HUMOR Digest - 10 Mar 1997 to 11 Mar 1997
There are 11 messages totalling 409 lines in this issue.

Topics of the day:

  1. English Students' Worst Analogies
  2. Don Juan and the Pope (Off. to us Catholics)
  3. Random thoughts
  4. limerick (risque, sexual contents)
  5. Greatest Punster <inoffensive>
  6. Greatest Punster
  7. Anguished English (adult - not offensive
  8. You get what you pay for, and this came free <Groaner>
  9. Cloning humor (version via India)
 10. Cyberwocky
 11. Sunbathing <adult,suggestive>

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Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 12:26:14 +0200
From:    Brian Myers <bmyers@IAFRICA.COM>
Subject: English Students' Worst Analogies

The following was relayed by a good friend of mine, Pat Mangum...
----------
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who
went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes
with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to
dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open
again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball wouldn't.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with
vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal
quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and "Jeopardy" comes
on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.

Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access
T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by
mistake.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them
in hot grease.

Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this
guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man."

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a
Dr. Pepper can.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
never met.

The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of
metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.

=================================================
Brian Myers, an American in Cape Town.

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 13:06:50 +0200
From:    Maurizio Mariotti <mariotti@IAFRICA.COM>
Subject: Don Juan and the Pope (Off. to us Catholics)

The Pope and Don Juan die. Unfortunately there's a mix up in the books,
so Don Juan goes to heaven and the Pope goes to hell.

After a week, St. Peter gets the books straight, realizes the error
he made, calls for the Pope to come up, and sends Don Juan down.

As the two are headed to their new destinations, the Pope sees Don Juan
and says to him, "I can't wait to get there! I've waited my whole life to
see the Virgin Mary!"

And Don Juan, going down: "Not any more."

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 09:35:41 -0600
From:    Les Pourciau at UMem <POURCIAU@MSUVX1.MEMPHIS.EDU>
Subject: Random thoughts

   Ever notice that there just aren't enough days in the
        week-end?
   People who claim that little things don't bother them
        never slept in a room with a single mosquito.
   Due to a shortage of devoted followers, the
        production of great leaders has been discontinued.
   Assumption is the mother of all screw-ups.
   It has just been discovered that research causes
        cancer in rats.
   Father to his little son,"And what will you do when
        you grow up to be as big as me?"   "Diet" the boy said.
   Ask not for whom the telephone bell tolls.  If thou
        art in the bathtub, it tolls for thee.

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 09:38:15 -0600
From:    Antonio Oliveros Fernandez <oliveros@MAIL.INTERNET.COM.MX>
Subject: limerick (risque, sexual contents)

This is the longest limrick i've ever seen, Enjoy.

There was a young fellow named Dick
Who perfected a wonderful trick:
He'd get an erection
And scorn all protection,
Then balance himself on his prick.

'Twas a fearful and wonderful sight;
And the ladies all shrieked with delight;
But the men were less zealous,
For it made them all jealous,
And they said Dick had no copyright!

Then each of them tried it and failed,
While their wives looked on helpless and wailed
For each one would teeter
And fall on his peter,
Or manage to get all derailed.

So Dick was the toast of the town;
There was nothing too good for that clown,
And the wives all came flocking
To the acrobat's cocking,
While the husbands deplored his renown.

And then came the best part of all:
That number would bring down the hall;
For his tour-de-force trick
Was to straddle his prick,
And wheel out of sight on one ball!

The ladies all ran to tease Dick
That the Frenchman had bettered his trick;
So he straddled and struggled,
And one ball he juggled,
But he knocked out his prop with a kick.

Now the tragedy didn't end there;
For as Richard whirled down through the air,
His prick became tied
In a knot that defied
All attempts to untangle its snare.

Most men would have died of remorse,
But Dick found another resource:
For pretzels he'd pose
With a twisted-up hose,
And he made a nice income, of course.

____________________________________________

http://www.geocities.com/SouthBeach/Marina/4839

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 09:38:06 -0800
From:    Charles Tidwell <charlest@LOCALACCESS.COM>
Subject: Greatest Punster <inoffensive>

Alan F. G. Lewis has been called the world's greatest punster. Here are a
few of my favorites:

"I told her no sensible man would take her dancing in her bikini, so she
went with a  little moron."

