HUMOR Digest - 18 Dec 1997 to 19 Dec 1997
There are 15 messages totalling 732 lines in this issue.

Topics of the day:

  1. Clinton Quickies
  2. Music Man
  3. Subs on-line
  4. P.M.S.   SYMPTOM COMBINATIONS YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE
  5. Offensive to women--perhaps--last has sexual theme
  6. Merry Christmas in other words
  7. Santa's Identity
  8. Pigs (Adult)
  9. The Net Before Christmas
 10. Police Stations are dangerous!
 11. Rudolph's Night Off
 12. A Redneck Christmas
 13. Do you follow my reasoning?
 14. For Chris Farley <Possible off. to his fans...but meant in a nice way>
 15. Joke Clean: The Summit

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 03:21:03 -0500
From:    Jim Moore Jr <jimjr@PIPELINE.COM>
Subject: Clinton Quickies

* I'm amazed he hasn't been arrested for impersonating a President

* There is a niche though where he'd be perfect -- a stranger

* He's in the public eye all right -- as a cinder !

* I gotta admit though, he runs an equal indictment administration

* He's never been known to burn the candor at both ends

* And there's no denying he has class too -- steerage

* The only thing bigger than Clinton's ego is his appetite

* He & Hillary are a perfect match -- he's a pill & she's a headache

* They're both well mated -- They're inseparable and insufferable

* And such a fastidious couple too -- he's fast, and she's hideous

* So class conscious too -- No class, & we're all conscious of it

* Clinton's whole life has been just one big bed of ruses

* Climbed the ladder of success too -- wrong by wrong

* And he'll stand for anything that will leave him sitting pretty

* His speeches always have a happy ending -- we're happy they've ended

* I mean talk about a flood of words and a drought of ideas

* Never has to repeat himself either -- he has it trite the first time

* He'll go down in history as the leading exponent of the age of chiselry


www.geocities.com/BourbonStreet/6293

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 00:34:13 -0800
From:    Stan Kegel <kegel@FEA.NET>
Subject: Music Man

"I've been thinking about a remake of The Music Man set in the 90s. The
character of Marian Paroo would no longer be a librarian but would be an
unfulfilled bikini model in beer ads, a sadder Budweiser girl."

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 07:55:17 -0500
From:    "Harter, Douglas" <Harter.Douglas@EXCHANGE.PADER.GOV>
Subject: Subs on-line

Our high school band has a web site which I am currently managing. We
just started a pilot program to take sub orders through our web site.

Gave me an idea!! How about selling Virtual Subs online? A delicious
picture of a fantastic sub, no calories, no fat (no sub...). Betcha
we'd get a few orders, too.

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 07:53:33 -0500
From:    hawgasm <hawgasm@RICHMOND.INFI.NET>
Subject: P.M.S.   SYMPTOM COMBINATIONS YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE

PreMenstrual Syndrome
                 SYMPTOM COMBINATIONS YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE

HEADACHES and INCREASED SEX DRIVE: Known as getting him all hot and
bewildered.

EXCESSIVE DOMESTICITY and CLUMSINESS:  Whatever you do, don't dust the
knicknacks.

SENTIMENTALITY and EXTRAVAGANCE:  This is not the time to shop for Mother's
Day.

SMELL SENSITIVITY and NAUSEA:  A hundred-foot distance from all Thai
restaurants is recommended.

FOOD BINGING and LACK OF COORDINATION:  It's hard to stuff your face when you
can't find it.

RINGING IN EARS and PARANOIA: No, it's NOT the IRS or that nerd from the
health club at the door.

COMPULSIVE SPENDING and INSOMNIA:  Fortunately, the twenty-four-hour shopper
probably can't get much of a wardrobe at 7-Eleven.

NYMPHOMANIA and POOR JUDGEMENT:  The only thing worse than taking the
consequences is getting a call from one of them.

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 08:57:05 -0500
From:    Grady Lacy <glacy@GRITS.VALDOSTA.PEACHNET.EDU>
Subject: Offensive to women--perhaps--last has sexual theme

These came through on another list I'm on.
Subject: Men and Their Wives

So, three men were complaining about how stupid their wives were.

