to do, 'said another witness, who declined to be identified.'She just grabbed him by his greasy hair with one hand and cracked him across the jaw with her skinny fist. And down and out he went.'

After all this, Gordon's chair was still sitting on top of the first guard.




The tapes clearly showed her leaning over and yelling, 'Apologize to me, you fat sumbitch, or when I'm done with you you'll just be a greasy spot on the floor!'

As the crowd roared, the guard cried, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Uncle! I won'tdo it again!' Ruth 'Grammy' Gordon urban myth

Finally, Gordon surrendered without further incident, and was taken to jail and released on her own recognizance.'We didn'thave any choice, 'said an unidentified officer of the court.'Over 200 people showed up to support her. I think if we had demanded bail, there would have been a riot.'

Over 20 lawyers offered to defend her for free. However, realizing the precariousness of the case, Gordon was not charged with anything. 'I doubt there's a jury in the whole country that would have found her guilty of anything, 'said one of the lawyers.

'I'm flying again tomorrow', Gordon told reporters. 'And I suggest no one at the airport so much as look at me wrong.'

[Ianumalsa]

One foggy night, a United States Aircraft Carrier was cruising off the coast of Newfoundland and the junior radar operator spotted a light in the gloom. Here is a transcript of what happened next.

The radar operator worked out that a collision was likely unless the other vessel changed its course. So he sent a radio message.

U.S. Aircraft Carrier Radar Officer:
'Please divert your course at least 7 degrees to the south to avoid a collision'.

Back came the reply:'You must be joking, I recommend you divert your course instead'.

The U.S. Radar Officer referred the matter to his superior officer. And reported the incident as insubordination.

As a result the Captain of the Air Craft Carrier sent a second message. 'I believe that I out rank you, and am giving you a direct order to divert your course now!!!'Lighthouse urban myth

Canadian Radio Operator:
'This is a lighthouse. I suggest you take evasive action.'

Footnote to the lighthouse urban myth

This mirthful lighthouse story is an urban myth. Our friend Jackson heard a rumour that the story is discussed at the annual coastguards' convention, where the different versions are compared and scored. Apparently most versions are preposterous because the ship would have visual contact with the lighthouse. However, if you add a fog to your version you gain credibility - at least in the eyes of the lighthouse keepers.

[xoxoxoBruce]

Do not try this at home...

[Iyanuganda]

Lol this are some good posts

[Issaubaldo]

LoL

[lumberjim]

Lol

[Clodfobble]

Lol!!!!!!!!11!!

[Gravdigr]

lOl

[BigV]

Overheard:

The use of decimal places by economists is proof that they have a sense of humor.

[xoxoxoBruce]

In the dead of summer, a fly was resting on a leaf beside a lake.
A hot, dry fly who said to no one in particular "Gosh... if I go down three inches, I will feel the mist from the water and I will be refreshed".

There was a fish in the water thinking "Gosh... if that fly goes down three inches, I can eat him".

There was a bear on the shore thinking "Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches... that fish will jump for the fly... and I will eat him".

It also happened that a hunter was further up the bank of the lake preparing to eat a cheese sandwich. "Gosh" he thought "if that fly goes down three inches... and that fish leaps for it... that bear will expose himself and grab for the fish. I'll shoot the bear and then have a proper lunch".

You probably think this is enough activity for one bank of a lake, but I can tell you there was more.
A wee mouse by the hunter's foot was thinking "Gosh... if that fly goes down three inches... and that fish jumps for that fly... and that bear grabs for that fish... the dumb hunter will shoot the bear and drop his cheese sandwich".

A cat lurking in the bushes took in this scene and thought, as was fashionable to do on the banks of this particular lake around lunch time "Gosh... if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly... and that bear grabs for that fish... and that hunter shoots that bear... and that mouse makes off with the cheese sandwich... then I can have mouse for lunch".

The poor fly is finally so hot and so dry that he heads down for the cooling mist of the water...
The fish swallows the fly...
The bear grabs the fish...
The hunter shoots the bear...
The mouse grabs the cheese sandwich...
The cat jumps for the mouse...
The mouse ducks...
The cat falls into the water.

The moral of the story is: Whenever a fly goes down three inches some pussy is probably in danger.

[xoxoxoBruce]

Bob Newhart book interview...

[xoxoxoBruce]

(An alien describing humans to another alien.)

“They’re made out of meat.”

“Meat?”

“Meat. They’re made out of meat.”

“Meat?”

“There’s no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They’re completely meat.”

“That’s impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?”

“They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don’t come from them. The signals come from machines.”

“So who made the machines? That’s who we want to contact.”

“They made the machines. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Meat made the machines.”

“That’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You’re asking me to believe in sentient meat.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they’re made out of meat.”

“Maybe they’re like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage.”

“Nope. They’re born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn’t take long. Do you have any idea what’s the life span of meat?”

“Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside.”

“Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re meat all the way through.”

“No brain?”

“Oh, there’s a brain all right. It’s just that the brain is made out of meat! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“So … what does the thinking?”

“You’re not understanding, are you? You’re refusing to deal with what I’m telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat.”

“Thinking meat! You’re asking me to believe in thinking meat!”

“Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?”

“Omigod. You’re serious then. They’re made out of meat.”

“Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they’ve been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years.”

“Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?”

“First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual.”

“We’re supposed to talk to meat.”

“That’s the idea. That’s the message they’re sending out by radio. ‘Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.’ That sort of thing.”

“They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?”

“Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat.”

“I thought you just told me they used radio.”

“They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat.”

“Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?”

“Officially or unofficially?”

“Both.”

“Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor.
Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing.”

“I was hoping you would say that.”

“It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?”

“I agree one hundred percent. What’s there to say? ‘Hello, meat. How’s it going?’

But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?”

“Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can’t live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact.”

“So we just pretend there’s no one home in the Universe.”

“That’s it.”

“Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You’re sure they won’t remember?”

“They’ll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we’re just a dream to them.”

“A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat’s dream.”

“And we marked the entire sector unoccupied.”

“Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?”

“Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again.“

"They always come around.”

“And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone …”