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  #1411 (permalink)  
Old 03-24-2010, 12:01 PM
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Hey All, didja hear about the new luxury car that Government - er, General Motors is designing? Yea, some of the options that will be available sound real interesting! Take this one, for example: GM is designing some new seats so that in the hot weather it will blow cold air on the occupant's rump, and warm air during the cold weather for a climate-controlled back-side.

Though, now that I look at the fine print, apparently that option only works for politicians - it'll just blow smoke up the arse of everyone else.

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Old 03-25-2010, 09:35 AM
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Have You Ever Danced?

An old prospector shuffled into the town of El Indio , Texas leading an old tired mule.. The old man headed straight for the only saloon in town, to clear his parched throat. He walked up to the saloon and tied his old mule to the hitch rail. As he stood there, brushing some of the dust from his face and clothes, a young gunslinger stepped out of the saloon with a gun in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other..

The young gunslinger looked at the old man and laughed, saying, "Hey old man, have you ever danced?" The old man looked up at the gunslinger and said, "No, I never did dance... never really wanted to.."

A crowd had gathered as the gunslinger grinned and said, "Well, you old fool, you're gonna' dance now," and started shooting at the old man's feet. The old prospector, not wanting to get a toe blown off, started hopping around like a flea on a hot skillet. Everybody was laughing, fit to be tied.

When his last bullet had been fired, the young gunslinger, still laughing, holstered his gun and turned around to go back into the saloon. The old man turned to his pack mule, pulled out a double-barreled shotgun, and cocked both hammers. The loud clicks carried clearly through the desert air.

The crowd stopped laughing immediately. The young gunslinger heard the sounds too, and he turned around very slowly. The silence was almost deafening. The crowd watched as the young gunman stared at the old timer and the large gaping holes of those twin barrels.

The barrels of the shotgun never wavered in the old man's hands, as he quietly said, "Son, have you ever kissed a mule's *****?"

The gunslinger swallowed hard and said, "No sir...... but... I've always wanted to."

There are a few lessons for us all here:

Never be arrogant.
Don't waste ammunition.
Whiskey makes you think you're smarter than you are.
Always, always make sure you know who has the power.
Don't mess with old men, they didn't get old by being stupid.

I just love a story with a happy ending, don't you?
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Old 03-25-2010, 02:33 PM
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An elderly Italian man who lived on the outskirts of Rimini, Italy went to the local church for confession.

When the priest slid open the panel in the confessional, the man said:
"Father during World War II, a beautiful Jewish woman from our neighborhood knocked urgently on my door and asked me to hide her from the Nazis. So I hid her in my attic."

The priest replied: "That was a wonderful thing you did, and you have no need to confess that."

"There is more to tell, Father... She started to repay me with sexual favors. This happened several times a week, and sometimes twice on Sundays."

The priest said, "That was a long time ago, my son, and by doing what you did, you placed the two of you in great danger, but two people under those circumstances can easily succumb to the weakness of the flesh. However, if you are truly sorry for your actions, you are indeed forgiven."

"Thank you, Father. That's a great load off my mind. I do have one more question."

"And what is that, my son?" asked the priest. The elderly man replied, "Should I tell her the war is over?''
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Old 03-26-2010, 12:12 PM
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CATTLE GUARDS
(this one's for Shine)

For those of you who have never traveled to the West or Southwest, cattle guards are horizontal steel rails or pipes placed at fence openings, in dug-out places in the roads adjacent to highways (sometimes across highways), to prevent cattle from crossing over that area. For some reason the cattle will not step on the "guards," probably because they fear getting their feet caught between the rails.

A few months ago, President Obama received a report that there were over 100,000 cattle guards in Colorado . Because Colorado ranchers had protested his proposed changes in grazing policies, he ordered the Secretary of the Interior to fire half of the guards immediately.

Before the Interior Secretary could respond and presumably straighten him out, Vice-President, Joe Biden, intervened with a request that before any guards were fired, they be given six months of retraining.
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Old 03-26-2010, 04:52 PM
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and paid for with a pell grant????
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Old 03-26-2010, 04:56 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by deadbodyman
and paid for with a pell grant????
"The American Way"
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  #1417 (permalink)  
Old 03-26-2010, 05:34 PM
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A magazine recently ran a 'Dilbert Quotes' contest. They were looking for people to submit quotes from their real-life Dilbert-type managers. These were voted the top ten quotes in corporate America:
'As of tomorrow, employees will only be able to access the building using individual security cards. Pictures will be taken next Wednesday, and employees will receive their cards in two weeks.'
(This was the winning quote from Fred Dales, Microsoft Corp in Redmond WA)

'What I need is an exact list of specific unknown problems we might encounter.' (Lykes Lines Shipping)

'E-mail is not to be used to pass on information or data. It should be used only for company business.' (Accounting manager, Electric Boat Company)

'This project is so important we can't let things that are more important interfere with it.' (Advertising/ Marketing manager, United Parcel Service)

'Doing it right is no excuse for not meeting the schedule.'