"My wife," said the first guy, "is so stupid, I can't believe it. Would
you believe: She went shopping and came home with 10 CDs. Hell, we don't
have a CD player! What's the matter with her?"

The second guy said, "Yeah. I know what you mean. My wife did something
similar. What a dumb broad! She went to the store yesterday and came
home with 10 videotapes. We don't even have a VCR!!"

The third one said, "You guys have *no idea* what stupid is. My wife is
so stupid, I wonder how she can even exist. Get this: She's going on a
business trip with her boss, so she went out and bought 10 condoms . . .
and she doesn't even have a penis!!"

-Swedie
 Queen Daughter of Design

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 09:26:18 -0500
From:    "Aditya, the Hindu Skeptic" <a018967t@BC.SEFLIN.ORG>
Subject: Merry Christmas in other words

A Visit from St.. Nicholas... For Readers in Their 23rd Year of Schooling

  'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual
Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic
activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential,
including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus.

  Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the
wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure
regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among
whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

  The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective
accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual
hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically
through their cerebra.

  My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal cranial coverings,
were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when
upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such
a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity
from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise
source thereof.

  Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing
the fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without,
reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline aqueous
precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself
- thus permitting my incredulous optical sensor to peruse a miniature
airborne runnered conveyance drawn by an octet of diminutive specimens
of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so
ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he
was indeed our anticipated caller.

  With his undulate motive power traveling at what may possibly have
been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he
vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia,
and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen ...
"Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost
exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily
distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

  As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was
performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved -
with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the
smoke passage.  He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebon
residue from the oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated
on the walls thereof.  His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed
largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally
in a commodious cloth receptacle.

  His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his
submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging
amiability.  The capillaries of his molar regions and nasal appurtenance
were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the
former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the
latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry.

  His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a
common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared
like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

  Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smokingpiece whose gray
fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of
a decorative seasonal circlet of holly.

  His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly
mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of
impectinated fruit syrup in a semispherical container.

  Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the
aforementioned hosiery with articles of merchandise extracted from his
aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle.

Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed
a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ,
inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith
effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage.

  He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance,
directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral
sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar
aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing
portions of a common weed.

  But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior
to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility:

  "Ecstatic Yuletide's to the planetary constituence, and to that
self-same assemblage my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial
and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 09:59:52 -0600
From:    Les Pourciau at UMem <POURCIAU@MSUVX1.MEMPHIS.EDU>
Subject: Santa's Identity

        Q. How can we be absolutely certain that Santa Claus is,
           in fact, a man?

        A. Would a woman wear the same outfit year in and year out?

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 18:29:07 +0200
From:    Mohamed El-Nadi <itf@INTOUCH.COM>
Subject: Pigs (Adult)

A farmer had fifty female pigs and wanted them all pregnant. His friend
told him to screw them himself, and if in the morning they were rolling
in the hay they weren't pregnant, but if they were rolling in the mud,
they were. So the farmer decides this is a good idea, and that night he
loads all the pigs into his truck, takes them into the woods, and screws
them all.

The next morning, he looks out the window and sees all the pigs rolling
in the hay. He's really frustrated, but decides to give it one more shot.
So that night he takes all the pigs to the woods and screws them again.
The next morning, he looks out the window, and all the pigs are rolling
in the hay. He's really tired, but thinks he'll try one more time. That
night he takes all the pigs out and screws them yet again.

The next morning Hess too tired to look out the window, so he tells his
wife to tell him if the pigs are rolling in the mud or the hay. She goes
to the window and tells him he better look for himself.

The farmer goes to the window and sees all the pigs in the truck honking
the horn and waiting for him.


http://nadi.home.ml.org

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 09:30:58 MST
From:    Jim Winski! <jcw@UPI.UHCOLORADO.EDU>
Subject: The Net Before Christmas

Twas the "NET" before Christmas
When all through our house,
Not a creature was typing
nor moving a mouse.

Our Monitors hummed
and were glowing within,
In hopes that Saint Nicholas
would soon "Modem" in.

The teenagers were crashed
in their messy bedrooms,
and dreaming of boxes
With games such as Doom.

Mom back from aerobics
and done kissing me,
We just settled in for some
much needed ZZZ's.

