You’ll notice that the banner above says “with Introduction by Impish Dragon (most of the time)” today is apparently not one of those times. Seems he is suffering sleeplessness, hot flashes and other side effects from the latest round of treatments for his medical issue. It’s either that or he’s going through menopause at this point!
Ok, enough with the all too easy cheap laughs at poor Impish’s expense…..
Let the Laughter Commence!
Actually I think its closer eight or ten languages!
THE BUS AND THE ZIPPER
In a crowded city at a busy bus stop, a woman who was waiting for a bus was wearing a tight leather skirt . As the bus stopped and it was her turn to get on, she became aware that her skirt was too tight to allow her leg to come up to the height of the first step of the bus .
Slightly embarrassed and with a quick smile to the bus driver, she reached behind her to unzip her skirt a little, thinking that this would give her enough slack to raise her leg .
Again, she tried to make the step only to discover she still couldn’t . So, a little more embarrassed, she once again reached behind her to unzip her skirt a little more . For the second time, attempted the step, and, once again, much to her chagrin, she could not raise her leg . With little smile to the driver, she again reached behind to unzip a little more and again was unable to make the step .
About this time, a large Texan who was standing behind her picked her up easily by the waist and placed her gently on the step of the bus . She went ballistic and turned to the would-be Samaritan and screeched, “How dare you touch my body! I don’t even know who you are!”
The Texan smiled and drawled, “Well, ma’am, normally I would agree with you, but after you unzipped my fly three times, I kinda figured we was friends . ”
Biting the bullet – cutting expenses.
I HOPE YOU WILL PARTICIPATE AND DO YOUR PART!
The President ordered the cabinet to cut $100 million from the $3.5 trillion federal budget.
I’m so impressed by this sacrifice that I have decided to do the same thing with my personal budget. I spend about $2000 a month on groceries, household expenses, medicine, utilities, etc, but it’s time to get out the budget cutting axe, go through my expenses, and cut back.
I’m going to cut my spending at exactly the same ratio, 1/35,000 of my total budget. After doing the math, it looks like instead of spending $2000 a month; I’m going to have to cut that number by six cents. Yes, I’m going to have to get by with $1999.94, but that’s what sacrifice is all about. I’ll just have to do without some things, that are, frankly, luxuries.
(Did the president actually think no one would do the math?)
John Q. Taxpayer
Great laugh… Archery
Around age 10 my dad got me one of those little badass compound bow beginner kits. Of course, the first month I went around our land sticking arrows in anything that could get stuck by an arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farmall tractor tire will take 6 rounds before it goes down?
That got boring, so being the 10 yr. Old Dukes of Hazard fan that I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut up T-shirt doused in Chainsaw gas tied around the end and was sending flaming arrows all over the place.
One summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large rotten oak stump in our backyard. I looked over under the carport and see a shiny brand new can of starting fluid (Ether). The light bulb went off in my head.
I grabbed the can and set it on the stump. I thought that it would probably just spray out in a disappointing manner. Lets face it, to a 10 yr. old mouth-breather like myself, (Ether), really doesn’t “sound” flammable. So, I went back into the house and got a 1 pound can of pyrodex (black powder for muzzle loader rifles).
At this point, I set the can of ether on the stump and opened up the can of black powder. My intentions were to sprinkle a little bit around the (Ether) can but it all sorta dumped out on me. No biggie, a 1 lb. Pyrodex and 16 oz (Ether) should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know?
You know what? Screw that I’m going back in the house for the other can.
Yes, I got a second can of pyrodex and dumped it too. Now we’re cookin’.
I stepped back about 15 ft and lit the 2 stroke arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and took aim. As I released I heard a clunk as the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time frame, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck… OH SHIT! He just got home from work. So help me God it took 10 minutes for that arrow to go from my bow to the can. My dad was walking towards me in slow motion with a WTF look in his eyes. I turned back towards my target just in time to see the arrow pierce the starting fluid can right at the bottom. Right through the main pile of pyrodex and into the can. Oh Shit.
When the shock wave hit it knocked me off my feet. I don’t know if it was the actual compression wave that threw me back or just reflex jerk back from 235 fricking decibels of sound. I caught a half a millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs all hovering 1 ft above the ground as far as I could see. It was like a little low to the ground layer of dust fog full of grasshoppers, spiders, and a worm or two.
The daylight turned purple. Let me repeat this… THE FRICKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE.
There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said “was”. That son-of-a-bitch got up and ran off.
So here I am, on the ground blown completely out of my shoes with my Thundercats T-Shirt shredded, my dad is on the other side of the carport having what I can only assume is a Vietnam flashback:
ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE YOU’RE BRINGIN’ EM IN TOO CLOSE!! CEASE FIRE. DAMN IT CEASE FIRE!!!!!
His hat has blown off and is 30 ft behind him in the driveway. All windows on the north side of the house are blown out and there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud about 2000 ft. Over our backyard. There is a Honda 185 3 wheeler parked on the other side of the yard and the fenders are drooped down and are now touching the tires.
I wish I knew what I said to my dad at this moment. I don’t know – I know I said something. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t hear inside my own head. I don’t think he heard me either… Not that it would really matter. I don’t remember much from this point on. I said something, felt a sharp pain, and then woke up later. I felt a sharp pain, blacked out, woke later….repeat this process for an hour or so and you get the idea. I remember at one point my mom had to give me CPR. And Dad screaming “Bring him back to life so I can kill him again”. Thanks Mom.
