Good Morning Campers!

Well, as you can see by the above header picture, that I’m still not on Lethal’s good side as far as issues go.  But, I’m sure after what you read in Leprechaun Laffs on Wednesday and what you’ll read here today, that the problem is a thing of the past.  Today’s issue is chock full of fun stuff and rants and cartoons and….well…fun stuff.

But before we begin, I’d like to show you what showed up in my pond the other day.

This little guy is a male Northern Green Frog.  He is quite comfortable in our little pond and according to Wikipedia, his call sounds like a plucked banjo string.  I don’t know about that, our little Izzy says that it sounds like an error message on the computer.  It is different, that’s for sure.  But, this is just one of the many wonders our little home has shown us.

Here’s a picture of the pond itself, if I haven’t already showed you:

You wanna talk about relaxing.  Hardly a night has gone by that Mrs. Dragon and I haven’t gone out to the pond at evening time and watched the fish play.

But I digress…

Before we go any further, we have an announcement to make.  It seems as though one of our own has gotten sick, and so shortly after her recent surprise birthday party, too.  Poor Ginny is suffering terribly with a sinus infection that is so bad, it has literally taken her off her feet.

Ginny is one of the first who would (and has!) offer up well wishes and prayers to any of us if we were down and needed help, so I’m asking all of you to do the same for her.  And while you’re praying, put in a couple of good words for her old fart of a husband Paul.  Paul is a former fire fighter, so you know pretty much the only thing he knows how to make is chili. 

So, while Ginny is suffering and Paul is starving, let’s all say a few good words for her.  And of course, we have to have a few sick and sinus infection jokes spread out through the issue, so watch for them, Ginny.  They’re all for you.

 

I think it’s time to start with some regular laughs and we’ll get to some of the other stuff later on in the issue…so, without further ado…

I can sympathize and empathize with this poor guy.  It seems like the older we get the harder some of the more mundane things really are.  Where a few years ago he’d of probably just vaulted out of the window, now he’s become Paul and has to take his time.  Poor Ginny, is probably looking all over for him…if this was Paul that is.   I didn’t say it was Paul, I just implied that it was like what Paul would have to do, so, no.  This is NOT Paul…but it could be.

 

Yes, I stopped commenting on them.  I’m almost sorry I included it at all.  Almost.

 

Okay, this next guy at least has class…and a sense of humor.

 

This one is just too apropos to ignore:

I’m going with the troll on this one.

 

 

 

I’m definitely of the second type.  Just like our motto says:
”Death before dishonor; Nothing before coffee”

 

 

 

One of my favorite dragon pics of all times.  I would love to have a cross like this to put up on my shelf.

 

 

This next one is just horrible, terrible and you WILL groan.

 

 

 

 

I can honestly say that my mom NEVER called me Bitch!

 

Okay, so is it me, or does this remind you of the commercial with the car and Godzilla on TV?

No body can believe he caught it.  That’s truly amazing.

 

Yeah, the runny noses are everywhere.  From Ginny’s sinus infection and Paul’s Chili.

 

 

Every wonder about the basic differences between Dogs and Cats?  This video explains it quite nicely:

 

This next one is from Jean…

And people wonder why I’m not on Facebook.

 

 

 

Yup.  I don’t give a rat’s ass what people think of me, either.  I don’t have any impressions to make, except when I’m teaching class.  And then I’m professional.  LOL!  But, that’s really about the only time.  Usually, even when I’m at work, I’m casually professional.

I finally got some more critter pictures back in stock, so here we are again with one of my favorite topics.

Larry needs his drinks to survive his incarceration. 

Seems like Frank has been over compensating.

Just met my new mailman for the first time with my dog…I didn’t put a wig on her.  Mine wouldn’t have worked with a wig.  Here she is on high alert, protecting our home:

“Hey Dude, someone’s at the door.  You gonna get that?”

 

Yeah, that would do it.  At least yours will play.  Mine won’t even chase a damn ball.

 

 

Bill Clinton started jogging near his home in Chappaqua.
But on each run he happened to jog past a hooker standing on the same street corner, day after day.
With some apprehension he would brace himself as he approached her for what was most certainly to follow.
“Fifty dollars!” she would cry out from the curb.
“No, Five dollars!” fired back Clinton This ritual between Bill and the hooker continued for days….
He’d run by and she’d yell, “Fifty dollars!”
And he’d yell back, “Five dollars!”
One day however, Hillary decided that she wanted to accompany her husband on his jog!
As the jogging couple neared the problematic street corner, Bill realized the “pro” would bark her $50 offer and Hillary would wonder what he’d really been doing on all his past outings.
He realized he should have a darn good explanation for the former Secretary of State.
As they jogged into the turn that would take them past the corner, Bill became even more apprehensive than usual.
Sure enough, there was the hooker!
Bill tried to avoid the prostitute’s eyes as she watched the pair jog past.
Then, from the sidewalk, the hooker yelled… “See what you get for five bucks!?”

