-
Friday, August 05, 2005
Blonde Joke # ?
A blonde enters a store that sells curtains.
She tells the salesman, "I would like to buy a pair of pink curtains."
The salesman assures her that they have a large selection of pink curtains.
He shows her several patterns, but the blonde seems to be having a hard time choosing. Finally, she selects a lovely pink floral print.
The salesman asks what size curtains she needs.
The blonde replies, "Fifteen inches."
"Fifteen inches? " asks the salesman. "That sounds very small, what room are they for?"
The blonde tells him that they aren't for a room, they are for her computer monitor.
The surprised salesman replies, "But, Miss, computers do not have curtains!"
The blonde says, "Hellllooooooooo...I've got Windows!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 1:00 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, August 01, 2005
World's Shortest Fairy Tale:
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"
The girl said "No."
And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing a lot.
THE END
posted by Web Mistress Julia 3:39 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, July 25, 2005
Brits Revoke U.S. Independence
(It's been kicking around for a while, I know, but for some reason I never got around to sticking it in here. Go figure. Damn that Cleese is a clever weasel!)
A Message from John Cleese
To the citizens of the United States of America:
In light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (excepting Kansas, which she does not fancy).
Your new prime minister, Tony Blair, will appoint a governor for America, without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up "aluminium," and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise." Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (Look up "vocabulary"). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as "US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."
You will relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen."
July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England. It will be called "Come-Uppance Day."
You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.
All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling "gasoline")-roughly $6/US gallon. Get used to it.
You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer" and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as "Lager." American brands will be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine", so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.
Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.
You will cease playing American "football." There is only one kind of proper football; you call it "soccer." Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American "football," but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies). Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the "World Series" for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable.
You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.
An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).
posted by Web Mistress Julia 11:33 AM
• • • • • • •
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Some mornings ...
An older couple is lying in bed one morning, having just awakened from a good night's sleep.
He takes her hand and she responds, "Don't touch me."
"Why not?" he asks.
She answers back, "Because I'm dead."
The husband says, "What are you talking about? We're both lying here in bed together and talking to one another."
She says, "No, I'm definitely dead."
He insists, "You're not dead. What in the world makes you think you're dead?"
"Because I woke up this morning and nothing hurts."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:19 PM
• • • • • • •
Ricky, don't lose that number
A lonely business man checks into a hotel on a business trip and decides to call one of the ads for girls advertised in yellow pages under massage. He calls Erogeonique, a lovely girl, bending over in the photo rather enticingly.
So he picks up the phone and dials. "Hello?" a woman says.
"Hi, I hear you do massage and I'd like you to come to my room and give me a massage. No, wait, I want sex. I want it hard, fast and now! I'm talking kinky, the whole night, you name it we'll do it. Bring implements, bring toys, do the lot, all night, tie me up, wear a strap on, cover me in anything. Now how does that sound?"
She responds, "That sounds fantastic, but for an outside line you need to press 9."
-
Friday, August 05, 2005
Blonde Joke # ?
A blonde enters a store that sells curtains.
She tells the salesman, "I would like to buy a pair of pink curtains."
The salesman assures her that they have a large selection of pink curtains.
He shows her several patterns, but the blonde seems to be having a hard time choosing. Finally, she selects a lovely pink floral print.
The salesman asks what size curtains she needs.
The blonde replies, "Fifteen inches."
"Fifteen inches? " asks the salesman. "That sounds very small, what room are they for?"
The blonde tells him that they aren't for a room, they are for her computer monitor.
The surprised salesman replies, "But, Miss, computers do not have curtains!"
The blonde says, "Hellllooooooooo...I've got Windows!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 1:00 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, August 01, 2005
World's Shortest Fairy Tale:
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"
The girl said "No."
And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing a lot.
THE END
posted by Web Mistress Julia 3:39 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, July 25, 2005
Brits Revoke U.S. Independence
(It's been kicking around for a while, I know, but for some reason I never got around to sticking it in here. Go figure. Damn that Cleese is a clever weasel!)
A Message from John Cleese
To the citizens of the United States of America:
In light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (excepting Kansas, which she does not fancy).
Your new prime minister, Tony Blair, will appoint a governor for America, without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up "aluminium," and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise." Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (Look up "vocabulary"). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as "US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."
You will relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen."
July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England. It will be called "Come-Uppance Day."
You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.
All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling "gasoline")-roughly $6/US gallon. Get used to it.
You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer" and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as "Lager." American brands will be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine", so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.
Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.
You will cease playing American "football." There is only one kind of proper football; you call it "soccer." Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American "football," but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies). Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the "World Series" for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable.
You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.
An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).
posted by Web Mistress Julia 11:33 AM
• • • • • • •
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Some mornings ...
An older couple is lying in bed one morning, having just awakened from a good night's sleep.
He takes her hand and she responds, "Don't touch me."
"Why not?" he asks.
She answers back, "Because I'm dead."
The husband says, "What are you talking about? We're both lying here in bed together and talking to one another."
She says, "No, I'm definitely dead."
He insists, "You're not dead. What in the world makes you think you're dead?"
"Because I woke up this morning and nothing hurts."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:19 PM
• • • • • • •
Ricky, don't lose that number
A lonely business man checks into a hotel on a business trip and decides to call one of the ads for girls advertised in yellow pages under massage. He calls Erogeonique, a lovely girl, bending over in the photo rather enticingly.
So he picks up the phone and dials. "Hello?" a woman says.
"Hi, I hear you do massage and I'd like you to come to my room and give me a massage. No, wait, I want sex. I want it hard, fast and now! I'm talking kinky, the whole night, you name it we'll do it. Bring implements, bring toys, do the lot, all night, tie me up, wear a strap on, cover me in anything. Now how does that sound?"
She responds, "That sounds fantastic, but for an outside line you need to press 9."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:14 PM
• • • • • • •
Do I know you?
A man standing in line at a check out counter of a grocery store was very surprised when a very attractive woman behind him said, "Hello!" Her face was beaming.