One thing is for sure… I never had to mow around that stump again, Mom had been bitching about that thing for years and dad never did anything about it. I stepped up to the plate and handled business.
Dad sold his muzzle loader a week or so later. I still have some sort of bone growth abnormality, either from the blast or the beating, or both.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, get your kids into archery. It’s good discipline and will teach them skills they can use later on in life.
This next one is sent to us by loyal reader/contributor/all around nice guy & faithful minion MRichard, who attributes it to something called “Training 2 Laugh”. Owing to a close personal business rivalry with Bacchus, to say nothing of having availed myself of this particular service a few times in my life I can attest to its accurate description and existence.
How many times have you woke up in the morning after a hard night out drinking and thought, “How on earth did I get home?” As hard as you try, you cannot piece together your return journey from the pub to your house.
The answer to this puzzle is that you used a Beer Scooter. The Beer Scooter is a mythical form of transport, owned and leased to the drunk by Bacchus the Roman god of wine.
Bacchus has acquired a large batch of these magical devices. The Beer Scooter works in the following fashion: The passenger reaches a certain level of innebriation and the “slurring gland” begins to give off a pheromone. Bacchus (or one of his many sub-contractors) detects this pheromone and sends down a winged Beer Scooter. The scooter scoops up the passenger and deposits them in their bedroom via a Trans-Dimensional Portal. This is not cheap to run, so a large portion of the passenger’s in-pocket cash is taken as payment.
This answers the second question after a night out “How did I spend so much money?”
Unfortunately, Beer Scooters have a poor safety record and are thought to be responsible for over 90% of all UDI (Unidentified Drinking Injuries). An undocumented feature of the beer scooter is the destruction of time segments during the trip. The nature of Trans-Dimensional Portals dictates that time will be lost, seemingly unaccounted for. This answers a third question after a night out: “What the hell happened?”
With good intentions, Bacchus opted for the REMIT (Removal of Embarrassing Moments In Time) add on, that automatically removes, in descending order, those parts in time regretted most. Unfortunately one person’s REMIT is not necessarily the REMIT of another and quite often lost time is regained in discussions over a period of time.
Independent studies have also shown that Beer Goggles often cause the scooter’s navigation system to malfunction thus sending the passenger to the wrong bedroom, often with horrific consequences. With recent models including a GPS, Bacchus made an investment in a scooter drive-thru chain specializing in half eaten kebabs and pizza crusts. Another question answered!!
For the family man, Beer Scooters come equipped with flowers picked from other people’s garden and Thump-A-Lot boots (Patent Pending). These boots are designed in such a way that no matter how quietly you tip-toe up the stairs, you are sure to wake up your other half. Special anti-gravity springs ensure that you bump into every wall in the house and the CTSGS (Coffee Table Seeking Guidance System) explains the bruised shins.
The final add-on Bacchus saw fit to invest in for some scooters is the TAS (Tobacco Absorption System). This explains how one person can apparently get through 260 Marlboro’s in a single night.
PS: Don’t forget the on-board heater, which allows you to comfortably get home from the pub in sub-zero temperatures, wearing just a T-shirt.
AN ACTUAL CRAIG’S LIST PERSONALS AD
To the Guy Who Tried to Mug Me in Downtown Savannah night before last.
Date: 2009-05-27, 1 :43 a.m. E.S.T.
I was the guy wearing the black Burberry jacket that you demanded that I hand over, shortly after you pulled the knife on me and my girlfriend, threatening our lives. You also asked for my girlfriend’s purse and earrings. I can only hope that you somehow come across this rather important message.
First, I’d like to apologize for your embarrassment; I didn’t expect you to actually crap in your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket.. The evening was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason.. My girlfriend had just bought me that Kimber Model 1911 ..45 ACP pistol for my birthday, and we had picked up a shoulder holster for it that very evening. Obviously you agree that it is a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head … isn’t it?!
I know it probably wasn’t fun walking back to wherever you’d come from with that brown sludge in your pants. I’m sure it was even worse walking bare-footed since I made you leave your shoes, cell phone, and wallet with me. That prevented you from calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again].
After I called your mother or “Momma” as you had her listed in your cell, I explained the entire episode of what you’d done. Then I went and filled up my gas tank as well as those of four other people in the gas station, — on your credit card. The guy with the big motor home took 150 gallons and was extremely grateful!
I gave your shoes to a homeless guy outside Vinnie Van Go Go’s, along with all the cash in your wallet. [That made his day!]
I then threw your wallet into the big pink “pimp mobile” that was parked at the curb … after I broke the windshield and side window and keyed the entire driver’s side of the car.
Later, I called a bunch of phone sex numbers from your cell phone. Ma Bell just now shut down the line, although I only used the phone for a little over a day now, so what ‘s going on with that? Earlier, I managed to get in two threatening phone calls to the DA’s office and one to the FBI, while mentioning President Obama as my possible target.
The FBI guy seemed really intense and we had a nice long chat (I guess while he traced your number etc.).
In a way, perhaps I should apologize for not killing you … but I feel this type of retribution is a far more appropriate punishment for your threatened crime. I wish you well as you try to sort through some of these rather immediate pressing issues, and can only hope that you have the opportunity to reflect upon, and perhaps reconsider, the career path you’ve chosen to pursue in life. Remember, next time you might not be so lucky. Have a good day!
Thoughtfully your friend…