The little old lady had always wanted to join a local biker club. One day she goes up and knocks on the door. A big, hairy bearded biker with tattoos all over his arms answers. She proclaims, "I want to join your club."
The guy was amused, but says she needs to meet certain requirements in order to join. The biker asks, "Do you have a motorcycle?"
The little old lady replies, "Yep... my bike's parked over there," and points to a Harley in the driveway.
The biker asks, "Do you drink?"
The little old lady replies, "Yep... drink like a fish. I'll drink any man in your club under the table."
The biker asks, "Do you smoke?"
The little old lady replies, "Yep...smoke like a chimney. At least 4 packs of cigarettes a day and a couple of cigars in the evening, while I'm shooting pool."
The biker is very impressed and asks, "Last question, have you ever been picked up by the fuzz?"
The little old lady thinks for a minute and says, "Nope... but I've been swung around by the nipples a few times."
The Honda rider was traveling at such a "very high speed", his reaction time was not sufficient enough to avoid this accident. Swedish Police estimate a speed of ~250 KM/h before the bike hit the slow moving car side-on at an intersection. At that speed, they predicted that the rider's reaction time (once the vehicle came into view) wasn't sufficient enough for him to even apply the brakes. The car had two passengers and the bike rider was found INSIDE the car with them. The Volkswagen actually flipped over from the force of impact and landed 10 feet from where the collision took place. All three involved (two in car and rider) were killed instantly. This graphic demonstration was placed at the Stockholm Motorcycle Fair by the Swedish Police and Road Safety Department. The sign above the display also noted that the rider had only recently obtained his license.
Any one else starting to see a connection between these wrecks I'm posting????
Well, I had an idea! Noskool has a bobber he is trying to sell and I know of another here who'd also like to sell his. So folks, what do you think. Shall we start a swap meet for all to use? Give it some thought and if you like the idea,lets get started.
This is a picture from a motorcycle accident last week on Highway 169 in Tulsa. The guy was going over 125 mph around 2 am when he hit the back of the Roadway truck. The truck was going normal speed and did not know what had happened. He was drug approx a mile before the truck stopped. Highway 169 is known for late night speed driving and trick driving of motorcycles. This guy's friend was killed 1 week before this on his motorcycle going 120+ on Highway 169...
Don't let this become you! Keep your speed in check.
This is more of my witless sense of humor BUT I couldn't help myself! The following is a letter
I recieved from a friend and the answer to the question. It's also geared to a guys mentality so you ladies who can't handle it just keep right on moving along.
First, some background. My best friend (let's call him Al) started dating this girl about a year ago (let's call her Alex). Throughout this I have become the "sounding board", if you will, for lots of their problems and fights. They broke up for a few months about midway through this year of dating and got back together. Alex and I have become a lot closer through these months, and she's become one of my few close friends. Hell, I got all the details from Al and Alex about Al losing his virginity to Alex (a lot more than I needed to know, but it was kind of amusing). From those details and from acts thereafter, I've come to believe that Alex is great in the sack. Plus she's got a fantastic body, and more importantly, great tits.
Anyhow, now that Al is out of the picture, I really want a piece of her.
Actually, all of her would be nice. She's told me that she's through with "serious relationships" with men and has basically become a flirting machine. We've flirted with each other for months, even when Al was dating her, and she's been sending me lots of emails with "I miss you so much" etc., etc. in them, every time I check my email it seems like. I think she's hot for me, but with women, you can't ever tell.
So my question to you is this. How can I get her to scream my name with her legs around my head without being blatantly obvious about it? Also, how would I go about it where I would dodge the "relationship" bullet as long as possible? I'm not so stupid as to believe that she's through with relationships, but I would like to keep away from the subject as long as possible. I realize that this may not even have an answer, but if anyone can shed some light on this problem, I know you can. Please help!
Well, for an answer to this puzzling question, we can draw upon knowledge and wisdom that has been passed down to me from years and years of experience. In fact, we see two eras collide here.. a cosmic clash of ideas that spans all of time... and all for the purpose of answering your very question.
To B or not to B?
"To Bang or not to Bang" That is the question.
Yep, a question that's troubled many a man, since the very invention of testosterone. We tend to hang around with people that are very similar to ourselves, and by default, therefore hang around chicks that we'd love to nail -- because hey, you wouldn't let your friend date a fat ugly fuck, now would ya?
So casually we watch her breasts sway back and forth at the picnics you're all at and never think much of it. But then one day their magic comes to and end. Then later on when its dark and the demons come, you're left alone with only your lusty thoughts to comfort you. "Should I bang her?" "But she dated my best friend." "But they're broken up now." "Would he get mad?" "Yeah but she's got these *great* tits."
"Should I bang her?"
And whether you like it or not, your thoughts draw you into a mental tug of war... you know you can't have both, so it comes down to a choice. Which one means more to you. Your best friend, or those lovely swaying breasts. Well my friend, to answer this question I draw upon two direct quotes of great persons in this nations history...
"Your can count your true friends on one hand."
"Bitches come and go, but your friends always stay the same."
Now, I'm a firm believer in "protocol" -- there's a right and a wrong way to do these things. First we have to understand a few rules and terms...
