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| Posted by Me Mo on 14-Aug-2005 | Frog PrincessA huge muscular man walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender hands him the beer and says, "You know, I'm not gay but I want to compliment you on your physique, it really is phenomenal! I have a question though, why is your head so small?"
The big guy nods slowly. He's obviously fielded this question many times.
"One day," he begins, "I was hunting when I got lost in the woods. I heard someone crying for help and finally realized that it was coming from a frog sitting next to a stream. So I picked up the frog and it said, "Kiss me. Kiss me and I will turn into a genie and grant you 3 wishes".
So I looked around to make sure I was alone and gave the frog a kiss.
POOF!
The frog turned into a beautiful, voluptuous, naked woman.
She said, "You now have 3 wishes."
I looked down at my scrawny 115 pound body and said, "I want a body like Arnold Schwarzenneger."
She nodded, whispered a spell, and POOF! there I was, so huge that I ripped out of my clothes and was standing there naked!
She then asked, "What will be your second wish?"
I looked hungrily at her beautiful body and replied, "I want to make sensuous love with you here by this stream."
She nodded, laid down, and beckoned to me. We then made love for hours! Later, as we lay there next to each other, sweating from our glorious lovemaking, she whispered into my ear, "You know, you do have one more wish. What will it be?"
I looked at her and replied, "How about a little head?"
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| Posted by shante on 14-Aug-2005 | Stupid TouristsLast Sunday's edition of the Union-Leader featured an article on the Presidential Range. A large portion of the article was made up of quotes heard by state park, Mt. Washington Auto Road, "stagecoach," and Cog Railway employees over the years.
Here are some choice excerpts.
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"Where are the presidents' faces carved into the mountain?"
"Are you a native Vermonter?"
"Is this the base?" [asked at summit]
"Do you work for the state of Connecticut?"
"Is there any danger of this mountain erupting while I'm on it?"
"Can you see New Hampshire from here?"
"Boy, the visibility must be 90 miles an hour!"
"How come I can still breathe this high up?"
"You say that's the ocean we're looking at out there? Which one?"
"Where's the view?"
"Who cut down all the trees up here?"
"How do they keep the Lakes of the Clouds filled?"
"Where's the summit?" [asked at the top]
"They told me I was going to get a historic view up here. Is this it?"
"When they built [the auto road], did they start at the top or the bottom?"
"Can I drive my car to Tuckerman's Ravine?"
"Is there a one-hour time difference between here and the bottom of the road?"
"Is that man-made?" [visitor pointing to Cog Railway]
"Do you have an elevator to the base?"
"Is walking down called hiking, too?"
"Are any of your trails paved?"
"Are any of the trails lit for night hiking?"
"What's the name of the trail I just came up? It's short and steep."
"Are the hiking trails man-made?"
"How high is the other side of the mountain?"
"What are the emergency shelters for?"
"Where are all the dead people?"
"Where's the sign that says how many people jumped from up here?"
"Are there boat races on the Lakes of the Clouds?"
"Are the brooks up here fresh or salt water?"
"What does 'no tenting' mean?"
"I didn't hike up. Am I still allowed to talk to you?"
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| Posted by Dan Becker on 14-Aug-2005 | New CarThis lady always wanted an expensive car-a status symbol to drive around and be seen in. She scrimps and saves, goes to the dealer, and plops down several years income for a brand new state-of-the-art, computer enhanced, kick-ass, dream mobile.
She's driving off. Decides she wants some music and searches for the radio. The dashboard looks like a control panel at NASA. She fiddles with this button, that gizmo... jiggles these and those, but finally gives up.
Can't find the damned thing. Furious, she races back to the dealership and screams at the salesman. Tells him they forgot to install the radio. He assures her it's right there in front of her. It's hooked into the onboard computer. All she has to do is tell it what she wants.
He demonstrates:
"Classical", he says. *click* The car fills with the sounds of Paganini.
"Blues", he says, and *click* a B.B. King classic plays.
She drives off amazed.
"Country", she says, and *click* a Garth Brooks tune comes on.
"Folk" *click* Joan Baez sings about the night they drove ol' Dixie down.
"New Age" *click* Yanni at the Acropolis snaps on.
She's so captivated by this new toy that she isn't paying much attention to the road. Another driver runs a light and cuts her off.
"ASSHOLE!!!" she screams. *click* and.... "Good morning, everyone. You're listening to the Rush Limbaugh Show"
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| Posted by Eric Wellz on 14-Aug-2005 | A peek at Martha Stewart's 1997 CalendarJan 1: Catch up on gardening--sew leaves back onto trees. Do all cooking for 1997.
Jan 2: Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble.
Jan 3: Align carpets to adjust for curvature of Earth.
Jan 4: Drain city reservoir; refill with mulled cider, orange slices and cinnamon sticks.
