HUMOR Digest - 2 Dec 1998 to 3 Dec 1998
There are 9 messages totalling 521 lines in this issue.
 
Topics of the day:
 
  1. The Announcement (Pun)
  2. Christmas Eve in Brooklyn
  3. Male - Female
  4. Flu Shot??!!
  5. Santa Is A Man
  6. The Opinion Poll
  7. "College" by Dave Barry
  8. Only if it's raining... (Adult)
  9. Phones & Loans...A true Personal Story
 
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Date:    Tue, 1 Dec 1998 22:52:36 -0800
From:    Stan Kegel <kegel@FEA.NET>
Subject: The Announcement (Pun)
 
A minister of a city church enjoyed a few drinks, but his passion
was for peach brandy. One of his congregants would make him a
bottle each Christmas. One year, when the minister went to visit
his friend, hoping for his usual Christmas present, he was not
disappointed, but his friend told him that he had to thank him
for the peach brandy from the pulpit the next Sunday.
 
In his haste to get the bottle, the minister hurriedly agreed and
left. So the next Sunday the minister suddenly remembered that he
had to make a public announcement that he was being supplied
alcohol from a member of the church. That morning, his friend
sat in the church with a grin on his face, waiting to see the
minister's embarrassment.
 
The minister climbed into the pulpit and said, "Before we begin,
I have an announcement. I would very much like to thank my friend,
Joe, for his kind gift of peaches... and for the spirit in which
they were given!"
 
          -By Alan Webster
 
------------------------------
 
Date:    Tue, 1 Dec 1998 23:27:41 -0600
From:    RANEBOUX <wett@GS.VERIO.NET>
Subject: Christmas Eve in Brooklyn
 
'Twas the night before Christmas,
Da whole house was mellow,
Not a creature was stirrin',
I had a gun unda my pillow.
 
When up on da roof'
I heard somethin' pound,
I sprung to da window,
To scream, "YO! Keep it down!"
 
When what to my
Wanderin' eyes should appear,
But dat hairy elf Vinny,
And eight friggin' reindeer.
 
Wit' a bad hackin' cough,
And da stencha burped beer,
I knew in a moment
Yo, da Kringle wuz here!
 
Wit' a slap to dere snouts,
And a yank on dere manes,
He cursed and he shouted,
And he called dem by name.
 
"Yo Tony, Yo Frankie,
Yo Sally, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie,
Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!"
 
As I drew out my gun
And hid by da bed,
Down came his boot
On da top a my head.
 
His eyes were all bloodshot,
His b.o. wuz scary,
His breath wuz like sewage,
He had a mole dat wuz hairy.
 
He spit in my eye,
And he twisted my head,
He soon let me know
I should consider myself dead.
 
Den pointin' a fat finga
Right unda my nose,
He let out some gas,
And up da chimney he rose.
 
He sprang to his sleigh,
...screaming,
And away dey all flew,
Before he troo dem a beatin'.
 
But I heard him exclaim,
Or better yet grump,
"Merry Christmas to all, and
 Bite me, ya hump!"
 
------------------------------
 
Date:    Wed, 2 Dec 1998 04:05:10 -0500
From:    Jim Moore Jr <jimjr@QIS.NET>
Subject: Male - Female
 
* Entry under comments on a third grade boy's report card:
  "Possible maladjustment -- likes girls."
                           - - - - -
 
* Have y'all ever noticed that men who are successful with the
  ladies invariably do as the roster does -- crow about it.
                           - - - - -
 
* A Vassar coed was asked how her relationship with her latest
  beau was going.  She replied, "I'd really like to establish
  a long term association with Jim.  But at present, it looks
  virtuously impossible."
                           - - - - -
 
*   Knowing I was a figure skating fan, a friend of mine asked
  my reaction to the nude photos of Katarina Witt in "PlayBoy".
    I said, "Actually George, I never gave it a second thought.
  I was much too busy with the first one."
                           - - - - -
 
*   A divorced friend of mine was still able to retain some of
  his wealth and was about to enter the dating scene again. He
  asked my advice on admitting his age (68) to the young ladies
  he planned on chasing.
    "Frankly Frank," I told him, "I think you'd have far more
  success with the 30-year-olds if you told them you were 80."
                           - - - - -
 
*   Worried that his son was spending too much money on dates,
  a Father asked the boy how much his last date had cost.
    The son calculated a minute then replied, "Oh... about $15
  or so I think."
    "Well..." said the Father, "I'm proud of you for finally
  coming up with an inexpensive evening."
    "To be honest Dad," the son went on, "we'd have done more,
  but that was all the money she had."
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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------------------------------
 
Date:    Wed, 2 Dec 1998 07:02:53 -0500
From:    Terry Galan <galante@MCMAIL.CIS.MCMASTER.CA>
Subject: Flu Shot??!!
 
