HUMOR Digest - 6 May 1998 to 7 May 1998
There are 15 messages totalling 755 lines in this issue.

Topics of the day:

  1. Puns
  2. Maryland State Highway
  3. Top5 - 5/6/98 - Bad Gene Therapy
  4. Ebonics Commandments <offensive to purists>
  5. Year 2000 Compliant????
  6. <No subject given>
  7. Office Logic
  8. Clintons diary part3 <Sexualy suggestive, off. interns & paula & clintons>
  9. Dear Paula from Vernon (satirical political humor)
 10. Y2K entertainment
 11. Tourist in Madrid (adult)
 12. Today's News <semi-gross>
 13. i like monkeys <off. to monkeys><adult themes/language>
 14. Seinfeld - comedy routine
 15. Acrimonious comments and questions about contemporary life

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 00:54:18 -0800
From:    Stan Kegel <kegel@FEA.NET>
Subject: Puns

A creature rose up out of the surf and came ashore. Its garments were
made of green sea lettuce. "I am the friendly Witch of the Sand," she
said, " I am only going to sunbathe." The sun was terribly hot. Her skin
began to bake and it turned as red as a ripe tomato! Have you ever seen
... a baking lettuce and tomato Sand Witch?


Many years ago, in the south pacific, there was a small island kingdom
that was ruled by a kind and benevolent King. Each year, on the King's
birthday, the residents of the island gave the King a new throne as
token of their love and respect for him. And each year, the King would
put last years gift up in the attic of his small house. After many years
of ruling the island, the weight of the large number of birthday
presents stored up in the attic became too heavy and caused the house to
collapse down on the King. Moral to the story is: ... People who lives
in grass houses, shouldn't stow thrones.


I work in a busy office where a computer going down causes quite an
inconvenience. Recently one of our computers not only crashed, it made a
noise that sounded like a heart monitor. "This computer has flat-lined,"
a co-worker called out with mock horror. "Does anyone here know how to
do ... mouse-to-mouse resuscitation?"

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 04:52:10 -0400
From:    Jim Moore Jr <jimjr@QIS.NET>
Subject: Maryland State Highway

* When I was a Resident Maintenance Engineer for the State Highway
  a young truck driver told me that his wife said he should be
  reclassified as a Motor Equipment Operator.  I told him, "Fair
  enuff, I'll ask my wife if it's OK."
                                - - - - -

* Had a boss one time who was a real work-aholic and expected all
  his employees to be also.  I asked for the day off so that Mrs
  JimJr and I could celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary.  With
  a stern look he said, "Well... OK.  But don't expect me to put
  up with this every twenty-five years.
                                - - - - -

* One boss used to schedule all our Staff Meetings for 4:00 on a
  Friday afternoon --  that way, no one disagreed with him.
                                - - - - -

* Those Staff Meetings were something anyway.  We had a conference
  table that slept sixteen.
                                - - - - -

* In the Office of Maintenance, the sudden arrival of a boss' wife
  has made many a secretary change her position.
                                - - - - -

* I'm not saying that the Administrator of the Maryland State Highway
  was a tyrant or anything, but after every speech, he was given a
  cringing ovation by the employees.
                                - - - - -

*   The new temp in the Training Division was forever reading or
  playing games on the computer while the telephone rang.  Finally
  her boss said, "Peggy, you must answer the phone when it rings."
    Looking him straight in the eye, she asked, "Why ?  Most of the
  time it's for you anyway."


Complete UGA Humor Digests 1997-1998:
http://www.geocities.com/BourbonStreet/6293

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 05:50:23 -0400
From:    John Vogel <jvogel@DGS.DGSYS.COM>
Subject: Top5 - 5/6/98 - Bad Gene Therapy

                          May 6, 1998
      The Top 16 Signs Your Gene Therapy Isn't Going Well

16> Six appearances in six weeks sets a new record on the Jerry
    Springer Show.

15> While your 7'11" height has the NBA calling, that "maximum
    of two arms" rule ruins everything.

14> "Hey, Four-eyes!" no longer just a cruel taunt.

13> The drooling, twitching, and incontinence are long gone,
    yet you're *still* mistaken for Pauly Shore.

12> Your HMO declined payment for treatment due to the high cost
    of silver bullets.

11> You begin regurgitating acid on Geena Davis, and you haven't
    even seen "Cutthroat Island."

10> You're definitely starting to look like Elvis --
    Elvis Costello.

 9> You wake up with bloody pajamas, and the morning paper's
    headline has to do with a rampaging wolf-like creature biting
    off Karl Malden's nose.

 8> You can now count the number of allegations of sexual
    impropriety against President Clinton on one hand.