He gave her that "who are you look", and couldn't remember ever having seen her before.
Then, noticing his look, she figured she had made a mistake and apologized. "Look," she said "I'm really sorry but when I first saw you, I thought you were the father of one of my children," and walked out of the store.
The guy was dumbfounded and thought to himself, "What the hell is the world coming to? Here is an attractive woman who can't keep track of who fathers her children! "
Then he got a little panicky."I don't remember her," he thought but, MAYBE....during one of the wild parties he had been to when he was in college, perhaps he did father her child!
He ran from the store and caught her in the parking lot and asked, "Are you the girl I met at a party in college and then we got really drunk and had wild crazy sex on the pool table in front of everyone?"
"No", she said with a horrified look on her face. "I'm your son's second grade teacher!"
-
Military Precision
In the mid 60's, a US Navy cruiser pulled into port in Mississippi for a week's shore leave. The first evening, the Captain was more than a little surprised to receive the following letter from the wife of a wealthy plantation owner:
Dear Captain,
Thursday will be my daughter Melinda's coming of age party. I would like you to send four well-mannered, handsome, unmarried officers. They should arrive at 8 p.m. prepared for an evening of polite southern conversation and dance with lovely young ladies. One last point: No Jews please."
Sure enough, at 8:00 PM on Thursday, the lady heard a rap at the door which she opened to find, in dress uniform, four exquisitely mannered, smiling BLACK officers. Her jaw hit the floor, but pulling herself together she stammered, "there must be some mistake!"
"No ma'am," said the first officer, "Captain Cohen doesn't make mistakes!"
-
Birthday Present
A wife decides to take her husband to a strip club for his birthday.
They arrive at the club and the doorman says, "Hey, Dave! How ya doin'?"
His wife is puzzled and asks if he's been to this club before.
"Oh, no," says Dave. "He's on my bowling team."
When they are seated, a waitress asks Dave if he'd like his usual and brings over a Budweiser.
His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says,"How did she know that you drink Budweiser?"
"She's in the Ladies' Bowling League, honey. We share lanes with them."
A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around Dave, and says "Hi Davey. Want your usual table dance, big boy?"
Dave's wife, now furious, grabs her purse and storms out of the club.
Dave follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she can slam the door, he jumps in beside her. He tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else, but his wife is having none of it. She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every name in the book.
The cabby turns his head and says, "Looks like you picked up a real bitch tonight, Dave."
-
The Joy of Little Ones
Soooooo. .... It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.' Well Ms. Teachie is taken aback but decides the best method of dealing with this horrendous language from a 5 year old is to let it slide and ignore it.
Next day... Cue SL Sunrise ....
It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.' Well Ms. Teachie is taken aback but decides the best method of dealing with this horrendous language from a 5 year old is to let it slide and ignore it. But she decides to call Little Petey's mother and ask her to come in the next day and observe this behaviour from her precocious little guy.
Next day ... Cue SL Sunrise ....
Biker mom comes in and hides in the coat closet to observe.
It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.'
Ms. Teachie looks over to the closet at Biker Mom and asks 'So what do you think about this ?' To which Biker Mom replies: "Fuck his little ass. If he don't want no goddamn milk and cookies don't fuckin give him none
-
You might be a Redneck Jedi if...
-You have used your light saber to open and cook a can of pork and beans.
-At least one wing of your X-Wing fighter is primer-colored.
-You can easily describe the taste of Ewok.
-You can find no grammatical errors in the way Yoda talks.
-You have had an X-wing up on blocks in your yard.
-You have used The Force to get yourself another beer so you didn't have to wait for a commercial.
-You think ol' Jabba has a pretty good handle on how to treat his women.
-You have ever uttered the phrase: 'May the Force be with y'all.'
-You have ever used that electrical gimmick on your R2 unit to light up the grill.
-You have ever heard spoken to you: 'Well shoot, son, come on over to the Dark Side. It'll be a hoot!' followed by: "Luke, I am your father...and your uncle.'
-
Friday, August 05, 2005
Blonde Joke # ?
A blonde enters a store that sells curtains.
She tells the salesman, "I would like to buy a pair of pink curtains."
The salesman assures her that they have a large selection of pink curtains.
He shows her several patterns, but the blonde seems to be having a hard time choosing. Finally, she selects a lovely pink floral print.
The salesman asks what size curtains she needs.
The blonde replies, "Fifteen inches."
"Fifteen inches? " asks the salesman. "That sounds very small, what room are they for?"
The blonde tells him that they aren't for a room, they are for her computer monitor.
The surprised salesman replies, "But, Miss, computers do not have curtains!"
The blonde says, "Hellllooooooooo...I've got Windows!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 1:00 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, August 01, 2005
World's Shortest Fairy Tale:
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"
The girl said "No."
And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing a lot.
THE END
posted by Web Mistress Julia 3:39 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, July 25, 2005
Brits Revoke U.S. Independence
(It's been kicking around for a while, I know, but for some reason I never got around to sticking it in here. Go figure. Damn that Cleese is a clever weasel!)
A Message from John Cleese
To the citizens of the United States of America:
In light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (excepting Kansas, which she does not fancy).
Your new prime minister, Tony Blair, will appoint a governor for America, without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up "aluminium," and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise." Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (Look up "vocabulary"). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as "US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."
You will relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen."
July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England. It will be called "Come-Uppance Day."
You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.
All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling "gasoline")-roughly $6/US gallon. Get used to it.
You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer" and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as "Lager." American brands will be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine", so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.
Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.
You will cease playing American "football." There is only one kind of proper football; you call it "soccer." Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American "football," but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies). Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the "World Series" for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable.
You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.
An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).
posted by Web Mistress Julia 11:33 AM
• • • • • • •
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Some mornings ...
An older couple is lying in bed one morning, having just awakened from a good night's sleep.
He takes her hand and she responds, "Don't touch me."
"Why not?" he asks.
She answers back, "Because I'm dead."
The husband says, "What are you talking about? We're both lying here in bed together and talking to one another."
