Dragon Laffs #1429


Good Morning Campers,

Thank you to everyone who sent good wishes to me and my family during Mrs. Dragons recent illness and visit to the E.R.  She’s still not doing great, but she is better and more importantly, out of the woods.

I know you’ve wondered what’s happened to me (Impish) over the last two weeks, and I think the following story will answer your questions. 

So please, sit back, refill your coffee and relax while you read.

I lay on the straw filled mattress on my wooden bunk and thought about what I was about to do.  I was sick and tired of being here.  Sick and tired of not having any pie and truly and completely sick and tired of that bastard gunnery sergeant who seemed to have my misery as his life goal.

Sure, Lethal had sent Robo-Impish along for companionship, which I guess was kind of a nice thing to do, but then he had him turn into that freak of a purple dinosaur, hug me and sing to me!  Twenty-five choruses of “I Love You, You Love Me…”  I just got the damn song out of my head yesterday and now, that I’m thinking about it, it’s there again!


Plus!  He cheats at DragonQuest!  I mean, come on!  How low can you be?  And the worst part is that I can’t even say anything about it for fear he’ll point out my cheating.  Talk about a lose-lose situation.


The lights had been out for a few hours and I could feel the camp quiet around me.  I quietly slid out of my bunk, quickly dressed in black khakis and a black skull cap. I sidled over to Robo-Impish, reached behind his left ear and deactivated him.  There was a slow hum that wound down to nothing; like the dying of a desk fan after it was shut off.

I lifted my bunk and pulled up the wooden floor planks that I had loosened over the past few days.  Right Colonel Hogan, keep Sargent Shultz busy and I’ll be out of here in no time.  I thought to myself and chuckled.  I dropped to the ground under the hut, replacing the boards so no one would be the wiser and I scoped out the area around my hut.

My timing had to be just right.

 I knew, from watching the guards, oh excuse me, the “attendants” (really, how many attendants do you know that walk a perimeter with AK-47s?) that I had a very small window of opportunity here.  As soon as I saw the two sets of boots cross by my hiding place under the wooden hut, I counted silently to 7 and knew they would have turned the corner, out of sight.  I now had 12 seconds to move across the open space between my hut and the next one over, which just happened to be the headquarters building, before the next set of “attendants” and the search light came by my hiding spot.

I scrambled across the open space and slid in under the headquarters building with 2 seconds to spare.
I had to slow my breathing, to insure I wasn’t heard, but lucky for me, all those days of morning PT (They call it Pie Therapy, but really it’s Physical Torture) were paying off.  My breathing hardly strayed at all.

I scuttled under the larger hut and came out on the other side being sure to stick to the shadows.  This one would be more difficult since I hadn’t had a chance to reconnoiter this out as thoroughly.  My plans were to study the layout of the guards and the search lights, make notes if necessary and return or, if my luck held, press on with my plans to escape and hit that little pie shop in the next town over.

Yeah, I knew where the pie shop was.  I knew where ALL the pie shops were.  They couldn’t stop me.
As I watched, it became apparent that this was a mostly unguarded section of the camp.  I suppose it made sense, being behind the headquarters building, but one thing I was sure, they wouldn’t leave it completely unguarded.

I concentrated on the ground directly in front of me, using my infra-vision that most magical creatures have.  Being able to see heat sources in the dark has saved many a magical hide in the past.
By concentrating, I could see very faint blobs of heat buried right under the surface of the ground.  What in the world could that be?  Little creatures?  But none of the blobs seemed to be moving.  Thinking of the hot day we had earlier, I realized that they were something buried right under the surface that had warmed up, but hadn’t cooled at the same rate as the rest of the ground.  That explained the lack of “attendants” on this side of the building and the lack of attention.  The whole area was filled with landmines.

Now, it made sense and now I had a decision to make.  For the time being at least, I could see the landmines.  I knew where each one was, or at least I was pretty sure I knew where MOST of them were, but I had no idea how much longer it would take for them to cool to the point that I wouldn’t be able to see them anymore.  It might have been my imagination, but it already seemed like they were beginning to fade and become fainter while I was watching.

