Sunday, 29 November 2009
So, General Cosgrove, what things are you going to teach these young boys when they visit your base?
We're going to teach them climbing, canoeing, archery and shooting.
Shooting! That's a bit irresponsible, isn't it?
I don't see why, they'll be properly supervised on the rifle range.
Don't you admit that this is a terribly dangerous activity to be teaching children?
I don't see how. We will be teaching them proper rifle discipline before they even touch a firearm.
But you're equipping them to become violent killers.
Well, Ma'am, you're equipped to be a prostitute, but you're not one, are you?
The radio went silent.
REVENGE ON THE TELEMARKETER
Three Little Words That Work!!
(1) The three little words: 'Hold On, Please...'
Saying this, while putting down your phone and walking off (instead of hanging-up immediately) would make each telemarketing call so much more time-consuming that boiler room sales would grind to a halt.
Then when you eventually hear BT's 'beep-beep-beep' tone, you know it's time to go back and hang up your handset. You have efficiently completed your task. These three little words could help eliminate telephone soliciting.
(2) Do you ever get those annoying phone calls with no one on the other end?
This is a telemarketing technique where a machine makes phone calls and records the time of day when a person answers the phone.
This technique is then used to determine the best time of day for a 'real' salesperson to call back and get someone at home.
What you can do after answering: If you notice there is no one there, is to immediately start hitting your # button on the phone, 6 or 7 times, as quickly as possible. This confuses the machine that dialled the call and it kicks your number out of their system. Gosh, what a shame not to have your name in their system any longer!!!
3: When you get those 'pre-approved' letters in the mail for everything from credit cards to 2nd mortgages and similar type junk, do not throw away the return envelope.
Most of these come with postage-prepaid return envelopes, right? It costs them more than the regular postage 'IF' and when they are returned. It costs them nothing if you throw them away! In that case, why not get rid of some of your other junk mail and put it in these cool little, postage-prepaid return envelopes.
Send an advert for your local chimney sweeper to American Express .. They might need one! Send a pizza coupon to HSBC, in case their canteen packs up. You get the idea. If you didn't get anything else that day, then just send them back their blank application form, after all, it is their form! If you want to remain anonymous, just make sure your name isn't on anything you return. You can even send the envelope back empty if you want to just to keep them guessing! It still costs them, and it is their envelope after all, you are just returning it!!!!
The banks and credit card companies are currently getting a lot of their own junk back in the post, but folks, we need to OVERWHELM them, in order to stop them.
Let's let them know what it's like to get lots of junk mail, and best of all they're paying for it, twice!
Let's help keep Royal Mail busy. Since the Royal Mail are saying that e-mail is cutting into their business profits, let's help them so they will not need to increase postage costs again. You get the idea! If enough people follow these tips, it will work, maybe you'll get very little junk mail in future.
For some time many of us have wondered just who is Jack Schitt?
We find ourselves at a loss when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt'! Well, thanks to my genealogy efforts, you can now respond in an intellectual way.
Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, who married O. Schitt, the owner of Needeep N. Schitt, Inc. They had one son, Jack.
In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt. The deeply religious couple produced six children: Holie Schitt, Giva Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt.
Against her parents' objections, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school dropout.
Noe Schitt later married Ted Sherlock, and because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt Sherlock.
Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt, and they produced a son with a rather nervous disposition named Chicken Schitt. Two of the other six children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt, were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony. The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens nuptials. The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd, and Horse.
Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world. He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.
Now when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt', you can correct them.
Crock O. Schitt
A definition of globalization that I can understand and to which I now can relate:
What is the truest definition of Globalization?
Princess Diana's death.
An English princess with an Egyptian boyfriend crashes in a French tunnel, driving a German car with a Dutch engine, driven by a Belgian who was drunk on Scottish whisky, followed closely by Italian Paparazzi, on Japanese motorcycles treated by an American doctor, using Brazilian medicines.
