Category: mostly true stories

An Issaquah, Washington man apparently became frustrated with his personal
computer, pulled out a gun and shot it. The computer, located in the man’s
home office, had four bullets holes in its hard drive and one in the
monitor. Police evacuated the man’s townhouse complex, contacted the irate
PC owner by phone, and persuaded him to come out. “We don’t know if it
wouldn’t boot up or what,” says one of the police officers at the scene.

St. Petersburg Times – July 20, 1997

Dear Santa: We’re worried about you.

From your rosy red cheeks to your legendary girth to your all-night sleigh ride around the world, you may be at risk for diseases, maladies, mishaps and lawsuits that send chills through our Santa-loving hearts. The latest warning comes from the National Rosacea Society in Barrington, Ill.

Dermatologist Dr. Jerome Litt says you have “a clear-cut case of rosacea,” a skin condition that also affects millions of Americans, particularly at middle age. Unable to examine you personally, the good doctor based his finding on a well-circulated report that your “cheeks were like roses, (your) nose like a cherry.”

Sadly, many observers conclude that red-skin condition comes from hitting the Christmas-punch bowl a little too hard. Sadder still, rosacea can be aggravated by holiday stress, hot chocolate and overexertion — all things you may encounter this time of year. The one bright note in Litt’s message is that certain antibiotics can help, and he advises you to see a North Pole dermatologist. But the news about you facial tint is only our latest source of concern.

A careful examination of what we know about you and your lifestyle raises a host of other trouble signs:

OBESITY: Frankly, Santa, this may be your biggest area of concern. Studies show overweight men have more than double the normal risk of heart attacks and increased chances of many other diseases. We’ve seen the pictures; we’ve noticed you in the malls. And we’ve heard that your tummy shakes “like a bowlful of jelly” when you chuckle. On this, we’ll take part of the blame. All these years, we’ve set out milk and cookies on Christmas Eve. With 102 million homes in the U.S. alone, even if 1 in 100 homes put out two cookies and a cup of milk, that would make and overnight snack of 2 million cookies and 63,750 gallons of milk. Maybe it’s time for Mrs. Claus to get you a NordicTrack or a Thighmaster. But be sure to have the old ticker checked out before you start an exercise regimen.

PIPE SMOKING: You’ve been pictured with a pipe, and even though an apologist in The New York Times once claimed it’s only a prop, a witness who encountered you in his home said “the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.” According to the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, pipe and cigar smokers have twice a nonsmoker’s risk for lung cancer, four times the risk for larynx cancer and two to three times the risk for cancers of the mouth and esophagus. Even if the pipe’s just a prop, it might be a good idea to lose it. Remember, you’re not just a saint, you’re a role model.

STRESS: Dealing with Christmas wishes from millions of kiddies could certainly put one on the emotionsl hot seat. And anxiety can surpass even smoking as a risk for certain heart problems. On this point, though, we have some good news: A medical news service says laughter — as evidenced by your trademark “Ho, ho, ho” — is one of the best stress-busters.

SOOT: We admire your ability to slip up and down the average chimney, an opening about 12 inches by 16 inches. But creosote flakes on the chimney walls are toxic and can lead to respiratory problems. Brent Rigby of Emerald City Chimney Sweeps in Kirkland said his people never actually go into a chimney, and wear protective masks when they reach up through the fireplace to vacuum the soot.

RSI (REPETITIVE STRAIN INJURY): Cards and letters by the bagful arrive on your doorstep through regular mail, but this year we’ve noticed you’re also receiving — and answering — e-mail on at least four Internet addresses, including one based in Seattle, [email protected].

We applaud your move onto the information superhighway, with this caution: too much keyboard work can result in painful injuries to the hands, wrists and arms.

DEER MITES: Close, continuous contact with your trusty reindeer means if they get mites, so might you, says Dr. David DuClos, a veterinary dermatologist in Lynnwood. Watch out for itchy rashes, and keep the deer out of your bed.

FROSTBITE, HYPOTHERMI
A: You usually bundle up, and that’s good. A Weather Service satelilite recently showed the temperature at the North Pole was 13 below zero, and high winds are common. Exposure to such conditions can cause frostbite in minutes.

MALL THUGS: You spend a lot of time in shopping malls, so you already know things are getting a little tough out there. Try not to walk back to your sleigh at night alone.

