Posts Tagged ‘humor’

Health Officials have proposed that warning signs be placed on all alcohol bottles to tip off drinkers about the possible peril of drinking a pint or two of any alcoholic beverage.

1. WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause you to wake up with a breath that could knock a buzzard off a wreaking dead animal that is one hundred yards away.

2. WARNING: Consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like an idiot.

3. WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell the same boring story over and over again until your friends want to assault you

4. WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause you to thay shings like thish.

5. WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell the boss what you really think of him.

6. WARNING: Consumption of alcohol is the leading cause of inexplicable rug burn on the forehead.

7. WARNING: Consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, handsomer and smarter than some really, really big guy named Psycho Bob.

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Smart Dogs

Posted: September 15, 2011 in Funny, popCulture, puppies
Tags: , , , ,

Four workers were discussing how smart their dogs were.

The first was an engineer who said his dog could do math calculations. His dog was named “T-Square”, and he told him to get some paper and draw a square, a circle and a triangle, which the dog did with no sweat.

The accountant said he thought his dog was better. His dog was named “Slide Rule”. He told him to fetch a dozen cookies, bring them back, and divide them into piles of three, which he did with no problem.

The chemist said that was good, but he felt his dog was better. His dog “Measure” was told to get a quart of milk and pour seven ounces into a ten ounce glass. The dog did this with no problem.

All three men agreed this was very good and that their dogs were equally smart. They all turned to the union member and said, “What can your dog do?”. The Teamster called his dog whose name was “Coffee Break” and said, “Show the fellows what you can do”. Coffee Break went over and ate the cookies, drank the milk, went to the bathroom on the paper, claimed he injured his back while eating, filed a grievance for unsafe working conditions, applied for Workman’s Compensation and left for home on sick leave.

A woman gets onto a bus with her baby.

The bus driver says, “That’s the ugliest baby that I’ve ever seen. Ugh!”

20110909-124238.jpg

Lumpy may be a bit of a monkey, but he ain't ugly!

The woman goes to the rear of the bus and sits down, fuming. She says to a man next to her, “The driver just insulted me!”

The man says, “There’s no call for that. You go right up there and tell him off. Go ahead, I’ll hold your monkey for you.”

 

Photo by www.melissaannphoto.com

A visitor to a certain college paused to admire the new Hemingway Hall that had been built on campus.

“It’s a pleasure to see a building named for Ernest Hemingway,” he said.

“Actually,” said his guide, “it’s named for Joshua Hemingway. No relation.”

The visitor was astonished. “Was Joshua Hemingway a writer, also?”

“Yes, indeed,” said his guide. “He wrote a cheque.”

You’ll need the following: a cup of water, a cup of sugar, four large eggs, two cups of dried fruit, a teaspoon of baking soda, a teaspoon of salt, a cup of brown sugar, lemon juice, nuts, and a bottle of whisky.

Sample the whisky to check for quality.

Take a large bowl. Check the whisky again. To be sure it is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again.

Make sure the whisky is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the whisky to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who cares? Check the whisky. Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.

Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don’t forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window, check the whisky again and go to bed.

A family of three tomatoes were walking downtown one day when the little baby tomato started lagging behind. The big father tomato walks back to the baby tomato, stomps on her, squashing her into a red paste, and says, “Ketchup!”

‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurtin’, even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor,
While upstairs the family continued to snore.
And I in my T-shirt, new Nikes and jeans,
I went into the kitchen and started to clean.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little brown truck, with an oversized mirror.
The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said “US Post Service”, man.

With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.
Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:

“Now Nordstrom’s, now Macy’s, now Best Buy’s and Sears
Here’s Pottery Barn, Gap, and Target and Kohl.
To the tip of your limit, every store, every mall,
Now charge away–charge away–charge away all!”

He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.

Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
“Enjoy what you got. . . . . .you’ll be paying all year!”

OUR leaders have asked for “shared sacrifice.” But when they did the asking, they spared me. I checked with my mega-rich friends to learn what pain they were expecting. They, too, were left untouched.

While the poor and middle class fight for us in Afghanistan, and while most Americans struggle to make ends meet, we mega-rich continue to get our extraordinary tax breaks. Some of us are investment managers who earn billions from our daily labors but are allowed to classify our income as “carried interest,” thereby getting a bargain 15 percent tax rate. Others own stock index futures for 10 minutes and have 60 percent of their gain taxed at 15 percent, as if they’d been long-term investors.

These and other blessings are showered upon us by legislators in Washington who feel compelled to protect us, much as if we were spotted owls or some other endangered species. It’s nice to have friends in high places.

Last year my federal tax bill — the income tax I paid, as well as payroll taxes paid by me and on my behalf — was $6,938,744. That sounds like a lot of money. But what I paid was only 17.4 percent of my taxable income — and that’s actually a lower percentage than was paid by any of the other 20 people in our office. Their tax burdens ranged from 33 percent to 41 percent and averaged 36 percent.

If you make money with money, as some of my super-rich friends do, your percentage may be a bit lower than mine. But if you earn money from a job, your percentage will surely exceed mine — most likely by a lot.

To understand why, you need to examine the sources of government revenue. Last year about 80 percent of these revenues came from personal income taxes and payroll taxes. The mega-rich pay income taxes at a rate of 15 percent on most of their earnings but pay practically nothing in payroll taxes. It’s a different story for the middle class: typically, they fall into the 15 percent and 25 percent income tax brackets, and then are hit with heavy payroll taxes to boot.

Read the balance of the article as it has been posted at nytimes.com

http://nyti.ms/p8bLnp

 
  

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“Windows [n.]
A thirty-two bit extension and GUI shell to a sixteen bit patch to an eight bit operating system originally coded for a four bit microprocessor and sold by a two-bit company that can’t stand one bit of competition.”

  

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To Learn more about me, check out my About Me page.

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