 7> You regret not being more specific when you said you just
    wanted to get more tail.

 6> Your unicorn horn keeps poking your Cyclops eye.

 5> You're now the owner of the world's most beautiful breasts.
    If only they were in the front.

 4> Your desire to return to your ancestral roots has manifested
    itself in your new hobby of fashioning tools from your own
    excrement.

 3> Let's just say that in the size department, you now give both
    Pamela and Tommy Lee a run for their money.

 2> On your last trip to the zoo, the baboons were laughin' at
    *your* big red butt.

	 and Top5's Number 1 Sign Your Gene Therapy Isn't Going Well...

 1> When someone tells you to "Go screw yourself," you just smile
    knowingly.

	[ This list copyright 1998 by Chris White and Ziff Davis, Inc. ]
	[ The Top Five List   top5@walrus.com   http://www.topfive.com ]
	[      To forward or repost, please include this section.      ]

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 06:51:20 -0400
From:    Bill Stebbins <bs16@CORNELL.EDU>
Subject: Ebonics Commandments <offensive to purists>

The Ten Commandments (In Ebonics)

 1.  I be God.  Don' be dissing me.

 2.  Don' be makin hood ornaments outa me or nothin in my crib.

 3.  Don' be callin me for no reason - homey don' play that.

 4.  Y'all betta be in church on Sundee.

 5.  Don' dis ya mama ... an if ya know who ya daddy is, don' dis him
     neither.

 6.  Don' ice ya bros.

 7.  Stick to ya own woman.

 8.  Don' be liftin no goods.

 9.  Don' be frontin like you all that an no snitchin on ya homies.

10.  Don' be eyein' ya homie's crib, ride, or nothin.


http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/bs16/

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 07:11:07 -0400
From:    Terry Galan <galante@MCMAIL.CIS.MCMASTER.CA>
Subject: Year 2000 Compliant????

  WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HELP SOLVE THE YEAR 2K PROBLEM?

     Sung to the tune of "Gilligan's Island":

     Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
     Of the doom that is our fate,
     That started when programmers used
     Two digits for a date,
     Two digits for a date.

     Main memory was smaller then;
     Hard disks were smaller, too.
     "Four digits are extravagant,
     So let's get by with two,
     So let's get by with two."

     "This works through 1999,"
     The programmers did say.
     "Unless we rewrite before that
     It all will go away,
     It all will go away."

     But management had not a clue:
     "It works fine now, you bet!
     A rewrite is a straight expense;
     We won't do it just yet,
     We won't do it just yet."

     Now when two thousand rolls around
     It all goes straight to h#ll,
     For zero's less than ninety-nine,
     As anyone can tell,
     As anyone can tell.

     The mail won't bring your pension check.
     It won't be sent to you
     When you're no longer sixty-eight,
     But minus thirty-two,
     But minus thirty-two.

     The problems we're about to face
     Are frightening, for sure.
     And reading every line of code's
     The only certain cure,
     The only certain cure.

     There's not much time, there's too much code,
     (And COBOL-coders, few).
     When the century is finished with,
     We may be finished, too,
     We may be finished, too.

     The way to get the time we need I now propose to you:
     A Daylight Savings decade,
     Or maybe even two,
     Or maybe even two.

     Eight thousand years from now I hope
     That things weren't left too late,
     And people aren't lamenting
     Four digits for a date,
     Four digits for a date!

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 09:05:21 -0400
From:    Grady Lacy <glacy@VALDOSTA.EDU>
Subject: <No subject given>

>From a friend...

The Last Will and Testament as a Heuristic Device

I have nothing but contempt for parents who attempt to buy the love of
their children. This is fruitless and un-Christian, nay, irreligious. On
the other hand, one would be remiss in raising children who do not know
where the bottom line is. Therefore, I commend to your our method.

We have advised out two sons that our will is written to give our entire
estate to one of them, with not one red cent to the other. We have told
them that our will is changed approximately 20 times per year, at random
intervals, and that they will not be told when such revisions take place.
And finally, we have told them that our will leaves everything to the son
who has been most helpful, attentive, and loving RECENTLY. Past records
do not count. Only RECENT conduct.

It is simply amazing how loving, helpful, and attentive those boys
have become.

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 09:34:37 EDT
From:    SueS7 <SueS7@AOL.COM>
Subject: Office Logic

Quotes from the office:

 Quote from a recent meeting: "We are going to continue having these
 meetings, everyday, until I find out why no work is getting done".

 Quote from the Boss... "I didn't say it was your fault. I said I was
 going to blame it on you."

 A motivational sign at work: "The beatings will continue until morale
 improves."

