More "Medicine"

Eighth Amendment Erased

Kinko's Copying Error Erases Eighth Amendment

A power surge in Washington, D.C. caused equipment failure at a copy center which irreparably damaged part of the United States Constitution, according to a press release by the Library of Congress.

"Like many government agencies, we have been trying to make do with tighter budgets," said James Billington, Librarian of Congress. "Part of these cost-saving efforts involved the use of private contractors to handle some of the routine photocopying work. Unfortunately, in this instance the decision to use an outside contractor proved costly."

The Library of Congress, it was revealed, has been clandestinely using Kinko's Copy Center to handle much of its document reproduction and preservation.

"They're open 24 hours a day," lamented Billington, "and their prices were oh so reasonable."

Apparently, earlier this year the Library sent the original U.S. Constitution to Kinko's for cleaning and photocopying. While the document was being copied, a power surge caused the photocopier feed to lock, resulting in damage to the Constitution. The damage caused the eighth amendment to be completely destroyed.

"Have you ever seen the gears inside a copier? They're pretty sharp," said Kinko's spokesperson Gary Klein. "We're lucky we got the original out at all."

The loss is particularly problematic because there are no other records of the eighth amendment, and apparently no one in Washington remembers what it was about.

"Well most people don't look much past the first and second amendments," said Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert. "Personally I think if it was important, the Founding Fathers should have included it in the Constitution proper instead of as something tacked on the end. Besides, whatever the eighth amendment was about is probably no longer relevant - it's two hundred years old. I bet it was something about whisky tax or something."

The Library of Congress initially tried to quietly create a facsimile of the Constitution and restore the missing amendment, but quickly discovered that American textbooks on history and government have not included complete copies of the Constitution since 1962.

"Who reads all that stuff anyway?" said Chris Goodstein, professor of public policy at the University of Virginia. "Lawyers? Politicians? Please. Today's government officials are too important to worry about hacking their way through centuries-old legalese."

President Bush expressed hope that the loss of the eighth amendment would leave an opening for a new one in its place.

"No sense renumbering all the later amendments," he said during a press conference. "We can just stick something in there about America being a Christian nation, or make English the official language or something. I really think that this accidental loss will actually help America change in ways never thought possible."
 
Rybka said:
I get tired of all those forwarded warnings as much as anyone, but this one
is important! I hope I'm not too late....Send this warning to everyone on
your e-mail list!

If someone comes to your front door saying they are conducting a survey on
deer ticks and asks you to take your clothes off and dance around to shake
off the ticks, do not do it!

IT IS A SCAM; they only want to see you naked.

I wish I'd gotten this yesterday. I feel so stupid now. . .

And so you should. You call that dancing? I seen dead men shake it better than you. And you aint pretty naked.
 
A close shave please

A Scottish poet enters a barber shop for a shave. While the barber is foaming him up, he mentions the problems he has had getting a close shave around the cheeks.

"I have just the thing." says the barber taking a small wooden ball from a nearby drawer. "Just place this between your cheek and gum."

The poet placed the ball in his mouth, and the barber proceeded to give him the closest shave he had ever experienced.

After a few strokes, the poet asked in garbled speech. "And what if I swallow it?"

"No problem." said the barber. "Just bring it back tomorrow like everyone else does!"
 
humor.gif
 
Dead Horse Theory

The tribal wisdom of the Dakota Indians, passed on from generation to generation, says that, "When you discover that you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount."


However, in government, education, and in corporate America, more advanced strategies are often employed, such as:

1. Buying a stronger whip.

2. Changing riders.

3. Appointing a committee to study the horse.

4. Arranging to visit other countries to see how other cultures ride dead horses.

5. Lowering the standards so that dead horses can be included.

6. Reclassifying the dead horse as living-impaired.

7. Hiring outside contractors to ride the dead horse.

8. Harnessing several dead horses together to increase speed.

9. Providing additional funding and/or training to increase dead horse's performance.

10. Doing a productivity study to see if lighter riders would improve the dead horse's performance.

11. Declaring that as the dead horse does not have to be fed, it is less costly, carries lower overhead and therefore contributes substantially more to the bottom line of the economy than do some other horses.