When in the home office
there arose such a din,
I shot down the stairs,
Had the fax just come in??

Away to my keyboard
I leaped to my chair,
Typed in my password...
But no Fax was there!!

My screen came alive
it was wildly aglow,
The hard drive went crunching
The "One and the "O."

When what my bifocaled eyes
should I see,
But a Brand New Web Browser
not AT&T.

>From server so rapid
(not one on the slates)
That I thought for a moment
"It must be Bill Gates!!"

Incoming more quickly
than 14.4 fame,
Screeching, now flashing,
Calling "Plug-Ins" by name.
"Now Java! Now Shockwave! & ReaL Audio!
On Website! On Quicktime! & 3VDO!"

To the World Wide Web System
To the great Hacker's Ball,
Now Cache away!
Cache away!
Cache away all!!

Beyond all the strengths
Of new chips I see,
This CPU giant bought Power to Me
And into my Ram a new Browser Sublime(!)
Brimming with programs
Saint Nicholas is on my Line!!

Then I in a second
Heard soundboarding in,
Saint Nicholas's jolly laughter
Above all this din.

I pulled back my hands
and fell out of my chair,
In shock at the sight
Of Saint Nick standing there!

Though made up of Pixels
He seemed very real,
With clothing quite Modern
And full of Appeal.

A bundle of CD's
Were slung from his bag
He looked like an "X" er
With middle aged sag!!

He wore cool sunglasses
His face was electric,
His cheeks Two Mac Apples
His nose Neon Pink!

His handsome full lips
Were set in a grin,
With a Snow White
Bohemian Beard set on his chin.

With the butt of a Cuban
Lit up with flare,
I saw Cyber Smoke
Making rings in the air!

He got that "Hip" look
and acted so mellow,
But his belly still shook
Still a Jolly Old Fellow!

Flashing Peace signs to all
and nodding his head,
Lead me to think
I had nothing to dread!

He spoke not a word
But went straight to the show,
Left shiney new Laptops
And then turn to go......

And laying his finger
aside of the node,
As quick as a wink
Through the Monitor he flowed.

He appeared on the Screen
On the keys poked delete
And transported away
His Mission Complete...

But I heard him exclaim
As the screen had turned white,
"CYBER CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD BYTE!!"


Jim Winski; University Physicians, Inc.

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 13:07:28 -0800
From:    Jack Falk <jackfalk@EARTHLINK.NET>
Subject: Police Stations are dangerous!

>From today's Foster City Progress Police Log;

"A rape was reported at the police station at 11 a.m. Dec 2."

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 13:16:09 -0800
From:    "Michael J. Irvin" <irvinmj@WSU.EDU>
Subject: Rudolph's Night Off

        RUDOLPH'S NIGHT OFF
        by Baxter Black

"Twas the night before Christmas and Rudolph was lame!
The vet from the North Pole said, "Footrot's to blame
I'll give him some sulfa, it's the best I can do
But stall rest is needed the next week or two."
"Great Scott!" cried old Santy, he turned with a jerk.
I won't git through Pierre if my headlight don't work!
On Interstate 40 I'll surely get fined
And lost in Montana if I'm flying blind!"

"No cop in his right mind would give any clout
To a geezer who claimed that his reindeer went out!"
He gathered the others, ol' Donner and Blitzen.
Were any among 'em whose nose was tranmitzen?
They grunted and strained and made sure made a mess
But no noses glowed brightly or ears luminesced.
"It's bad luck in bunches," cried Santy, distressed.
"We'll fly Continental, the Red Eye express!

"I'll just check the schedule," he put on his glasses
When up stepped ol' Billy, the goat from Lampasas.
He shivered and shook like a mouse on the Ark
But his horns were a beacon...They glowed in the dark!
Santy went crazy!  He asked "Why?" with a smile
"I just ate a watch with a radium dial!
Where I come from in Texas we don't have thick hide
So my skin is so thin it shines through from inside."