(Plant Manager, Delco Corporation)

'No one will believe you solved this problem in one day! We've been working on it for months. Now go act busy for a few weeks and I'll let you know when it's time to tell them.' (R&D supervisor, Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing/ 3M Corp)


Quote from the Boss: 'Teamwork is a lot of people doing what I say.' (Marketing executive, Citrix Corporation)

My sister passed away and her funeral was scheduled for Monday. When I told my Boss, he said she died on purpose so that I would have to miss work on the busiest day of the year. He then asked if we could change her burial to Friday. He said, 'That would be better for me.'
(Shipping executive, FTD Florists)


'We know that communication is a problem, but the company is not going to discuss it with the employees.' (Switching supervisor, AT&T Long Lines Division)
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  #1418 (permalink)  
Old 03-29-2010, 07:49 AM
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sent to me by my fried Franz,put your drink down and swallow anything your eating

WARNING!!!! Clear your mouth of all fluids or food.before reading...PLEASE..
You've been warned....



The funniest damn thing happened to me on January 1st 2009. We decided to cruise
out to The Old Country Buffet for dinner after spending New Years Eve at a
relatives house in Indiana. It was a Friday night which means that macaroni and
beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served.
Friday night is also kid's night at The Old Country Buffet, complete with Dizzy
the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards, my
kids love it. It may seem that the events about to be told have little
connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar
then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order
to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar.
Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you in
all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my
belly. Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such from
all the Chinese food consumed the night before and yes, that morning also
(Mongolian beef is good in the morning). By the time I had eaten four
overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on
my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward
pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been
passed in batches right at the table without too much concern. Unfortunately,
that was not to be. After a minute or so it was cle ar that I was dealing with
explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your
intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but
I digress...

I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw
two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the
sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a
handicapped stall. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall
since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good crap. However, in this
case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife
telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is
having someone walk in on me while I am taking a crap. So I went to the normal
stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the lar ge, handicapped stall even
though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall
switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had
walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my *** was reaching Biblical
proportions.


I began "The Move." For those women who may be reading this, let me take a
moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at
any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of
physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances.
There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet,
beginning the body turn to position ones *** toward said toilet, hooking ones
fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the
squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly,
results in the flawless expulsion of crap at the exact same second that ones as
s is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the
penis is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that
the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of
coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about halfway into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a
pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards
attending kids night. It was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it
when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been
bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so
intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex
started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated
stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What
happened next was so q uick that the exact sequence of events is a bit fuzzy,
but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.

In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from
the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was
half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of
vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes
precedence over crap no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ***.
It is apparently an evolutionary thing since craping will not kill you, but
vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any
food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus
diverted.

At that very split second, my *** exploded in what can only be described as a
wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In
Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably
measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of crap the consistency of thick mud
with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ***. But remember I
was only halfway down on the toilet at that moment. The crap wave was of such
force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat
that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall. Then I
sat down; I was already halfway to sitting anyway and had actually reached the
point of no return. I have always considered myself as a relatively stable
gravitationally person (one that can keep his balance), but when you get beyond
a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to
say, the crap wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to
completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls alone. It
had to of course land back on about 1/3 of the seat rim which I had now just
collapsed upon.
< BR>
Now, back to the vomit... While all the craping was going on, the vomit was
still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my
mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just
consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One
bends over, so I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though.
Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly
opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my
pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my
ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants
with elastic on the ankles.

In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes,
and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the
inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several
second s, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended.
Yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in crap
that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a
height of about five feet and still had enough force to come back at me,
covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid crap. All while thick crap
was spread all over my *** in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.
And of course there was no damn toilet paper.

What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy
who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was
laughing so hard that I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I
calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to
have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought
the toilet pap er with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next.

I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was
happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to
go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At
that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my
pants or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom (leaving our kids with
my mother in law back at the table) not knowing what was wrong and with a
certain amount of worry in her voice. I stated to her (still laughing and having
trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help.
Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably
assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring
the car around so we could bolt immediately. I'm sure she had no idea what she
was in for unt il I asked her to go across the street and purchase me new
underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to
considerable leakage around the elastic ankles things) new sneakers. And she
then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for
an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her
later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She
left.