This was written by a Canadian, using American Bill Gates's technology, and you're probably reading this on your computer, that uses Taiwanese chips, and a Korean monitor, assembled by Bangladeshi workers in a Singapore plant,
transported by Indian truck drivers, hijacked by Indonesians, unloaded by Sicilian longshoremen, and trucked to you by Mexican immigrants.
That my friends is: Globalization
Friday, 27 November 2009
Thursday, 26 November 2009
A husband emerged from the bathroom naked and was climbing into bed when his wife complained, as usual, 'I have a headache.'
'Perfect,' her husband said. ' I was just in the bathroom powdering my penis with aspirin. You can take it orally, or as a suppository, it's up to you.'
My eyes lit up and I thought, 'I am either still dreaming or this is going to be my lucky day!'
She smiled and said, 'The egg timer's broken'!!
According to a news report, a certain private school in Brisbane was recently faced with a unique problem. A number of 12-year-old girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the bathroom. That was fine, but after they put on their lipstick they would press their lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints.
Every night the maintenance man would remove them and the next day the girls would put them back.
Finally the principal decided that something had to be done. She called all the girls to the bathroom and met them there with the maintenance man. She explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night (you can just imagine the yawns from the little princesses).
To demonstrate how difficult it had been to clean the mirrors, she asked the maintenance man to show the girls how much effort was required.
He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it in the toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it. Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror.
There are teachers.... and then there are educators
He goes to one house where the bin hasn't been left out, and in the spirit of kindness, and after having a quick look about for the bin, he gets out of his truck goes to the front door and knocks. There's no answer.
Being a kindly and conscientious bloke, he knocks again - much harder.
Eventually a Japanese man comes to the door.
"Gudday, mate! Where's ya bin?" asks the collector.
"I bin on toiret," explains the Japanese bloke, a bit perplexed.
Realising the little foreign fellow had misunderstood him, the bin man smiles and tries again. "No ! no ! mate, where's your dust bin?"
"I dust been to toiret, I tor you!'' says the Japanese man, still perplexed.
"Listen," says the collector. "You're misunderstanding me.
Where's your 'w h e e l i e' bin?'"
"OK, OK." replies the Japanese man with a sheepish grin, and whispers in the collector's ear........
please scroll down......
"I wheelie bin having sex wirra wife's sista!"
Monday, 23 November 2009
Always wear clean underwear in public, especially when working under your vehicle.
From the Daily News comes this story of a couple who drove their car to Asda Supermarket, only to have their car break down in the car park.
The husband told his wife to carry on with the shopping while he fixed the car.
The wife returned later to see a small group of people near the car. On closer inspection, she saw a pair of hairy legs protruding from under the chassis.
Unfortunately, although the man was in shorts, his lack of underpants turned his private parts into glaringly public ones.
Unable to stand the embarrassment, she dutifully stepped forward, quickly put her hand UP his shorts, and tucked everything back into place.
On regaining her feet, she looked across the bonnet and found herself staring at her husband who was standing idly by.
The AA mechanic, however, had to have three stitches in his forehead.
WHY MEN ARE NEVER DEPRESSED:
Men Are Just Happier People.
Your last name stays put.
The garage is all yours.
Wedding plans take care of themselves.
Chocolate is just another snack.
You can never be pregnant.
Car mechanics tell you the truth.
The world is your urinal.
You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
Same work, more pay.
Wrinkles add character.
People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them.
New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.
One mood all the time.
Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.
You know stuff about tanks and engines.
A five-day holiday requires only one suitcase.
You can open all your own jars.
You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.
Your underwear is £9.50 for a three-pack.
Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.
You never have strap problems in public.
You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.
Everything on your face stays its original colour.
The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.
You only have to shave your face and neck.
You can play with toys all your life.
One wallet and one pair of shoes - one colour for all seasons.
You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look.
You can 'do' your nails with a pocket knife.
You have freedom of choice concerning growing a moustache.
You can do Christmas shopping for 24 relatives on 24th December in 24 minutes.
No wonder men are happier.