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One Christmas Eve, Santa Claus comes down the chimney and is startled by a beautiful 19 year old blonde.

She said “Santa, will you stay with me?”

Santa replied, “Ho Ho Ho gotta go, gotta go, gotta deliver these toys to good girls and boys.”

So she took off her night gown, wearing only a bra and panties, she asked “Santa, now will you stay with me?”

“Ho Ho Ho gotta go, gotta go, gotta deliver these toys to gook girls and boys.”

She takes off everything and says “Santa, now will you stay with me?”

Santa replies “Gotta stay, gotta stay, can’t get up the chimney with my dick this way!”

Era una noche muy fr�a, el bar ten�a algunas pocas mesas ocupadas en los rincones m�s oscuros del sal�n.

Una hermosa mujer se acerca felinamente a la barra, se relame el labio superior, le gui�a el ojo al barman y lo llama moviendo con languidez los dedos �ndice y anular de la mano derecha.

Cuando �l se acerca, ella le acaricia su tupida y boscosa barba murmur�ndole al o�do:

“�Eres el encargado del bar?”

“Para ser sincero no, pero…”

“�Me lo puedes llamar?, Necesito hablar con �l” le pide ella deslizando sus manos m�s all� de su barba y acariciando con dulzura los l�bulos de sus orejas, sus cabellos y haciendo cosquillas alrededor de su incipiente calva.

“Lo lamento pero no est�.” responde el barman, babeando excitado, agrega “Pero yo puedo ayudarte en lo que necesites.”

“Claro que puedes… Necesito que le des un mensaje”

Mientras habla con voz dulce, la mujer lleva despacio dos dedos hacia los labios de �l acarici�ndole las enc�as, meti�ndoselos en la boca y dejando que los mordisquee y los chupe con delicadeza. Y finalmente dice:

“Por favor, dile que no hay papel higi�nico en el ba�o de mujeres y que me tuve que limpiar el culo con los dedos…”

Andaba Ramiro enojando vociferando por las calles de La Habana y se encuentra a su gran amigo Filem�n, quien le dice: “�Qu� pasa Ramiro? �porqu� tan enojado?” “Es que todo esto es por culpa de Fidel…” “�De qu� tiene la culpa Fidel, hermano?” “Pu� que para compr� az�car, una maldita cola, para compr� harina, una maldita cola, y que si va compr� t� carne, otra maldita cola… y no se diga de la gasolina hermano, otra maldita cola… �ya estoy cansado!… �yo voy a matar a Fidel!” “Oye chico quieto, que no andes por ah� diciendo tarugadas �c�mo de que vas a matar a Fidel? �que t� estas loco de la cabeza, hermano?” “Mira Filem�n, ahorita que me voy y que mato a Fidel… �l tiene la culpa de todo esto…”

Total que Ramiro arranca para donde Fidel para matarlo. Pasadas las horas, Filem�n se encuentra a Ramiro sentado en una banqueta viendo la gente pasar…

“Oye chico, yo ya te hac�a agujereado en un pared�n… �que t� no ibas a matar a Fidel y que no se qu�?” “Pues mira hermano, yo iba, pero es que para matar a Fidel hay ��UNA MALDITA COLA!!

By Terry Jones (of Monty Python)
February 20, 2002
Times Observer

To prevent terrorism by dropping bombs on Iraq is such an obvious idea that I can’t think why no one has thought of it before. It’s so simple. If only the UK had done something similar in Northern Ireland, we wouldn’t be in the mess we are in today. The moment the IRA blew up the Horseguards’ bandstand, the Government should have declared its own War on Terrorism. It should have immediately demanded that the Irish government hand over Gerry Adams. If they refused to do so – or quibbled about needing proof of his guilt – we could have told them that this was no time for prevarication and that they must hand over not only Adams but all IRA terrorists in the Republic. If they tried to stall by claiming that it was hard to tell who were IRA terrorists and who weren’t, because they don’t go around wearing identity badges, we would have been free to send in the bombers.

It is well known that the best way of picking out terrorists is to fly 30,000ft above the capital city of any state that harbours them and drop bombs – preferably cluster bombs. It is conceivable that the bombing of Dublin might have provoked some sort of protest, even if just from James Joyce fans, and there is at least some likelihood of increased anti-British sentiment in what remained of the city and thus a rise in the numbers of potential terrorists. But this, in itself, would have justified the tactic of bombing them in the first place. We would have nipped them in the bud, so to speak. I hope you follow the argument.

