Advert found in the Australian Canberra Times, Personals Section…
WANTED
A tall well-built woman with good
reputation, who can cook frogs
legs, who appreciates a good fuc-
schia garden, classic music and tal-
king without getting too serious.
Nah seriously, please only read lines 1, 3 and 5
I was riding to work yesterday when I observed a female driver cut right in front of a pickup truck causing him to have to drive on to the shoulder to avoid hitting her.
This evidently angered the driver enough that he hung his arm out his window and abused the woman.
"Man, that guy is stupid!" I thought to myself.
I ALWAYS smile nicely and wave in a sheepish manner whenever a female does anything to me in traffic and here’s why:
I drive 48 miles each way every day to work, that’s 96 miles each day.
Of these, 16 miles each way is bumper-to-bumper.
Most of the bumper-to-bumper is on an 8 lane highway so if you just look at the 7 lanes I am not in, that means I pass something like a new car every 40 feet per lane.
That’s 7 cars every 40 feet for 32 miles. That works out to be 982 cars every mile, or 31,424 cars.
Even though the rest of the 32 miles is not bumper to bumper, I figure I pass at least another 4000 cars.
That brings the number to something like 36,000 cars I pass every day.
Statistically, half of these are driven by females, that’s 18,000.
In any given group of females 1 in 28 are having the worst day of their period. That’s 642.
According to Cosmopolitan, 70% describe their love life as dissatisfying or unrewarding. That’s 449.
According to the National Institute of Health, 22% of all females have seriously considered suicide or homicide. That’s 98.
And 34% describe men as their biggest problem. That’s 33.
According to the National Rifle Association 5% of all females carry weapons and this number is increasing.
That means that EVERY SINGLE DAY, I drive past at least one female that has a lousy love life, thinks men are her biggest problem, has seriously considered suicide or homicide, is having the worst day of her period, and is armed.
Piss one off?
…I think not.
I don’t normally send this type of scare mongering but I have heard this from a few independent sources!
‘Yesterday I was on the Underground travelling on the Northern line. An Arab looking man got off the train and I noticed that he had left his bag behind. I grabbed the bag and ran after him, caught up with him at the top of the escalator and handed him back his bag.
He was extremely grateful to me and reached into his bag which I noticed contained bundles of banknotes. He offered me a reward, but I refused. So he looked round, made sure nobody was looking and whispered to me: "I can never repay your kindness Sir, but I will try to with a word of advice for you. Stay away from Aberdeen Steak Houses".
I was terrified. "Is there going to be an attack?" I whispered.
"No Sir", he whispered back, "I went there yesterday evening – the food was shit and the dessert selection extremely limited."’
After having their 11th child, a Tasmanian couple decided that was enough, as they could not afford a larger bed. So the husband went to his doctor/veterinarian and told him that he and his wife/cousin didn’t want to have any more children. The doctor told him that there was a procedure called a vasectomy that could fix the problem but that it was expensive.
A less costly alternative, said the doctor, was to go home, get a firecracker, light it, put it in a beer can, then hold the can up to his ear and count to 10.
The Tasmanian said to the doctor, "I may not be the smartest man in the world, but I don’t see how putting a firecracker in a beer can next to my ear is going to help me."
"Trust me," said the doctor.
So the man went home, lit a firecracker and put it in a beer can.
He held the can up to his ear and began to count:
"1"
"2"
"3"
"4"
"5"
…at which point he paused, placed the beer can between his legs, and resumed counting on his other hand.
This procedure also works in New Zealand and some southern states of the USA.
Many, many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her, and soon the two were wed.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother, for she was my father’s wife.
To complicate the matters worse, although it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
My little baby then became a brother-in-law to dad.
And so became my uncle, though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle, then that also made him brother
To the widow’s grown-up daughter who, of course, was my stepmother.
Father’s wife then had a son, who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandson, for he was my daughter’s son.
My wife is now my mother’s mother and it makes me blue.
Because, although she is my wife, she’s my grandma too.
If my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it simply drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw –
As the husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa!!
In the beginning, the plan for a divine human design was painstakingly implemented.
"The nerve endings," said St. Peter, "how many will I put in her hands?"
"How many did we put in Adam?" asked God.
"Two hundred, O Mighty One."
"Then we shall do the same for the woman."
"How many nerve endings should we put in woman’s genitals, O Mightiest?"
"How many did we put in Adam?"
"Four hundred twenty, O Mighty One."
"Oh yeah, now I remember, we wanted Adam to have a little fun procreating, didn’t we? Do the same for woman."
"Yes, O Great Lord."
"Wait! Hold it, Pete, Give her ten thousand, it’d be a hoot to hear her scream out my name…"
This is an exact replication of National Public Radio interview between a female broadcaster and US Army General Reinwald, who was about to sponsor a Boy Scout Troop visiting his military installation.
