Welcome to issue #1400! Woo Hoo! Exciting stuff. Yeah, right. Anyway…
There’s a rumor going round out there, amongst you, that the person you saw with Diaman last week wasn’t the real Thor, but a Hollywood stand-in that we hired for the “publicity” we received. I say “publicity” because you can all see the members of the lame-stream-media standing in the back with their cameras and videos to try and prove us wrong. I know you all don’t want them here and I don’t imagine they will be here much longer, since Diaman is due to arrive any … ah, there she is now. And there is the Thunder God, pushing her in her wheel chair. I think we should all watch this, it should be interesting.
You watch as Thor and Diaman approach her normal location under the pavilion and on her cushions. You can just hear her pleading with Thor not to do anything too drastic. She begs him not to harm anyone. He leans down, gives her a peck on the cheek, and pats her arm, showing her that he will remain calm. He then stands beside her with his arms crossed and doesn’t say a word.
From the back of the crowd, in the media section, a man can be heard muttering. Then he shouts out loud, “This is just bullshit! You expect us to believe that that steroid laced ignoramus is a God? Please!”
Thor steps forward, a growl escaping his lips as Diaman puts a hand on his arm. He settles back down, steps back and his previous calm face is replaced with a grimace. Thunder can be heard rumbling in the distance even though the sky is clear.
The reporter won’t give up. “Oh please! Nice bit of theater there, with the,” the man makes quote fingers in the air, “thunder in the background. What a joke! What a waste of time! You’re a fraud!”
Diaman’s face turns to stone, she leans over to Thor and whispers loud enough for all to hear, “Ok my friend, that’s enough. Kick his ass!”
Thor smiles, takes a step forward, raises his hands to the air and then points at the reporter. Nothing happens.
The reporter laughs, along with several others in the media area.
Diaman slowly stands, and in her dulcet tones motions to her camper friends and says, “You guys need to move away. He doesn’t want any innocents to get hurt.” The campers begin to move away from the media as Diaman continues, “but you media members, any of those who agree with this ass, please feel free to show your support by pressing as close to him as possible.” Several reporters laugh and step a little closer to the big mouth in a show of solidarity, but many others put their eyes down and step further away. “You may continue now lord Thor.”
Suddenly a bolt of lightning with an ear deafening crash leaps out and strikes the ground in a blinding flash of light. When your eyes adjust back after the bright flash you see that there are several small piles of ash where the group of reporters who sided with the loud mouth used to be.
While everyone is standing there with their mouths open, you hear the sound of sleigh bells. As the sleigh pulls up and Ginny steps down, she says in her Jersey accent. “Sorry we were late, but traffic was…hey, what’d we miss?”
Through the ensuing silence, I speak back up…
Was there anyone who wanted to say anything to Santa? No? Then perhaps I’ll continue with my opening. If you don’t mind.
So, it’s Labor Day Weekend…and one of the ways we celebrate here, other than the usual party and craziness, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that we really don’t need any real excuse to behave like that, do I? Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, one of the ways we celebrate is by not putting out a Labor Day Issue because, like all of you, we deserve a break from our labors as well.
So, with that being said, and with all the excitement we’ve already had, I just have one more thing before we get on with the laughter.
And that is ….
John Z, if you’re out there, please let us know how the whole Left thing went and whether you are doing alright or not. We haven’t heard from you and are worried about you.
Are you ready to start off with a good laugh? This is great.
Why there aren’t a lot of us white guys in the NBA…
I had no idea that I was going to use this graphic again so soon.
Obama Sent No Representative to Memorial Mass for James Foley
President Barack Obama sent no White House representative to the memorial Mass held yesterday in Rochester, New Hampshire, for James Foley, the American journalist beheaded by the Islamic State in Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS) terrorists.
President Obama, however, did send three White House aides to Monday’s funeral for Michael Brown, an 18-year-old African American fatally shot in an encounter with a white police officer in Ferguson, Mo.
The memorial mass for James Foley took place Sunday at Our Lady of the Holy Rosary in Foley’s hometown. Connie Hammond, an administrative assistant at Holy Rosary, told CNSNews.com that no White House officials were in attendance.
Okay Obama. (Notice that by this time I’ve even dropped the honorific “Mister” from his name. I dropped the word “President” a long time ago.)