Miss Bea was in her 80's and much admired for her sweetness and
kindness to all. The pastor came to call on her one afternoon early
in the Spring and she welcomed him into her Victorian parlor. She
invited him to have a seat while she prepared a little tea. As he
sat facing her old pump organ, the minister noticed a cut glass
bowl setting on top of it, filled with water. In the water floated,
of all things, a condom. Imagine his shock and surprise. Imagine
his curiosity; surely Miss Bea had flipped! But he certainly
couldn't mention the strange sight in her parlor.
 
When she returned with tea and cookies they began to chat. The
pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl and its strange
floater but soon it got the best of him and he could resist no
longer. "Miss Bea," he said, "I wonder if you would tell me about
this." Pointing to the bowl.
 
"Oh, yes," she replied, "Isn't it wonderful! I was walking downtown
last fall and I found this little package. It said to put it on
your organ and keep it wet and it would prevent disease. And you
know, I think it is working, I haven't had a cold all winter!"
 
------------------------------
 
Date:    Wed, 2 Dec 1998 08:33:12 -0500
From:    Bill Stebbins <bs16@CORNELL.EDU>
Subject: Santa Is A Man
 
In reference to: Old St. Nicki? I think Santa Claus is a woman...
 
Santa is a man.
 
It is precisely because Christmas is an "organized, warm, fuzzy,
nurturing social deal" that Santa has to be a man. Delegation...
that's the key. Just imagine if a woman was trying to delegate all
of those tasks and obligations to her underlings. Christmas would
be as ambiguous as the spring equinox. Nobody would know what day
of the year we were going to celebrate it on.
 
It takes a man to organize a commercial event as huge as Christmas.
What with the ads, the parades, the football, and (usually) the
basketball, the sheer immensity of the task would overwhelm most
females. We'd have to plan football schedules around lunch instead
of the other way around. Or worse yet... there might not be any
football at all. (Shudder) That's a scary thought.
 
If Santa was a female, the toys might never be delivered. It would
take a she Santa until New Year's Eve to get dressed (for the third
time) and out of the bathroom. And just try harnessing those
reindeer with freshly painted nails. Never happen. Once she got
underway, she'd be too busy talking on the cell phone to her girl
friends to get all the way around the world to every girl and boy's
house in a single year, let alone a single night.
 
If Santa was female, the whole idea of gift giving would be
unrecognizable. Everybody would get socks, or ties, or aftershave,
or fuzzy slippers every year. There would be none of the noise
making, shoot 'em up, battery operated windfalls that kids love.
Bicycles would all come complete with helmets and knee pads. And
training wheels so nobody could get hurt. Toy soldiers would be
replaced by books on improving one's self esteem. Christmas just
wouldn't be the same.
 
I'll tell you another reason why Santa has to be a man (AND a
football fan). Look at the names of his reindeer... Dasher, Comet,
Blitzen...  If those aren't male names for football players, than
I'm an elf.
 
          -Thanks to BS Pyle
 
 
http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/bs16
http://members.xoom.com/bs16/
 
------------------------------
 
Date:    Wed, 2 Dec 1998 10:16:35 -0500
From:    Jim Mica <jmica@ITHACA.EDU>
Subject: The Opinion Poll
 
A church had a man in the choir who couldn't sing. Several people
hinted to him that he could serve in other places, but he continued
to come to the choir. The choir director became desperate and went
to the pastor.
 
"You've got to get that man out of the choir," he said. "If you
don't, I'm going to resign. The choir members are going to quit
too. Please do something."
 
So the pastor went to the man and suggested, "Perhaps you should
leave the choir."
 