BIP - Banged In Passing -- This is the chick you hooked up with on New Years. After a bottle of cheap champagne, you get her hammered and walk her two blocks back to her apartment, bang a load into her just as the blanket of a hangover is starting to creep over your eyes, and stumble home. These chicks have a very limited set of rules that apply to them and for the most part, you're free and clear to bang any of these chicks that your friends have. In fact, its actually encouraged because these lasses usually aren't exactly 'pageant contestants" if you know what I mean and, hey, misery loves company.
BIR - Banged in Relationship -- These are the ones you really have to worry about. These are the ones where the ex-boyfriend/your best friend's testosterone levels run high. These are the ones where we strictly adhere to our pre-defined male rules.
SEG - Special Event Girl -- This is a chick, that the guy has shared some sort of special event with. Maybe his first love, maybe had a baby with her, she comforted him after some nasty car accident, donated kidney to save his mom, built a deck around his pool, or he lost virginity to. These girls are *always* a no-no when BIR and require special considerations when BIP.
TWP - Total Waiting Period -- The total time that you should wait, as defined by the 1:1 Rule, before attempting to bang an eligible ex-girlfriend.
WPR - Waiting Period Respected -- Amount of time you actually wait before attemping to bang an eligible ex-girlfriend. For honorable persons, the WPR will always be equal or greater to the TWP.
BRF - Banging Risk Factor -- Direct result of adherence to the 1:1 rule. This is the chance that you will cause irreperable harm to your friendship, by banging his ex-girlfriend. BRF = 100% - (WPR/TWP)
1:1 Rule -- This is a time reference rule that calculated the TWP to bang a chick should be at least equal to if not greater than the period of time she dated your best friend. Respecting the entire TWP as defined by the 1:1 Rule results in a 0% BRF. Violations of this rule results in a >0% BRF.
Now, let's look at an example.
Q. Bill and Steve are friends. Bill is dating Julia for 5 months and they break up. Steve now wants to Bang the holy bejesus out of Julia, who has been giving him "the look". Can he do so? How soon?
A. Well, since Julia is not a SEG, we know the banging can take place and its just a matter of when. However, since she is in fact BIR -- dating Bill for five months -- Steve should wait at least an additional five months (the TWP), per the 1:1 rule, before taking his due turn on Julia. To not do so would result in a >0% BRF and most likely problems with his friendship with Bill.
However, should he decide that Julia's ass is just too nice and he can't wait and has to get himself some of that good stuff after the second month, we have the following calculation to determine the BRF.
BRF = 100% - (WPR/TWP)
BRF = 100% - (2 months / 5 months)
BRF = 100% - (0.40)
BRF = 100% - 40%
Banging Risk Factor = 60% chance that Bill will get drunk and beat the fuck out of Steve after finding out he plugged his ex.
See, simple, isn't it? Now, let's apply the same rules to your situation.
Q. Al and YOU are friends. Al has been dating Alex for 12 months and lost his virginity to her and they just broke up a month ago. YOU now want to bang the holy bejesus out of Alex, who has been giving you "the look". Can you do so? How soon?
A. Well, since Alex IS a SEG and BIR, she is automatically disqualified. Keep your dick in your pants.
Now, should you choose not to follow the rules, that's your choice. Be advised it will have its costs and Al will be around for you long after Alex has come and gone. (no pun intended)
Fortunately for you, I have this handy "When Its OK to Bang your friend's ex-girlfriend chart." I suggest that you print it out and keep it in your wallet. It works best when printed from Notepad, or any other fixed-font editor.
This should keep you out of trouble.
Disclaimer: This is FICTION! Use at your own peril.
A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he
could hardly speak.
After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done.
The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous On the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous, I take a sip."
So next Sunday he took the monsignor's advice.
At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink.
He proceeded to talk up a storm!
Upon his return to his office after the mass, he found the following note on the door:
1) Sip the vodka, don't gulp.
2) There are 10 commandments, not 12.
3) There are 12 disciples,not 10.
4) Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.
5) Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.
6) We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.
7) The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy, Junior and the spook.
8) David slew Goliath, he did not kick the sh*t out of him.
9) When David was hit by a rock and was knocked off his donkey, don't say he was stoned off his ass.
10)We do not refer to the cross as the "Big T."
11)When Jesus broke the bread at the last supper he said, "take this and eat it for it is my body." He did not say " Eat me"
12)The Virgin Mary is not called " Mary with the Cherry,.
13)The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub thanks for the grub, Yeah God.
14)Next Sunday there will be a taffy pulling contest at ST.Peter's not a peter pulling contest at St. Taffy's.
