Sign in the toilets

In the municipal offices of a New England city, there was a rule that only
Harvard graduates could be promoted above a certain level.

The last three college men to assume responsible jobs with the administration
bungled their efforts badly. Their departments were a total mess.

This sign finally appeared just over the toilet paper dispenser in the city
hall’s men’s room: HARVARD UNIVERSITY DIPLOMAS: TAKE ONE.

Clinton’s State of The Union

Members of Congress…people of America….I banged her.

I banged her like a cheap gong. Which is not news, folks, because if you think Monica Lewinsky was the only skin flute player in my orchestra, you haven’t been paying attention. The only babes in DC I haven’t tried to do are the First Lady, Reno, Albright, and Shalala, mostly because they’re a little older than I like and they have legs that former Houston Oiler Earl Campbell would envy. Which isn’t to say I don’t appreciate Hillary…I do. If not for the ice-water coursing through her veins, I’d be pumping gas into farm equipment in Hope, Arkansas, and she’d be married to the President.

So, let me set the record straight. I dodged the draft, hid FBI files, smoked dope, flipped Whitewater property, set up a new Korean wing in the White House, fired the travel staff, paid hush money to Hubbell, sold the Lincoln bedroom like an upscale Motel 6, and grabbed every ass that entered the Oval Office. Got it? Good.

Six years ago, there’s not a man, woman, or child who didn’t know I was as horny as Woody Allen. But, you elected me anyway, which turned out to be a good move on your part. Your other choice was Bush, an aging baseball player and part-time resident of some place called “Kennebunkport.” Before him, it was Reagan, who left the office with the same Alzheimer’s he came in with. There was Carter before him who brought you a 17% prime interest rate, smiling the whole time like his lithium drip had just kicked in. Nixon before that coined, but never really understood, the concept of ‘plausible deniability,’ and almost got a one-way ticket to San Clemente for his crackerjack style of governing. Johnson was an inbred, power-mad war criminal whose major contribution to American society was Agent Orange. And Johnny Kennedy, who was more than a little naughty himself, didn’t hang around long enough for America to spot that curious atavistic tic for beaver-wrestling shared by at least a dozen former residents of the White House.

Which brings me back to my point. Since I have been strumming the banjo here at the White House, government is doing more for less. The budget is balanced for the first time since JFK did a one gun salute to Marilyn, a fact the press didn’t seem to care about, evidently. Unemployment is so low today a blind felon can get a job as a night-watchman. And the stock market is higher than a D-student on a full gram of dumb-dust, and anyone with a degree from a junior college who can spell ‘Internet’ has enough money to ponder the annual maintenance cost of his boat, instead of where his or her next meal is coming from.

Bottom line: I’m running a country here and I’m doing it with my pecker showing. What I’m asking for is your support, not a date with your daughter…unless, of course, she’s a hotty with thin ankles, and then I’d like to discuss it. I may be a pervert, but I’m also a realist. I know that if the economy was going down the crapper, I’d-a been out on my fat ass after the ’96 election. But I’m a lucky pervert-the economy is hotter than Paula Jones in a leather teddy. So think about where you are today and what kind of life you’re living before you get too interested in where I’m parking the Presidential limousine

Mars trip

NASA was interviewing professionals to be sent to Mars. Only one could go and couldn�t return to Earth.

The first applicant, an engineer, was asked how much he wanted to be paid for going. “A million dollars,” he answered, “because I want to donate it to M.I.T.”

The next applicant, a doctor, was asked the same question. He asked for $2 million. “I want to give a million to my family,” he explained, “and leave the other million for the advancement of medical research.”

The last applicant was a lawyer. When asked how much money he wanted, he whispered in the interviewer�s ear, “Three million dollars.”

“Why so much more than the others?” asked the interviewer.

The lawyer replied, “If you give me $3 million, I�ll give you $1 million, I�ll keep $1 million, and we�ll send the engineer to Mars.”

Submitted by Calamjo
Edited by Tantilazing

Viagra as diet pill

One morning a long-wed couple were in an amourous embrace and the wife says: “Honey, that Viagra is so wonderful, let me fix us a nice full breakfast… eggs, bacon, toast…”
The husband says: “No, I’m not hungry, the viagra takes away my appetite.”

Later in the day, the wife says: “Sweetheart, I want to do something for you, let me fix you a nice wholesome lunch, fresh salad with your favorite ingredients, steamed veggies, and some grilled fish fillets…”

The husband again refuses, “I’m just not hungry after using that viagra.”

Long about dinner time, the wife tries again, “Are you hungry yet?, I’ll fix a steak and potatoes dinner with hot rolls.”

The husband still refuses, “No, that Viagra just kills my appetite.”

The wife then firmly says “well, I’m getting something to eat, so get OFF of me!!!”

El 28 de julio muere

El 28 de julio muere fujimori. Dios y el diablo se pelean porque ninguno de los dos lo quiere recibir, as� que deciden que alterne un mes en el cielo y otro en el infierno.

El primer mes, Fuji va al cielo. Dios no sabe qu� hacer, se vuelve loco. El chino le da vuelta a todo, privatiza los elementos de la oraci�n y liturgia, disuelve el sistema de asesor�a personal de los angeles, subasta las nubes, le regala un kil�metro cuadrado del cielo al infierno, nombra arc�ngeles provisionales, les chuponea las comunicaciones a los santos, cambia las chapas de las puertas a San Pedro y env�a un proyecto de ley a los ap�stoles para reformar los diez mandamientos y darle amnist�a a lucifer.

En el cielo todo es privatizado, la gernte lo odia, dios no ve la hora que se cumpla el d�a 30 para que se largue. Ese d�a por fin llega y el chino se va al infierno.

Dios respira aliviado, pero al acercarse el dia 20 comienza a sufrir nuevamente, pensando que en 10 d�as tiene que volver a verlo. Sin embargo, llega el primero del mes siguiente y nada, el 5 y nada, no aparece.

Primero dios estaba feliz, pero luego se qued� pensando que acaso el chino se haya quedado m�s tiempo en el infierno y le pueda tocar despu�s dos meses seguidos en el para�so. Con s�lo pensarlo se desespera, y decide llamar por tel�fono al infierno a preguntarle al diablo qu� es lo que ocurre.

Rin….rin….rin….y contesta un empleado del infierno y dios le pregunta… “Perd�n, �con el demonio?”

“�Cual de los dos?” contesta el empleado, “�el colorado con cachos, o el chino conchesumadre?”

Memory Loss

Two very elderly ladies were enjoying the sunshine on a park bench in Miami. They had been meeting at that park every sunny day for over 12 years… chatting, and enjoying each other”s friendship.

One day, the younger of the two ladies, turns to the other and says, “Please don”t be angry with me, dear, but I am embarrassed, after all these years. . .What is your name? I am trying to remember, but I just can’t.”

The older friend stares at her, looking very distressed, says nothing for two full minutes, and finally with tearful eyes, says, “How soon do you have to know?”

Submitted by BreeBrown
Edited by Tantilazing