Weekly Humor

[727Sky]

Subject: Fwd: Weekly Humor


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This reminds me of:

Q.How do you keep your car from being stolen?

A..Buy a standard shift model

 

 

Q..How do you send a message in code?

A..Write in cursive

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Subject: Some Canadian Humor

Several Americans have been seen sneaking into Canada.       Canada's     
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[727Sky]

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Your mind is a garden, your thoughts are the seeds.

You can grow flowers or you can grow weeds.

Don’t forget to water it!

[NightskyeB4Dawn]

These were really good.

[EndtheMadnessNow]

Thanks for the Monday morning  

Happy Mutt day!

[NightskyeB4Dawn]

Thanks for the Monday morning  

Happy Mutt day!

I had a yellow Lab. Her name was Charlene, but we called her Charlie. She was stolen.

Every time I see a yellow Lab, I wonder way deep in the bottom of my mind if it is from a litter of Charlie’s.



Then I smile. 

[xuenchen]

Don't forget the MEMEs about kids not being able to tell time from an old clock 

Schools of yesteryear forgot that one when teaching "digital" methods 

[NightskyeB4Dawn]

Don't forget the MEMEs about kids not being able to tell time from an old clock 

Schools of yesteryear forgot that one when teaching "digital" methods 

Along with cursive writing and how to add without a calculator.

[EndtheMadnessNow]

[727Sky]

 The biggest joke on mankind is that computers have begun asking humans to prove they aren’t a robot.                                                    

I’m at that delusional age where I think everyone my age looks way older than I do.
Just once I want a username and password prompt to say CLOSE ENOUGH.
If I am ever on life support unplug me and plug me back in and see if that works.
Do you ever wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and think, “That can’t be accurate!”
I see people out there zip lining and mountain climbing and here I am feeling good about myself because I got my leg through my underwear without losing my balance.
If Adam and Eve were Cajuns they would have eaten the snake instead of the Apple and saved us all a lot of trouble.
You know you are getting old when friends with benefits means having someone who can drive at night.
Weight loss goal: To be able to clip my toenails and breathe at the same time.
Some of my friends exercise every day, meanwhile I am watching a show I don’t like because the remote fell on the floor.
For those of you that don’t want Alexa listening in on your conversation they are making a male version….it doesn’t listen to anything
What’s the difference between a kleptomaniac and a literalist? The literalist takes things literally. The kleptomaniac takes things, literally.
I came, I saw, I forgot what I was doing, retraced my steps, got distracted on my way back, have no idea what’s going on and now I have to pee.
 
And with that I bid you good day.  

[EndtheMadnessNow]

[Schmoe]

Oh man, that picture of the water skier with the team of dogs on the shoreline reminds me of a particularly stupid episode I had as a kid.

I thought it was a great idea to wear roller blades at nine years old and walk two dogs around the neighborhood.  

I didn't see what they saw, but they took off after something.  I started in the street, and I was flying by time they diverted their route into the grass.  I can still feel the wind leaving my body 

[Infolurker]

Oh crap, I can't stop laughing...

[EndtheMadnessNow]

1987: "If it bleeds, we can kill it."

2023: "If it tweets, we can block it."

[EndtheMadnessNow]

A man is driving down a deserted stretch of highway when he notices a sign out of the corner of his eye....It reads:

SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS
HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION
10 MILES

He thinks this is a figment of his imagination and drives on without a second thought...
Soon he sees another sign which reads:

SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS
HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION
5 MILES

Suddenly he begins to realize that these signs are for real and drives past a third sign saying:

SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS
HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION
NEXT RIGHT

His curiosity gets the best of him and he pulls into the drive. On the far side of the parking lot is a stone building with a small sign next to the door reading:

SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS

He climbs the steps and rings the bell. The door is answered by a nun in a long black habit who asks, 'What may we do for you my son?'

He answers, 'I saw your signs along the highway and was interested in possibly doing business.... .'
'Very well my son. Please follow me.' He is led through many winding passages and is soon quite disoriented. The nun stops at a closed door and tells the man, 'Please knock on this door.'
He does so and another nun in a long habit, holding a tin cup answers the door... This nun instructs, 'Please place $100 in the cup then go through the large wooden door at the end of the hallway.'

He puts $100 in the cup, eagerly trots down the hall and slips through the door pulling it shut behind him.
The door locks, and he finds himself back in the parking lot facing another sign:

GO IN PEACE.
YOU HAVE JUST BEEN SCREWED BY THE SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS.
SERVES YOU RIGHT, YOU SINNER.

[quintessentone]

Someone stole my mood ring, I don't know how I feel about that.

Single (noun) - A man who criticizes women in the kitchen.

Working in a mirror factory is something I can totally see myself doing.

Today on a drive, I decided to go visit my childhood home. I asked the people living there if I could come inside because I was feeling nostalgic, but they refused and slammed the door in my face. My parents are the worst.

I was struggling to get my wife's attention, so I just sat down and looked comfortable. That did it.

[EndtheMadnessNow]

A senior citizen drove his brand new Corvette convertible out of the dealership.

Taking off down the road, he floored it to 90 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little gray hair he had left.

Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw a state trooper behind him, lights flashing and siren blaring. He floored it to 100 mph, then 110, then 120. Suddenly he thought, What am I doing? I'm too old for this, and pulled over.

