indecorum

George W. Bush is trying to get himself reelected and considers no holds barred in attaining that goal.

In the context of the Star Wars, I thought this was pretty funny. Please take a look at the pop-up image and read all the fine print.

Also take a look at the original Episode II poster to appreciate how well done the GW poster is.

Hehe, Saddam is Yoda…

Cheers. – The Danish Republican

Little Melissa comes home from first grade and tells her father that they learned about the history of Valentine’s Day.

“Since Valentine’s Day is for a Christian saint and we’re Jewish,” she asks, “will God get mad at me for giving someone a valentine?”

Melissa’s father thinks a bit, then says, “No, I don’t think God would get mad. Who do you want to give a valentine to?” “Osama Bin Laden,” she says.

“Why Osama Bin Laden,” her father asks in shock.

“Well,” she says, “I thought that if a little American Jewish girl could have enough love to give Osama a valentine, he might start to think that maybe we’re not all bad, and maybe start loving people a little bit. And, if other kids saw what I did and sent valentines to Osama, he’d love everyone a lot. And then he’d start going all over the place to tell everyone how much he loved them and how he didn’t hate anyone anymore.”

Her father’s heart swells and he looks at his daughter with newfound pride.
“Melissa, that’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know,” Melissa says, “and once that gets him out in the open, the Marines could blow the shit out of him.

The most powerful word?

Well, shit…

Shit may just be the most powerful word in the English language.

You can be shit faced, shit out of luck, or have shit for brains. With a little effort, you can get your shit together, find a place for your shit or decide to shit or get off the pot. You can smoke shit, buy shit, sell shit, lose shit, find shit, forget shit, and tell others to eat shit and die.

Some people know their shit while others can’t tell the difference between shit and shineola. There are lucky shits, dumb shits, crazy shits, and sweet shits. There is bull shit, chicken shit. and horse shit.

You can throw shit, sling shit, catch shit, or duck when shit hits the fan. You can give a shit or serve shit on a shingle.

You can find yourself in deep shit or be happier than a pig in shit.

Some days are colder than shit,
some days are hotter than shit,
and some days are just plain shitty.
Some music sounds like shit,
things can look like shit,
and there are times when you feel like shit.
You can have too much shit,
the right! shit,
the wrong shit or
a lot of weird shit.
You can carry shit, have a mountain of shit,
or find yourself up shit creek without a paddle.
Sometimes everything you touch turns to shit,
and other times you swim in a lake of shit and come out smelling like a rose.
When you stop to consider all the facts, it’s the basic building block of creation.

And remember, once you know your shit, you don’t need to know anything else!
You could pass this along if you give a shit…; )

Four men got together to play golf one sunny morning. As they were heading out to the course, one of them was detained by a phone call.

The other three were discussing their children while walking to the first tee.

“My son,” said one proudly, “has made quite a name for himself in the home building industry. He began as a carpenter, but now owns his own design and construction firm. He’s so successful, in fact in the last year he was able to give a good friend a brand new home as a gift.”

The second man, not to be outdone, boasts how his son began his career as a car salesman, but now owns a multi-line dealership. “He’s so successful, in fact, in the last six months he gave a friend two brand new cars as a gift.”

The third man brags that his son has worked his way up through a stock brokerage firm, and has become so successful that in the last few weeks has given a good friend a large stock portfolio as a gift.

As the fourth man arrives at the tee box, the three smugly tell him that they have been discussing how successful their progeny are, and ask what line of work his son is in.

“To tell the truth, I’m not very pleased how my son has turned out,” he replies. “For fifteen years, he’s been a hairdresser, and I’ve just recently discovered he’s gay.” As the other three recoil in horror, he continues, “but on the bright side, he must be good at what he does, because his last three boyfriends have given him a brand new house, two new cars, and a big stock portfolio.”