You deserve it yet again this week…
As hard as we’re trying to erase racism in this country, it’s alive and well thanks to your dumb ass. All you are doing is propagating the same thing that you say you hate, you’re just doing it the opposite way. You truly are a Horse’s Ass.
I want one! Please Lethal! Please, can we get one for the pool?
Dragons love reading and books. It’s even more fun to be read to.
Patient 1. is examined within the hour, is x-rayed the same day and has a time booked for surgery the following week.
Patient 2. sees his family doctor after waiting 3 weeks for an appointment, then waits 8 weeks to see a specialist, then gets an x-ray, which isn’t reviewed for another week and finally has his surgery scheduled for 6 months from then, pending the review boards decision on his age and remaining value to society.
Why the different treatment for the 2 patients?
The FIRST is a Golden Retriever taken to a vet.
The SECOND is a Senior Citizen on Obama care.
In November, if there is no change in government, we’ll all have to find a good vet.
Remember the Star Trek Movie …the original Star Trek crew, not the new stuff…that’s not to say that I don’t like the new stuff as well, I’m just sayin’…anyway, the Star Trek movie with the whales? Star Trek IV, The Voyage Home. That one. And they discussed how intelligent whales are? Well, I believe we have documented proof of exactly how smart they really are as these Beluga whales play with 3 children at an aquarium.
These whales were NOT taught to do this. They just did it on their own.
Okay, this is friggin’ awesome! Thanks to Rocky for showing this to me. You think you have it tough? This man put me to shame.
Important Women’s Health Issue:
* Do you have feelings of inadequacy?
* Do you suffer from shyness?
* Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive?
* Do you suffer exhaustion from the day to day grind?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist about Margaritas.
Margaritas are the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions. Margaritas can help ease you out of your shyness and let you tell the world that you’re ready and willing to do just about anything. You will notice the benefits of Margaritas almost immediately and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that prevent you from living the life you want to live.
Shyness and awkwardness will be a thing of the past and you will discover many talents you never knew you had. Stop hiding and start
living with Margaritas.
Margaritas may not be right for everyone. Women who are pregnant or nursing should not use Margaritas. However, women who wouldn’t mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.
Side effects may include:
– Erotic lustfulness
– Loss of motor control
– Loss of clothing
– Loss of money
– Table dancing
– Dry mouth
– And a desire to sing Karaoke
* The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
* The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.
* The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to think you can sing.
* The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.
Please share this with other women who may need Margaritas.
This one is well worth checking out…it’s good to know that my mandatory naps in the afternoon are well worth the effort. Lethal is always getting on me about my short little naps, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me sleeping from 1:45 to 3:45.
Okay, so my daily schedule is like this:
0530 – Get up
0545 – 0645 Breakfast
0700 – 0730 Get to work morning coffee
0730 – 0800 Work
0800 – 0900 Morning Break
0900 – 0930 Work
0930 – 1130 Morning Nap
1130 – 1145 Work
1145 – 1315 Lunch
1315 – 1345 Work
1345 – 1545 Afternoon Nap
1545 – 1645 Afternoon Virgin Break
1645 – 1700 Work
1700 – 1830 Dinner
1830 – 1900 Work
So, you see, it’s very plain. I work a 12 hour day and he has the nerve to complain about a lousy short little nap in the afternoon, even when it’s proven that it improves my productivity.
A ragged old derelict shuffled into a down-and-dirty bar. Stinking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the “Piano Player Wanted” sign from the window and handed it to the bartender.
“I’d like to apply for the job,” he said. “I was an F-4 Pilot, flying off carriers back in ‘ Nam , but when they retired the Phantom, all the thrill was gone, and soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to play the piano at Officer’s Club happy hours, so here I am.”
The barkeep wasn’t too sure about this doubtful looking old guy, but it had been quite a while since he had a piano player and business was falling off. So, why not give him a try.
The seedy old pilot staggered his way over to the piano while several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music, every voice was silenced.
What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike anything heard in the bar before. When he finished there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.
The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked him the name of the song he had just played.
It’s called, “Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I’m Going Balls To The Wall For You,” he said. After a long pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he said, “I wrote it myself.”
The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player just went on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the place jumping. After he finished, the fighter pilot acknowledged the applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the crowd the song was called, “Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light.”