 A direct quote from the Boss: "We passed over a lot of good people to
 get the ones we hired."

 My Boss said to me, "What you see as a glass ceiling, I see as a
 protective barrier."

 I thought my Boss was a bastard, and quit, to work for myself.  My
 new Boss is a bastard, too ... but at least I respect him.

 My Boss -- he's given automobile accident victims new hope for
 recovery. He walks, talks and performs rudimentary tasks, all without
 the benefit of a SPINE.

 Quote from the Boss after overriding the decision of a task force he
 created to find a solution: " I'm sorry if I ever gave you the
 impression your input would have any effect on my decision for the
 outcome of this project!"

 HR Manager to job candidate "I see you've had no computer training.
 Although that qualifies you for upper management, it means you're
 under-qualified for our entry level positions."

 Quote from telephone inquiry "We're only hiring one summer intern
 this year and we won't start interviewing candidates for that
 position until the Boss' daughter finishes her summer classes."


* "Murphy was an optimist."
             -O'Toole's commentary on Murphy's Law

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

Date:    Tue, 5 May 1998 19:51:36 -0600
From:    Brandon P Ruckdashel <bpruck@JUNO.COM>
Subject: Clintons diary part3 <Sexualy suggestive,
         off. interns & paula & clintons>

Dear Diary,
        Yesterday was "Intern Day".   My new intern (She's a hotty) has
great oral dictation, dispite all that shes heard about what goes on in
this office, which nothing anyones heard is true.   Well on another line
of thought, the inlaws are coming (Oh no).   I have so much to do
redecorate the family room, pass a new tax bill, lie to the judge, and
kill... I mean thrill.. I mean hell who care what I mean.
        I've never lied about the truth... well maybe stretch the
truth... O.K. I admit it I distorted the truth, But it wasn't fair that
paula said I have a bent johnson.   Atleast it wasn't bent until I was
done with her in that hotel room... she bit me willy... must have been
her first time doing it.   Look at her, she's got a nose the size of
communist russia... now we know were that plastic surgeon put the other
3/4's of Micheals old nose.   She looks like a dog how could I ever have
considered anything with her.
        Hillary wants a divorce (or a part in these orgies).
                                Signing off,
                                All Bent up Billy Bob

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 10:29:00 -0400
From:    George Hughes <hughie@MINDSPRING.COM>
Subject: Dear Paula from Vernon (satirical political humor)

(Fan mail for Paula Corbin Jones which was subpoenaed by Congressman Dan
Burton and selectively released to the public in order to destroy his
political enemies).

Dear Paula,

I understand that your family is having some troubles because you have
become entangled in the Ken Starr affair. As a good friend of the
President, I want to offer you and your husband assistance.

I know you would like to go on Hardcopy to explain how the corrupt
Rutherford Institute paid your to file outrageous charges again our
President. Hardcopy pays well if your story is outrageous enough. America
is waiting to hear you tell how you were abused and scripted by
self-righteous right-wing Republicans.

Bill believes in decency and other true family values. He hopes you will be
able to remain home with your children and to be a wonderful housewife. We
know that is what you want.

As you might know I have some influence a Revlon. I am constantly on the
look out for talented people. It is one of my great pleasures to help young
troubled people who have political troubles. If your husband is interested
in a career in the fantasy industry, I believe I could help your husband. I
have well-paying jobs suitable for a man of his importance.

Should Kenneth Starr send you an attack subpoena, I can help there, too. I
can provide you with an excellent talking points memorandum so you can
frustrate Mr. Starr. He really gets chapped when a person doesn't tell him
his truth. I can also provide you with an excellent liberal trial lawyer
who will continue to provide you the best in pro bono legal services. The
Democrats have the best trial lawyers.

Let me hear from you soon,
Vernon Jordan

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 10:58:05 -0400
From:    "Pirkle, Randy (FSG)" <B06RKP@FEDERATED-DEPT-STORES.COM>
Subject: Y2K entertainment

Here's a litrle Y2K ditty for your amusement

Two Digits for a Date
    (to the tune of "Gilligan's Island")

    Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
    Of the doom that is our fate.
    That started when programmers used
    Two digits for a date.
    Two digits for a date.

    Main memory was smaller then;
    Hard disks were smaller, too.
    "Four digits are extravagant,
    So let's get by with two.
    So let's get by with two."

    "This works through 1999,"
    The programmers did say.
    "Unless we rewrite before that
    It all will go away.
    It all will go away."

    But Management had not a clue:
    "It works fine now, you bet!
    A rewrite is a straight expense;
    We won't do it just yet.
    We won't do it just yet."

