Well, today is Tuesday and I’m really enjoying doing nothing on my time off so far.  Mostly because I haven’t been doing nothing, but I’ve been doing what I’ve wanted to do and I’ve gotten some stuff caught up and some studying done and mostly I’ve relaxed.

And gotten to spend some time with you guys, which I REALLY like.  So …

This first one is very timely, but a bit vulgar, so if there’s any kids in the room, cover their eyes…

Give me chastity and continence, but not yet.

– Saint Augustine (354-430)

The staff at the office where my wife works was hosting a farewell luncheon for a retiring colleague.

As the group prepared to go to the restaurant, they found that they couldn’t fit the giant balloon they had purchased for the guest of honor into the car.

Undaunted, they simply held the balloon out the window as they drove.

My wife and her co-workers weren’t prepared for the glares they received from passers-by.

As the long line of traffic in front of their vehicle began to turn, they saw that their car was right behind a funeral procession.

There was nothing they could do but hold on to the balloon with its farewell message: “Gone but not forgotten.”

I’m going to need some of you guys to start getting weirder.  I can’t keep pulling all the weight by myself.

This hit me…

You never really know the true impact you have on those around you. You never know how much someone needed that smile you gave them. You never know how much your kindness turned someone’s entire life around. You never know how much someone needed that long hug or deep talk.  So don’t wait to be kind. Don’t wait for someone else to be kind first. Don’t wait for better circumstances or for someone to change. Just be kind, because you never know how much someone needs it.

Wow!  I do almost every one of those every day!  Especially #5.

When life knocks you down, roll over, and look at the stars.

The biggest irony of all this is, the internet was created to save us time.

Don’t take mirrors too seriously.
Your true reflection is in your heart.

If I had sex as much as I got screwed life would be AWESOME!!!

Sub: Punish me.
Dom: If you want to be punished so bad, shouldn’t your punishment be to not get punished?
Sub:
Dom:
Sub:
Dom:
Sub: That’s not fair.

I blame OSHA.
In the old days stupid people died from being stupid.  OSHA has been keeping stupid people alive since the 1970’s.  Alive to breed and make more stupid people.  Now we have a country full of stupid people.
Thanks a LOT OSHA!

Bob’s wife and Bob started dieting a week ago.

His wife proposed that they should have a cheat day today.  She brought home McDonald’s burgers, KFC wings, and fries.

Bob brought home his secretary.

From his hospital bed, Bob is wondering when men will ever begin to understand women.

Help, I’m Dying Laughing At These 31 Inappropriate And Weird Logos Designers Actually Got Away With

Got an update on our Generations Poll…you remember the Generations Poll.  What generation does our Readership fall into?  Remember this?

I got a couple of updates.  

33% Silent Generation or somewhere between the ages of 97 and 80
56% Baby Boomers or somewhere between the ages of 79 and 61
11% Generation X or between the ages of 60 and 45

And now for the truth in advertising part.  We’ve only had 9 responses.  That’s 3 Silent Gen, 5 Boomers, and 1 Gen X.  Not near as much as I thought I’d get, but hey, it’s a start.  Maybe this little nudge will help.

This next one cracked me up!  It’s well written and funny as heck!

A PLEA FOR HELP FROM A GROUNDED AUSTRALIAN PILOT TO HIS FRIEND

Hi Mate,

I am writing to you because I need your help to get me bloody pilot’s license back. You keep telling me you got all the right contacts.  Well now’s your chance to make something happen for me because, mate, I’m bloody desperate. But first, I’d better tell you what happened during my last flight review with the CAA examiner. 

On the phone, Ron (that’s the CAA dickhead) seemed a reasonable sort of bloke. He politely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He even offered to drive out, have a look over my property, and let me operate from my own strip. 

Naturally I agreed to that.

Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to see the plane on a small strip outside my homestead because the ALA (Authorized Landing Area) is about a mile away. I explained that because this strip was so close to the homestead it was more convenient than the ALA, and despite the power lines that cross about midway down the strip it’s really not a problem to land and take-off because at the half-way point down the strip you’re usually still on the ground. 

For some reason Ron seemed nervous. So although I had done the pre- flight inspection only four days earlier I decided to do it all over again. Because Ron was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three times instead of my usual two. My effort was rewarded because the color finally returned to Ron’s cheeks. In fact, they were a bright red. 

In view of Ron’s obviously better mood, I told him that I was going to combine the test with some farm work as I had to deliver three poddy calves from the home paddock to the main herd. After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into the back of the ol’ Cessna 172. We climbed aboard but Ron started getting on to me about weight and balance calculations and all that crap. Of course I knew that thing was a waste of time because calves like to move around a bit, particularly when they see themselves 500 feet off the ground. So it’s bloody pointless trying to secure them as you know. However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn’t worry as I always keep the trim wheel set on neutral to ensure that we remain pretty stable at all stages throughout the flight. 

Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time by tramping hard on the brakes and gunned her to 2,500 rpm. I then discovered that Ron has very acute hearing, even though he was wearing a bloody headset. Through all that noise he detected a metallic rattle and demanded that I account for it. Actually it began about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floor and lodged in the fuel selector machanism. The selector can’t be moved now but it doesn’t matter because it’s jammed on “All Tanks” so I suppose that’s okay. 

However, as Ron was obviously a real nit-picker, I blamed the noise on a vibration from a steel thermos flask which I keep in a beaut possie between the windshield and the magnetic compass. My explanation seemed to relax Ron because he slumped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof. I released the brakes to taxi out but unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to the right. “Hell”, I thought, “not the starboard chalk again.” The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness.  He looked wildly around just in time to see a rock thrown by the propwash disappear completely through the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. 

While Ron was ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement that we taxi to the ALA and instead took off under the power lines. Ron didn’tsay a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at the lift off point, then he bloody screamed his head off. “Oh God!  Oh God! Oh God!” “Now take it easy, Ron” I told him firmly. “That often happens after take-off and there is a good reason for it.” I explained patiently that I usually run the plane on standard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene. To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene I siphoned in a few gallons of super MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. 

Since then, the engine has been coughing a bit but in general it works just fine if you know how to coax it properly. Anyway, at this stage, Ron seemed to lose all interest in my flight test. He pulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer. (I didn’t think that anybody was a Catholic these days.) 

I selected some nice music on the HF radio to help him relax. Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of 10,500 feet. I don’t normally put in a flight plan or get the weather because, as you know getting fax access out here is a friggin joke and the bloody weather is always 8/8 blue anyway. But since I had that near miss with a Saab 340 I might have to change my thinking on that. Anyhow, on leveling out I noticed some wild camels heading into my improved pasture. I hate bloody camels and always carry a loaded .303 clipped inside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of the bastards.  We were too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a go through the open window. Mate, when I pulled the bloody rifle out the effect on Ron was friggin’ electric. 

As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about six inches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo. He really looked as if he had been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron’s reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and the next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about the shooting (probably one of those pinko animal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little problem with the tyre. 

Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my fighter pilot trick.  Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence, I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 10,500 feet down to 500 feet and 130 knots indicated (the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushing up the red area on me ASI. What a buzz, mate! About half way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calves suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going to comment on this unusual sight but Ron looked a bit green and had rolled himself into the fetal position and was screamin’ his freaking head off. Mate, talk about being in a bloody zoo.  You should have been there, it was so bloody funny. 

At about 500 feet I attempted to level out. For some reason we continued sinking. When we reached 50 feet I applied full power but nothing happened; no noise, no nothin. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor’s voice in me head saying “carby heat, carby heat”. So I pulled carby heat on and that helped quite a lot, with the engine finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me tell you.  Then mate, you’ll never guess what happened next! 

As luck would have it, at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R. You would’ve been bloody proud of me as I didn’t panic once, not once, but I did make a mental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is repaired. (Something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now.) Suddenly Ron’s elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His mouth opened wide, very wide, but no sound emerged. “Take it easy,” I told him. “We’ll be out of this in a minute.” Sure enough, about a minute later we emerge; still straight and level and still at 50 feet.  Admittedly, I was surprise to notice that we were upside down and I kept thinking to myself, “I hope Ron didn’t notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we were taxiing”. 

This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley in which I had to do a half roll to get upright again. By now the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip between them. “Ah!,” I thought, “there’s an omen. We’ll land right there.” 

Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with full flap.  Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loud in me ear that I cut it’s circuit breaker to shut it up, but by then I knew we were slow enough anyway. I turned steeply into a 75 foot final and put her down with a real thud. 

Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a tail dragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again. Halfway through our third loop Ron at last recovered his sense of humour. Talk about laugh. I’ve never seen the likes of it. He couldn’t stop. We finally rolled to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of the aircraft like there was no tomorrow. I then began picking clumps of dry grass.  Between gut wrenching fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. I explained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the homestead. It was then that Ron really lost the plot and started running away from the aircraft. 

Can you believe it? The last time I saw him he was off into the distance, arms flailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter.  I later heard that he had been confined to a psychiatric institution- poor bugger. 

Anyhow, mate, that’s enough about Ron. The problem is, I just got a letter from CASA withdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone a complete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight proficiency test. Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and not setting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can’t see what else I did that was so bloody bad that they have to withdraw me flamin’ license. 

Can you?

A teenager who had just received her provisional driving licence offered to drive her parents to church. After a hair-raising ride, they finally reached their destination.

The mother got out of the car and said, “Thank you!”

“Anytime,” her daughter replied.

As the woman slammed the door, she said, “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to God.”

50 Times Complete Strangers On The Internet Came Totally Out Of NOWHERE With The Absolute Funniest Response To A Comment

That is PERFECT!!!!!

A man died leaving one hundred clocks – His son is winding up the estate.

That’s it my friends.  Until next time.  Remember, you can write to me at impishdragon@dragonlaffs.com or leave a comment here at the blog.  Would love to hear from you about what generation you are or about anything.