I made up my mind, took a deep breath, and made a break for it.

Running, crouched over, making sure my tail stayed up in the air, concentrating on exactly where I put each foot and moving as quickly as possible, I headed for the hilly area towards the back of the camp.

Run, step, step, crouch, watch, don’t miss, where’s the next blob? Keep running; keep the tail up, UP dammit, UP!  Don’t touch the blobs.

I could probably survive a landmine, no problem.  My hide was tougher than that, but it would probably slow me down and make enough noise to wake up the whole camp.

So, step, step, run, lift, hurry, hurry, hurry.

 I made it in much better time that I would have thought.  Damn, maybe those exercises were paying off.  As I threw myself over the first low hill and lay there resting momentarily, I had to admit that I was probably in the best shape of my life.  Huh.  I’d of never figured that as a benefit of what I’d been going through.

I smiled to myself and thought about how good I really did feel right now.  I was excited, on a real life adventure, instead of just flying around and burning villages and eating virgins, I was successfully sneaking through the woods and escaping and evading.  Me against them; matching wits with that bastard Gunnery Sargent.  I wonder if all Gunnery Sergeants were bastards; seems like not having your parents being married when you were born would just be the perfect start to a life of assholedness.  Or maybe they were just puked up by some hideous ogre looking thing in a cave somewhere.  That’s not really fair to ogres, though.  Some of my friends were ogres.  None of them would stoop so low as to puke up a gunnery Sergeant.

The real funny thing was, I hadn’t even thought about pies since I started this.




It just didn’t have the same appeal to me now that I was running for my life.

Okay, enough.  Time to start moving again.

As I made my way through the back country portion of the camp, an area I was somewhat familiar with from my morning runs, I wondered if I was far enough away to fly and not be detected by the camps radar.  That bastard gunny was quite pleased with showing me how it worked the first day I was here.  By releasing a pigeon, the gunny explained the whole thing to me.

“You see this little birdie?  This little biddy birdie can’t get out, and you great big birdy can’t get out.”

He then released the pigeon and when it got about 15 feet in the air, a short siren went off, the rattle of a chain gun sounded and the pigeon was nothing but feathers a short second later.

“The radar is set for 15 feet, dragon my boy, and the fences are all 25 feet tall.  I think even someone as lunk-headed as you can do the math on that scenario!”

And he stalked off laughing as he went, singing a little ditty about roasted dragon steaks.

The bastard.

So no, I decided flying out at this point was not a good idea.

I heard the truck before I saw it.  I laid down flat in a gully and covered myself in mud and cold water in case they were using Night Vision Goggles.  The truck came round the corner of the dirt road I had been following and came to a stop.

“I thought I saw something moving over in this direction.”

Ah, so they were using NVGs.  That was going to change things.  I started shutting down my internal fire breathing biological functions.  Dragons give off a huge heat signature, but mostly because our biggest form of defense, and offence for that matter, was breathing fire.  But that can be controlled.  It’s unnatural, to do so, purposely giving up our primary weapon, but it can be done.  Especially in an older, more mature dragon.  And once that’s done, we’re basically lizards.  Cold blooded creatures with a very small heat signature.  So, I hunkered down in the muck and mud and became as small and cold as I could.  It takes a little bit of time to get the fire breathing apparatus started back up again, so I was basically a sitting duck if they decided to check out my gully.

“Probably a deer or a bear or something,” another voice answered.

“Oh, a big black bear would be cool!” said the first voice.  “I’d love to see what this mini chain gun does to a giant bear!”

“Yeah, well keep in mind, if you fire that sum-bitch off, you’re gonna have everyone in the camp down here investigating.  You think the Gunny is gonna appreciate bein’ woke up in the middle of the night ’cause you decided you wanted to play with a bear?”

“Good point.  Let’s head back.”

“That’s about what I figured.”

Whew!  That was close!  Way too close.