She says, "No, I'm definitely dead."
He insists, "You're not dead. What in the world makes you think you're dead?"
"Because I woke up this morning and nothing hurts."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:19 PM
• • • • • • •
Ricky, don't lose that number
A lonely business man checks into a hotel on a business trip and decides to call one of the ads for girls advertised in yellow pages under massage. He calls Erogeonique, a lovely girl, bending over in the photo rather enticingly.
So he picks up the phone and dials. "Hello?" a woman says.
"Hi, I hear you do massage and I'd like you to come to my room and give me a massage. No, wait, I want sex. I want it hard, fast and now! I'm talking kinky, the whole night, you name it we'll do it. Bring implements, bring toys, do the lot, all night, tie me up, wear a strap on, cover me in anything. Now how does that sound?"
She responds, "That sounds fantastic, but for an outside line you need to press 9."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:14 PM
• • • • • • •
Do I know you?
A man standing in line at a check out counter of a grocery store was very surprised when a very attractive woman behind him said, "Hello!" Her face was beaming.
He gave her that "who are you look", and couldn't remember ever having seen her before.
Then, noticing his look, she figured she had made a mistake and apologized. "Look," she said "I'm really sorry but when I first saw you, I thought you were the father of one of my children," and walked out of the store.
The guy was dumbfounded and thought to himself, "What the hell is the world coming to? Here is an attractive woman who can't keep track of who fathers her children! "
Then he got a little panicky."I don't remember her," he thought but, MAYBE....during one of the wild parties he had been to when he was in college, perhaps he did father her child!
He ran from the store and caught her in the parking lot and asked, "Are you the girl I met at a party in college and then we got really drunk and had wild crazy sex on the pool table in front of everyone?"
"No", she said with a horrified look on her face. "I'm your son's second grade teacher!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:13 PM
• • • • • • •
Military Precision
In the mid 60's, a US Navy cruiser pulled into port in Mississippi for a week's shore leave. The first evening, the Captain was more than a little surprised to receive the following letter from the wife of a wealthy plantation owner:
Dear Captain,
Thursday will be my daughter Melinda's coming of age party. I would like you to send four well-mannered, handsome, unmarried officers. They should arrive at 8 p.m. prepared for an evening of polite southern conversation and dance with lovely young ladies. One last point: No Jews please."
Sure enough, at 8:00 PM on Thursday, the lady heard a rap at the door which she opened to find, in dress uniform, four exquisitely mannered, smiling BLACK officers. Her jaw hit the floor, but pulling herself together she stammered, "there must be some mistake!"
"No ma'am," said the first officer, "Captain Cohen doesn't make mistakes!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:12 PM
• • • • • • •
Birthday Present
A wife decides to take her husband to a strip club for his birthday.
They arrive at the club and the doorman says, "Hey, Dave! How ya doin'?"
His wife is puzzled and asks if he's been to this club before.
"Oh, no," says Dave. "He's on my bowling team."
When they are seated, a waitress asks Dave if he'd like his usual and brings over a Budweiser.
His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says,"How did she know that you drink Budweiser?"
"She's in the Ladies' Bowling League, honey. We share lanes with them."
A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around Dave, and says "Hi Davey. Want your usual table dance, big boy?"
Dave's wife, now furious, grabs her purse and storms out of the club.
Dave follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she can slam the door, he jumps in beside her. He tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else, but his wife is having none of it. She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every name in the book.
The cabby turns his head and says, "Looks like you picked up a real bitch tonight, Dave."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:12 PM
• • • • • • •
The Joy of Little Ones
Soooooo. .... It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.' Well Ms. Teachie is taken aback but decides the best method of dealing with this horrendous language from a 5 year old is to let it slide and ignore it.
Next day... Cue SL Sunrise ....
It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.' Well Ms. Teachie is taken aback but decides the best method of dealing with this horrendous language from a 5 year old is to let it slide and ignore it. But she decides to call Little Petey's mother and ask her to come in the next day and observe this behaviour from her precocious little guy.
Next day ... Cue SL Sunrise ....
Biker mom comes in and hides in the coat closet to observe.
It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.'
Ms. Teachie looks over to the closet at Biker Mom and asks 'So what do you think about this ?' To which Biker Mom replies: "Fuck his little ass. If he don't want no goddamn milk and cookies don't fuckin give him none.
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:10 PM
• • • • • • •
You might be a Redneck Jedi if...
-You have used your light saber to open and cook a can of pork and beans.
-At least one wing of your X-Wing fighter is primer-colored.
-You can easily describe the taste of Ewok.
-You can find no grammatical errors in the way Yoda talks.
-You have had an X-wing up on blocks in your yard.
-You have used The Force to get yourself another beer so you didn't have to wait for a commercial.
-You think ol' Jabba has a pretty good handle on how to treat his women.
-You have ever uttered the phrase: 'May the Force be with y'all.'
-You have ever used that electrical gimmick on your R2 unit to light up the grill.
-You have ever heard spoken to you: 'Well shoot, son, come on over to the Dark Side. It'll be a hoot!' followed by: "Luke, I am your father...and your uncle.'
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:08 PM
• • • • • • •
Two Sides of Prayer
FEMALE PRAYER
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to "How big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.
Amen.
MALE PRAYER
I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with big tits
who owns a liquor store and a bass boat.
This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.
Amen.
-
Friday, August 05, 2005
Blonde Joke # ?
A blonde enters a store that sells curtains.
She tells the salesman, "I would like to buy a pair of pink curtains."
The salesman assures her that they have a large selection of pink curtains.
He shows her several patterns, but the blonde seems to be having a hard time choosing. Finally, she selects a lovely pink floral print.
The salesman asks what size curtains she needs.
The blonde replies, "Fifteen inches."
"Fifteen inches? " asks the salesman. "That sounds very small, what room are they for?"
The blonde tells him that they aren't for a room, they are for her computer monitor.
The surprised salesman replies, "But, Miss, computers do not have curtains!"