Having bombed Dublin and, perhaps, a few IRA training bogs in Tipperary, we could not have afforded to be complacent. We would have had to turn our attention to those states which had supported and funded the IRA terrorists through all these years. The main provider of funds was, of course, the USA, and this would have posed us with a bit of a problem. Where to bomb in America? It’s a big place and it’s by no means certain that a small country like the UK could afford enough bombs to do the whole job. It’s going to cost the US billions to bomb Iraq and a lot of that is empty countryside. America, on the other hand, provides a bewildering number of targets.

Should we have bombed Washington, where the policies were formed? Or should we have concentrated on places where Irishmen are known to lurk, like New York, Boston and Philadelphia? We could have bombed any police station and fire station in most major urban centres, secure in the knowledge that we would be taking out significant numbers of IRA sympathisers. On St Patrick’s Day, we could have bombed Fifth Avenue and scored a bull’s-eye.

In those American cities we couldn’t afford to bomb, we could have rounded up American citizens with Irish names, put bags over their heads and flown them in chains to Guernsey or Rockall, where we could have given them food packets marked ‘My Kind of Meal’ and exposed them to the elements with a clear conscience.

The same goes for Australia. There are thousands of people in Sydney and Melbourne alone who have actively supported Irish republicanism by sending money and good wishes back to people in the Republic, many of whom are known to be IRA members and sympathisers. A well-placed bomb or two Down Under could have taken out the ringleaders and left the world a safer place. Of course, it goes without saying that we would also have had to bomb various parts of London such as Camden Town, Lewisham and bits of Hammersmith and we should certainly have had to obliterate, if not the whole of Liverpool, at least the Scotland Road area.

And that would be it really, as far as exterminating the IRA and its supporters. Easy. The War on Terrorism provides a solution so uncomplicated, so straightforward and so gloriously simple that it baffles me why it has taken a man with the brains of George W. Bush to think of it.

So, sock it to Iraq, George. Let’s make the world a safer place.

One day after a war was over, a general and a private were
riding a train home, and the private was sitting in an aisle
seat, and was waiting for the train to pull out of the station,
when he looks up, and sees the prettiest girl he had ever seen
walk in the car, and she’s coming closer, and closer, finally
she takes the seat directly across the aisle, and he gives her
one of those cool smooth looks, and then he looks down the aisle
again and sees….Grandma (who is a stout woman) coming over.

Now she has seen the look from the private to her granddaughter,
and gives the girl a little shove and the girl has to move over
to the window seat. The private is more than a little
disappointed because his view has just gone from gorgeous, to
old and ugly.

About an hour into the ride, They came into this tunnel, and
it’s pitch black in the train, you hear this smoooooch, then
SMACK. The Beautiful girl is thinking, “I am so glad he kissed
me. I just wish my grandma hadn’t decked him!”

The grandma is thinking, “I can’t believe the NERVE of that
young man, really, kissing my granddaughter! I am sooo glad she
slapped him!”

The general is thinking, “I am so proud of my private, he saw an
opportunity, and he seized the opportunity, I just wish her
grandma would have hit him instead of me!”

The young private was thinking, “I must be the luckiest man in
the world, I got to kiss the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and
I got to deck my general without getting in trouble for it.”

LA LLANTA DE CAMION… Hay que desmontarla a combos
LA ACEITUNA… Negra, chica pero igual se la comen
LA MOTOSIERRA… No deja palo parado
LA GRIPE… Todos la han tenido
LA TRES MOSQUETEROS… Una para todos y todos para una
LA RELOJ DE ARENA… Se la dan vuelta cada media hora
LA SEMAFORO… Despues de las doce nadie la respeta.
LA LUZ DE SOL… Se entrega a todos por igual
LA FOTO CARNET… Se entrega a los cinco minutos
LA TABLA DEL UNO… Por lo facil
LA CAPA DE OZONO… Cada d�a tiene el hoyo mas grande
LA TORTUGA… Duerme con la cabeza adentro
LA DISCOTECA… Pasa abierta toda la noche
LA PALA… Si no la tienen enterrada est� contra la pared
LA CASA RODANTE… Cualquier Jeep se la lleva
LA BANDERA DE EEUU… La han clavado hasta en la Luna
LA COCA-COLA… Todos la han tomado
LA PUERTA… Siempre queda abierta
LA ASPIRINA… Es buena para la cabeza
LA POWER… Se porta bien cuando la tratan mal
LA PI�ATA… Cumplea�os al que va la hacen tira
LA BASE NAVAL… Entran todos los pelaos
LA PA�UELO DESECHABLE… La moquean y la botan