    Now when 2000 rolls around
    It all goes straight to hell,
    For zero's less than ninety-nine,
    As anyone can tell.
    As anyone can tell.

    The mail won't bring your pension check.
    It won't be sent to you
    When you're no longer sixty-eight,
    But minus thirty-two.
    But minus thirty-two.

    The problems we're about to face
    Are frightening, for sure.
    And reading every line of code's
    The only certain cure.
    The only certain cure.

    [key change, big finish]
    There's not much time,
    There's too much code.
    (And Cobol-coders, few)
    When the century is finished with,
    We may be finished, too.
    We may be finished, too.

    Eight thousand years from now I hope
    That things weren't left too late,
    And people aren't then lamenting
    Four digits for a date.
    Four digits for a date.

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 20:13:39 +0200
From:    Mohamed El-Nadi <mnadi@USA.NET>
Subject: Tourist in Madrid (adult)

In a Madrid restaurant, the American tourist asked the waiter to bring
him the same dinner being enjoyed by a man at the next table - A large
helping of rice smothered in gravy, topped with two hefty meatballs. The
waiter explained that this delicacy was served only between five and six
o'clock, immediately after the daily bullfights. The tourist, eager to
taste the house special, agreed to return at the appropriate hour.

Arriving at five the next day, he was quickly seated and served; but to
his disappointment, his rice was topped with two tiny meatballs. Calling
the waiter over, the American complained, "The meatballs you served
yesterday were much bigger."

"Si, senior," the waiter said, "But El Toro, he does not always lose."


http://www.geocities.com/BourbonStreet/4267/

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 14:41:36 -0500
From:    Joe Hickman <comedy@FLASH.NET>
Subject: Today's News <semi-gross>

The U.S. will move one of its two aircraft carriers out of the Persian
Gulf late this month. So the Iraqi army can start eating
mustard-on-a-shingle again.  How do you think they make mustard gas?

Justice Department anti-trust chief Joel Klein, Microsoft's Bill Gates,
and their legal teams had a secret meeting in Washington. It was secret
so Gates wouldn't be embarrassed if his lawyers crashed.

On Saturday, according to the Katmandu Monkey Control Committee in
Nepal, 900 gardeners plan to kill 500 monkeys that have been eating
their vegetables. Let's see, 900 into 500....
Everybody has to kill 45/100ths of a monkey.
How do you kill a tenth of a monkey?
I wouldn't participate--I was never that good in monkey math.
I've got a couple of monkeys that are eating me out of house and home,
too--but they won't eat vegetables.

In Islip Terrace, New York, a 28-year-old man is charged with selling
video tapes of women in high heels stomping frogs. I didn't know
frog-stomping was a crime, but I sure wouldn't want any of that wine.

Barbra Streisand says no, she won't debate Charleton Heston over gun
control even though he called her "Hanoi Jane." Barbra's such a lady she
didn't even yield to the temptation to call Charleton "Machine Gun
Mouth."

ABC says Ellen's ratings dropped because the show became the same every
episode. Still, millions who never watched hate to see her go, and will
miss missing her every week.
Hey, there are some shows you just really enjoy not watching.


from Ha! at http://www.flash.net/~comedy

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 16:28:21 EDT
From:    TheMan5000 <TheMan5000@AOL.COM>
Subject: i like monkeys <off. to monkeys><adult themes/language>

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece.  I thought that odd
since they were normally a couple thousand.  I decided not to look a gift
horse in the mouth.  I bought 200.  I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home.  I have a big car.  I let one drive.  His name was
Sigmund.  He was retarded.  In fact, none of them were really bright.  They
kept punching themselves in their genitals.  I laughed.  Then they punched my
genitals.  I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room.  They didn't adapt very well to their new
environment.  They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high
speeds, and slam into the wall.  Although humorous at first, the spectacle
lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.

Two hours later, I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all
died.  No apparent reason.  They all just sorta dropped dead.  Kinda like when
you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later.  Damn cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do.  There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room,
on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase.  It looked like I had
200 throw rugs.

I tried to flush one down the toilet.  It didn't work.  It got stuck.  Then I
had one dead, wet monkey, and 199 dead, dry monkeys.

I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals.  That worked for a
while, that is, until they began to decompose.  It started to smell real bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to
call the plumber.  I was embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them.  Unfortunately, there
was only enough room for two monkeys at a time, so I had to change them ever
30 seconds.  I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go
bad.

I tried burning them.  Little did I know that my bed was flammable.  I had to
extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my
freezer and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed.  The odor wasn't
improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the
bathroom.  I severely beat one of my monkeys.  I felt better.