The blonde says, "Hellllooooooooo...I've got Windows!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 1:00 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, August 01, 2005
World's Shortest Fairy Tale:
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"
The girl said "No."
And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing a lot.
THE END
posted by Web Mistress Julia 3:39 PM
• • • • • • •
Monday, July 25, 2005
Brits Revoke U.S. Independence
(It's been kicking around for a while, I know, but for some reason I never got around to sticking it in here. Go figure. Damn that Cleese is a clever weasel!)
A Message from John Cleese
To the citizens of the United States of America:
In light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (excepting Kansas, which she does not fancy).
Your new prime minister, Tony Blair, will appoint a governor for America, without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up "aluminium," and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise." Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (Look up "vocabulary"). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as "US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."
You will relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen."
July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England. It will be called "Come-Uppance Day."
You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.
All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling "gasoline")-roughly $6/US gallon. Get used to it.
You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer" and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as "Lager." American brands will be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine", so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.
Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.
You will cease playing American "football." There is only one kind of proper football; you call it "soccer." Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American "football," but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies). Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the "World Series" for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable.
You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.
An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).
posted by Web Mistress Julia 11:33 AM
• • • • • • •
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Some mornings ...
An older couple is lying in bed one morning, having just awakened from a good night's sleep.
He takes her hand and she responds, "Don't touch me."
"Why not?" he asks.
She answers back, "Because I'm dead."
The husband says, "What are you talking about? We're both lying here in bed together and talking to one another."
She says, "No, I'm definitely dead."
He insists, "You're not dead. What in the world makes you think you're dead?"
"Because I woke up this morning and nothing hurts."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:19 PM
• • • • • • •
Ricky, don't lose that number
A lonely business man checks into a hotel on a business trip and decides to call one of the ads for girls advertised in yellow pages under massage. He calls Erogeonique, a lovely girl, bending over in the photo rather enticingly.
So he picks up the phone and dials. "Hello?" a woman says.
"Hi, I hear you do massage and I'd like you to come to my room and give me a massage. No, wait, I want sex. I want it hard, fast and now! I'm talking kinky, the whole night, you name it we'll do it. Bring implements, bring toys, do the lot, all night, tie me up, wear a strap on, cover me in anything. Now how does that sound?"
She responds, "That sounds fantastic, but for an outside line you need to press 9."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:14 PM
• • • • • • •
Do I know you?
A man standing in line at a check out counter of a grocery store was very surprised when a very attractive woman behind him said, "Hello!" Her face was beaming.
He gave her that "who are you look", and couldn't remember ever having seen her before.
Then, noticing his look, she figured she had made a mistake and apologized. "Look," she said "I'm really sorry but when I first saw you, I thought you were the father of one of my children," and walked out of the store.
The guy was dumbfounded and thought to himself, "What the hell is the world coming to? Here is an attractive woman who can't keep track of who fathers her children! "
Then he got a little panicky."I don't remember her," he thought but, MAYBE....during one of the wild parties he had been to when he was in college, perhaps he did father her child!
He ran from the store and caught her in the parking lot and asked, "Are you the girl I met at a party in college and then we got really drunk and had wild crazy sex on the pool table in front of everyone?"
"No", she said with a horrified look on her face. "I'm your son's second grade teacher!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:13 PM
• • • • • • •
Military Precision
In the mid 60's, a US Navy cruiser pulled into port in Mississippi for a week's shore leave. The first evening, the Captain was more than a little surprised to receive the following letter from the wife of a wealthy plantation owner:
Dear Captain,
Thursday will be my daughter Melinda's coming of age party. I would like you to send four well-mannered, handsome, unmarried officers. They should arrive at 8 p.m. prepared for an evening of polite southern conversation and dance with lovely young ladies. One last point: No Jews please."
Sure enough, at 8:00 PM on Thursday, the lady heard a rap at the door which she opened to find, in dress uniform, four exquisitely mannered, smiling BLACK officers. Her jaw hit the floor, but pulling herself together she stammered, "there must be some mistake!"
"No ma'am," said the first officer, "Captain Cohen doesn't make mistakes!"
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:12 PM
• • • • • • •
Birthday Present
A wife decides to take her husband to a strip club for his birthday.
They arrive at the club and the doorman says, "Hey, Dave! How ya doin'?"
His wife is puzzled and asks if he's been to this club before.
"Oh, no," says Dave. "He's on my bowling team."
When they are seated, a waitress asks Dave if he'd like his usual and brings over a Budweiser.
His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says,"How did she know that you drink Budweiser?"
"She's in the Ladies' Bowling League, honey. We share lanes with them."
A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around Dave, and says "Hi Davey. Want your usual table dance, big boy?"
Dave's wife, now furious, grabs her purse and storms out of the club.
Dave follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she can slam the door, he jumps in beside her. He tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else, but his wife is having none of it. She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every name in the book.
The cabby turns his head and says, "Looks like you picked up a real bitch tonight, Dave."
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:12 PM
• • • • • • •
The Joy of Little Ones
Soooooo. .... It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.' Well Ms. Teachie is taken aback but decides the best method of dealing with this horrendous language from a 5 year old is to let it slide and ignore it.
Next day... Cue SL Sunrise ....
It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.' Well Ms. Teachie is taken aback but decides the best method of dealing with this horrendous language from a 5 year old is to let it slide and ignore it. But she decides to call Little Petey's mother and ask her to come in the next day and observe this behaviour from her precocious little guy.
Next day ... Cue SL Sunrise ....
Biker mom comes in and hides in the coat closet to observe.
It's Milk and cookie time at the Nursery school. The teacher calls the kiddies to line up to go to the cafeteria. Little Petey the biker's kid refuses to get up. The teacher asks 'What's the matter Little Petey don't you want any milk and cookies?' Little Petey replies; 'Fuck that shit, I don't fucking like cookies, and milk makes me shit alot.'
Ms. Teachie looks over to the closet at Biker Mom and asks 'So what do you think about this ?' To which Biker Mom replies: "Fuck his little ass. If he don't want no goddamn milk and cookies don't fuckin give him none.