MEMORY TROUBLE: It’s been said that you make a list, then check it twice. Just being careful, or developing a little memory problem?

SAD (SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER): This time of year, there is virtually no daylight at the North Pole, and a lack of sunlight can trigger depression in some people. Maybe a full-spectrum light would help keep you jolly.

VIRAL INFECTIONS: A young witness saw you kissing Mommy underneath the mistletoe last night. You know this is colds and flu season, don’t you?

SLEIGH ACCIDENTS: We’ve seen plenty of pictures of you in that sleigh, but never with a seat belt, and we’d sure hate to see you get hurt. By the way, when you cruise through Seattle this year, be sure to cover the load.

JET LAG: Fatigue, dizziness and insomnia are all dangers that travelers face when they cross through several times zones. And few travelers cross all 24 of them in a night, like you do.

SKYJACKERS: OK, you’ve been lucky so far, but they’re out there.

Knowing all the dangers you face makes us feel that much more fortunate that you’re still faithfully delivering the goodies to good boys and girls every Christmas.

But you might want to try to reduce some of those risks before your insurance company decides to boost your rates. Which reminds us: You DO have insurance, don’t you?

yo,momma so fat,when she was taking a shower
she sliped on her fat ass and bounced to heaven.

John Kallam graduated with a BA in criminology and entered the U.S.
Army. He served for 20 years beginning in the late 1930’s. He was
an investigator during the Nuremberg trials of Nazi war criminals,
and stayed in Germany for many years organizing civilian police forces
in the post-war era. He also wrote numerous books on criminal
justice. He retired from military service in the late 1950’s at the
rank of full colonel.

Returning to Fresno, California, he began teaching criminology at what
was then Fresno State College. (Later to become the California State
University, Fresno.) His work was well respected, but after about ten
years of service, he was called to see the president of the college.

He was informed that he could no longer teach with just a bachelor’s
degree. Times were changing, he was told, and the school demanded
that faculty members hold a graduate degree. Merely having 20 years
of distinguished experience was no longer considered sufficient
qualification to teach. All new faculty were being required to hold
a doctorate, it was explained, and the school was actually doing him a
favor by letting him keep his job by getting “only” a master’s degree.

So John enrolled in a summer program at an out of state college.
Three months of intensive seminars and then nine months of home study
would get him his MA.

On the first day of class, the instructor was taking roll. He stopped
when he read John’s name. “Are you related to the John Kallam who
wrote the textbook we’ll be using?” he asked.

“I am the John Kallam who wrote the textbook you’re using,” came the
dry response.

Science Watch: Government and auto industry officials are debating which
crash dummies best imitate humans in accidents. Says Paul Ryan, “They
can’t decide whether it’s the ones who play with the radio and do their
makeup, or the ones who eat Danishes and spill hot coffee in their laps.”

Actual Police Accounts

The woman in question, a cute blonde as it happens, was pulled over for speeding by a California Highway Patrol motorcycle officer.

When he walked up to her window and opened his ticket book she said: “I bet you’re going to sell me a ticket to the Highway Patrolmen’s Ball.”

He replied, “No, highway patrolmen don’t have balls.”

There followed a moment of silence while she smiled and he realized what he’d said.

He then closed his book, got back on his motorcycle and left.

She was laughing too hard to start her car for several minutes.

My classmate, Susan, and I are in the middle of our thesis rewrites for
Johns Hopkins University. We only have two weeks left and we are both
quite razzled at the prospect of doing more research in the remaining
time.

Today Susan called me to say that she desperately needed more history
about a small tribe of Native Americans that lives in the Grand Canyon
but there’s only one telephone on the reservation and no one ever answers
it.

As a matter of fact, the three times she visited the tribe’s Visitor
Center while she was on vacation, she said no one ever opened up the
building.

Being a computer geek, I said, “Have you checked the Internet?”

She said, “No, what a great idea! Thanks.”

I did a quick check using Excite while she used Yahoo and she was
astounded at the information available about this little-known tribe.
She thanked me profusely for the tip and hung up.

Two hours later, she called me back sounding absolutely miserable.

“Susan,” I said, “What’s the matter?”

“Well,” she said, “You’re not going to believe it but they have their own
Web page with all the information I could ever want about the tribe.”