Let this serve as a warning to you men, or, as a source of inspiration for you gals. A man comes home from work early to surprise his wife with flowers and candy and finds that she's already got something planned. The computer is on and there is a note written on it. He sits down in front of the computer and notices his handgun on one side of the computer and on the other side, an empty container of pain pills. He reads the message: By the time you read this I will already be dead, so don't get too excited. Don't bother looking around the house for me either. Of course I didn't want my body where my children may see, for they have already seen enough. They have already had to endure far too many years of seeing their mother being tortured by the man they are supposed to look up to. But even though I know I am going to hurt them dearly, I cannot live like this anymore. So, I am taking these pain pills, prescribed for the kind of pain you inflict and I am going somewhere to take a nap. Don't bother looking for me, just sit there and do something that you haven't been able to do for the last ten years, listen to me. Now that I had to go and kill myself to get your attention, the least you can do is finish reading this letter. I have been writing it over and over in my head for years. Every time that you beat me I had to rewrite it to add to the horror. Besides I didn't want you to find me after I died because the thought of you touching me even after death turns my stomach. I refuse to let you touch me again, in life or death. I chose to die because I promised God when I married you that I would love you for life. And since I am more afraid of him than you, I chose death. I cannot love you anymore so I have to leave this place. As I look around this house, you know its funny but I can remember the good times that we shared together. Before the babies, before the drinking, do you remember? I do, and it was good back then. It was almost good enough to give me a little hope that we could get back to those times. And they were good times. I guess I have to settle with the fact that no matter what's going on right now, you once loved me, and even you can't deny that. I think what hurts more than my ribs that are stinging me right now is the fact that I still love you. That realization is stronger than any fist you could ball up and hurl at me. Knowing that my love for you causes a stronger and more lasting pain is much worse than a swift kick in the groin from your steel toed shoes. But this is a pain that I can take care of, something that I can remedy. I am not into pain, even personally inflicted kinds, so I had to relieve myself. Even as I stood in the mirror this morning admiring the black eye that you gave me last night I knew you would never touch me again. And as I sucked blood from my split, swollen lips I knew I couldn't stand another blow from you. Not because of the fact that you promised with tears in your eyes that you would never do that to me again. Nor the fact that you put your hand on the bible and swore to me that you were going to get help. Not even the fact that you got down on your knees and swore to God that you would never lift a hand to me again. Well, your prayers were answered and no, you will not be touching me again. I guess I just had to play God and make sure of that myself. Last night when I picked myself off of the floor and fell into your arms it wasn't because I wanted to, I just couldn't stand. It wasn't because I wanted you to hold me, as you may have thought. You picked me up carried me to our bed and lay on top of me and kissed my swollen face so soft and gentle. Even though you brushed my hair from my eyes and kissed my eyelids, I didn't feel anything. And even though I may have moaned when you licked me between my thighs, I really didn't feel any kind of pleasure. And when you put yourself inside of me and I grabbed your butt and said your name a few times, I was just helping you get it over with. I moaned because your weight was on my stinging ribs. So what that you asked me what I was doing when I scratched your back, I felt the urge. And when you went to sleep, I laid there under you because I couldn't move. When you finally rolled off of me you were limp and you left your condom inside of me. The condom you searched all over for because you didn't want me to bleed on you like I did last time you kicked me. I woke up before you this morning and cooked your breakfast like I always do. I hoped you enjoyed the piss in your oatmeal and the blood I sucked from my lip mixed in your jelly. I watched you spread it on bread that I wiped my ass with before I put it in the toaster. I don't even want to tell you what I did with those sausages. I spit in your coffee and watched you eat, noticing the look on your face because you knew something wasn't right. And when you got through with your breakfast, I put your dishes in the sink but I wrapped the knife you used this morning in a napkin and put it in my pocket. After you left I laughed. I laughed all the way to the bank and took out every penny and took advances on all our credit cards. I donated half of the money to a woman's shelter, all one hundred and twenty-thousand of it. Now, you can pay back all the other women like me, those who had the strength to leave their man. Let those women get a pool table or something, hell, they deserve it. I took the rest and put it away for my children. I left some money for Greg so that he can pay for the counseling he's going to need to reverse the damage of seeing his father slamming his mother into the refrigerator. I sent the rest to Dana in college so that she would never need to come back home when she graduates. You are never going to touch my children again, I made sure of it. No, I am positive that you will not touch them again. So, I figured that with me gone you would run over to your little woman's house and tell her the good news. So I went over there this afternoon and I killed the bitch. I stabbed her little backstabbing ass dead in her heart with the knife you used this morning. And since there was a lot of screaming and shit I knew that the police would be there soon so I took that nasty ass condom you left inside of me and stuck it up in her ass. I know you didn't actually kill her but you might as well have. It's your fault that she's dead, so why should anyone else take the blame but you. And since you killed her after you just got through fucking her it won't seem premeditated so you will probably just get manslaughter and spend the rest of your life in jail. They probably won't sentence you to death. But you will be OK. You got your high priced lawyers to defend you. The same lawyers that bribed a judge when they had you on charges of embezzlement from your firm. Remember you gave me those documents to shred? Well, I shredded most of them. I got up this morning and mailed the others I had saved out in the garage to the State's Attorney. And since you've already killed someone you probably are going to jail for a long time anyway, so those papers are probably not going to do much damage. But I had already mailed them before I thought about it. Damn, you haven't been this quiet in a long time. In fact, I can't even