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:10 PM
• • • • • • •
You might be a Redneck Jedi if...
-You have used your light saber to open and cook a can of pork and beans.
-At least one wing of your X-Wing fighter is primer-colored.
-You can easily describe the taste of Ewok.
-You can find no grammatical errors in the way Yoda talks.
-You have had an X-wing up on blocks in your yard.
-You have used The Force to get yourself another beer so you didn't have to wait for a commercial.
-You think ol' Jabba has a pretty good handle on how to treat his women.
-You have ever uttered the phrase: 'May the Force be with y'all.'
-You have ever used that electrical gimmick on your R2 unit to light up the grill.
-You have ever heard spoken to you: 'Well shoot, son, come on over to the Dark Side. It'll be a hoot!' followed by: "Luke, I am your father...and your uncle.'
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:08 PM
• • • • • • •
Two Sides of Prayer
FEMALE PRAYER
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to "How big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.
Amen.
MALE PRAYER
I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with big tits
who owns a liquor store and a bass boat.
This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.
Amen.
posted by Web Mistress Julia 9:06 PM
• • • • • • •
A Really Bad Day
There is this guy in a bar, just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half an an hour.
Then a big, trouble-making truck driver type steps up next to him, takes his drink, and downs it in one gulp. The guy, whose drink he took, starts to cry.
The truck driver says, "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man cry."
"No, it's not that. This day is the worst of my life. First, I fall asleep, and I get to the office late. My boss, is outraged and fires me. When I leave the building,I realize my car was stolen. The police said that they can't do a thing about it, so I get a cab home. I get out, and after the taxi pulls away, I realize my wallet with credit cards and ID are not in my pocket, they're on the seat of the cab, and it's already out of sight, down the street."
"I enter my house, hear noises in the bedroom, burst in to find my wife in bed with the gardener. I leave without her noticing me standing there, walk up the street to this bar. And just when I was thinking about putting an end to this horrible day and my miserable life, you show up and drink my poison."
-
Doity Boid
This spinster was really lonely so she went to the pet shop to get a pet. The owner convinced her to buy a parrot. She buys the parrot, goes home and tries to teach him to talk with no success.
On Sunday she goes to church with the parrot on her shoulder. As soon as the minister begins the sermon, the parrot pipes up "Damn cold in here." The spinster is mortified and immediately goes home with the parrot.
Next Sunday, same thing, minister starts sermon, parrot says "Damn cold in here." Well this is just too much for the spinster. She takes the parrot back to the pet shop and says I can't keep him, he swears in church. The pet show owner says, Look I know how to cure him of that. Next time he swears, grab him by his ankles, spin him around quickly 3 times and put him back on your shoulder. That should cure him.
So next Sunday, off she goes to church with the parrot on her shoulder. The minister starts the sermon and the parrot says "Damn cold in here." The spinster grabs him by his ankles, spins him around 3 times and puts him back on her shoulder.
And the parrot then says "And It's fucking windy too."
-
long joke
GS's "Mr. T vs. White Trash Vs. Space Waste" Aristocrats Joke
A family walks into a talent agency. It's a father, mother, son, daughter and dog. The father says to the talent agent, "We have a really amazing act. You should represent us."
The agent says, "Sorry, I don't represent family acts. They're a little too cute."
The mother says, "Sir, if you just see our act, we know you would want to represent us."
The agent says, "OK. OK. I'll take a look."
“Oh boy oh boy, you won't be sorry!” gushed the father, a rather scrawny pale white sweaty man with thick black hair that only emphasised his dandruff. “Thank you for giving my humble family and I this chance to showcase our talent! We feel we are just what the world entertainment industry has been waiting for!” The agent found this fawning gratitude and desperation repulsive, as it seemed did the man's wife, who the agent caught rolling her eyes. She was still quite a looker for her age, definitely worth a bang from behind.
“Sorry we're late girls!”
Just then, a tall black man, thinner than the father, flounced into the office wearing pink leather trousers and a black studded vest and carrying a gold glitter-covered briefcase. He put the brief case down on the floor and hugged the father and the rest of the family.
“Hi, I'm Leroy!” said the black newcomer to the room, offering a sovereign-ring covered hand to the agent.
“This is my brother!” says the father.
The agent shook Leroy’s hand before wiping it on his leg under the table and looked at the father with a mixture of disbelief and that “Seriously? Straight up?” look the father had seen a thousand times before.
“Oh yes, we are brothers, there is African blood way back in our family tree, it must have re-emerged with our Leroy!” Now the father was not the sharpest piece of broken crockery in Mariah Carey's kitchen but had always been baffled by Leroy’s 'slightly African' appearance. The suspicion started when he was 10 years old, 2 months before Leroy was born when Dexter, the family's loyal Negro gardener told the father his mom “loved the chocolate” with a wink.
“Now, can we get started,” said the agent impatiently, “I've got 3 more families to see this afternoon who claim their act is not the usual 'cute family act'”
“Of course we can,” said the father, “Here's Lionel now”.
“Fuck me!” said the agent, “its Lionel Richie!'”
“Hi,” said Lionel, wearing a glitter jump suit like he was back in the Commodores, “I'm a friend of the family, I'll be providing the music this afternoon. Sorry I'm late, I was buying cocaine from George W. Bush's dealer on the second floor.”
“Right, places everyone,” yelped brother Leroy, whilst mincing and clapping his hands. If the agent was a betting man, which he wasn't since the time he lost his nine year old daughter's ass virginity to Arnold Schwarzenegger at card game at Hulk Hogan's house (Her cunt had gone to the Hulkster a year before), he was sure that Leroy was a flaming queer, queerer than that picture of Elton John with a massive powdered wig on plastered to the side of a gay bar called 'The Pink Flamingo'.
The white members of the family ripped off the clothes they were wearing to reveal costumes identical to brother Leroy's. They then all stood in a line with their right arms raised as Lionel Richie took his seat stage right at a portable Hammond organ, beside which the family pet Alsatian was sleeping.