"Back-seat driving is a form of duel control."

"Goblin your food is bad for your elf."

"Bambi could never have been a mother if her hart hadn't been in the right
place."

"When a liar gets pharyngitis, he loses his vice."

"A white lie is aversion of the truth."

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 13:36:57 -0600
From:    "D. B. Christian" <dchristi@BADLANDS.NODAK.EDU>
Subject: Greatest Punster

"Bambi could never have been a mother if her hart hadn't been in the right
place."

Seems to me, at least in the version of "Bambi" I saw, that the character
was a male...

If you ask me, if the hart was in the right place, the movie "Bambi"
would have been a totally different audiance.

David Christian, MA   (aka Bjorn)
Exp Psyc/Instructor of Norwegian
UofNoDak  Grand Forks ND

If God hadn't wanted me to be uptight...why would there be coffee and
graduate school?

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 12:37:41 -0800
From:    Juanita Brents <JBRENTS@FOUNDATION.SDSU.EDU>
Subject: Anguished English (adult - not offensive

Reprinted from Anguished English by Richard Lederer with out permission.

These are from his section titled, "Lost in Translation" and are from
signs seen in various foreign places.
 -----------------------------------------------
In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers: "Not to perambulate the
corridors in the hours of repose in the boots of ascension."

On the menu of a Polish hotel: "Salad a firm's own make; limpid red beet
soup with cheesy dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let
loose; beef rashers beaten up in a country people's fashion."

In a Hong Kong supermarket: "For your convenience, we recommend
courteous, efficient self-service."

In a Bangkok dry cleaner's: "Drop your trousers here for best results."

Outside a Paris dress shop: "Dresses for street walking."

In a Rhodes tailer shop: "Order your summers suit.  Because is big rush
we will execute customers in strict rotation."

In an advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist: "Teeth extracted by the
latest Methodists."

In a Rome laundry: "Ladies, leave your clothes here and spend the
afternoon having a good time."

Detour sign in Kyushi Japan: "Stop: Drive Sideways."

In a Swiss mountain inn: "Special today- no ice cream."

In a Bangkok temple: "It is forbidden to enter a woman even a foreigner
if dressed as a man."

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 15:41:12 -0400
From:    JIM MICA OFFICE OF ADMISSION ITHACA COLLEGE <JMICA@OA.ITHACA.EDU>
Subject: You get what you pay for, and this came free <Groaner>

From: "Irish @->-->----" <104257.632@CompuServe.COM>

Once upon a time there was this ancient Monarch, a real tyrant, complete
with a crooked pickle like nose, with suitable and complementary warts, and
craggly fingers, who was enormously hard to please and get along with - he
was constantly discharging everybody from his employ, and was even yet
threatening to remove his own Cardinal. He was utterly disgusting.
        Of course the Cardinal feared for his position, and, with his
Secretary, plotted to overthrow the Monarch, waiting patiently for the
proper moment.
        The King was a bit difficult to get at, being constantly surrounded
by guards and what not, and it was difficult even to be sure it was him
whom one was dealing with since he had a group of perfect body doubles.  He
also had a group of notoriously cowardly pages, all dressed in yellow,
wearing those ridiculous curled toed shoes (all the rage in Arab lands).
        Every week the King would walk between a row of these pages on his
way to meet the Cardinal and his Secretary, to confer with the Cardinal on
matters of State, the business and order of the Empire, and discuss things
spiritual and of the body. Most recently the King had had great problems
with his doubles, several times they had discharged some of his staff, and
had enjoyed priviledges of things Royal, such as sumptuous dinners. This
finally enraged the Monarch and he discharged them, deciding to search for
and hire a new lot at a later date.
        Finally the day arrived, as usual, for his meeting with the
Cardinal. Off he went through the row of pages, marching regally up to the
Cardinal. While the Cardinal cackled and laughed, and the King begged for
mercy, the Secretary slew the decrepant old tyrant.
        Of course, the moral of the story is, let your ringers do the
walking through the yellow pages.

