A preacher who wanted to raise money for his church was told there was a fortune in horse racing, so he decided to buy a horse and enter it in the races. However, at the local auction, the going price for horses was so steep that the preacher ended up buying a donkey instead. He figured, however, that since he had it, he might as well go ahead and enter it in the races. To his surprise, in the first race, his donkey came in second. The next day the paper read: PREACHERS ASS SHOWS The preacher was so pleased that he entered the donkey in another race. This time it won, and the paper read: PREACHERS ASS OUT IN FRONT The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the preacher not to enter the donkey in another race. The new headline read: BISHOP SCRATCHES PREACHERS ASS This was too much for the Bishop, and he ordered the preacher to get rid of the animal. The preacher, being a charitable chap, gave it to a nun in a nearby convent. The headline the next day said: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN The Bishop fainted! He told the nun that she would have to dispose of the donkey, and she finally found a farmer who would take it off her hands for ten bucks. The paper said: NUN PEDDLES ASS FOR TEN BUCKS They buried the Bishop the next day.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Around the Bar =--= A big-time executive walks into a bar and sat down next to a drunk who was studying, something in his hand. The executive leaned close as the drunk held the object up to the light. "Well, it looks like plastic," the drunk said. Then he rolled it around in his fingers and added," And it feels like rubber." Curious, the executive asked, "What do you have there?" The drunk shook his head, "Damned if I know. It looks like plastic and feels like rubber." The executive said, "Let me take a look." He examined it, rolled it between his fingers and said, "Yeah, your're right. It does look like plastic and feel like rubber, but I don't know what it is. Where did you get it?" The drunk replied,"Out of my nose." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marooned =--= Three guys and a girl are marooned on a desert island. After one week. The girl is so ashamed of what she's doing, she kills herself. After another week, the guys are so ashamed of what they "re doing, they bury her. After another week, they're so ashamed of what they're doing, they dig her up again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Answering Machine Messages =--= "Hello, you are talking to a machine. I am capable of receiving messages. My owners do not need siding, windows, or a hot tub, and their carpets are clean. They give to charity through the office and don't need their picture taken. If you're still with me, leave your name and number and they will get back to you." "This is not an answering machine -- this is a telepathic thought-recording device. After the tone, think about your name, your reason for calling, and a number where I can reach you, and I'll think about returning your call." "Hi. I am probably home, I'm just avoiding someone I don't like. Leave me a message, and if I don't call back, it's you." "Hi, this is George. I'm sorry I can't answer the phone right now. Leave a message, and then wait by your phone until I call you back." "If you are a burglar, then we're probably at home cleaning our weapons right now and can't come to the phone. Otherwise, we probably aren't home and it's safe to leave us a message." "You're growing tired. Your eyelids are getting heavy. You feel very sleepy now. You are gradually losing your willpower and your ability to resist suggestions. When you hear the tone you will feel helplessly compelled to leave your name, number, and a message." "You have reached the CPX-2000 Voice Blackmail System. Your voice patterns are now being digitally encoded and stored for later use. Once this is done, our computers will be able to use the sound of YOUR voice for literally thousands of illegal and immoral purposes. There is no charge for this initial consultation. However our staff of professional extortionists will contact you in the near future to further explain the benefits of our service, and to arrange for your schedule of payment. Remember to speak clearly at the sound of the tone. Thank you." Please leave a message. However, you have the right to remain silent. Everything you say will be recorded and will be used by us. ******************************************************************************* SANTA CLAUS: AN ENGINEER'S PERSPECTIVE There are approximately two billion children (persons under 18) in the world. However, since Santa does not visit children of Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist (except maybe in Japan) religions, this reduces the workload for Christmas night to 15% of the total, or 378 million (according to the Population Reference Bureau). At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that comes to 108 million homes, presuming that there is at least one good child in each. Santa has about 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 967.7 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with a good child, Santa has around 1/1000th of a second to park the sleigh, hop out, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left for him, get back up the chimney, jump into the sleigh and get on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 108 million stops is evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false, but will accept for the purposes of our calculations), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household; a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting bathroom stops or breaks. This means Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second--3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second, and a conventional reindeer can run (at best) 15 miles per hour. The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium sized Lego set (two pounds), the sleigh is carrying over 500 thousand tons, not counting Santa himself. On land, a conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that the "flying" reindeer could pull ten times the normal amount, the job can't be done with eight or even nine of them--Santa would need 360,000 of them. This increases the payload, not counting the weight of the sleigh, another 54,000 tons, or roughly seven times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth (the ship, not the monarch). 600,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance--this would heat up the reindeer in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer would absorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second each. In short, they would burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team would be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second, or right about the time Santa reached the fifth house on his trip. Not that it matters, however, since Santa, as a result of accelerating from a dead stop to 650 m.p.s. in .001 seconds, would be subjected to acceleration forces of 17,500 g's. A 250 pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of the sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force, instantly crushing his bones and organs and reducing him to a quivering blob of pink goo. Therefore, if Santa did exist, he is dead now. These views are not own or my employers, but rather some of the up-tight engineers out there. ******************************************************* City Slicker =--= A city slicker moves to the country and decides he's going to take up farming. He heads to the local co-op and tells the man, "Give me 100 baby chickens." The co-op man complies. A week later the man returns and says, "Give me 200 baby chickens." The co-op man complies. Again, a week later the man returns. This time he says, "Give me 500 baby chickens." "Wow!" the co-op man replies. "You must really be doing well!" "Naw," said the man with a sigh. "I'm either planting them too deep or too far apart!" ******************************************************* Some things men can say when getting caught looking at another woman: =--= - I can't believe that outfit she is wearing. (Said disdainfully) - Look at that guy... over there... behind the woman. - I think that's a man dressed as a woman. (Incredulous) - Isn't that the actress from the movie Delicatessen? (Chances are she hasn't seen that movie - and neither have you, but you will get brownie points naming a foreign film, and it will be just obtuse enough to distract her - I think that's the girl I knew from high school who eventually joined a convent (or was committed to an asylum) and turned out to be a real nut case - Help me, I got something in my eye... can't see a thing! - Hey that's the loser I dumped in order to go out with you. Boy am I glad I ever got away from her. What a moron. - I know you're probably thinking I was staring at a beautiful woman, but to me she is like one of those fancy bakery cakes that looks good, but then you have a bite and it is so sweet that it makes you sick. She makes me sick. (It helps if you convulse a little at the end here.. maybe it will camouflage your drool). - I was just thinking how I felt sorry for her - since she can never hold a candle to you (this one might only get you punched, but its worth a try). - Do you think she's prettier than me? (Give her a taste of her own medicine)