“What about the baby?” said the agent pointing to a buggy that looked as though it had been salvaged from the river.
“Oh...we couldn't get a sitter,” says the mother, “the baby is definitely not in the act.”
“Unless you want it to be!” squealed the father in the desperate manner that had so repulsed the agent earlier. The mother shot her spineless husband a hard look of pure fucking hate. Fuck, she thought, why didn't I just marry that ginger Irish guy who used to finger my cunt in our shed after school and who cried and sung 'Danny Boy' when he blew his load in my ear? I had to stay with this son of a bitch just because of his abnormal, deformed 14 inch cock.
Just then Lionel started up “Say You Say Me” on the organ. It was quite jazzy, it was clear that the Motown hit-maker was going to explore different musical avenues during this performance. It was also clear that Lionel was coked out of his fuckin' box. He was mumbling and humming along with his music as a hefty white rock fell out of his nose and back onto the pile of coke resting on his heavy organ.
The family then got into it, swaying slowly, and then beginning to sing along to Lionel Richie's music. The daughter was a little off key, but the agent was impressed, especially with the son, who seemed to be really feeling the music and connecting with its lyrics. He looked like a young Lisa Minnelli. The son then sauntered towards the agent and climbed up on his desk. The teenage boy then turned his back on the agent, squatted down, undid the zip on the pink leather trousers that ran from asshole to crotch and then started to push and push till a near black foot long turd eventually thunked down on the agents desk. It was grotesque; the agent could tell that the son was a big lover of corn and peanuts. And the smell, it was as though someone had dug up Ronald Regan's decayed right-wing, fundamentalist corpse and left it out in the sun. However, the agent was impressed that the son had managed to squeeze out a loaf of such size. “Christ”, he thought, “that would have ripped my asshole to pieces”. The agent suspected the son had had help in the – ahem- dilation of his teenage asshole and suspected that the boy would have to sit mom and pop down in the near future over tea and cucumber sandwiches and explain that he didn't like girls.
Anyway....
The son picks up the foul, nutty turd, smears it over his chest, gives himself a Dirty Sanchez and then with his shit-covered hands, marks a crucifix shape on the agent’s desk. He then rubs his faeces-covered hands all over his ass, looks at the agent and winks, before re-joining his family in line.
The family are now singing along to Lionel's late 70's hit 'Truly'. The agent is impressed the family are managing to keep up with Lionel's playing, which has become more fractured and disjointed as the Presidential coke begins to kick in. Lionel shouts something about his ex-wife being a crack-whore who was naked on the back of a zebra when he met her, now she has half of his shit.
It’s now the daughters turn to shine. Though only 13 years old, she is a well developed girl, with a lovely rack, which makes the agent feel that brilliant mix of arousal and intense shame and guilt. Like her brother, she approaches the agent and begins to perform a lap dance.
“Well, they didn't teach this in school when I was a boy” the agent whispers in her ear as she writhes on his fat half-Polish thigh.
“I want you to rape me, I want you to take a knife to my ass, I want your hot cum....”
Just then, the agent turns away, laughs nervously and tells the daughter he gets the idea as she walks back to the family. To his immense guilt, the agent now has a granite-hard erection and can feel his sturdy 4 and a half inches ready to pop. As the daughter walks back, now naked, the agent notices she has whip-marks down her back, herpes sores around her ass and 'Lionel' burned onto her neck. The agent looks over to the author of a many a fine piano ballad, who is now shaking like Muhammad Ali sitting on a washing machine and drooling like a fuckin’' retard. The agent winks at Lionel, who barely acknowledges it, launching into a straight, precise version of “Hello”, quite a feat considering he is trashed on Bush-grade cocaine.
“Give some to Papa!” shrieks the father to the daughter. The daughter then drops to her knees in front of her father, who has been pleasuring himself whilst she danced. His cock is a freak of nature. It looks like a giant Twiglet, but pink, throbbing, with black veins and a purple head but all bent and twisted. The daughter takes the length in her young mouth like a trooper, sucking and licking and flicking with her tongue. The agent picks up on the bored look on her face and the glazed over eyes in her head, like she's done this a thousand times.
“Come on, bro, you a man or a muthafuckin queer!” says the daughter. The son, who the agent suspects of being absolutely flaming, shuffles over sheepishly. The daughter takes the sons limpid cock in her mouth but alas, the boy can't get hard.
“Useless fuckin' queen!” snorts the daughter, “You must be the only boy in our hometown in Alabama who wouldn't jump at the chance to be blown by his own sister!” With that, she goes back to blowing her dad. The son crouches over, sobbing like the fag he is. Suddenly the mother runs behind him with a 10 inch green strap on with Tabasco sauce on the end and rams the whole fucking thing up her son’s asshole.
“There there” she says, “your still mommy's special guy”. The mother thrusts in and out of her sons asshole with the speed and clumsiness of a 17 year old virgin getting his first piece off of the local slut that the whole football team have had. The sons face is now a picture, glowing, beaming. Then Leroy walks over, now naked down to his freshly waxed balls and with a hard-on that perpetuates the theory that black men have big cocks.
“Now then,” he purrs in the way gay guys do, “Time to catch up on all the fun I've missed while I popped out for chicken rice and peas!” Leroy then walks round in front of the son and shoves his big black dick as far down the boy’s throat as nature will allow.
It's a hell of a scene. The daughter is still blowing her father's deformed penis in that cold, erotic manner, as though she has throat cancer and her fathers cum is the cure. The mother and Leroy are roasting the son, the mother with a strap on from behind, Leroy nearly choking him to death with his cock from the front. In fact the agent is not even sure if the son is still alive but whatever he is, he sure looks like he's having fun! Lionel is still hammering his organ, playing what sounds like a free jazz version of 'Dancing on the Ceiling' while stammering something about his daughter being a whore and wondering why she never takes Paris to the house anymore since he had CCTV installed in every room. The agent notices that half of the coke pile has disappeared. He'll have to get that dealers number.