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 22:32:11 EST
From:    Bill Edwards <EDWARDS_BILL@COLSTATE.EDU>
Subject: Cloning humor (version via India)

Found in India Discussion Digest, Mon, 10 Mar 97, Volume 2 : 1376

From: "Kumaramurthy Sivaramakrishnan" <murthy_sk@hotmail.com>
Subject: In an apartment shared ...

Rakesh notices that Sundar is busy mailing about a hundred
envelopes.

Rakesh: Oye Sundar, Sorry to disturb yaar! But I can't control
        myself. Are you mailing resumes, kya ?
Sundar: No No. I am not stupid. Resumes, I fax. I am sending
        self addressed envelopes to ..
Rakesh (looking thru the sealed envelopes):
        Aishwarya (pause) Sushmita(pause) Madhuri(pause) Sonali(pause)
        Kajol(pause) Mamta (pause) Raveena (pause) Urmila (pause) Shilpa ..
Sundar (blushes): Heh! Heh!
Rakesh: What yaar, you are proposing to all of them, kya ?
Sundar: No No. I am sending self addressed envelopes to..
Rakesh: For requesting their photographs, kya ?
Sundar: No No. I am requesting all of them to send me a small sample of
        their hair.
Rakesh: What! Have you gone mad. This is precisely why, I told you not to
        watch those late-night movies of obsession.
Sundar: No No. Nothing like that. You have to learn to keep abreast with
        technology, no. Who knows, tomorrow, what all kinds of cloning
        becomes available to the common man.

------------------------------

Date:    Mon, 10 Mar 1997 19:49:00 -0600
From:    Randall Woodman <randall.woodman@LUNATIC.COM>
Subject: Cyberwocky

*          Cyberwocky           *

(With Apologies to Lewis Carroll)

'Twas e-mail, and the ftp
Did route and telnet to the node.
All rlogin to Xterms free
To let gopher download.

``Beware the Internet, my son!
The posts that spam, the speech that's free!
Beware the Netscape cache, and shun
The AOL mail id!''

He took his HP mouse in hand.
Long time a higher bandwidth sought --
And wished had he for his old PC
A faster modem bought.

And, as that wistful thought he gripped,
The Internet, with bait of flame,
Ran applets through the Javascript,
And mailbombed as it came!

The war he waged! As on each page
The HP mouse he double-clicked!
And 'twas absurd, the hype he'd heard
'Bout sites that he had picked.

``And, hast thou surfed the Internet?
Come link my page, my newbie bud!
O Lycos night! Yahoo! Excite!''
He messaged on his MUD.

'Twas e-mail, and the ftp
Did route and telnet to the node.
All rlogin to Xterms free
To let gopher download.

by Mike ``Hammerwocky'' Hammond

(First appeared in Volume 71, Issue 4 of mathNEWS, the University of
Waterloo Faculty of Mathematics student newsletter/humour publication.
Check us out at http://www.undergrad.math.uwaterloo.ca/~mathnews  )

----
Insomnia is nothing to lose sleep over.

------------------------------

Date:    Tue, 11 Mar 1997 09:56:07 -0500
From:    Chalapathi Poduri <chaps@TC4HQ.CMC.STPH.NET>
Subject: Sunbathing <adult,suggestive>

 A rather well-proportioned secretary, Joan, spent almost all of her
 vacation sunbathing on the roof of her hotel. She wore a bathing suit
 the first day but, on the second, she decided that no one could see
 her way up there, and she slipped out of it for an overall tan. She'd
 hardly begun when she heard someone running up the stairs; she was
 lying on her stomach, so she just pulled a towel over her rear.

 "Excuse me, miss," said the flustered little assistant manager of the
 hotel, out of breath from running up the stairs. "The Hilton doesn't
 mind you sunbathing on the roof but we would very much appreciate you
 wearing a bathing suit as you did yesterday."
 "What difference does it make," Joan asked rather calmly.
 "No one can see me up here, and besides, I'm covered with a towel."

 "Not exactly," said the embarrassed little man.
 "You're lying on the dining room skylight."

------------------------------

End of HUMOR Digest - 10 Mar 1997 to 11 Mar 1997
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