remember when you've been so quiet before. I guess if all that I had to do was die to shut you up I should have killed myself a long time ago. So, since I have your undivided attention, for a change, let me tell you what I want you to do. On one side of the computer screen there is a gun with one bullet in it. One the other side is the telephone. You could A: call the police, turn yourself in and go to jail for the rest of your life. Or, B, you can take that gun and join me. It's up to you. Don't worry about Greg, he is with your mother, you won't be seeing him again. You already killed your girlfriend so she'll do you no good either. You are about to lose your business and you are going to jail. Your wife will be mysteriously found dead in your office tomorrow morning. My body is still bruised and battered from when you beat me and your skin is under my fingernails from where I scratched your back last night. So shit doesn't look too good for you now. But as you said last night before you threw me into the wall I am a bitch. Well, ain't this a bitch. Oh, I know that you didn't think that I was going to die all by myself now did you? I already killed you motherfucker. You can go to jail and get fucked up your ass for the rest of your life and have your man beat you around your jail cell like you did me, or until you die like me, after becoming the bitch you claimed me to be you could take this gun and put one in your dome and kill yourself, it doesn't matter to me. Remember we said until death do us part right. Moments pass.............. There is a click. One gunshot breaks the silence and his body hits the floor. The roses he brought begin to rise in a pool of blood that spreads across the floor like a fan. His wife steps out of the closet she was hiding in and calls the police. She steps over her husband, sits down at the computer and deletes the message on the screen. She brings up the suicide note that she wrote for him earlier. She gets rid of the empty pillbox and calls her mother-in-law to check on her children. She hangs up the phone and calls his other woman and hangs up. The women calls back several times but she didn't answer. The police will assume that husband must have called her before he shot himself. She practiced all the lines out loud. When she heard the police pull up she kneeled beside the man that had once promised God that he was going to love and cherish her and felt nothing. That man was gone long ago and this body belonged to someone whom she didn't even know. She didn't feel any pain besides the tingling of her ribs. She had no regrets either. She put him out of his misery and ended her own misery with just one bullet. Yet, she knelt ther
Breaking new from the Associated Press. IOWA's legislature is considering creating legislation that would prohibit the use of webcams to electronically transmit images of nudity, i.e, indecent exposure. Now the thinking behind this is to be able to prosecute the people who would expose themselves to children in order to lower their inhibitions and ultimately meet with them in person. (sick fucks)
The bill would make it a midemeanor for ANYONE to expose himself (bad choice of wording on their part)through a webcam, cell phone or any other real time camera that can send images across the internet to a minor or any nonconsenting adult. Now, ponder this notion. How are they going to go about enforcing such measures? Is the government going to have the authority to tap all electronic transmissions? (Like they don't already) I think this is going to be a huge invasion of privacy issue. Has anyone elses state got legislation such as this? Any thoughts or comments?
The IOWA legislature is at it again. On a 47-2 vote the senate approved a measure which would make it illegal for anyone younger than 18 to undergo body piercings or 'body modifications',
such as tongue splitting (what's the point of this?), branding or carving. Tatoos are already illegal in this state for minors. The bill would not apply to plastic surgery. Businesses which provide body piercings will be required to obtain permits from the Department of Public Health. Owners of these businesses who operate without the required permit will be subject to a prison sentence of up to two years if convicted and be subject to their commercial property being seized.
Does anybody elses state have such measures in place? So what say you, is this a good idea or bad?
We've all heard the stories the media gave us but I would like to set the record straight and assure you all that these incidents are simple misunderstanding that have been blown out of proportion. I will now explain what really happened in each incident outlined in the Pentagon report.
6.a. (S) Punching, slapping, and kicking detainees; jumping on their naked feet;
Now this is simply a misunderstanding. Nobody jumped on the detainees feet. The soldiers were merely trying to teach the detainees a little bit about American culture, when a very enthusiastic lesson on the 'Hokey Pokey' -- specifically during the "put your right foot in" part --just simply went awry. Furthermore, this situation was exasperated in such cramped quarters when they try to "turn yourself around". That's all it was. Nothing to see here, move along.
6.b. (S) Videotaping and photographing naked male and female detainees;
What? Now do you see how stereotypical the media can be? There can be Russian mail order brides. Korean mail order brides. Thai mail order brides. But noooo, one entrepreneurial solder wants to get a jump on a photo catalog for Iraqi mail order brides, and suddenly he's a bad guy. That's not fair.
6.c. (S) Forcibly arranging detainees in various sexually explicit positions for photographing;
With the removal of Uday from the their Olympic committee, there is more enthusiasm in Iraqi sports. These men were merely being coaches in some cheer leading, specifically the human pyramids. We've all see it done in "Bring It On", and they're just trying to adapt the same steps there in Iraq. Because the detainees are so new at this, the fine form of the pyramid was not easily seen, and thus misunderstood as something else by the chicken hawk media. Bastards.
6.d. (S) Forcing detainees to remove their clothing and keeping them naked for several days at a time;
Uh, it's Iraq. It's hot. Duh.
6.e. (S) Forcing naked male detainees to wear women?s underwear;
Hey! Hey! This whole war was about bring democracy and freedom to Iraq. And if this guy wants to wear women's underwear, then who the hell are we to judge him? What he does behind closed doors is his own business, not yours. So get your damn cameras out of here and give the man his space. Freedom of choice, people. Don't judge.
6.f. (S) Forcing groups of male detainees to masturbate themselves while being photographed and videotaped;
Again, just a misunderstanding by the media. These individuals were compensated for their actions with money and marijuana. So now, if you order one copy of "Girls Gone Wild" you'll get a complimentary copy of "Detainees Gone Wild" for free! Shipping and Handling not included.
6.g. (S) Arranging naked male detainees in a pile and then jumping on them;
Oh, and now you're going to tell me that you've never played naked Twister, right?