12. Rewriting the expected performance requirements for all horses.

And of course....

13. Promoting the dead horse to a supervisory position.
 
Why are we still there?

Every day there are news reports about more deaths.

Every night on TV there are photos of death and destruction.

Why are we still there?

We occupied this land, which we had to take by force, but it causes us nothing but trouble.

Many of our sons and daughters go there and never come back.

Why are we still there?

Their government is unstable, and they have loopy leadership.

Many of their people are uncivilized.

Why are we still there?

The place is subject to natural disasters, from which we are supposed to bail them out.

There are more than 1000 religious sects, which we do not understand.

Why are we still there?

Their folkways, foods and fads are unfathomable to ordinary Americans.

We can't even secure the borders.

Why are we still there?

They are billions of dollars in debt and it will cost billions more to rebuild, which we can't afford.

It is becoming clear. . .




WE MUST PULL OUT OF CALIFORNIA!

;)
 
Boots

There was a teacher who was helping one of her kindergarten students put on his winter boots. He had asked for help and she could see why.

Even with her pulling and him pushing, the little boots still didn't want to go on. Finally, when the second boot was on, she had worked up a sweat.
She almost cried when the little boy said, "Teacher, they're on the wrong feet." She looked and sure enough, they were. It wasn't any easier pulling the
boots off than it was putting them on. She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on - this time on the right feet. He then announced, "These aren't my boots."

She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and scream, "Why didn't you say so?" like she wanted to. And, once again she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off his little feet.

No sooner they got the boots off and he said, "They're my brother's boots. My Mom made me wear 'em." Now she didn't know if she should laugh or cry. But, she mustered up the grace and courage she had left to wrestle the boots on his feet again.

Helping him into his coat, she asked, "Now, where are your mittens?"
He said, "I stuffed 'em in the toes of my boots."


Her trial starts next month
 
What Scotsmen Wear

A kilted Scotsman was walking down a country path after finishing off a considerable amount of whisky at a local pub. As he staggered down the road, he felt quite sleepy and decided to take a nap, with his back against a tree.

As he slept, two young lasses walked down the road and heard the Scotsman snoring loudly. They saw him, and one said, "I've always wondered what a Scotsman wears under his kilt."

She boldly walked over to the sleeping man, raised his kilt, and saw what nature had provided him at his birth.

Her friend said, "Well, he has solved a great mystery for us, now! He must be rewarded!" So, she took a blue ribbon from her hair, and gently tied it around what nature had provided the Scotsman, and the two walked away.

Some time later, the Scotsman was awakened by the call of nature, and walked around to the other side of the tree to relieve himself. He raised his kilt...and saw where the blue ribbon was tied. After several moments of bewilderment, the Scotsman said... "I donna know where y'been lad...but it's nice ta'know y'won first prize!"
 
Taken from 'The Cynics Word Book' by Ambrose Bierce....

Kilt. noun
A costume sometimes worn by Scotchmen in America and Americans in Scotland.
 
If my body were a car. . .

If my body were a car, this is the time I would be thinking about trading it in for a newer model. I've got bumps and dents and scratches in my finish and my paint job is getting a little dull, but that's not the worst of it.

My fenders are too wide to be considered stylish. They were once as sleek as a little MG; now they look more like an old Buick. My seat cushions have split open at the seams. My seats are sagging. Seat belts? I gave up all belts when Krispy Cremes opened a shop in my neighborhood!

Air bags? Forget it. The only bags I have these days are under my eyes. Not counting the saddlebags, of course. I have soooooo many miles on my odometer. Sure, I've been many places and seen many things, but when's the last time an appraiser factored life experiences against depreciation?

My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see things up close. My traction is not as graceful as it once was. I slip and slide and skid and bump into things even in the best of weather. My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins.

It takes me hours to reach my maximum speed. My fuel rate burns inefficiently. But here's the worst of it--almost every time I sneeze, cough or sputter. . . my radiator leaks! :(
 
Anniversary present

While enjoying an Early morning breakfast in a northern Texas cafe, four elderly ranchers were discussing everything from cattle, horses, and weather to how things used to be in the "good old days."