I tried throwing them away, but the garbage man said that the city wasn't
allowed to dispose of charred primates.  I told him that I had a wet one.  He
couldn't take that one either.  I didn't bother asking about the
frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution.  I gave them out as Christmas gifts.  My
friends didn't know quite what to say.  They pretended like they liked them,
but I could tell that they were lying.  Ingrates.  So, I punched
them in the genitals.

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

Date:    Wed, 6 May 1998 19:02:35 -0700
From:    "Dr. L. A. Wilson" <Allen_Wilson@BC.SYMPATICO.CA>
Subject: Seinfeld - comedy routine

Then there's the psychiatrist. Why is that with the psychiatrist every
hour is only fifty minutes? What do they do with the ten minutes that
they have left? Do they just sit there going, "Boy that guy was crazy.
I couldn't believe the things he was saying. What a nut. Who's coming in
next? Oh no, another head case."

Talk-show hosts never seem to have any idea how much time is left in the
show, you know? They're always looking off camera, "Do we have time? Are
we out of time? How are we doing on time?" You never see Magnum P.I. go,
"Should I strangle this guy or are we gonna take a break here? Can you
stay for another beating? I'll tell you what, I'll bop him in the head,
we'll do a commercial, we'll come back, I'll drive in the car real fast.
Stay with us."

The main difference between the man's wallet and the woman's wallet is
the photo section. Women carry with them a photograph of every person
they've ever met every day in their whole life since the beginning of
time. And every picture's out of date. "Here's my cousin, 3 years old,
she's in the Marines now. This is my dog, he died during the Carter
administration." They get stopped by a cop, no license and registration.
"Here's my fifty-six people who know me." Cop goes, "Alright ma'am,
just wanted to make sure you had some friends. Move it along. Routine
pal check."

I will never understand why they cook on TV. I can't smell it. Can't eat
it. Can't taste it. The end of the show they hold it up to the camera,
"Well, here it is. You can't have any. Thanks for watching. Goodbye."

Sunday's paper is the worst. Weekend; you want to relax. "Oh, by the way,
here's a thousand pages of information you had no idea about." How can
they tell you everything they know every single day of the week and then
have this much left over on Sunday when nothing's going on?

Sometimes you go to a nice restaurant, they put the check in the little
book. What is this, the story of the bill? "Once upon a time somebody
ordered a salad." There's a little gold tassel hanging down. Am I
graduating from the restaurant? Should I put this on the rearview mirror
of my Camaro?

Any day that you had gym was a weird school day. It started off kind of
normal. You had English, Geometry, Social Studies, and then suddenly
you're in "Lord of the Flies" for forty minutes. You're hanging from a
rope, you have hardly any clothes on. Teachers are yelling at you,
"Where's your jockstrap?!" Kids are throwing dodge balls at you, snapping
towels - you're trying to survive. And then it's History, Science,
Language. There's something off in the whole flow of that day.

My parents took me to Amish country, which to a kid, to see a bunch of
people that have no cars, no TV, no phone, you go, "So what? Neither do
I." Who wants to see a whole community that's been grounded? That's the
way they should punish the kids after they've seen Amish country.
"All right son, get up to your room. That's it, I've had it, you are
Amish, young man. For the rest of this weekend. Did you hear me? Amish!
And don't come down till you've made some noodles and raised a barn."

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

Date:    Thu, 7 May 1998 00:31:16 EST
From:    Bill Edwards <EDWARDS_BILL@COLSTATE.EDU>
Subject: Acrimonious comments and questions about contemporary life

(selected from http://www.accessatlanta.com/local/thevent)

If your Southerners want to sound more intelligent to us Yankess,
stop saying "Do what?" when I ask you a question and you don't hear
what I asked.

To all those Yankees who think they won the Civil War: The president
and vice president of the U.S. are Southern, as is the Senate leader
and the House speaker. Didn't we tell you to save your Dixie cups?

All the world's a stage, but the problem is no one is riding shotgun.

I called the paper to put in an ad, but I couldn't tell the lady
about it because it was classified.

I think all-you-can-eat restaurants should be illegal.

City people might not understand it, but the reason we rednecks buy
extended cab trucks is so our coon hounds will have a seat by
themselves and not have to ride in those cold boxes in the back of
the truck.

My girlfriend says I should be more affectionate. So now I have two
girlfriends.

Jane, for what it costs to take my family to a Braves game, I could
re-tar paper my entire shack.

Cigarette butts should be biodegradable.

My job is getting really frustrating. Last Friday, I played 47 games
of solitare on my office computer and only won two.

Bill Clinton has apologies and now Newt has embarrassment.

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

End of HUMOR Digest - 6 May 1998 to 7 May 1998
**********************************************