6.h. (S) Positioning a naked detainee on a MRE Box, with a sandbag on his head, and attaching wires to his fingers, toes, and penis to simulate electric torture;
No, no, no. Everyone was playing hide-and-go-seek. As there really aren't many places to hide in a jail cell obviously, this resourceful fellow was merely disguising himself as a floor lamp. And he remained completely hidden, I might add, until he sneezed. And yes, he did win, by the way.
6.i. (S) Writing ?I AM A RAPEST? on the leg of a detainee alleged to have forcibly raped a 15-year old fellow detainee, and then photographing him naked;
This was simply a misspelling, brought on by the difficulties of communicating between two different languages. This individual is an up and coming musician looking to get his big break with the recently paroled Suge Knight. He hopes to be the first Iraqi RAP-ARTIST. See, no cause for concern. He's just chillin in his cell.
6.j. (S) Placing a dog chain or strap around a naked detainee?s neck and having a female Soldier pose for a picture;
Again, who are we to judge what people do behind closed doors. As long as this detainee can afford the $3.99 per minute to be treated this way by a dominatrix, I don't see the problem. Neither do you, DO YOU SLAVE?
6.k. (S) A male MP guard having sex with a female detainee;
You liberals. First we wage war. And you piss and moan about how we should make love not war. Now we make love instead of war, and you complain about that. Is there no pleasing you? Make up your mind!?
6.l. (S) Using military working dogs (without muzzles) to intimidate and frighten detainees, and in at least one case biting and severely injuring a detainee;
Have none of you seen Oz? Prison officials everywhere will tell you working with animals is great way to teach the prisoners responsibility and encourage them to cultivate a sense of compassion for other living creatures. Everyone knows the best way to reward a dog for obeying your commands is by giving them treats. So how can you possibly give a dog a Scooby snack if he's got a muzzle on? You can't. Some of these dogs don't get much attention, so they're very enthusiastic sometimes. We just have to work with the dogs a little bit to teach them to "take it nice" when they get their treats. That's all.
6.m. (S) Taking photographs of dead Iraqi detainees;
Hello? Crime has been running rampant in Iraq, especially in the big cities. Murder, rape, theft, and of course, insurance fraud. These photographs were taken to simply put any insurance matters to rest and bring closure.
8.a. (U) Breaking chemical lights and pouring the phosphoric liquid on detainees;
C'mon, all these lights are non-toxic. Ask any raver.
8.b. (U) Threatening detainees with a charged 9mm pistol;
I've threatened to not pay my taxes. I've threatened to quit my job. But I'm still doing both. So as long as they don't actually use the pistol, what's the problem?
8.c. (U) Pouring cold water on naked detainees;
It's Iraq. It's hot. Duh.
8.d. (U) Beating detainees with a broom handle and a chair;
Again, more cultural differences leading to a simple misunderstanding. The percentage of Hispanic personnel in Coalition forces is at some of the highest levels in history. In an effort to exchange cultural ideas, some prisoners just simply didn't understand what was going on. What's one man's abuse is another man's game of "pinata". Everyone tears dried in the end and everyone got candy. What's the big deal?
8.e. (U) Threatening male detainees with rape;
Well, as long as they don't actually rape the male prisoner, what's the problem?
8.f. (U) Allowing a military police guard to stitch the wound of a detainee who was injured after being slammed against the wall in his cell;
What? This soldier picks up a wounded man, giving him first aid, treating his wounds, and sewing them shut to prevent infection,and he's a bad guy now? How's that happen? Now if that's not unfair bias, then I don't know what is.
8.g. (U) Sodomizing a detainee with a chemical light and perhaps a broom stick;
A chemical light? Folks, this was just a simple mistake because of American pop culture. The detainee expressed that he was thirsty and asked for something to drink. After this incident in question, the detainee turned to the guards and clarified, "No I said a BUD light." After that miscommunication was worked out, the prisoner got something to drink and everyone was happy. Now you can't blame us when someone from a foreign place misunderstands our television commercials.
8.h. (U) Using military working dogs to frighten and intimidate detainees with threats of attack, and in one instance actually biting a detainee;
Again, this was explained earlier. These poor working animals are being kept in kennels, far from their home turf where they feel comfortable, and they're a little starved for human attention. If they get a little overly enthusiastic sometimes, it's not on purpose. Throw his ball for him.
I hope these explanations can put some of your fears and concerns to rest.
Am I the only one here that is getting really sick and tired of putting up with these smart ass countries who think they can do what ever they damn well want? I know from past events that these assholes like to test a countries
patience and see just how much b/s they can dish out before they are held accountable for their actions.
Personally, I think this is the perfect time to give Iran a taste of what it's in for. Send in the baddest motherfuckers we have, go after the UK soldiers being held captive, kill everything between us and them, we could use them for pothole filler, and make it abundantly clear to everyone that there's more where that came from if they continue their joyride down Nuclear Boulevard. Hopefully, nip that in the bud so it doesn't result in any full scale war. But for now, do whatever it takes to get the UK guys home.