Why the ___s Hate the ___s

1. They stole our ___!
2. At the Battle of ___ in the ___ Century, they used unfair tactics to defeat us. We cannot rest until the souls of our dead are avenged.
3. Their religion is absurd. Offensive, really-did you know they actually believe ______? And they won’t be happy until EVERYBODY believes it!
4. While it’s not “politically correct” to say so, science has proven them to be ___.
5. They smell weird.
6. They live like animals. Children, education, the future-none of these matter to them.
7. Their music is primitive, and encourages people to ___.
8. Can you believe they eat ___? Think about that for a second-they actually put ___ in their MOUTHS.
9. They want to sully our women.
10. There are so many of them-all they do is ___! If we’re not careful, someday soon we’ll be submerged beneath a flood of ____!
11. If there’s anything worse than a _____, it’s a _____-lover. These traitors are trying to destroy us from within. !
12. Sure, there are a few good _____s. But better safe than sorry.
13. Yes, we killed ____ of them. You can’t expect them to understand it was in self-defense-they’re totally irrational. Sooner or later, they will seek revenge, and when they do, we must be prepared to kill more. That’s the only language they understand.
14. Of course we seem prejudiced. The media is obviously pro-_______.
15. They’re the reason we’re so unhappy.

Remember the book “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”?

Well, here’s a prime example offered by an English professor at an
American University. “Today we will experiment with a new form called
the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with
the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then
write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the
first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first
person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth.
Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the
story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking and anything you
wish to say must be written on the paper. The story is over when both
agree a conclusion has been reached.”

The following was actually turned in by two of my English students:
Rebecca and Gary – last names deleted.

STORY:

(First paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn’t decide which kind of tea she wanted. The
chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now
reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he
liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind
off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about
him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of
the question.

(Second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron
now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about
than the neuroses of an air headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with
whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. “A.S. Harris to
Geostation 17, he said into his transgalactic communicator. “Polar orbit
established. No sign of resistance so far…” But before he could sign
off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole
through his ship’s cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him
flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately but not before he felt
one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who
had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its
pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4.
“Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,”
Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously
excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her
youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no
newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of
innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. “Why must one
lose one’s innocence to become a woman?” she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands
of miles above the city, the Anu’udrian mothership launched the first of
its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed
the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the Congress had
left earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were
determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage
of the treaty the Anu’udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying
enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop
them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion
missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President in his
top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the
coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized
poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President
slammed his fist on the conference table. “We can’t allow this! I’m
going to veto that treaty! Let’s blow ‘em out of the sky!”

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My
writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, you’re a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at
writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. “Oh shall I have
chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F*CKING TEA??? Oh no,
I’m such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele
novels… I can’t decide.”

(Rebecca)
Asshole.

(Gary)
Bitch.

(Rebecca)
Wanker.

(Gary)
Slut.

(Rebecca)
Get f*cked.

(Gary)
Eat shit.

(Rebecca)
F*CK YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL

(Gary)
Go drink some tea – whore.

(Teacher)
A+ – I really liked this one!

1. A best-man toast must never include any of the following phrases: “down in Tijuana,” “improbably booting out his nose,” “then she took out her teeth,” or “mostly scabbed over.”


2. You may exaggerate any anecdote told in a bar by 50% without recrimination; beyond that, anyone within earshot is allowed to call bullshit (Exception – when trying to pick up a girl, the allowable limit is repealed.)


3. Bitching about the brand of free beer in your buddy’s refrigerator is forbidden (however, you are free to gripe if the beer temperature is unsuitable).


4. A buddy must be permitted to borrow anything you own – weed whacker, car, firstborn child – with 12 hours notice. If he brings it back damaged, he must repair within seven days, even if it means selling his plasma. (Exception – if the damage goes unnoticed at the hand-off, your buddy gets away scot-free).


5. On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.


6. Women who claim they “love to watch sports” must be treated as spies until such time as they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to pick a Buffalo-wing clean.