Jan 5: Lay Faberge egg.
Jan 6: Freshen air in home by sliding a dozen Dr. Scholl's shoe inserts into heat pump.
Jan 7: Visit crematorium. Collect dentures. They make excellent pastry cutters, particularly for decorative pie crusts.
Jan 8: Culture ancient DNA into dinosaurs for nieces and nephews.
Jan 9: Receive delivery of new phone books. Old ones make ideal personal address books; simply cross out the names of all the people you do not know.
Jan 10: Finish needlepoint colostomy cozy.
Jan 11: Organize spice racks by genus and phylum.
Jan 12: Attend workshop on obsessive-compulsive disorders. Take verbatim notes.
Jan 13: Address sympathy cards for all friends with elderly relatives, so that they're all ready to be mailed the moment death occurs.
Jan 14: Replace air in mini van tires with Glad air freshener in case tires are shot out at the mall.
Jan 15: MLK birthday. Find out who MLK is.
Jan 16: Get new eyeglasses; grind lenses myself
Jan 17: Using candlewick and hand-gilded miniature pine cones, fashion cat-o'-nine-tails. Flog gardener.
Jan 18: Repaint Sistine Chapel ceiling in ecru with mocha trim.
Jan 19: Update enemies list. Place in hermetically sealed vault. Remove air, replace with nitrogen.
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| Posted by David G. Esdaile on 14-Aug-2005 | Dances with CucumbersMay 5, 1863 -- Here on the frontier, I sometimes wonder if the ancients were right. With no other friendly face within 150 miles, it seems as if I have fallen off the edge of the Earth. I spend my time now reading what books I have and cultivating my patch of cucumbers (which I brought back from the Holy Land, cf. Prince of Thieves). The "purpose" of this fort, to hold back the Indians, has fallen away with my civilized veneer.
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May 7, 1863 -- This morning I had an interesting and silent encounter. One of the tribe of Indians nearby watched me perform my morning tasks and then left without a word. I am excited by the prospect of contact with the natives of the area.
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May 20, 1863 -- I have finally convinced the Indians to parlay with me. I taught them the word for "fort", feeling that it would be simple enough for them to learn. They in turn taught me the Indian word "titonka", apparently a small but tough, powerfully merchandised horseless carriage of metal construction. I envy these people their simplicity.
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June 7, 1863 -- Today I visited the Indians' village. It is on one of the many flat-topped plateaus in the area. As the decline of the buffalo proceeds, so too does this Indian tribe face decline. I will try to teach them agriculture. They have also told me their name for themselves. It is "Anasazi"... which apparently means "people called Anasazi" in their language. I am called by them "Stinchapecsal" which means "he who should bathe more regularly".
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July 8, 1863 -- A rude awakening. The Indians are fully aware of agriculture and in fact have nothing to do with the buffalo (what kind of nomadic tribe would build a village on a mesa?); unfortunately, they are suffering a drought. Knowing a remedy, I have told them to dig a ditch from the nearby stream up the mountainside to their mesa-top fields. In the meantime, I am pickling my cucumbers.
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July 20, 1863 -- The drought is desperate, but the ditch is finished and my pickles are ready. I am lining the ditch with pickles. The Anasazi are doubtful, but I have promised them results in the morning.
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July 21, 1863 -- Success! The stream has been diverted and now flows up the mountainside to the Anasazi fields. Amazed by this seeming magic, I told them that it was simply a well-known fact in my world. After all, everyone knows that "dill waters run steep".
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| Posted by Dianthus W on 14-Aug-2005 | Experts Warn of Threat from 100GigaBurg BugExperts Warn of Threat from 100GigaBurg Bug
Experts warned today of a new and deadly threat to our beleaguered civilization: the 100GB Bug. As most people know, McDonald's restaurant signs show the number of hamburgers the giant chain has sold. That number now stands at 99 billion burgers, or 99 Gigaburgers (GB).
Within months or even weeks, that number will roll over to 100GB. McDonald's signs, however, were designed years ago, when the prospect of selling one hundred billion hamburgers seemed unthinkably remote. So the signs have only two decimal places. This means that, after the sale of the 100 billionth burger, McDonald's signs will read "00 Billion Burgers Sold."
This, experts predict, will convince the public that, in over thirty years, no McDonald's hamburgers have ever in fact been sold, causing a complete collapse of consumer confidence in McDonald's products. The ensuing catastrophic drop in sales is seen as almost certain to force the already-troubled company into bankruptcy.
This, in turn, will push the teetering American economy over the brink, which, finally, will complete the total devastation of the global economy, ending civilization as we know it, and forcing us all to live on beetles.
"The people who know -- the sign-makers -- are really scared of 100GB," one expert said.
"I don't know about you, but I'm digging up a copy of THE FIELD GUIDE TO NORTH AMERICAN INSECTS and heading for the hills."
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