The trooper walked up to the Corvette, and said “Today is Friday. If you can give me a reason for speeding that I've never heard before, I'll let you go."

The old gentleman paused. Then he said,

"Years ago, my wife ran off with a state trooper. I thought you were bringing her back."

"Have a good day, sir," replied the trooper.

[Schmoe]

[Ninurta]

This is what happens around here when the bears see me walking in the woods with my pointy stick:



.

[quintessentone]

What brand of cigarettes do hippies smoke?               Yours.


Why do hippies shop at Ikea.                            Because no trees were harmed in the making of their furniture.




Why don't hippies make good chemists?             Because they are always dropping acid.


Back in my college days my Professor asked me if I dig?  

I said "ya I dig" and that's how I got hoodwinked into joining his archeological expedition.

Is this humor or truth, or both?

   

[EndtheMadnessNow]

It's an all-too-familiar story: Some guy in Wyoming, cruising along in his pickup truck, pulls over to check out a bright light. It proves to be a UFO crawling with aliens. They whoosh him off to Arcturus for tests and return him a few weeks later without telling him the results. He's all shaken up, barely lucid enough to cut a decent deal with the tabloids.

But there are other kinds of abduction stories the public never hears. I'm talking about extraterrestrials kidnapped by Earthlings. It is a little-known fact that every year hundreds of little green men are grabbed by park rangers or picnickers, wrapped up in ponchos or beach blankets, and bundled off to remote government labs or poorly decorated rec rooms. Some of the aliens-the lucky ones are dumped back where they were found, unharmed (but never told the results of their tests, either). Others remain captives, surviving on corn chips and root beer under degrading conditions. And it's not just little green men who are the victims: it can be little green women or even little green children.

This sordid picture has been painstakingly pieced together by Dr. Perry Noya, parasociologist and author of Aliens in Our Attics. His book represents a massive research effort conducted in spite of some daunting obstacles: People who conceal aliens in their homes are reluctant to own up to it, either because they are worried about attracting the attention of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, or they are afraid their property values will plummet. Even so. Noya managed to interview hundreds of people who held extraterrestrials themselves, knew someone who had, or knew someone who knew someone.

What kinds of people would hold an innocent tourist from another solar system against his, her, or its will? "Lonely people," Noya said during a recent interview. "A few are kids, but most seem to be senior citizens.

"Most people aren't necessarily monsters, but some definitely exploit aliens. For example, my files document cases of Freon-exhaling visitors from Venus kept in commercial garages by heating contractors and forced to recharge old air-conditioning units."

It is a popular misconception that creatures who zoom around in UFOs are too sophisticated to be captured. Not so, says Noya. Aliens are a snap to spot and catch. They don't know the language, seldom carry Earth money, and are easily fooled into believing that a teenager's customized van with an ocean sunset silk-screened on the side is some sort of shuttle craft.

So far the US government has done nothing in response to Noya's demand that an independent, blue-ribbon commission be appointed to study his evidence. "People think," he says, "that the government pooh-poohs the whole UFO thing because it thinks it's silly. The real reason is that my independent investigations have uncovered what I call Saucergate. I have conclusive evidence that federal agencies are already using extraterrestrial illegals to perform key federal functions, like setting the prime rate and padding the Pentagon budget. It's a grave disservice to the taxpayer," he continues. "What does anyone—much less some nerd from another galaxy- know about the bond market? But just try to get rid of them. It's impossible to fire someone in a government job, even if he's from another planet."

Equally shocking was Noya's discovery that some aliens have, not surprisingly, died in captivity. Upon their demise the earth's gravitational field and atmosphere caused their bodies to shrink dramatically and harden into a rubbery substance. Frequently the corpses have been mistaken for the tiny figures sometimes given away in boxes of cereal. "You'd be surprised how many dead aliens I have found mixed in with a kid's Froot Frosties." Noya says, shaking his head sadly. (Inspired by this discovery, he has been taking a closer look at cereal giveaways. His discovery of a brontosaur and other prehistoric behemoths has inspired a second book, tentatively titled The Tyrannosaurus at Your Breakfast Table. It will offer his theory of what really happened to the dinosaurs.)

Noya is lobbying for legislation on kidnapping aliens, a kind of extraterrestrial version of the Lindbergh-baby laws; but he thinks the problem won't really go away until our visitors from outer space get more sophisticated.

Fortunately, he has grounds for cautious optimism. As evidence, he cites an interview with Srrgmishq (not his real name), a creature from Altair who managed to escape from a university research lab by posing as a member of a rock group. (The alien would not talk with Noya until the professor consented to blindfold himself, even though the interview was conducted over a telephone.)

According to Srrgmishq, aliens have at least learned to carry the American Express card, have picked up a few key phrases, and, most importantly, have stopped using the traditional greeting "Take me to your leader." "We're not that green anymore," Srrgmishq told the professor. "The word on where that kind of talk gets you is all over the galaxy."

Fred D. Baldwin is a freelance writer from Carlisle, Pennsylvania, whose methane-breathing houseguest, Xnrrgfbn, helps save on heating bills by keeping the furnace lit.

OMNI magazine (Feb 1988; last page)