But one thing I really don't understand about what happened is... the British boarding party was on two little rigid hull inflatable boats. Okay. But do those operate so far from the frigate they're based from, that the frigate couldn't offer some kind of protection? I can't see the Iranian navy just waltzing up, waving 'howdy' and scooping up fifteen British sailors and marines without the frigate moving to stop them if it could. It'd be like going into a cave, waving at momma bear while you collar her cubs, "Yeah, I'm just going to eat these." Then trying to make it back out of the cave without having your ass handed to you.
Better watch our Iran, or we're going to sanction you! Ooooooooo!
Bunch of pussies! There's a time and place for diplomacy but when they grab people that's a whole different story. How would you feel if it was your brother or sister these towel heads were holding???? What we should do is say turn them loose or we're going to do what we should have done a long long time ago and that's expand the US of A, up to and including the Middle East. Instead we go into these countries, blow all their shit up,
totally subjugate their economies, flatten all their housing and two months later we're helping them rebuild their social structure and economy. WTF
is up with that? Did I miss something here? Where do all these third world countries get the idea that they can keep dishing it out without any consequences? Because we have a history of being the 'good guys' on the block. The UN doesn't do anything about it because they're just a bunch of spineless wonders.
So tell me, when is enough, enough?
FINALLY, THIS MYSTERY HAS BEEN EXPLAINED....
For centuries, Hindu women have worn a spot on their foreheads. We have always naively thought that it had something to do with their religion. The Indian Embassy in Washington, D.C. has recently revealed the true story.
When a Hindu woman gets married, she brings a dowry into the union. On her wedding night, the husband scratches off the spot to see whether he has won a convenience store, a gas station, a doughnut shop or a motel in the United States. If not, he must take a job in India answering telephones giving technical advice to Americans.
Pop quiz hot shot. You're sitting on a park bench next to some hot blonde chick . She's fidgeting. After a few minutes she gets up, asks you to watch her bag for her, runs over to a nearby tree and pisses. Standing up. What do you do? What do you do? ha ha ha
No I didn't come up with this, but I wish that I had. It was sent to me by a friend and contrary to popular belief, I do have a couple.
You got out of a bad relationship because it was bad,
but you are still resentful and angry
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You got out of financial debt, but you still can't
control the desire to spend on frivolous things
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You got out of a bad habit or addiction, but you still long to try it just one more time
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You said, I forgive you, but you can't seem to forget and have peace with that person
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You told your unequally yoked mate that it was over,
but you still continue to call
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You got out of that horribly oppressive job, but you are still
trying to sabotage the company after you've left
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You cut off the affair with that married man/woman, but you
still lust after him/her
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You broke off your relationship with that hurtful, abusive person, but you are suspicious and distrusting of every new person you meet
(you let the devil leave his bags)
You decided to let go of the past hurts from growing up in an
unstable environment, yet you believe you are unworthy of love from others and you refuse to get attached to anyone
(you let the devil leave his bags)
When you put the devil out, please make sure he takes his bags!
HAPPINESS KEEPS YOU SWEET
TRIALS KEEP YOU STRONG
AND SORROWS KEEP YOU HUMAN
FAILURES KEEP YOU HUMBLE
SUCCESS KEEPS YOU GLOWING
BUT ONLY GOD KEEPS YOU GOING!
Disclaimer: I dunno what made me remember this ordeal or more importantly decide to post it after keeping it a secret for years...who knows? While the events described are 100% factual, the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Except mine. I'm still the same old asshole I've always been. "Let me tall ya, you haven't lived until you've had a case of crabs." It was the fall of 1976 and those words rang in my head as clear as the day Hung Lo said them to me a few months earlier, in what would turn out to be an ugly twist of irony. We were just two guys sitting around the office with our feet up, talking about what it is that guys talked about when they sat around the office with their feet up. But as fate would have it I was now sitting on my cushioned toilet seat with my pants around my ankles, and a pair of tweezers in my hand. I held them up close where I could get more light and look closer at the legs..yes I'm sure they were legs now...wriggling around while silhouetted against the background of my girlfriend's seashell shower curtain. This was not good! My whole pubic area had been a little itchy as of recently, but since my girlfriend -- for the sake of argument we'll call her "Donna" -- had blackmailed me into giving myself a close haircut down there a few weeks earlier, I just chalked it up to regrowing hair. But the wriggling legs in these tweezers stood testament to the inaccuracy of my assumption. I was unclean. I was tainted. I leaned right and tapped the tweezers on the counter top a few times to dislodge this little fucker loose. He popped free and it was now I had my first chance to get a real good look at him, although even before doing so I already knew what he was. I had a case of crabs. If you haven't had the honor, please allow me to indulge. Crabs is a pretty accurate way to describe them. They have flat circular bodies with six legs, three on each side. Their color was a little darker than my skin, which is how I found the little bastard to begin with. He still had a tiny hunk of my skin in his mouth, refusing to let go even after I plucked him from the hot humid home of my ballsack. I half expected him to walk sideways,but nay, after flailing his legs around for a moment he found traction and began to stagger forwards in line straight enough to be followed by even the drunkest of drunks. I smooshed him with the tweezers, and still he walked. I smooshed him again, only this time rolled the tip of the tweezers around a bit to make the destruction complete. And still he walked. I flipped the tweezers around and this time drive the point of them straight down into his body, spearing him to the bathroom counter. I pulled the tweezers back and leaned in close. His tiny crab guts had leaked out and had slimed him into place, but none the less his little crab legs were scratching away, still trying to move his crab body in its search for my balls. With him not going anywhere for awhile, I turned my attention back to my tainted groin and began to look a little closer now knowing what my quarry looked like. And then I saw them. Tiny blue-grayish bumps in my skin. To the naked eye they could easily be dismissed as just imperfections in the skin but upon closer examination I came to realize that these