"Why should I get out of the choir?" he asked.
 
"Well, five or six people have told me you can't sing."
 
"That's nothing," the man snorted. "Fifty people have told me that
you can't preach!"
 
          -source: "ECULAUGH"
 
------------------------------
 
Date:    Wed, 2 Dec 1998 19:16:04 EST
From:    Eric Barr <EricBarr@AOL.COM>
Subject: "College" by Dave Barry
 
Many of you young persons out there are seriously thinking about
going to college.  (That is, of course, a lie.  The only things you
young persons think seriously about are loud music and sex.  Trust
me: these are closely related to college.)
 
College is basically a bunch of rooms where you sit for roughly
two thousand hours and try to memorize things.  The two thousand
hours are spread out over four years; you spend the rest of the
time sleeping and trying to get dates.
 
Basically, you learn two kinds of things in college:
 
 * Things you will need to know in later life (two hours). These
   include how to make collect telephone calls and get beer and
   crepe-paper stains out of your pajamas.
 
 * Things you will not need to know in later life (1,998 hours).
   These are the things you learn in classes whose names end in
   -ology, -osophy, -istry, -ics, and so on.  The idea is, you
   memorize these things, then write them down in little exam
   books, then forget them.  If you fail to forget them, you
   become a professor and have to stay in college for the rest
   of your life.
 
It's very difficult to forget everything.  For example, when I was
in college, I had to memorize -- don't ask me why -- the names of
three metaphysical poets other than John Donne.  I have managed to
forget one of them, but I still remember that the other two were
named Vaughan and Crashaw.  Sometimes, when I'm trying to remember
something important like whether my wife told me to get tuna packed
in oil or tuna packed in water, Vaughan and Crashaw just pop up in
my mind, right there in the supermarket.  It's a terrible waste of
brain cells.
 
After you've been in college for a year or so, you're supposed to
choose a major, which is the subject you intend to memorize and
forget the most things about.  Here is a very important piece of
advice: Be sure to choose a major that does not involve Known Facts
and Right Answers.
 
This means you must *not* major in mathematics, physics, biology,
or chemistry, because these subjects involve actual facts.  If, for
example, you major in mathematics, you're going to wander into
class one day and the professor will say: "Define the cosine
integer of the quadrant of a rhomboid binary axis, and extrapolate
your result to five significant vertices." If you don't come up
with *exactly* the answer the professor has in mind, you fail. The
same is true of chemistry: if you write in your exam book that
carbon and hydrogen combine to form oak, your professor will flunk
you.  He wants you to come up with the same answer he and all the
other chemists have agreed on.  Scientists are extremely snotty
about this.
 
So you should major in subjects like English, philosophy,
psychology, and sociology -- subjects in which nobody really
understands what anybody else is talking about, and which involve
virtually no actual facts.  I attended classes in all these
subjects, so I'll give you a quick overview of each:
 
ENGLISH: This involves writing papers about long books you have
read little snippets of just before class.  Here is a tip on how to
get good grades on your English papers: Never say anything about a
book that anybody with any common sense would say.  For example,
suppose you are studying Moby Dick.  Anybody with any common sense
would say that Moby Dick is a big white whale, since the characters
in the book refer to it as a big white whale roughly eleven
thousand times.  So in *your* paper, *you* say Moby Dick is
actually the Republic of Ireland.  Your professor, who is sick to
death of reading papers and never liked Moby Dick anyway, will
think you are enormously creative.  If you can regularly come up
with lunatic interpretations of simple stories, you should major
in English.
 
PHILOSOPHY: Basically, this involves sitting in a room and
deciding there is no such thing as reality and then going to lunch.
You should major in philosophy if you plan to take a lot of drugs.
 
PSYCHOLOGY: This involves talking about rats and dreams.
Psychologists are *obsessed* with rats and dreams.  I once spent an
entire semester training a rat to punch little buttons in a certain
sequence, then training my roommate to do the same thing.  The rat
learned much faster.  My roommate is now a doctor.  If you like
rats or dreams, and above all if you dream about rats, you should
major in psychology.
 