Barack Obama met with the Queen of England.

He asked her, “Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient
government? Are there any tips you can give me?”

“Well,” said the Queen, “the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people.”

Obama frowned, and then asked, “But how do I know the people around you are really intelligent?”

The Queen took a sip of tea. “Oh, that’s easy; you just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle.”

The Queen pushed a button on her intercom. “Please send Tony Blair in here, would you?”

Tony Blair walked into the room and said, “Yes, Your Majesty?”

The Queen smiled and said, “Answer me this please, Tony, your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?”

Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answered, “That would be me.”

“Yes! Very good,” said the Queen.

Obama went back home to ask Joe Biden the same question. “Joe, answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child.

It’s not your brother and it’s not your sister. Who is it?”

“I’m not sure,” said Biden. “Let me get back to you on that one.” He went to his advisors and asked everyone, but none could give him an answer.

Finally, Biden ran in to Sarah Palin out eating one night. Biden asked, “Sarah, can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it’s not your brother or your sister. Who is it?”

Sarah Palin answered right back, “That’s easy, it’s me!”

Biden smiled, and said, “Thanks!”

Biden then, went back to speak with Obama. “Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle.

It’s Sarah Palin!”

Obama got up, stomped over to Biden, and angrily yelled into his face, “No! You idiot! It’s Tony Blair!”

…AND THAT MY FRIENDS IS PRECISELY WHAT’S GOING ON AT THE WHITE HOUSE

 

 

I was walking through the mall and saw that there was a “Muslim Book Store.” 

I was wondering what exactly was in a Muslim bookstore so I went in.

As I was wandering around taking a look, the clerk stopped me and asked if he could help me.

I imagine I didn’t look like his normal clientele, so I asked, “Do you have a copy of the U.S.
Immigration Policy Book regarding Muslims?”

The clerk said, “Fuck off, get out and stay out!”

I said, “Yes, that’s the one – Do you have it in paperback?

 

 

 

 

This is usually my favorite part of every issue.  I have no idea why these things always make me laugh so much, but they always do.

And today’s five didn’t fail to deliver.  I especially like the last one’s ability to make you think about it.

 

Michelle bought Barack a parrot for his birthday. She told Joe Biden, “The bird is so smart, Barack has already taught him to pronounce over 200 words!” “Wow, that’s pretty impressive,” Biden said, “But you do realize that he just says the words, he doesn’t really understand what they mean.” “That’s OK,” Michelle replied, “Neither does the parrot.”  

 

 

“Terrance!”  Impish yells from his desk.  “Terrance, where the heck are you?” 

He listens carefully, but doesn’t hear the Troll’s voice or any sound in the outer office at all.  Pushing the intercom button he says in his most officiously managerial voice, “Terrance, can you step into my office, please.”

He is completely gratified when he hears his office door open, but when he looks up, it isn’t his trusty Troll walking through the door, but … “Who are you?  Where’s Terrance?  What’s going on here? Who ARE you?”

The buxom young lady who walked in the door, steno pad in hand, stopped in front of Impish’s desk.  She straightened her not quite knee length skirt and peered at him through wide, horn rimmed glasses.  With the yellow #2 pencil over her ear, and the two keeping her hair in a bun on the back of her head, she resembled a junior high school English teacher more than a secretary.  A junior high school teacher that all the young boys secretly drooled over when she turned her back to write on the black board.  “Good Morning, Mr. Dragon.  I’m November, from the secretarial pool.  I was told to come up here and be your girl since Mr. Troll is on vacation.”

“Terrance is on vacation?  Why wasn’t I told of this?  Why wasn’t I allowed to pick my own secretary? Why… well, Miss September, you just stand right there for a minute.”

Impish takes out his cell phone, sets it to video phone and punches the speed dial for Terrance.  A picture of a beautiful sandy beach comes up.  You can hear the surf in the background along with the sound of seagulls in the distance.  A familiar female voice comes out of the speaker saying, “You have reached Terrance Troll.  He is unable to come to the phone right now, please choose from the following menu to reach Mr. Troll or leave a message:  If you are Mr. Dragon, press 1, if you are Mr. Leprechaun, press 2, if this is the Publisher’s Clearing House Prize Patrol, press 3, if you are a tax or bill collector, press 4, If you are any of my ex-wives, press 5, for any other callers, please press 6.”