As I rolled over and sat up, I came face to face with the biggest meanest looking bear I had ever seen in my whole life.  Being in my smaller dragon form, I knew I didn’t really stand much of a chance against him.  Changing into my huge dragon form would not only take too long, but probably bring those guards right back to me and I already discussed how my fire breath was out of the question.

As I stared him in the eyes and he stared me in the eyes, both of us looking concernedly at the other, the bear said, “Do you think they’re gone?”

Holy shit a talking bear!

“Um, yeah.  I um guess so.” I stammered out.

“Whew!  That was close, huh? All because of a couple of pic-a-nic baskets. Geez, maybe Booboo and the ranger were right.  Maybe I shoulda stayed in Jellystone.  Okay, well… see ya!”

As the big assed bear went ambling off in the woods, he turned once and said, “You don’t have a pic-a-nic basket or a pie or anything, do ya?”

All I could do was mutter, “No.  No, I don’t.”

“Eh, it’s what I figgered.  See ya around.”  And he turned and headed deeper into the forest.

“Yeah…ah… see ya…”

I took off the other way in a running trot designed to eat up the distance.

After an hour or so, with the moon beginning to hang low in the sky, I came to another fence.  This was it, probably the outer fence to the camp.  This one was 25 feet tall, with double strands of barbwire across the top and due to the dead foliage around the base, it was obviously electrified.

But, I hadn’t come all this way just to be stymied by a damn fence.

But, how to get over it?

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?  I couldn’t go over it.

I couldn’t go through it.

That only left one thing…going under it.

As I walked along the fence line I found several depressions, some of them quite deep, that went under the fence, and in every single one of them there was a dead animal at the bottom.  I came to realize that the electricity not only went through the fence, but at least several feet under the fence.  But the question was, how far under the fence did it go?  I didn’t have time to dig and experiment.  Sunrise was on its way along with the obligatory roll call and the not finding of the dragon in his hut.

I came to a river.  The fence went over the river and partially down into the river.  I could see where the water was sizzling and boiling where the fence met the top, but I couldn’t tell how far down it went.  Was it possible to dive deep enough to get under the heat and electricity?

Did I have a choice?

What were my choices?
#1.  I could dive down under the fence and possibly get out or possibly get fried alive.  I could hear Chef Lethal’s voice in my head, “Technically you’d be getting braised/stewed alive.”
#2.  I could try to make it back to my hut before roll call and live to try another day.
#3.  I could try to fly over the fence and possibly get out or possibly get shot down by that damn chain gun.
#4.  I didn’t have a number 4.

Okay, so three choices.  I think number 2 was out because I honestly didn’t think I had time enough left to get back in time.

Two choices.

I think number 3 was out because I saw what happened to that pigeon and how fast it had taken place.

One choice.

I sat on the edge of the river and hyperventilated my lungs to get as much oxygen in there as I could.  It had been two weeks since I’d had a cigar, I was in pretty good shape and I was very motivated to dive as deep and as far as I could.

When I felt I was ready and had my nerve up, I dived into the water.

Holy crap, that mountain run off stream was cold!  I dove down deep, deeper; until I felt the muddy bottom in my hands.  The river was rapidly pulling me towards the fence line and I could feel the water getting hotter and hotter.  I scrunched myself down as low to the bottom as I could get, but the heat just kept increasing.  I imagined how painful a death this was going to be and realized my only regret was not being able to see my buddy Lethal one more time.

Yes, I know how crazy that sounded, but you know, for all the fact that he put me in here, it wasn’t really him that put me in here, it was me.  I had put me in here.  I allowed my draconian skills and mentality to be overwhelmed by something as stupid as pie.  Now I was going to fry to death.  Now that I was in the best shape of my life, now that I couldn’t care less about pie and really only wanted to be with my friends, cuddle with my girls.

The heat was excruciating.  I could feel the scales beginning to curl and melt on my back.  I pushed myself even flatter to the bottom.  This was the end.

No more Joking with my buddy Lethal.