SOCIOLOGY: For sheer lack of intelligibility, sociology is far and
away the number one subject.  I sat through hundreds of hours of
sociology courses, and read gobs of sociology writing, and I never
once heard or read a coherent statement.  This is because
sociologists want to be considered scientists, so they spend most
of their time translating simple, obvious observations into
scientific-sounding code.  If you plan to major in sociology,
you'll have to learn to do the same thing.  For example, suppose
you have observed that children cry when they fall down.  You
should write: "Methodological observation of the sociometrical
behavior tendencies of prematurated isolates indicates that a
casual relationship exists between groundward tropism and
lachrimatory, or 'crying,' behavior forms." If you can keep this
up for fifty or sixty pages, you will get a large government grant.
 
          -from a Dave Barry column
 
------------------------------
 
Date:    Thu, 3 Dec 1998 11:54:31 +0800
From:    Jie Dy <drhojie@NTEP.NEC.CO.JP>
Subject: Only if it's raining... (Adult)
 
Mary was having an affair during the day while her husband, John,
was at work. One day she was in bed with her boyfriend, Ralph, and
she heard her husband's car pull in the driveway. She yelled at
Ralph, "Hurry! Grab your clothes and go out the window, my husband
is home early!"
 
Ralph looked out the window and said, "I can't jump out the window.
It's raining like hell out there!"
 
Mary cried, "If he catches us, he'll kill both of us!"
 
So, Ralph grabbed his clothes and jumped out the window. When he
landed, he found himself in the middle of a marathon race... so he
started running with the others... still nude and carrying his
clothes over his arm.
 
A runner asked him, "Do you always run in the nude?"
 
Ralph answered, gasping for air, "Oh yes, it feels so free having
the air blow over your skin while you run."
 
The other runner then asked Ralph, "Do you always run carrying
clothes on your arm?"
 
Ralph replied breathlessly, "Oh yes, that way I can dress at the
end of the run and get in my car and go home!"
 
The other runner then asked, "Do you always wear a condom when you
run?"
 
Ralph answered, "Only if it's raining."
 
------------------------------
 
Date:    Thu, 3 Dec 1998 01:45:05 +0000
From:    Jack Shea <jshumor@BERK.COM>
Subject: Phones & Loans...A true Personal Story
 
Years ago going on vacation my wife and I discovered we hadn't
mailed the bills, we instead packed them with the rest of our
stuff. No problem... we mailed them from there.
 
When we got home there was a nasty note from the bank telling us to
call immediately about our past due car payment. I called and they
said it never got there. No problem, I'll bring it by tomorrow.
 
I brought in my payment and since the little coupon from the
payment book was with the check that was lost, I didn't have it and
the teller said she would note my account that I was paying cash.
The city I worked in was forty miles from my home bank and I didn't
want to delay by a day.
 
I shortly received a late notice! I called and they checked and
said it must have been an error as my account was up to date.
 
For two months I would get a few late notices and upon calling the
bank I was assured that my account was in order.
 
Shortly after making my September payment I received a letter from
the Vice-President of the bank informing me that I was late for my
October payment!!! This was really silly since the payment date was
the 17th of the month and it was now September 14th!!!
 
I went to the bank personally and asked to speak to the VP whose
name was on my letter. I was ushered into his office and told him I
had a problem with the letter he sent me about a late payment. He
asked for the letter which I gave him, he glanced it over and with
a straight face told me the letter was correct and what was the
reason I was delinquent and when did I expect to make this late
payment, adding that I would incur late charges and possibly
interest.
 
I politely asked him if he read all the correspondence he signed
his name to? Indignantly, he said of course he did. I asked him to
read the letter again. He did and wanted to know if I was being
funny with this waste of his time?
 
I said that I wasn't trying to be funny but this IS very funny.
This did not help his disposition so I quickly interjected the
section of the letter he signed that said I was late for my October
payment. He glared at me and said, "So".
 
Sir, if you look at your calendar, note today's date and then
please explain to me how I could be late for next months payment.
 
He looked puzzled for a moment and then with head in hand started
to laugh. What had happened we eventually found out was a computer
glitch. The payment was always made with the coupon and the
computer would recognize that. By paying cash, it recognized my
account was up to date but I was missing one payment due to the
lack of the lost coupon.
 
------------------------------
 
End of HUMOR Digest - 2 Dec 1998 to 3 Dec 1998
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