Impish presses 1 and hears, “Impish, I’m on vacation.  I’m sitting here on the beach right now…” suddenly, like a thrown switch, he can hear the roaring surf and the sounds of seagulls.  Just as suddenly, it cuts off.  “…admin is supposed to send down a temp.  I told them what your … ahem … requirements are, so she should be nice.  Please don’t leave a message, as I won’t get it from my phone until my return, which should be …”

The familiar female voice comes on the phone and says, “please leave your message at the sound of the beep.”   [Beeeeep!]

Impish starts to speak, “Terrance where the hell are you?  Why wasn’t I …”

“Thank you for your message.”

“Dammit all!” He dials the phone again and when it’s time, he presses 6.

“Nice try, Impish, but I’m still not answering my calls.”

The little blue dragon calls back again and presses 5.

“Impish, you and I were never married, so how do you figure you should’ve pushed #5?”

Grumbling the dragon calls again.

“Tax collector, Impish?  Really?”

“Ah!  I know,” says Impish.  “I know which one he will answer.”

“Impish.  Now, to be fair, you should give me some sort of a cash prize when I get back, just for pressing #3.”

Impish throws the phone in the desk before daring to press #2 and impersonating Lethal.  He’s pretty sure the wee green one would find out, somehow.  In fact, it had to have been Lethal who gave Terrance permission to go on vacation!  And if THAT’S the case, he must have had some way of contacting the Leprechaun this whole time!  What the hell is going on!  He picks up the office phone and calls Lethal’s number.

“Mr. Leprechaun’s office.  How may I help you?”

“Friday, I need to speak to Lethal.”

“Impish, like I’ve told you 162,527 times already, Lethal is …”

“Yeah, I know.  Lethal is unavailable.  But Terrance must’ve had a way to get a hold of him since he’s now on vacation and he’s the only other one, other than me, who can approve that.  So, if Terrance can get a hold of the little green creep, surely …”

“Actually, I gave him permission to take vacation.  He technically works for me as being part of the administrative staff.  Hasn’t my little cousin shown up to take over for him?”

“You gave him…?  Your cousin…?  What the …?”

“Would you like to buy a verb, Impish?  Do please try to speak in complete sentences, it makes it much easier on those of us who try to understand you.”

“So then, Miss August here is your cousin?”

In a low voice behind him, “November.”

“August is there?  It was supposed to be November who came down…”

“Yeah, okay.  Whatever month she’s the playboy model for…”

“Is November there now?  With you?  Let me speak to her.”

November takes the phone from his outstretched hand.  Impish can only hear her half of the conversation.

“Hi Friday. No, it’s okay. Yeah, sure.  Uh huh.  Yes, ma’am.  No, of course not.  I’d have broken both of his paws.  Yes, ma’am.  That was the lower left hand desk drawer?  Okay, got it.  Yup.  Lunch?   Today?  Executive cafeteria?  Really?  OH Boy!  April and December are going to be green with envy!  Yes, ma’am.  Thank you, Friday.”  As she hands the phone back to Impish, she says, “Miss Friday wants to speak to you.”

Before he can even speak to Lethal’s Girl Friday, she says, “Okay, November understands what she’s supposed to do for you.  But, let me tell you this.  I’m very fond of all my family, but I’m especially fond of November.  She’s a sweet young girl who I’m giving an opportunity to work on the executive level.  I’d tell you that she is also a highly trained assassin, like all of the secretaries here, but instead I’ll tell you that if you hurt one single hair on her head, if you make her cry, if I don’t ever even see a SMILE on her face, you will answer to me, Bucko, and I guarantee, you will never father another dragonette, nor play nicely with your virgins EVER again.”

The phone goes dead in his ear.  With November still watching, he shouts into the receiver, “Friday, if you think you can talk to me that way …”

In a metallic voice, loud enough for the dragon and the girl to hear, “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and dial again.  If you’d like to make a call …”

Impish slams the phone down on its base and stutters, “Well … that … that ought to tell her!”

November tries to hide a smile as she says, “So, is everything worked out here?  Do I get to stay?”

“Yes.  Yes, you do.”

“OH Good! Then what can I do for you, sir?”

“Well, you can start by calling me, Impish.  And did you know, November, that you look just like a school teacher in that outfit.”

Knowing very well that Impish has several different “fantasy types” that he is attracted to, one of which being school teacher and another, nurse, she asks, “Is that a problem?  I thought it looked professional, but I can change if you want me to.” As she says this, she pulls the two yellow #2 pencils from her hair, which proceeds to cascade down her back in a golden waterfall.

Impish gasps, sits down behind his desk, with his school teacher fantasy playing out in his head, he remembers Friday’s threats, shakes his head to clear it and says, “No, no.  That’s … um … quite, alright.”

With thoughts of losing his “dragonhood”  echoing in his head, he fires up his computer and says, “November, can you check with editing and get me the proofs for this week’s issue.  I’ll need to go over a few things.”