No more teasing my Jersey Girl Ginny.

No more slap and tickle with Diaman.

No more picking on Paul

No more…

The heat became so intense, that was the last thing I remembered.  Blackness overwhelmed me.  My last thought being how poetically just it was that I was going out like a pie in an oven.

I woke up lying on the side of the river, my head laying in the softest lap I had ever laid in.  At least it felt that way at the time.

“Silly dragon…” that was Diaman’s voice.

Bloody git o’ a dragon!” Lethal?

“Hold still you darn lizard.  Let me finish putting this healing cream on your back.” And Ginny.

All my friends were here.  I must be in heaven.

“Let him suffer a bit more.  Who’d of thought the big lummox would have done something so feckin stupid.  I guess I really should have known.” Lethal, but his voice was a lot softer and more caring than I would’ve figured.

“How’d you find me?” my voice cracking slightly.

Diaman answered, “We‘ve been using Robo-you to watch you the whole time you’ve been here.  When you finally got your head on straight enough, this was supposed to be your graduation exercise.  We really didn’t think you’d get as far as you did, but you proved us all wrong.  We knew you were planning on escaping, but figured you’d get caught and brought back and the trial would prove that you were finally cured of the pie addiction.  But, you got further than anyone figured.  Once you reached the fence, we knew there was nowhere for you to go and that should’ve been that.  You would have had to return or they would have eventually found you, but no one figured you’d go for a different option.  If that river had been a little lower or the water not quite so cold…” her voice faded out.

“What she’s trying to say is that you damn near killed yourself you stupid fookin’ lizard!”  Lethal glanced down at me and I swear I saw a glistening to his eyes.  “Come on ya great daft arse, me new Leprechaun One is idling in the field over there, we can be back to the keep in a couple of hours and let the vet take a look at our field dressings and make sure you’re not going to have any scars to mess up your pretty scaly hide.”  The last was said with the normal sarcasm and curmudgeonly attitude that I’d grow to know and love.

“Thanks my friends.” I said and we left.




There are days when I feel just like this!


Florida woman stops alligator attack with a small Beretta pistol .
This is a story of self-control and marksmanship by a brave, cool-headed woman with a small pistol against a fierce predator. What is the smallest caliber that you would trust to protect yourself?  A Beretta Jetfire4b testimonial…. Here is her story in her own words:
“While out walking along the edge of a pond just outside of The Villages with my soon to be ex-husband discussing property settlement and other divorce issues, we were surprised by a huge 12-ft. alligator which suddenly emerged from the murky water and began charging us with its large jaws wide open. She must have been protecting her nest because she was extremely aggressive. If I had not had my little Beretta Jetfire .25 caliber pistol with me, I would not be here today! Just one shot to my estranged husband’s knee cap was all it took….
The ‘gator got him easily and I was able to escape by just walking away at a brisk pace. It’s one of the best pistols in my collection! Plus the amount I saved in lawyer’s fees was really incredible.

I’ve always said that I don’t have to be the fastest runner…I just can’t be the slowest.  That’s why I’m ALWAYS armed!



It’s a mystery what coulda killed ‘em.  Probably the fashion police hit squad.


I’ve gotten a bunch of Humorous Military stuff so I’m starting a new section and will continue it until I run out… So, may I present:







The third day of spring in Indiana…

Oh come on!!!


Two good ol’ boys in a Alabama trailer park were sitting around talking one afternoon over a cold beer after getting off work at the local Nissan plant.

After a while the 1st guy says to the 2nd, “If’n I was to sneak over to your trailer Saturday & make love to your wife while you was off huntin’ and she got pregnant and had a baby, would that make us kin?”

The 2nd guy crooked his head sideways for a minute, scratched his head and squinted his eyes thinking real hard about the question.  Finally, he says,”Well I don’t know about kin, but it would make us even!” 



On a chain

Jeff Dunham’s newest puppet.  It’s a dragon… on a stick!



The Definition of a positive Attitude…

Late in the night, Impish Dragon regained consciousness.