“That’s great,” I said. “What more could you ask for?”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “My article is about how isolated the
tribe is and how their only path to the outside world is a little dirt
trail up the side of the canyon! On their Web page, they even have a
scanned photo of the helicopter that brought the donated PC into the
canyon.”

Moral of the story: Sometimes ignorance is bliss — especially when
you’re trying to finish a thesis on time.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat. The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.

The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook, It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.

Momma in her teddy and I in the nude, Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.

When out on the lawn there arose such a cry, That I lost my boner, and momma went dry.

Up to the window I sprang like an elf, Tore back the shade while she played with herself.

The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built, Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.

With a fat little driver, half out of the sled, A sock in his ear and a bra on his head.

Sure as I’m speaking, he was high as a kite, And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right.

Whoa S**thead, whoa A**hole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz, Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts.

Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree, Quit shaking the sleigh, ’cause I gotta go pee.

They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub, Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.

And then from the roof we heard such a clatter, As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.

I was donning my jockeys, to cover my ass, When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.

His suit was all smelly with perfume galore, He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.

“That was some brothel,” he said with a smile, “The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay awhile”

He walked to the kitchen for himself poured a drink, Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.

I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee, The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.

Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack, But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.

The first thing he found was a pair of false tits, The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.

A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find, And six pair of panties, the edible kind.

A bra without nipples, a penis extension, And several more things I shouldn’t even mention.

A f**k ring, a G-string, and all types of oil, And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil. “This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Santa will s**t, Do I’ll leave ’em here, and then I’ll just split.”

He filled every stocking and then took his leave, With one tiny butt plug stuck under his sleeve.

He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead, Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.

In time he was seated, took reigns of his hitch, Saying, “Take me home, Rudolf. This night’s been a bitch!”

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout, “The best thing about pussy is you can’t wear it out!!”

“In retrospect, lighting the match was my big mistake. But I was only
trying to retrieve the gerbil,” Eric Tomaszewski told bemused doctors in
the Severe Burns Unit of Salt Lake City Hospital. Tomaszewski , and his
homosexual partner Andrew “Kiki” Farnum, had been admittedfor emergency
treatment after a fetching session had gone seriously wrong. “I pushed a
cardboard tube up his rectum and slipped Raggot, our gerbil, in,” he
explained. “As usual Kiki shouted out ‘Armagedon,” my cue that he’d had
enough. I tried to retrieve Raggot but he wouldn’t come out again, so I
peered into the tube and struck a match, thinking the light might attract
him.”

At a hushed press conference, a hospital spokesman described what happened
next, “The match ignited a pocket of intestinal gas and a flame shot out
the tube, igniting Mr. Tomaszewski’s hair severely burning his face,. It
also set fire to the gerbil’s fur and whiskers which in turn ignited a
larger pocket of gas further up the intestine, propelling the rodent out
like a cannonball.” Tomaszewski suffered second degree burns and a broken
nose from the impact of the gerbil, while Farnum suffered first and second
degree burns to his anus and lower intestinal tract.

On Christmas Eve Santa Claus was getting ready for his annual trip.

As he pulled his favorite pair of red pants on, they ripped. So, he had to take them off and put on another pair, which was a bit too tight. He then went to check on the rest of the preparations.

The elves were on strike. The reindeer had shin-splints.
At this point, Santa was BUMMED.

He went into the kitchen to take a calming drink, and the bottle was EMPTY. Now he was really mad. All of sudden, there was a knock at the door.

Santa, in his angry state, ignored it. There was another knock. Santa was in no mood for all of this. When the knock came again, Santa –filled with rage– threw open the door.

Standing there was a little angel who said, “Hi Santa!
What do you want me to do with this Christmas Tree?”
Hence…the story of the Angel atop the tree.

Miss Canada 1996, Danielle House, got into a bar fight and was
charged with assault after allegedly causing bodily harm to another woman.
Says Jerry Perisho: “The other day I went to a Canadian beauty pageant
and a hockey game broke out.”

There is this blond, redhead, and a burnet and they all break out of jail when the nearest place was a barnyard . well they go in and there was 3 sacks so they all decide to go hide in one. well, the police go in and find the first sack and it is full of puppies and so the burnet says woof woof no one here sargent. they go to the second one and it is full of kittens and the redhead says meow meow no one here sargent and they go to the 3rd sack and it is full of potatoes and the blond says potatoes potatoes.