“Yes, sir.” And the young lady disappears from the office, just to reappear within the minute clutching a sheaf of papers.  “Here you are, sir.  I’ve taken the liberty of proof reading and making some corrections as well as a tiny bit of editing.”

“How’d you get that so fast?”

“Oh, I knew on Wednesdays you liked to reread what you had for the week after perusing Mr. Leprechaun’s issue in the morning.  I removed the two duplicates that he already had, so as not to repeat anything.  I know you always try to give him first dibbs on any of the items you both receive, since his issues are more directional as yours are more eclectic.  So I came in earlier today, and got all this ready for you.”

“You came in early?  Terrance was always 20 minutes behind me.  Why didn’t I see you at your desk out front when I came in.  I certainly wouldn’t have missed YOU.”  Friday’s angry visage came forefront in his mind as he added, “Uh…because, um … you know, you would’ve been sitting right out front and all.”

“If I may say so, Mr. Dragon, it wasn’t that difficult to be here earlier than you.  Miss Friday has all the admin staff here no later than 0900 hrs, so I had a few hours to get things ready for your arrival.  And as to why I wasn’t at my desk when you came in, I was probably down the hall making this.” She says as she puts a hot cup of coffee down in front of the dragon, who would’ve sworn that there wasn’t anything else in her hand after handing him the papers.  But, with her other obvious assets, he barely noticed she had her hair back up in its original bun being held in place with the two pencils.

“Thank you, November.  Terrance always made me get my own coffee.”

“Well, I would think that a dragon of your status would have more important things to do than getting your own coffee.  You just let me know when you need more.  If there isn’t anything else?”  She made her way out of the office and Impish couldn’t help himself from admiring the view as she walked out.  But, it was completely ruined when Friday’s angry face seemed to appear to him right in the middle of her cute derrière.

 

A few minutes later, a cat door, that appeared in a wall that looked exactly like stone deep underground, which, in fact, WAS a stone wall deep underground, opened unnoticed by our little blue dragon, who had his tongue poking out between his teeth as he concentrated on his draft.  The first inkling of the presence of another sentient individual being in the room happened when said sentient individual leaped upon his desk, curled up in a furry ball and looked up at him expectantly.

“Well, good morning!  Look who made it all the way to the desk by themselves!  You must be feeling better, Brutus.”  Impish reaches out and strokes the large feline behind the ears which causes a loud buzz saw of a purr to echo in the room.  He reaches over with his other hand, pushes the intercom button and says, “November, can you bring me a bit of tuna on a small plate.”

Before he even releases the intercom button, November opens his outer door and walks in carrying a plate and bowl and sets them down on Impish’s desk top.  The plate holds fresh tuna and the bowl has cold whole milk.  Impish stutters, “… how did you … why … I didn’t even …. How’d you do that so fast?”

“I put a small alarm on Brutus’s cat door, so I know when he arrives.  And I know how he likes his tuna and milk around this time of day.”

“But that’s amazing.  How’d you know how Brutus likes his food?”

“I just asked him.  I try to know what ALL your friends like, so I can be as efficient as possible.  Would you rather I not?”

“You know this sort of stuff about ALL my friends?”

“It’s not that hard.  You don’t have that many friends.”  Realizing how that sounded, November threw her hand over her mouth and said, “Oh!  I’m so sorry!  I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.  I just meant that you are not the type of person who has a lot of CLOSE friends.  Oh, dear.  I think I may have just made it all worse!  Can I just…”

“November, I understand.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m just glad and very surprised at how efficient you’ve been, even on your first day.  Just carry on.”

The young lady seemed so very much relieved that Impish had to wonder what kind of rumors about him must be spreading through the complex.  He hadn’t eaten an incompetent employee for… well, for at least a couple of weeks, anyway.

Not wanting to interrupt Brutus’s snack, Impish does not return to petting him until he completely finished and curled back up on his desk.  Then he asked, what he assumed would be a rhetorical question, “So…November just asked you how you liked your tuna?  And I’m assuming you just told her.  That’s rich.”

 

In amidst the purring, Brutus responded: Mmwwrr?

“Because cats don’t talk, now do they?”

MwI, Mwo

“No you don’t.  It’s just your purring.”

Mwu Mwawin mwa nwow

“No.  I’m holding up both sides of the conversation, you are NOT talking to me now.  It just sounds like it, sort of…”

Hiss, Mwole

“Don’t call me an asshole!  What …”

The room is suddenly a little brighter as the bulb goes off over Impish’s head.  “Holy crap!  You understand everything I’m saying, don’t you?  And you’re trying to talk back to me, aren’t you?  And…And…”

Hiss Mwole

And Ginny, our final wish for you…