He found himself in agonizing pain in the hospital’s ICU, with tubes up his nose, wires monitoring every function and a gorgeous nurse hovering over him.  He realized that he’d obviously been in a serious accident.

The nurse gave him a deep look, straight into his eyes and her heard her slowly say, “You may not feel anything from the waist down.”

Somehow Impish managed to mumble in reply, “Well, can I feel your tits, then?”






The couple was 85 years old, and had been married for sixty years. Though not young, they were both in very good health, largely due to the wife’s insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade.One day, their good health didn’t help when they went on a rare vacation and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven.

They reached the pearly gates, and St. Peter escorted them inside. He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. They gasped in astonishment when he said, ‘Welcome to Heaven. This will be your home now.’The old man asked Peter how much all this was going to cost. ‘Why, nothing,’ Peter replied, ‘remember, this is your reward in Heaven.’

The old man looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on Earth. ‘What are the greens fees?’ grumbled the old man.

‘This is heaven ,’ St. Peter replied. ‘You can play for free, every day.’

Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch, with every imaginable cuisine laid out before them, from seafood to steaks to exotic deserts, free flowing beverages.

‘Don’t even ask,’ said St. Peter to the man, ‘this is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy.’

The old man looked around and glanced nervously at his wife.

‘Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods, and the decaffeinated tea?,’ he asked..

‘That’s the best part,’ St. Peter replied, ‘you can eat and drink as much as you like of whatever you like, and you will never get fat or sick. This is Heaven!’

The old man pushed, ‘No gym to work out at?’

‘Not unless you want to,’ was the answer.

‘No testing my sugar or blood pressure or…’

‘Never again. All you do here is enjoy yourself.’

The old man glared at his wife and said, ‘You and your fuckin’ bran muffins. We could have been here ten years ago!’




Great observation…






This is our instructor in one of our more advanced classes of outdoor survival.  A student favorite subject and instructor.






Impressive Speed and frightening accuracy and dexterity…on a Xylophone!!!!  Truly amazing.



This cool website is sent to us by Stephanie and like she says…”Coffee is meant to be drank, but this is still pretty cool.”  http://distractify.com/pinar/caffeinated-paintings/?v=1  Here’s a little peek..



Okay, so it’s a little on the old side, but it’s also one of my favorite jokes of all time…

Little April was not the best student in Sunday school.
Usually she slept through the class.

One day the teacher called on her while she was napping, “Tell me, April, who created the universe?”

When April didn’t stir, little Johnny, a boy seated in the chair behind her, took a pin and jabbed her in the rear. “GOD ALMIGHTY!” shouted April and the teacher said, “Very good” and April fell back asleep.

A while later the teacher asked April, “Who is our Lord and Saviour,” But, April didn’t even stir from her slumber. Once again, Johnny came to the rescue and stuck her again. ‘JESUS CHRIST!” shouted April and the teacher said, “very good,” and April fell back to sleep.

Then the teacher asked April a third question. “What did Eve say to Adam after she had her twenty-third child?” And again, Johnny jabbed her with the pin. This time April jumped up and shouted, “IF YOU STICK THAT F*****G THING IN ME ONE MORE TIME, I’LL BREAK IT IN HALF AND STICK IT UP YOUR ARSE!”



OBAMA wants us to cut the amount of gasoline we use…..

The best way to stop using so much gasoline is to deport 15 million illegal immigrants!

That would be 15 million less people using our gas.

The price of gas would come down…..

Bring our troops home from Afghanistan to guard the borders….

When they catch an illegal immigrant crossing the Border, hand him a canteen, rifle and some ammo and ship him to Afghanistan ….

Tell him if he wants to come to AMERICA then he must serve a tour in OUR military….

Give him a soldier’s pay while he’s there and tax him on it……

After his tour, he will be allowed to become a citizen since he defended this country…..

He will also be registered to be taxed and be a legal resident……
This option will probably deter illegal immigration and provide a solution for the troops in Afghanistan and the aliens trying to make a better life for themselves. …….