7. If your buddy’s zipper is down, that’s his problem – you didn’t see nothin.


8. A man shall never be required to buy a birthday gift for another man. (In fact, even remembering your best buddy’s birthday is strictly optional).


9. When stumbling upon another group of guys watching a sporting event, you may always ask the score of the game in progress but you must never ask who’s playing.


10. You may flatulate in front of a woman only after you’ve brought her to climax. If you ever trap her head under the covers for the purpose of flatulent entertainment, you must officially recognize her as your girlfriend thereafter.


11. Friends don’t let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.


12. “Move your feet, lose your seat” – this rule has survived all challenges and supersedes any local “pee breaks are safe” ordinances.


13. Never join your wife or girlfriend in dissing a buddy of yours, except in those situations where she’s withholding sex pending your response.


14. Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza, but not both – that’s just plain mean.


15. Never talk to another man in the bathroom unless you’re on equal footing: both urinating, both waiting in line, etc. For all other situations, an almost imperceptible “I recognize you” nod is all the conversation you need.


16. Things you can cheat on: your taxes, the SATs, your resume. Things you can never cheat on: golf, poker, darts.

10 Reasons Why Trick or Treating is Better than Sex

10. You are guaranteed to get at least a little something in the sack.
9. If you get tired, you can wait 10 minutes and go at it again.
8. The uglier you look, the easier it is to get some.
7. You don’t have to compliment the person who gives you some.
6. It’s O.K. when the person you’re with fantasizes you’re someone else, because you are.
5. Forty years from now you’ll still enjoy candy.
4. If you don’t like what you get, you can always go next door.
3. It doesn’t matter if the kids hear you moaning and groaning.
2. Less guilt the morning after.

AND THE

No. 1 reason why trick or treating is better than sex…
YOU CAN DO THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD.

“Are you a consultant or are you a prostitute?” The question came up the other day, and I’m still not sure… Here’s my list of similarities:

1. You work very odd hours.
2. You are paid a lot of money to keep your client happy.
3. You are paid well but your pimp gets most of the money.
4. You spend a majority of your time in a hotel room.
5. You charge by the hour but your time can be extended.
6. You are not proud of what you do.
7. Creating fantasies for your clients is rewarded.
8. It’s difficult to have a family.
9. You have no job satisfaction.
10. If a client beats you up, the pimp just sends you to another client.
11. You are embarrassed to tell people what you do for a living.
12. People ask you, “What do you do?” and you can’t explain it.
13. Your client pays for your hotel room plus your hourly rate.
14. Your client always wants to know how much you charge and what they get for the money.
15. Your pimp drives nice cars like Mercedes or Jaguars.
16. Your pimp encourages drinking and you become addicted to drugs to ease the pain of it all.
17. You know the pimp is charging more than you are worth but if the client is foolish enough to pay it’s not your problem.
18. When you leave to go see a client, you look great, but return looking like hell (compare your appearance on Monday AM to Friday PM).
19. You are rated on your “performance” in an excruciating ordeal.
20. Even though you get paid the big bucks, it’s the client who walks away smiling.
21. The client always thinks your “cut” of your billing rate is higher then it actually is, and in turn, expects miracles from you.
22. When you deduct your “take” from your billing rate, you constantly wonder if you could get a better deal with another pimp.

What do you think?

Three men, an American, a Japanese and an Irishman were sitting naked in
the sauna. Suddenly there was a beeping sound. The American pressed his forearm and the beep stopped. The others looked at him questioningly. “That was my pager,” he said. “I have a microchip under the skin of my arm.”

A few minutes later a phone rang. The Japanese fellow lifted his palm to his ear. When he finished he explained, “That was my mobile phone. I have a microchip in my hand.”

Paddy felt decidedly low-tech. So as not to be outdone, he decided he had to do something just as impressive. He stepped out of the sauna and went to the toilet.

He returns with a piece of toilet paper hanging from his bottom. The others raised their eyebrows. “Will you look at that” says Paddy, “I’m getting a fax”.