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| Posted by Tisch T. B on 13-Aug-2005 | The Pheasant and the BullA pheasant was standing in a field chatting to a bull. 'I would love to be able to get to the top of yonder tree', sighed the pheasant, 'but I haven't got the energy'.
'Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?' replied the bull. 'They're packed with nutrients'.
The pheasant pecked at a lump of dung and found that it actually gave him enough strength to reach the first branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. And so on.
Finally, after a fortnight, there he was proudly perched at the top of the tree. Whereupon he was spotted by a farmer who dashed into the farmhouse, emerged with a shotgun, and shot the pheasant right out of the tree.
The Moral of the Story: Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.
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| Posted by chicken E. taste on 13-Aug-2005 | Endangered SpeciesOne beautiful autumn day, a Park Ranger discovered a man sitting in the woods chewing away on a dead Bald Eagle.
'Hey mister, the Bald Eagle is a protected species, and killing one is punishable offence', said the Park Ranger.
The man was swiftly arrested, and ushered before the judge.
In court, he pleaded innocent to the charges against him, claiming that if he didn't eat the bald eagle he would have died from starvation.
'I was so hungry' complained the defensive camper, 'the Bald Eagle was the only food I could find!'
To everyone's amazement, the judge ruled in his favor.
In the judge's closing statement he asked the man, 'I would like you to tell me something before I let you go. I have never eaten a bald eagle, nor ever plan on it. But I'd like to know: What did it taste like?'
The man answered, 'Well, it tasted like a cross between a Whooping Crane and a Spotted Owl.'
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| Posted by Jesi Lucjak on 13-Aug-2005 | The Tromboom...(Please don't try this at home)
August, 1998, Montevideo, Uruguay
Paolo Esperanza, bass-trombonist with the Simphonica Mayor de Uruguay, in a misplaced moment of inspiration decided to make his own contribution to the cannon shots fired as part of the orchestra's performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at an outdoor children's concert. In complete seriousness he placed a large, ignited firecracker, which was equivalent in strength to a quarter stick of dynamite, into his aluminum straight mute and then stuck the mute into the bell of his quite new Yamaha in-line double-valve bass trombone.
Later, from his hospital bed he explained to a reporter through bandages on his mouth, ''I thought that the bell of my trombone would shield me from the explosion and instead, would focus the energy of the blast outward's and away from me, propelling the mute high above the orchestra, like a rocket.''
However, Paolo was not up on his propulsion physics nor qualified to use high-powered artillery and in his haste to get the horn up before the firecracker went off, he failed to raise the bell of the horn high enough so as to give the mute enough arc to clear the orchestra.
What actually happened should serve as a lesson to us all during those delirious moments of divine inspiration. First, because he failed to sufficiently elevate the bell of his horn, the blast propelled the mute between rows of players in the woodwind and viola sections of the orchestra, missing the players and straight into the stomach of the conductor, driving him off the podium and directly into the front row of the audience.
Fortunately, the audience were sitting in folding chairs and thus they were protected from serious injury, for the chairs collapsed under them passing the energy of the impact of the flying conductor backwards into row of people sitting behind them, who in turn were driven back into the people in the row behind and so on, like a row of dominos. The sound of collapsing wooden chairs and grunts of people falling on their behinds increased logarithmically, adding to the overall sound of brass cannons and brass playing as constitutes the closing measures of the Overture.
Meanwhile, all of this unplanned choreography not withstanding, back on stage Paolo's Waterloo was still unfolding. According to Paolo, ''Just as the I heard the sound of the blast, time seemed to stand still. Everything moved in slow motion. Just before I felt searing pain to my mouth, I could swear I heard a voice with a Austrian accent say ''Fur every akshon zer iz un eekvul un opposeet reakshon!''
Well, this should come as no surprise, for Paolo had set himself up for a textbook demonstration of this fundamental law of physics. Having failed to plug the lead pipe of his trombone, he allowed the energy of the blast to send a super-heated jet of gas backwards through the mouth pipe of the trombone which exited the mouthpiece burning his lips and face.
The pyrotechnic ballet wasn't over yet. The force of the blast was so great it split the bell of his shiny Yamaha right down the middle, turning it inside out while at the same time propelling Paolo backwards off the riser. And for the grand finale, as Paolo fell backwards he lost his grip on the slide of the trombone allowing the pressure of the hot gases coursing through the horn to propel the trombone's slide like a double golden spear into the head of the 3rd clarinetist, knocking him unconscious.
The moral of the story? Beware the next time you hear someone in the trombone section yell out: ''Hey, everyone, watch this!''
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