If they refuse to serve, ship them to Afghanistan anyway, without the canteen, rifle or ammo.

Problem solved…..




Now that’s a squared up snake!!




Yeah, that worked out really well!







This is great!  And thankfully, it has subtitles because a lot of the talking is overwhelmed by the laughter.

So, I was walking through the mall, and went into a Muslim Bookshop.
The clerk asked if he could help me, so I asked for a copy of the United States Immigration Policy Book regarding Muslims.
The Clerk said, “Fuck off, get out, and stay out.”
I said, “Yes, that’s the one.” 



Murphy showed up at Mass one Sunday & the priest nearly fell down when he saw him. He’d never been to church in his life.
After Mass,the priest caught up with him & said, “Murphy, I am so glad ya decided to come to Mass. What made ya come?” 
Murphy said,”I got to be honest with you Father. A while back, I misplaced me hat & I really, really love that hat. I know that McGlynn had a hat just like mine & I knew he came to church every Sunday. I also knew that he had to take off his hat during Mass & figured he would leave it in the back of church. So, I was going to leave after Communion & steal McGlynn’s hat.”
Murphy replied, “Well, after I heard your sermon on the 10
Commandments I decided that I didn’t need to steal McGlynn’s hat after all.”
With a tear in his eye, the priest gave Murphy a big smile & said, “After I talked about’Thou Shalt Not Steal’ ya decided you would rather do without your hat than burn in hell, eh?”
Murphy slowly shook his head. “No, Father, after ya talked about ‘Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery’, I remembered where I left me hat.”



As promised, here’s another bunch of…

Holy S3

Holy S4

Holy S5

Holy s6

Holy S7

Holy S8

Holy Shit!  That was a lot of Holy Shit Motivationals…and that ain’t all.  Tune in next week for a few more!


Okay, this next one is just bloody awful!  Horrible!  Terrible!  If you don’t groan after this one, then something is seriously wrong with you!!

After Quasimodo’s death, the Bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, in Paris, France sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was urgently needed.

The Bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process.

After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills over a long period, he decided to call it a day and to continue the interviewing process, the following day.

Just then, an armless Frenchman approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer’s job.
The Bishop was incredulous.  “But, you have no arms, Monsieur!”

‘No matter,’ said the man. ‘Observe me, Excellency!’ And, pushing his way past the Bishop, he began striking the bells with his ugly face, producing a most beautiful melody on the carillon.

The Bishop listened in astonishment, convinced he had found a sensational replacement for Quasimodo.

But suddenly, as he rushed forward to strike the bells again in encore, the armless Frenchman tripped over a mallet and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street far below.

The stunned Bishop rushed down two hundred and ninety five church steps, to reach the street.  A crowd had by now gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before.

As they silently parted to let the Bishop through, one of them asked, ‘Bishop sir, who was this man?’

‘I don’t know his name,’ the Bishop sadly replied……..

( scroll down ………)


WAIT! WAIT! There’s more….

The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the Bishop continued his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

The first man to approach him said, ‘Your Excellency, I am the brother of the poor armless wretch who fell to his death from this very belfry yesterday. I pray that you honor his life, by allowing me to replace him in this duty.’

The Bishop agreed to give the man an audition, but as the armless man’s brother stooped to pick up a heavy mallet to strike the first bell, he groaned, clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died of heart failure on the spot.

Two monks, hearing the Bishop’s cries of anguish at this second shocking tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side.

‘What has happened?  Who is this man?’ the first monk asked breathlessly.

‘I don’t know his name,’ sighed the now distraught Bishop, ‘but…


If you wish to know who is to blame for this affront to humor….well, it’s K2!!!



A large jet plane crashed on a farm in the middle of rural Kentucky. Panic stricken, the local sheriff mobilized and descended on the farm in force.

By the time they got there, the aircraft was totally destroyed with only a burned hull left smoldering in a tree line that bordered the farm. The sheriff and his men entered the smoking mess but could find no remains of anyone.