Eventually the conversation moved on to their spouses. One gentleman turned to the fellow on his right and asked, "Roy, aren't you and your bride celebrating your 50th wedding anniversary soon?"

"Yup, we sure are." Roy replied.

"Well, are you gonna do anything special to celebrate?" another man asked.

The old gentleman pondered this for a moment, then replied, "For our 25th anniversary, I took Bea to San Antonio. Maybe for our 50th, I'll go down there and get her."
 
A dash o' Doric.

To unite the theme of marriage and the recent scottish theme, I present this local tale of wedded agony....

The men and women of the North-East of Scotland, the native land of myself and the Doric language, are not the most well known for being demonstratrive with their public affections.... but one woman was a little more forthcoming with her marital dissafections. Overheard at a Garioch flower show in the late 1980's, when I was but a lad of six or seven, she told her companion, in an obvious stage whisper: 'Aye, the only thing ma man and me's got in common, is an anniversary on the same day'.

And another.....

An old couple, once acquaintances of mine, Jean and John, fae Buckie, had been courting for a large number of years (30 to be exact) and not one word of marriage had been spoken between them.... Until, one day John said: "Jean, is it nae aboot time we wis thinking o getting mairriet?"
Jean replied: "Behave yersel, John. Fa wid hae ony o us noo?"
 
How to use Fuck as a meaningful word

Perhaps one of the most interesting and colorful words in the English language today is the word "fuck." It is the one magical word which, just by its sound, can describe pain, pleasure, love, and hate. In language, "fuck" falls into many grammatical categories. It can be used as a verb, both transitive (John fucked Mary) and intransitive (Mary was fucked by John). It can be an action verb (John really gives a fuck), a passive verb (Mary really doesn't give a fuck), an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in John), or as a noun (Mary is a terrific fuck). It can also be used as an adjective (Mary is fucking beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date with Mary). It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy but, fuck, she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck."

Aside from its sexual connotations, this word can be used to describe many situations:

Aggression: Fuck you!
Agreement: Fucking-ay right!
Amazement: Fucking shit!
Annoyance: Don't fuck with me.
Apathy: Who really gives a fuck, anyhow?
Benevolence: Don't do me any fucking favors.
Command: Go fuck yourself!
Confusion: What the fuck?
Denial: I didn't fucking do it.
Despair: Fucked again.
Difficulty: I don't understand this fucking thing.
Directions: Fuck off.
Disbelief: Unfuckingbelievable!
Dismay: Oh, fuck it!
Displeasure: What the fuck is going on here?
Encouragement: Keep on fucking.
Etiquette: Pass the fucking salt!
Fraud: I got fucked.
Greetings: How the fuck are ya?
Hatred of chemistry: Thermofuckingdynamics.
Identification: Who the fuck are you?
Ignorance: He's such a fuck head.
Incompetence: He's a fuck up.
Insight: You're out of your fucking mind!
Laziness: He's a fuck off.
Lost: Where the fuck are we?
Panic: Let's get the fuck out of here.
Passive: Fuck me!
Perplexity: I fucking know all about it.
Philosophical: Who gives a fuck?
Pleasure: I couldn't be any fucking happier!
Question: You ain't fucking me?
Rebellion: Fuck the world!
Resignation: Oh, fuck it!
Retaliation: Up your fucking ass!
Suspicion: Who the fuck are you?
Trouble: I guess I'm fucked now.
Ugliness: You're a dumb looking fuck.
Wisdom: Fuck that shit!
Wonder: How the fuck did you do that?
 
Texas Chilli. . . umm ummm

This young Poet walks into a seedy cafe in a small town in West Texas. He sits at the counter and notices an older poet with his arms folded staring blankly at a bowl of chili.

After about 15 minutes of just sitting there staring at it, the young poet bravely asks, "if you ain't goin’ to eat that, mind if I do"?

The older poet slowly turns his head toward the young writer and in his best West Texas manner drawls, "Nah, go ahead".

Eagerly, the young poet reaches over and slides the bowl over to his place and starts spooning it in with delight. He gets nearly down to the bottom and notices a rotten dead rat in the chili. The sight was shocking and he immediately pukes up the chili into the bowl.