The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towel and a few dry ones. I
asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they
would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific
details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in
excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks
working at The Old Country Buffet making minimum wage or just slightly above. At
that moment, I think it dawned on him exa ctly the gravity of the situation.

Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally
grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial
bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tiles floors and have a drain in
the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a
commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink
as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my
wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I
stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the
store, handing the bag to my wife.

I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck
in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the
stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and
some little bastard kid walke d in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had
not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way. When I finished
getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing
down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose
and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank
him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff
was there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I
thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car
where my family was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at The Old
Country Buffet. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant
in which I have eaten.
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  #1419 (permalink)  
Old 03-29-2010, 08:16 AM
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My response...

Franz,If your ever down this way for a visit...... We'll go out to eat...
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Old 03-30-2010, 03:40 PM
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one full turn after it squeeks
 
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Two very important characteristics to posses are !
PATIENCE and WISDOM !
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Old 03-30-2010, 09:17 PM
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---SEX AFTER DEATH .. . .

A couple made a deal that whoever died first would come back and inform the other of the sex after life.

Their biggest fear was that there was no after life at all.

After a long life together, the husband was the first to die.

True to his word, he made the first contact:

" Marion . . . Marion "

"Is that you, Bob?"

"Yes,

I've come back like we agreed."

"That's wonderful! What's it like?"

"Well, I get up in the morning, I have sex. I have breakfast and then it's off to the golf course. I have sex again, bathe in the warm sun and then have sex a couple of more times. Then I have lunch (you'd be proud - lots of greens). Another romp around the golf course, then pretty much have sex the rest of the afternoon. After supper, it's back to golf course again. Then it's more sex until late at night. I catch some much needed sleep and then the next day it starts all over again"

"Oh, Bob! Are you in Heaven?"


"No............I'm a Jackrabbit in Arizona."
__________________
"When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not." - Mark Twain
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Old 03-31-2010, 03:20 PM
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one full turn after it squeeks
 
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Ole is a farmer in Minnesota . He is in need of a new milk cow and hears about a nice one for sale over in Nordakota (that would be North Dakota for you non-Scandahoovians out there). He drives to Nordakota, finds the farm and checks out the cow. He reaches under to see if the cow gives milk. When he grabs a teat and pulls, the cow farts. Surprised, Ole looks at the farmer who's selling the cow, then reaches under to try again. He grabs another teat, pulls, and the cow farts. Milk does come out however, so after some haggling with the cow's current owner, Ole decides to buy the cow. When he gets back to Minnesota , he calls over his neighbor, Sven, and says, "Hey, Sven, come and look at dis new cow I yust bought. Pull her teat and see vat happens." Sven reaches under, pulls a teat, and the cow farts. Sven looks at Ole and says, "You bought dis cow in Nordakota, didn't yah?" Ole is very surprised since he hadn't told Sven about his trip. Ole replies, "Yah, dats right. But how did yah know?" Sven says, "My wife is from Nordakota."
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Old 03-31-2010, 09:07 PM
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Like a ride, little girl?

A little 10-year-old girl was walking home, alone,
from school one day, when a big man in a car pulls up beside her.
After following along for a while, turns to her and asks, "Hey there,
do you want to go for a ride?"
"NO!" says the little girl as she keeps on walking.
The car again pulls up beside her and asks,
"I will give you $10 if you hop in the car." "NO!"
says the little girl as she hurries down the street.
The car pulls up beside the little girl again
and says, "I'm feeling generous today! I'll give you
20 bucks and a big bag of candy if you will just hop
in my car and go for a ride with me."
Finally, the little girl stops and turns towards him
and screams out. . .


"Look Dad, you're the one who bought the Ford
instead of the Chevy! So ride in it by yourself!"
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Old 04-02-2010, 12:33 PM
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RETIREMENT HOME TEST

During a visit to the retirement home, I asked the director, how do
You determine whether or not a person should be institutionalized?"

'Well,' said the Director, ' we fill up a bathtub, and then we offer
a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her
to empty the bathtub.'

'Oh, I understand,' I said. 'A normal person would use the bucket
because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup.'

'No.' said the Director, 'A normal person would pull the plug. Do
You want a bed near the window?'




Do any of you want the bed next to mine?
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Old 04-02-2010, 08:27 PM
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Wait a minute

Let me get this straight. We're going to be gifted with a health care plan written by a committee whose chairman says he doesn't understand it, passed by a Congress that hasn't read it but exempts themselves from it, to be signed by a president who also hasn't read it and who smokes, with funding administered by a treasury chief who didn't pay his taxes, to be overseen by a surgeon general who is obese, and financed by a country that's broke.
Am I missing something?
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