They spotted the farmer plowing a field not too far away as if nothing had happened. They hurried over to the man’s tractor.

“Hank,” the sheriff yelled, panting and out of breath. “Did you see this terrible accident happen?”

“Yep. Sure did,” the farmer mumbled unconcerned, cutting off the tractor’s engine.

“Do you realize that was Air Force One, the airplane of the President of the United States?”


“Were there any survivors?”

“Nope. They’s all kilt straight out,” the farmer answered. “I done buried them all myself. Took me most of the morning.”

“President Obama is dead?” the sheriff asked.

“Well,” the farmer grumbled, restarting his tractor. “He kepta-saying he wasn’t…

But you know how bad that sumbitch lies.”


! BIRDBRAINS Drop-In Template.ai


The madam opened the brothel door in Montreal and saw a rather dignified, well-dressed, good-looking man in his late forties or early fifties.
“May I help you sir?” she asked.
The man replied, “I want to see Valerie.”
“Sir, Valerie is one of our most expensive ladies. Perhaps you would prefer someone else” , said the madam.
He replied, “No, I must see Valerie.”
Just then, Valerie appeared and announced to the man she charged $5000 a visit.
Without hesitation, the man pulled out five thousand dollars and gave it to Valerie, and they went upstairs.
After an hour, the man calmly left.
The next night, the man appeared again, once more demanding to see Valerie.
Valerie explained that no one had ever come back two nights in a row as she was too expensive.
“There are no discounts. The price is still $5000.”
Again, the man pulled out the money, gave it to Valerie , and they went upstairs.
After an hour, he left.
The following night the man was there yet again.
Everyone was astounded that he had come for a third consecutive night, but he paid Valerie and they went upstairs.
After their session, Valerie said to the man, “No one has ever been with me three nights in a row. Where are you from?”
The man replied, ” New Brunswick .”
“Really,” she said. “I have family in New Brunswick .”
  “I know.” the man said. “Your sister died, and I am her attorney. She asked me to give you your $15,000
The moral of this story is that three things in life are certain:
1. Death
2. Taxes; and
3. Being screwed by a lawyer!




I had planned on posting a scathing review of something new that was stupid that Obama or his assinine administration had done.  But, instead, I’m sending you this, from Ginny.  She sent it to me and I was touched so much that I want to send it to each and every one of you.  It’s called,

 The Train of Life:


At birth we boarded the train and met our parents, and we believe they will always travel on our side.

However, at some station our parents will step down from the train, leaving us on this journey alone.

As time goes by, other people will board the train; and they will be significant i.e. our siblings, friends, children, and even the love of your Life.

Many will step down and leave a permanent vacuum. Others will go so unnoticed that we don’t realize they vacated their seats.

This train ride will be full of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells.

Success consists of having a good relationship with all passengers requiring that we give the best of ourselves.

The mystery to everyone is: We do not know at which station we ourselves will step down. So, we must live in the best way, love, forgive, and offer the best of who we are. It is important to do this because when the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who will continue to travel on the train of Life.

I wish you a joyful journey on the train of life. Reap success and give lots of love. More importantly, thank God for the journey.

Lastly, I thank you for being one of the passengers on my train.

(By the way, I am not planning to get off the train anytime soon but if I do, just remember I am glad you were part of my journey.)




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6 Responses to Dragon Laffs #1429

  1. PAUL says:


  2. Ginny says:

    I didn’t know your medical emergency was Mrs. Dragon…hope she feels better with each new day. How could she not improve with such a handsome Dragon attending to her needs and wants while recuperating. Thanks for your time that you gave all of us with another great isssue. Now don’t forget….don’t drop you S in Easter or it becomes….EATER! NO PIES FOR YOU….

  3. Henry says:

    GREAT Jokes today. One of your BEST.

  4. Maggie says:

    Enjoyed this issue sooooo much!!!!!

  5. Jack says:

    The best ever…..“He kepta-saying he wasn’t…

    But you know how bad that sumbitch lies.”

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