The old poet quietly says, "Yep, that's about as far as I got, too".
 
Rybka said:
This young Poet walks into a seedy cafe in a small town in West Texas. He sits at the counter and notices an older poet with his arms folded staring blankly at a bowl of chili.

After about 15 minutes of just sitting there staring at it, the young poet bravely asks, "if you ain't goin’ to eat that, mind if I do"?

The older poet slowly turns his head toward the young writer and in his best West Texas manner drawls, "Nah, go ahead".

Eagerly, the young poet reaches over and slides the bowl over to his place and starts spooning it in with delight. He gets nearly down to the bottom and notices a rotten dead rat in the chili. The sight was shocking and he immediately pukes up the chili into the bowl.

The old poet quietly says, "Yep, that's about as far as I got, too".

Just tell me why they always have to be poets?

:D

:heart:
 
The Mood Ring

E.E. bought my Angeline a mood ring the other day.
When she's in a good mood it turns green.
When she's in a romantic mood it turns blue.
When she's in a bad mood, it leaves a red mark on his forehead.


:p
 
The Court Case

Defense Attorney:
What is your age?

Little Old Lady Poet:
I am 86 years old.

Defense Attorney:
Will you tell us, in your own words, what happened to you?

Little Old Lady Poet:
There I was, sitting there in my swing on my front porch on a warm
spring Evening, when a young man comes creeping up on the porch and
sat down beside me.

Defense Attorney:
Did you know him?

Little Old Lady Poet:
No, but he sure was friendly.

Defense Attorney:
What happened! after he sat down?

Little Old Lady Poet:
He started to rub my thigh.

Defense Attorney:
Did you stop him?

Little Old Lady Poet:
No, I didn't stop him.

Defense Attorney:
Why not?

Little Old Lady Poet:
It felt good. Nobody had done that since my husband passed away some
30 years ago.

Defense Attorney:
What happened next?

Little Old Lady Poet:
He began to rub my breasts.

Defense Attorney:
Did you stop him then?

Little Old Lady Poet:
No, I did not stop him.

Defense Attorney:
Why not?

Little Old Lady Poet:
Why, Your Honor, his rubbing made me feel all alive and excited. I
haven't felt that good in years!

Defense Attorney:
What happened next?

Little Old Lady Poet:
Well, I was feeling so spicy that I just laid down and said to
Him. . . "Take me. . . young man. . . Take me!"

Defense Attorney:
Did he take you?

Little Old Lady Poet:
Hell, no. He just yelled, "April Fool!". . . And that's when I shot
the little bastard!
 
The Poet at 100

The family wheeled Grandma Eve out on the lawn, in her wheelchair, where the activities for her 100th birthday were taking place. Grandma couldn’t speak very well, but she could write notes when she needed to communicate.

After a short time out on the lawn, Grandma Eve started leaning off to the right. Some family members grabbed her, straightened her up, and stuffed pillows on her right side.

A short time later, Eve started leaning off to her left, so again her relatives grabbed her and stuffed pillows on her left side. Soon she started leaning forward, so the family members again grabbed her, leaned her back against the wheelchair and then tied a shawl around her shoulders and the chair back to hold her up.

A grand nephew who arrived late came running up to Grandma Eve and said, "Hi Aunt Eve, you're looking good! How are they treating you?"

The centenarian poetess took out her little notepad and slowly wrote a note to her grand nephew, "They won't let me fart."
 
Next Year. . . (drums!)

When my three-year-old son opened the birthday gift from his grandmother, he discovered a water pistol. He squealed with delight and headed for the nearest sink. I was not so pleased.

I turned to Mom and said, "I'm surprised at you. Don't you remember how we used to drive you crazy with water guns?"
Mom smiled and then replied. . . "I remember."
 
Half Price

US Air recently introduced a special half fare for wives who accompanied their husbands on business trips. Expecting valuable testimonials, the PR department sent out letters to all the wives of businessmen who had used the special rates, asking how they enjoyed their trip.

Letters are still pouring in asking, "What trip?"
 
Back
Top