He then launched into another mesmerizing song and everyone in the room was enthralled. He announced that it was the latest rendition of his song, “Spread ’em Baby, It’s Foggy Out Tonight and I Need To See The Centerline“. He excused himself and headed for the john.
When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, “Hey, fly boy, the job is yours; but, do you know your fly is open and your pecker is hanging out?”
“Know it”, the old fighter pilot replied, “Hell, I wrote it!”
Here’s another golf joke out there for all you golfers….but especially for my favorite golfer. Hope you get a laugh, Dad.
An avid male golfer’s buddies were going to be out of town for the weekend so he decided to go down to the golf course and see if any group might need a fourth member.
Sure enough there were three women and they were glad to have him join them.
Since he was the guest, they decided to let him tee off first. The man teed off and his ball sliced badly to the right and landed in a sand trap. The man immediately exclaimed “Oh shit!”
One of the women reminded him that he was playing with three ladies and not his male buddies and that ladies do not appreciate that kind of language.
The man promptly apologized and promised it would not happen again.
The woman who had spoken to him about the cursing then teed off and her ball hit a tree and then caromed off into the same sand trap. She immediately said, “Oh shit!”
The man spoke up and said that he realized he was a guest but it seemed like there was a double standard in that the woman used the same word that he was told he should not use.
The woman quickly replied, “There’s no double standard. Your ball didn’t hit the fucking tree!”
So, it’s Labor Day Weekend. One of the biggest requirements of the weekend is the obligatory last “official” barbeque of the summer. And as far as barbeques go, there is the obligatory beer that goes with it. So, this year at the annual Labor Day picnic, barbeque and orgy at DL&LL Electronic Media Enterprises, we aren’t going to buy as many cases of beer as we normally do. We are going to be using these guy’s:
As well as the usual Ales, Beers, alcoholic beverages and others.
Amen. Nothing more seems to be needed to be said.
Okay, so if you don’t get this last one, don’t worry about it. You’re probably too young to have played this game…or you’ve played some bastardized version on a computer somewhere. Points and kudos to anyone who can figure out what game I’m talking about and make comment in the comments section. (Like there is anywhere else you’d make comments?)
Their talk turns to their position in life, and it’s clear that they are trying to one-up each other.
The first woman says, “My husband is taking me to the French Riviera for two weeks,” and then looks at the others with a superior demeanor.
The second woman says, “Well, my husband just bought me a new Mercedes,” and looks about with considerable pride.
The third woman says, “Well, to be perfectly honest with you, we don’t have much money and we don’t have any material possessions — but 13 canaries can stand shoulder to shoulder on my husband’s erect penis.”
After a long silence, the first woman looks shame-faced and says,”Girls, I’ve got a confession to make. I was just trying to impress you. We’re not really going to the French Riviera . We’re going to my parent’s house for two weeks.”
The second woman says, “Your honesty has shamed me. To be honest, my husband didn’t buy me a Mercedes — he bought me a Taurus.”
“Well,” the third woman says, “I also have a confession to make. Canary number 13 has to stand on one leg.”
A blonde reports for her university final exam, which consists of mainly true and false questions.
She takes her seat in the examination hall, stares at the question paper for five minutes, and then in a fit of inspiration takes her purse out, removes a coin and starts tossing the coin and marking the answer sheet: true for heads and false for tails.
Within 30 minutes she’s all done, while the rest of the class is still working furiously.
During the last few minutes, she is seen desperately throwing the coin, swearing and sweating.
The moderator, alarmed, approaches her and asks what is happening.
‘I finished the exam in a half hour,’ she replies, ‘and since I have some time
left, I’m rechecking my answers.’
I am VERY hesitant to print this essay from a self described black handicapped veteran who is dying. Not because of the fact that he is black, handicapped or a veteran, or even because of the declaration of his dying, but because of the very direct and unacceptable language that he uses. He does explain himself and explains WHY he uses this language, but I want you to know ahead of time to be prepared.
I was unable to verify the veracity of this essay, but after reading through it, I really don’t have to. This is one person’s opinion. And it doesn’t matter WHO wrote it, because it’s obviously been written. I am curious to hear your opinions about it.
And for the record, I agree wholeheartedly with his sentiment, if not the language he uses.
I don’t know if, by this being published it means this man has died, or because there is no name attached to it that it means he’s still alive, but regardless, I wish him and his family well.