If that's true then let's feed him!" cried Santy with glee
"Gather everything burnin' and bring it to me!"
So Billy ate flashbulbs and solar collectors,
Electric eels and road sign reflectors,
Firecracker sparklers, a Lady Schick shaver
And Lifesavers, all of 'em wintergreen flavor,
Jelly from phosphorescellous fish,
Day Glow pizza in a glittering dish,

Fireflies and candles and stuff that ignites,
Then had him a big bowl of Northering Lights!
He danced on the rug and petted the cat
And after he'd finished and done all of that
To store up the static 'lectricity better
They forced him to eat two balloons and a sweater!
Then he opened his mouth, light fell on the floor
Like a fridge light comes on when you open the door!

His Halloween smile couldn't be better drawn
When he burped accidently, his high beams kicked on!
Hitch him up!" cried ol' Santy, and they went on their way.
I remember that Christmas to this very day.
The sky was ablaze with the stars shining bright.
They were shooting and falling all through the night.
And I realize now, though my fingers are crossed
What I really was seein'... was ol' Billy's exhaust!

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 17:51:17 -0500
From:    hawgasm <hawgasm@RICHMOND.INFI.NET>
Subject: A Redneck Christmas

A Redneck Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin Was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw."
Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door Without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.
This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.
"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"

"Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin' At all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas,  And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 20:06:06 -0700
From:    Janelle Barker <jbarker@HOLLY.COLOSTATE.EDU>
Subject: Do you follow my reasoning?

The story is told about Hack Wilson, a hard-hitting outfielder for the
Brooklyn Dodgers basball team in the 1930s.  Wilson was a great player,
but he had a fondness for the good life.  His drinking exploits were
legendary.  He was known to spend the entire night on the town, stagger
into the team's hotel at the break of dawn, grab a couple of hours' sleep,
and get to the ballpark just in time for the afternoon game.

This greatly distressed Max Carey, Wilson's manager.  At the next team
meeting, Carey spent much time explaining the evils of drink.  To prove
his point, he stood beside a table on which he had placed two glasses and
a plate of live angleworms.  One glass was filled with water, the other
with gin--Wilson's favorite beverage.  With a flourish Carey dropped a
worm into the glass of water.  It wriggled happily.  Next Carey plunged
the same worm into the gin.  It promptly stiffened and expired.

A murmur ran through the room and some players were obviously impressed.
But not Wilson..  He didn't even seem interested.  Carey watied a little,
hoping for some delayed reaction from his wayward slugger.  When none
came, he prodded, "Do you follow my reasoning, Wilson?"

"Sure, skipper," answered Wilson.  "It proves that if you drink gin you'll
never get worms!"



Adapted from James C. Humes, 
"A Speaker's Treasury of Anecdotes about the Famous", p131

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 22:11:07 -0500
From:    C and R <carbro@BIT-NET.COM>
Subject: For Chris Farley <Possible off. to his fans...but meant in a nice way>

Donut In The Wind

Goodbye Chris Farley,
You're the fattest comedian to ever go
(aside from John Belushi, Sam Kinison,
and John Candy, you know.)

The Black Sheep has run away,
And Tommy Boy cannot be shown
without tears falling from our eyes.
David Spade is all alone.

And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a donut in the wind.
Sheltered in a van down by the river,
when the rains set in.

And I would have liked to have known you,
And now I never will,
Your candle lit the room on fire,
as the Ninja from Beverly Hills.

(piano bridge)

You were great in Waynes World,
And in Billy Madison you
played the busdriver,
and 'Milton' in Waynes World Part II.

I loved you in Airheads,
In Coneheads you were great,
but I guess your final movie roles,
will premiere in '98.

And it seemed to me you lived your life,
like a donut in the wind.
Always eating, didn't see it coming,
like the rest of us did.

And I would have liked to have known you,
but then again, oh well.
Your candle burned out long after
four years on SNL.

http://www.bit-net.com/~carbro

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

Date:    Thu, 18 Dec 1997 22:18:41 -0800
From:    Stan Kegel <kegel@FEA.NET>
Subject: Joke Clean: The Summit

Current Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, goes by the nickname
"Bibi". His wife, in contrast to most Israeli "first ladies", plans to
take a more activist role in her country's affairs. Thus, it would be
appropriate when the first summit conference is held between Israel and
the PLO to have Mrs. Netanyahu introduce her husband to the PLO leader
Arafat by saying, "Yasir, that's my Bibi"

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

End of HUMOR Digest - 18 Dec 1997 to 19 Dec 1997
************************************************