The agent sure wishes he could join in, his little penis his straining to get out of his pants. But ever since he sodomised Kelly Clarkson after an audition in this office 6 years ago he has taken an oath of professional integrity. As the family fuck awkwardly in time with Lionel Richie's playing the mother says to her husband
“Did you get the results of that test?”
“Oh....fuck......that’s it.......here comes your favourite spunk drink......what test honey?”
The mother again rolls her eyes. Her husband is so forgetful. “That test for AIDS you took after fuckin' Ricki Lake?”
“Yup. Positive. oh oh oh OH OH OH FUCK YEAH, I'M COMING!!!!” And then the dad shot half a pint of lukewarm, Ricki-AIDS infected spunk into his distraught daughters mouth, who had begun hysterically screaming: “POSITIVE?!?!?! YOU JUST GAVE ME FUCKIN AIDS?”?”?” WHY WOULD A FATHER DO THAT TO A DAUGHTER!?!??!?!? YOU WON'T EVEN LET ME HAVE BOYS IN MY ROOM IN OUR TRAILER AND YOU'VE JUST GIVEN ME FUCKIN AIDS!!!!
As mentioned earlier, the agent is not a betting man, but if he was he would wager that this young fuck-whore is in shock. She hurtles around the room, screaming, only to trip and fall face first into Lionel's seriously diminished pile of coke. The agent tuts, he's seen this a lot, teenage girls who just can't handle their cocaine When she gets up, she looks like Pacino in 'Scarface'. All of a sudden, she collapses into Lionel's keyboard, knocking him and said organ over. He doesn't miss a note, what a pro! This commotion manages to stir the family Alsatian from his previously peaceful slumber. The dog starts vacuuming up the rest of the coke and goes fucking crazy, running around the room, dipping his canine cock into various orifices that include Leroy’s ass, the dads mouth, the daughters stab wound in the chest she received from Lionel for fuckin’ with his stash, the mothers ass before it finally heads towards the baby's pram.
“NOOOOOO!” screams the mum, withdrawing the strap on from her son's ass. The Alsatian snatches the baby from the pram between its teeth and shakes it from side to side like an old boot. It is then that the agent notices that the baby is green and decaying.
“That baby looks like it been dead for a year!” says the agent, nearly shocked.
“Its only been 10 months!!!” shrieks the mother, “It was natural causes, I swear!”
“If selling his organs to the Russian Mafia were natural” slurs Lionels, by now on his hands and knees trying to recover the last grains of that sweet sweet CIA-produced c-c-c-cocaine.
By now, the dog is feasting on the dead baby corpse, which smells horrible, though not as bad as the ungodly stool that escaped from the older sons ass earlier.
“Ah, screw it, I was getting sick of pushing that dead baby around anyway” said the mother with a dismissive wave, “It was starting to get to be a motherfucker applying all that foundation to him every morning. On with the show….”
By now, the daughter is curled up in the foetal position, recieveing a good kicking from Lionel Richie. The family then grab their semi-conscious daughter and spread her out on the floor. Leroy opens the glitter suitcase and hands each family member a hammer and a stake. They then hammer stakes into the daughters hands and feet, pinning her to the floor, she screams loudly but the mother just kicks her clean up the cunt.
“Shut up, you plague-ridden whore!” wailed the mother, “You’re UNCLEEANN!!”
Lionel Richie composes himself and begins to play “Endless Love”. He looks well pissed off and no wonder. That white bitch has fucked with his stash.
The mother, father, queer son and even queerer brother Leroy are now wearing African tribal masks taken from Leroy’s queer-ass glitter suitcase and dancing around the spread-eagled daughter. The agent recognises this dance from an article in National Geographic. It’s used by African witch-doctors to cure AIDS sufferers. Surprisingly, it has saved no one from dying a horrible AIDS-related death. After a few minutes of this, the son stops dancing and starts to rape the living shit out of his sister. She’s screaming “NO NO STOP!” which, along with the thought of being fucked by his mother, only encourages the son and makes his once-flaccid member harden. The father then pours sulphuric acid and peanut butter over his grotesque penis and inserts his burning cock into the son’s accommodating anus right up to the balls. The son winces a bit but even though he’s not facing the agent, the agent can tell the little fag is loving it. For shits and giggles, Leroy decides he may as well stick his black cock up his brothers asshole, despite the fact that the dirty red-neck son of a bitch could be doing with a shower.
“Gimme a fucking visual bitch!” barks the father to his wife, who is stunned by her husbands manly tone. Immediately, she goes over to the glitter suitcase and produces a fold away easel which she sets up in front of the vibrating, groaning pile of sweaty, fucking family members. She then hangs a large poster of recently deceased civil rights icon Rosa Parks.
“Yeah, thats what I'm talking about! Who's my uppity nigger, uh?!” leers the father, getting harder inside his now-weeping sons asshole. The agent is not sure if these are tears of joy or pain.
By now, the daughter has regained conciousness and is screaming the whole building down. The mother then pulls a jar of killer wasps from the suitcase and stick it up her cunt, which the agent thinks resembles a burst cushion. The mother then squats on her daughters face, muffling her screams and threatening to cut off her oxygen. The mother is now writhing on her daughters face while tongue kissing her fag son like its last dance at the prom.
“FUCK....I'M COMING AGAIN!” yelled the father. He pulled his sticky, nutty, acid-rotted penis out of his son's ass and shoots his load all over the picture of Rosa Parks (this load was not quite the same volume as the first cos the second never is.) Leroy then came in his brothers ass, braying like a donkey. He fell back onto his back still spraying coon come everywhere. Hell, even the son managed to come a little trickle into his sisters heavily bruised vagina. All of a sudden there is a faint cracking noise. The jar of wasps cracked and they flew into the daughters mouth, stinging her throat until it swelled up, cutting off her air supply til she died.