FEMALE INTERVIEWER: So, General Reinwald, what things are you going to teach these young boys when they visit your post?
GENERAL REINWALD: We’re going to teach them climbing, canoeing, archery, and shooting.
FEMALE INTERVIEWER: Shooting! That’s a bit irresponsible, isn’t it?
GENERAL REINWALD: I don’t see why, they’ll be properly supervised on the rifle range.
FEMALE INTERVIEWER: Don’t you admit that this is a terribly dangerous activity to be teaching children?
GENERAL REINWALD: I don’t see how. We will be teaching them proper rifle discipline before they even touch a firearm.
FEMALE INTERVIEWER: But you’re equipping them to become violent killers !
GENERAL REINWALD: Well, you’re equipped to be a prostitute, but you’re not one…… are you?
JERRY FALWELL: Because the chicken was gay! Isn’t it obvious? Can’t you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That’s what "they" call it: the "other side." Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side." That chicken should not be free to cross the road. It’s as plain and simple as that.
PAT BUCHANAN: To steal a job from a decent,hardworking American.
Dr. Seuss: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes! The chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed, I’ve not been told!
ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die. In the rain.
MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.: I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.
GRANDPA: In my day, we didn’t ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.
ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.
KARL MARX: It was a historical inevitability.
RONALD REAGAN: What chicken?
CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.
FOX MULDER: You saw it cross the road with your own eyes. How many more chickens have to cross before you believe it?
FREUD: The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.
BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken 98, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your check book and Internet Explorer is an inextricable part of eChicken.
EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?
LOUIS FARRAKHAN: The road, you will see, represents the black man. The chicken crossed the "black man" in order to trample him and keep him down.
THE BIBLE: And God came down from the heavens, and He said unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.
COLONEL SANDERS: I missed one?
A lawyer got married to a woman who had previously been married 12 times. On their wedding night, they settled into the bridal suite at their hotel and the bride said to her new groom, "Please, promise to be gentle. I am still a virgin."
This puzzled the groom, since after 12 marriages, he thought that at least one of her husbands would have been able to perform. He asked his new bride to explain the phenomenon. She responded:
My first husband was a Sales Representative who spent our entire marriage telling me, in grandiose terms, ‘It’s gonna be great!’
My second husband was from Software Services; he was never quite sure how it was supposed to function, but he said he would send me documentation.
My third husband was from Field Services and constantly said that everything was diagnostically OK, but he just couldn’t get the system up.
My fourth husband was from Educational Services, and he simply said, ‘Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.’
My fifth husband was from the Telemarketing Department and said that he had the orders, but he wasn’t quite sure when he was going to be able to deliver.
My sixth husband was an Engineer. He told me that he understood the basic process but needed three years to research, implement, and design a new state-of-the-art method.
My seventh husband was from Finance and Administration. His comments were that he knew how, but he just wasn’t sure whether it was his job.
My eighth husband was from Standards and Regulations and told me that he was up to the standards but that regulations said nothing about how to do it.
My ninth husband was a Marketing Manager. He said, ‘I know I have the product. I’m just not sure how to position it.’
My tenth husband was a psychiatrist, and all he ever wanted to do was talk about it.
My eleventh husband was a gynaecologist, and all he ever wanted to do was look at it.
My twelfth husband was a stamp collector, and all he ever wanted to do was – God I miss him!
So now I have married a lawyer, so I know I’m going to get screwed.
One day at the end of class little Gunner’s teacher had the class go home and think of a story and then conclude with the moral of that story. The following day the teacher asked for the first volunteer to tell a story; little Suzy raised her hand.
"My dad owns a farm and every Sunday we load the chicken eggs on the truck and drive into town to sell them at the market. Well, one Sunday we hit a big bump and all the eggs flew out of the basket and onto the road." The teacher asked for the moral of the story. Suzy replied, "Don’t keep all your eggs in one basket."
Next was little Lucy. "Well my dad owns a farm, too, and every weekend we take the chicken eggs and put them in the incubator. Last weekend only 8 of the 12 eggs hatched." The teacher asked for the moral of the story. Lucy replied, "Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched."
Last was little Gunner. "My uncle Steve was a Marine; the helicopter he was in was shot down over enemy territory. As the only survivor, all he had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. First he drank the whiskey so the enemy couldn’t enjoy it. Unfortunately, he was quickly surrounded by a 100 soldiers. He shot 70 with his machine gun, but ran out of bullets, so he pulled out his machete and killed 20 more. The blade on his machete broke, so he killed the last ten with his bare hands." Teacher looked in shock at Gunner and asked if there was any possible moral to his story. "Yes sir", Gunner replied, "Don’t screw with Uncle Steve when he’s been drinking."