were little bugs who had burrowed into and made of a home in the soft skin. [BANG!] [BANG!] [BANG!] "You okay in there?" Donna's voice snapped me out of my trance. "Hey let a man be when he's on the throne." I replied with a fair amount of forced humor in my voice. The toilet was right near the bathroom door so I reached up and flicked on the ceiling fan to both lend credit to my lie and also to mask whatever sounds I was making in the close examination of my balls. Knowing I had a few minutes, I turned my attention back to my Jim Dandies and their attackers. I used the corner of the tweezers to snare my prey. Pushing in nice and deep before squeezing to make sure I got a good grip on the little bastards, then squeezing tight and pulling them and a tiny patch of skin back before things broke free. 1....2..3...8..12...17...20... Again and again I flicked the tweezers on the counter top, assembling a small herd of displaced pubic lice between a bottle of hair spray and hand lotion. Every once in awhile I'd pluck one off who possessed a particularly strong desire to make a run for it so I had to use the flat side of my pinky to push everybody back into one small pile. Yeah a small pile of wriggling pubic lice all with their tiny jaws mashing mindlessly. That's something you want to see, trust me. After satisfied I've pulled off as many of the invaders as I could, I grabbed a bar of disinfectant soap and thoroughly scrubbed my goods. I then flicked the entire horde of crabs into the sink and turned on the hot water, which I'm very happy to say used to get really hot really fucking quick at this place. Down they went. Down,down, down the drain and away from my poor abused balls they went. I dried myself off, flushed the toilet for theatrical measure, and exited the bathroom. Next mission? Recon. Later that evening after dinner (Donna was a great cook), I retired to my computer to do a little research on my enemy. Again this was 1976, so I was very glad for the Internet and all the information it put at our very fingertips. I couldn't imagine what I'd have done had I not had dial up access. The library? Please. Without too much trouble -- I had to alt-tab the windows to hide what I was looking at a few times when Donna came into the room to chit-chat about her day or whatever -- but I was able to learn that I even had plucked every single adult pubic lice from my Jimmy-Jim's -- which would be unlikely -- their eggs called "nits" would still hatch in anywhere from one to two weeks, meaning I'd be back to square one. I also learned pubic lice were of the same family as head lice, and the best way to get rid of head lice was to use any product with the insecticide "permethrin". So just like that, I was Harry S. Truman, the crabs were the Japanese and I had just found my atomic bomb. I didn't know what permethrin was, but by golly I knew it was my friend. I laid in bed that night and tried to act as calm as can be, all the while my mind racing. Who the fuck did I get crabs from? How the hell was I going to hide them from Donna? I'd heard horror stories about people having to throw away all of their linens and things when a kid came home from school with head lice. How the fuck was I going to discreetly throw away all my clothes? What the fuck was I going to do? Well, the answer to my first question was, Molly. You see, I was in the Navy and had been living with Donna for the past few months, but still had a dorm room and lots of friends back at base. Once or twice a week I'd stay late after work and hang out with the guys, shoot the shit, watch TV, drink, that kind of stuff. Well..... it just so happened that about a week and a half prior to the Raiding of My Lost Arc, I had one beer to many and hooked up with the dorm hump, Molly. I don't know why I did it, I'm a guy, I was young, so don't ask stupid questions, ok? Just suffice to say she seemed like the most reasonable source of the attack. The next day I made the commute from Donna's apartment to base and began my morning as usual, although I did begin to notice that my balls were beginning to itch from time to time. I took an early lunch and drove to a drugstore way far from base. My first trip was to the candy aisle where I grabbed a bag of Hersheys Miniatures, next to the toy aisle where I grabbed a few coloring books and a box of crayons, and finally to the aisle where they kept my secret weapon. I grabbed package after package looking for that magical ingredient permethrin and almost squealed out in glee when I came across a product called RID whose box cautioned the consumer "Warning Contains permethrin read warning on back. Use only as directed." Wow a warning label, this must be good shit! These little fuckers won't know what hit em! I brought all of my items up to the counter and got in line where a very attractive woman who looked to be in her early 30's was running the register. Yeah it always happens that way, I know. Anyway, when it was my turn, I hurriedly placed everything on the counter, and I don't know if it was my imagination or not, but I swear I felt one of the little fuckers start crawling across my balls. I made an uncomfortable shift from one leg to the other and tried to discreetly scratch myself as I reached in my pocket to grab my money. My little rouge had worked like a charm before I even knew it. "Aww, poor baby, how old is she?" the clerk questioned with a sympathetic look on her face "Six," I replied," she came home with them yesterday evening." Yeah, I was sinking so low as to pretend I had a daughter with head lice rather than face the fact I got crabs from cheating on my girlfriend with some dirty skank. But hey, in for a penny in for a pound they say. I paid for my items and beat feet back to the dorms. I had 30 minutes left on my lunch hour, but Dick wouldn't care if I ran a little longer. More often than not they do anyway. The directions called to, "first wash your head with shampoo then apply RID liberally through the infested area (that's a creepy phrase..."infested" area....), be careful to avoid the eyes, nose, mouth and ears, wait 15 minutes and then wash your head with shampoo again. Repeat treatment in 12 hours." I adapted these directions to, "take a shower, apply liberally over your frank and beans, avoid the peepee hole and pooper, wait 20 minutes, shower again, and go back to work and act like you didn't just spend your lunch hour washing an infestation of tiny insects from your nether regions." And so I showered and then plopped myself down in a chair naked as the day I was born, and opened up the bottle of RID. This stuff smelled vaguely like horseradish, which made me think of the sports creams l
Now a few years ago I used to live with a girl who had not only a spectacular pair of breasts, but a gay sister as well. I dunno if the gay sister had great boobs too because, well, she was gay. But anyway, this sister lived in California with her -- of what's the politically correct term -- life partner? Yeah, so these two lesbians have been with each other for a like eleven years and they were as committed to each other as any heterosexual couple I know. But since they obviously can't have any children without some help, they decided one of them gets artificially inseminated. They took a look at their jobs, and decided the one who had the lesser paying job would be the one to carry the baby, since her taking time off from work wouldn't be as financially straining. Nine months later, poof they've got a kid.