“Ding dong the witch is dead!” chanted the mother. The rest of the family took up the chant, stopped fucking and danced around the daughter like a bunch of Down's Syndrome sufferers auditioning for a community production of 'Wizard Of Oz'. The father then runs around his daughters corpse, pouring petrol over her bloody body before setting fire to her. The family continue to dance and sing around the daughters corpse. The agent is shocked. These fuckin' hicks clearly had no respect for quality carpet, he'd just had his office re-decorated. Lionel was now soundtracking this scene with a medley of Radiohead album tracks and b-sides. Clearly on the comedown following the cruel destruction of his $20,000 stash, Lionel was trembling and blood was dripping from his nose onto his organ. Leroy then started to pass round a bottle of Jack, which everyone in the room took a slug from, even the agent.
“Hey, that fire is getting a bit toasty”, said the agent nervously. Just then the door to the office crashed open and a tall black figure ran in and put out the burning funeral pyre with a fire extinguisher.
“Holy fuck, its Mr. T!” screamed the excited agent, a huge fan of 'The A Team'.
“Laurence baby!” squealed Leroy, “What you doing here?”
“Shut up fool!” barked Mr. T, “I was just gonna get some fried chicken when I thought I'd come get you but no you still here jibber-jabbing with these damn chicken-necked, no-assed white motherfuckers! Now, whats a Nigger to do to get a blow job round here? Fool.”
Quick as a flash, the son ripped down Mr T's jeans and started sucking his dick as though it were coated with sugar and angel dust.
“Get off my man, hag!” shouted Leroy. He then yanked the queer sons head back so quick that the son's jaw clamped down, severing Mr T's nigger cock from Mr. T.
Leroy and the son were now rolling around, fighting, Leroy screaming “Thats MY dick! Thats MY dick! Give it back!” It was a rubbish fight though, the fighters being gay and all.
“No fool, its my fuckin dick!” said Mr T, clutching his newly-formed piss hole. Just as he was about to intervene in the fag fight, he noticed the the poster of Rosa Park that was near-soaked through with AIDS-infected cum.
“I pity the fool who defamed that poster of Rosa Parks” exclaimed the 'Rocky III' star. Not so subtlety, the mother points to the father. He can't even make up an excuse. Hell, why else would you ejaculate over a poster of a dead civil rights icon, other than in the name of entertainment?
Mr. T removes his jewellery from his neck and put it around the fathers, crushing him and pinning him to the floor.
Mr T. is bleeding from the crotch, bleeding bad. However dazed he is, it doesn't show as he removes a mini-chainsaw from Leroy's surprisingly roomy suitcase.
“This isn't in the script!!!” whimpers the father. Mr T. then cuts the father into small pieces, carefully avoiding his expensive but tasteless collection of gold chains. As blood fills the office floor, the two fighting faggots slip and fall out of the window, falling 90 storeys to their death.
“Oh no!” screams Mr T in a surprisingly feminine voice, “My darling Leroy, I'm such a fool! I pity me!” with that, the 80's icon leaps out of the window to follow his lover Leroy and the queer white kid to death, clearly thinking that not enough people have hit the sidewalk today. This scene greatly disturbs the agent as it reminds him of the time when he had to throw two of his colleague out of the window of the first tower during the 9/11 attacks. They had discovered his part in the government conspiracy to take down the towers to instigate a war in the Middle East. He offered the two Muslim-loving liberal fucks a bribe but the two poor excuses for Jews refused. They had to die. Simple as. The agent hopes he hasn't said this out loud.
“And now,” says the mother, trying to get this severely fucked-up performance back on track, “the grand finale!” The agent is impressed. He can vaguely remember seeing a few families like this in the past who fuck themselves to death but it is the first time the mother ever makes it to the end. Lionel is fucked, he's now crying and playing “What's My Age Again?” by Blink 182, calling himself crap and stupid.
The mother climbs up on to the agents desk and starts peeing all over his lap. The agent is strangely aroused. He hasn't had a girl pee on him since Mother Teresa back in the heyday of Studio 54.
“Now,” the mother says, still pissing like a Kentucky Derby winner, “you may or may not remember near the start of this grotesquely overblown and over-long audition that my now-dead fag son drew a crucifix on your desk with his own stinking excrement. This wasn't just a poor attempt at blasphemy by a sexually-confused teenage boy. The little fucker was a keen astronomist and he has calculated that an asteroid the size of a golf ball will hit this spot from outer space in the next....5 minutes!”
“What what what?!” blusters the agent. “But this desk is new, imported from Poland and made from the bones of the last found remains of Holocaust victims at Auschwitz!”
“Your desk will be saved bitch, I'm gonna catch that fucker in my asshole!” said the mother. “You've got to make this family stars after that!”
Poor slut, the agent thought, her family is dead and she thinks this act will get signed.
“Lionel, lets bootleg!” says the mother. She opens a Bible on the desk, pisses on it and then bends over, ass facing the office window, due east. Lionel starts up a hip-hop rhythm reminiscent of Jay Z's track “Girls Girls Girls”. The mother then begins to narrate the Nativity as a rap, replacing the words Jesus with “Cuntface”, Mary with “slack-assed bitch” and Nazareth as “rural Slovenia”. This goes on for four minutes when the agent spots a bright ball of fire hurting towards the office building.
“Here it comes!” yells the agent, peering through his fat chubby Jew fingers.
The asteroid slams perfectly into the mothers asshole, travelling at great speed but somehow not managing to exit the mothers body. Blood and pieces of ruptured asshole fly everywhere and the mother cums about six litres of cunt juice all over the desk, groaning, “Oh, space debris, you fuck so much better than my husband AND Tupac Shakur AND k.d.. lang AND Colin Powell.”
Lionel and the mother walk to the centre of the room, Lionel putting a clean, fresh white towel around the mothers neck and passing a healthy looking joint to the mother who takes a theatrical drag. Lionel and the mother both do jazz hands, smile and say “TA DA!!”
Despite his feeling of deja vu with regards to what he has just saw, the agent sits back with his hands behind his head, wishing the bitch would follow the correct etiquette and pass that motherfuckin' spliff to the left hand side.....
For the longest time, the agent just sits in silence. Finally, he manages, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call it?"
And the father says, "The Aristocrats!"
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