A man who smelled like a distillery flopped…

A man who smelled like a distillery flopped on a subway seat next to a
priest. The man’s tie was stained, his face was plastered with red
lipstick,
and a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket.

He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes the
disheveled guy turned to the priest and asked, “Say, Father, what causes
arthritis?”

“My son, it’s caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too
much alcohol, and a contempt for your fellow man.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the drunk muttered, returning to his paper.

The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and
apologized.
“I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to come on so strong. How long have you
had
arthritis?”
“I don’t have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.”

Retarded Duck Farmer

There was a retarded duck farmer who had 2 sons, but only enough money to send one to college. So he came up with a fair way to choose who was to get the money. He called both of his sons into a room and gave them each a retarded duck and instructed them to go into the city. The one who made the most off the duck would win the money for college.

Well the first child, being the good child he was, scurried off to sell his duck. As he was walking, he saw a lady mowing her lawn. She jumped up from the mower and screamed, “IS THAT A RETARDED DUCK?!?” It sure is he replyed, and its for sale too! She said that she collected retarded ducks and would gladly pay him $10 for that duck, he agreed.

Well the other son being the “bad” kid went strait for the whore house. When he got there, a lady started hittin on him. He said he’d love to fuck her but he doesnt have any money, just this retarded duck. She thought about it for awhile and said, well I always did want a pet. So they go in the back and have “mad passionate animal sex.” When they were done, the lady said she didn’t want the duck anymore. He said he would gladly take the duck back if he could fuck her again, so they went at it again. The guy was pretty happy by now so he runs on home, he ran so fast that the duck got away from him and ran out in front of a car and got hit. The duck was clearly dead, so the lady being in the hurry that she was, gave the young man $25 compensation for the dead duck, then she sped off in her car.

When the two finally got home, the father once again called them into a room and said, “How much did you make,” looking at his “good” son. The “good” son said $10, with a modest look on his face.

Then the dad glared at his other son and said, “How about you?” The bad son said, “well… I got a fuck for a duck, a duck for a fuck, and $25 for a fucked up duck!”

Dave Barry On 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:

1. Things you will need to know in later life (two hours).
2. 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.

Bill Gates compares the

Bill Gates compares the computer industry with General Motors
At a recent computer expo (COMDEX), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and stated: “If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving twenty-five dollar cars that got 1000 miles to the gallon.”

In response to Bill’s comments, General Motors issued a press release stating (by Mr. Welch himself):

If GM had developed technology like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars with the following characteristics:

For no reason whatsoever your car would crash twice a day.

Every time they repainted the lines on the road you would have to buy a new car.
Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason, and you would just accept this, restart and drive on.

Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn, would cause your car to shut down and refuse to restart, in which case you would have to reinstall the engine.

Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, reliable, five times as fast, and twice as easy to drive, but it would only run on five percent of the roads.

The oil, water temperature and alternator warning lights would be replaced by a single “general car default” warning light.

New seats would force everyone to have the same size butt.

The airbag system would say “Are you sure?” before going off.

Occasionally for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lift the door handle, turn the key, and grab hold of the radio antenna.

GM would require all car buyers to also purchase a deluxe set of Rand McNally road maps (now a GM subsidiary), even though they neither need them nor want them. Attempting to delete this option would immediately cause the car’s performance to diminish by 50% or more. Moreover, GM would become a target for investigation by the Justice Department.

Everytime GM introduced a new model car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as in the old car.
You’d press the “start” button to shut off the engine.

The old bat, er, boat

Joe and John were identical twins.

Joe owned an old dilapidated boat and kept pretty much to himself.

One day he rented out his boat to a group of out-of-staters who ended up sinking it.

He spent all day trying to salvage as much stuff as he could from the sunken vessel and was out of touch all that day and most of the evening.

Unbeknownst to him, his brother John’s wife had died suddenly in his absence.

When he got back on shore he went into town to pick up a few things at the grocery.

A kind old woman there mistook him for John and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss. You must feel terrible.”

Joe, thinking she was talking about his boat said, “Hell no! Fact is I’m sort of glad to be rid of her.”

“She was a rotten old thing from the beginning.”

“Her bottom was all shriveled up and she smelled like old dead fish.”

“She was always holding water. She had a bad crack in the back and a pretty big hole in the front too.”

“Every time I used her, her hole got bigger and she leaked like crazy.”

“I guess what finally finished her off was when I rented her to those four guys looking for a good time.”

“I warned them that she wasn’t very good and that she smelled bad, but they wanted her anyway.”

“The damn fools tried to get in her all at one time and she split right up the middle.”

The old woman fainted.

Never say it at work

THINGS YOU’LL NEVER HEAR AN EMPLOYEE TELL HIS/HER BOSS1. Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 5:00 and then bring it to me. The challenge of a deadline is always refreshing. 2. If it’s really a “rush job,” run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it’s going. That greatly aids my efficiency. 3. Always leave without telling anyone where you’re going. It gives me a chance to be creative when someone asks where you are.

Cat and Mouse

A mouse is in his mouse hole and he wants to go out to get something to eat,
but he’s afraid there might be a big cat outside, so he puts his ear by the
opening and all he hears is “Bow Wow” so he thinks, “Well, there can’t be a cat
out there because there’s a big old dog”, so he goes out of his mouse hole and
is promptly caught and eaten by a cat, who licks his lips and says “It’s good to
be bilingual !!”