The first thing that struck me as a little unfair is only my girlfriend's sister -- the one who actually carried the baby -- could be listed on the birth certificate as the parent. Granted even if they could they'd either have to play paper-scissors-rock to see who gets listed as the father, but still it struck me as a little unfair that only one of them was legally allowed to be recognized as a parent. I mean hey, ya wait around for that long putting up with world class bitchiness beyond belief, you're gonna want some public recognition, right?
The next quirk they came across was health insurance. As it so happened, the birth mother's health insurance coverage was not as robust as the her partner's insurance. You know how that goes, better job and all that, right? Well the baby's medical coverage could not be claimed against this better policy for obvious reasons -- she wasn't legally the child's parent. So this ended up costing them a lot of money out of pocket for medical expenses, and there were even some areas where the child didn't get the same level of care as she could have if she had been covered under the better insurance policy. Again, it seemed unfair not only to the parents financially, but to the baby in regards to her health care.
And suppose for the sake of argument, that while the three of them were driving home from the hospital, there was a car accident and the birth mom was rendered brain dead. If it were a husband and wife deal, the surviving spouse would have legal control over medical treatment (or ceasing of it) for their injured partner, plus have no problem securing sole custody of the baby. But in this case, the surviving lezbo would have no legal recourse despite having just as much time and energy invested as a male partner would.
All these issues because same sex marriages are currently illegal. Okay. So let me think for a minute, that if they were legal, how would they effect my life. Would I have to pay more taxes? No. Would married gay people get a special check out line at the supermarket to get through line faster than me? No. Do they get their own special lane to avoid traffic jams? No. Do they get cheaper car insurance? No. Free car? No. Free socks? No.
So my question would be... what the fuck do I care if gay people want to be married?
They're not fighting to have two guys dressed in wedding gowns, mascara and five o'clock shadows to prance down the aisle of your local church. They're not fighting for the right to fuck on the crosstown bus. They're not fighting to have Hers-and-Hers bathrooms at the mall. All the benefits and rights they're fighting for, wouldn't impact my life one bit if they did get them, so why the hell would I oppose it? It's like going out and saying you oppose blue socks. You can't see em anyway, so who the fuck cares?
The only people that could possibly have a valid argument against anti-same sex marriages are the religious groups. "Homosexuality is an abomination!" they say. Well, okay, that's your take on it that's cool. Fair enough. But then there's two things to consider when you enter that realm, too. One, where the hell were you when priests were treating eight year old children like fuck toys? I didn't hear you say too much then, in fact you kind of looked at your shoes, mumbled something about out of court settlements, and then wandered off into the crowds. I don't hear you protest when atheists get married. I don't hear you protest when atheists get married in a church. I don't hear you protest when religious people get married on a cruise ship snot hanging drunk after grabbing the nearest vacationer to serve as their witness. So please, if you're going to get all high and fucking mighty, at least have the courtesy to do it evenly across the board.
And secondly, this situation my friend, is a perfect example of the REAL reason behind the separation of Church and State. It's not just a springboard for some loudmouthed asshole to use and get his name in the paper when he wants to talk about the Pledge of Allegiance, but instead a genuine reason why Judge Judy needs to leave her Bible/Koran/Torah/Whatever at home.
What if I created a religion where marriage was illegal altogether, would the government have to rule all marriages null and void? What if all the 43,000 people in the United Kingdom who checked their religion as "Jedi" all decided they're never going to get laid and decided they could marry their dog? Would governments then have to recognize those marriages? The answer is no in both cases, because the whole purpose of the separation of Church and State is Uncle Sam can't pick and choose what religious movements they're going to acknowledge and which they aren't. Churchgoers have every right in the world to voice their opinions in a public forum, but when it comes time to making laws it's time to have a nice tall glass of Shut-The-Fuck-Up. The only thing Uncle Sam can do is to make sure everyone, man, woman, black, white, tall, short, cute, ugly, straight or gay, gets a fair shake. (no punn intended)