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Jokes
Oct 10, 2006 21:34:16 GMT
Post by candd on Oct 10, 2006 21:34:16 GMT
Couldn't find a joke thread so thought I would start one ;D First one:................................................. The SAS, the Paras and the Police decide to go on a survival weekend together to see who comes out on top. After some basic exercises the trainer tells them that their next objective is to go down into the woods and catch a rabbit, returning with it ready to skin and cook. Night falls. First up - the SAS. They don infrared goggles, drop to the ground and crawl into the woods in formation. Absolute silence for 5 minutes, followed by the unmistakable muffled "phut-phut" of their trademark silenced "double-tap". They emerge with a large rabbit shot cleanly between the eyes. "Excellent!" remarks the trainer. Next up - the Para's. They finish their cans of lager, smear themselves with camouflage cream, fix bayonets and charge down into the woods, screaming at the top of their lungs. For the next hour the woods ring with the sound of rifle and machine-gun fire, hand grenades, mortar bombs and blood curdling war cries. Eventually they emerge, carrying the charred remains of a rabbit. "A bit messy, but you achieved the aim; well done", says the trainer. Lastly, in go the coppers, walking slowly, hands behind backs Dixon of Dock Green. For the next few hours, the silence is only broken by the occasional crackle of a walkie-talkie "Sierra Lima Whisky Tango Fanta One, suspect headed straight for you..." etc. After what seems an eternity, they emerge escorting a squirrel in handcuffs. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" asks the incredulous trainer, Take this squirrel back and get me a rabbit like I asked you five hours ago! . So back they go. Minutes pass. Minutes turn to hours, night drags on and turns to day. The next morning, the trainer and the other teams are awakened by the police, still holding the handcuffed squirrel, now covered in bruises with one eye nearly shut. "Are you taking the mickey !!??" asks the now seriously irate trainer. The police team leader nudges the squirrel, who squeaks: "Alright, alright, I'm a bloody rabbit!" ;D
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Jokes
Oct 22, 2006 21:06:02 GMT
Post by sammss on Oct 22, 2006 21:06:02 GMT
;D
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Jokes
Dec 21, 2006 16:29:25 GMT
Post by dreagle on Dec 21, 2006 16:29:25 GMT
A TALE OF MORALITY. I am a very happy person. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing bothering me--her beautiful younger sister. My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two and wore very tight mini-skirts. She would regularly bend down when she was near me, and I always got more than a pleasant view. It had to be deliberate as she never did it when she was near anyone else. One day her "little" sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister. Well, I was in total shock, and couldn't say a word. She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me." I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline to the front door. I opened the door, and headed straight towards my car. Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping! With tears in his eyes, my future father-in-law hugged me and said "We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family!" And the moral of the story is.... "Always keep your condoms in your car....."
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Jokes
Jan 2, 2007 19:35:12 GMT
Post by dreagle on Jan 2, 2007 19:35:12 GMT
A police officer pulls over a speeding car.
The officer says, "I clocked you at 80 miles per hour, sir. The driver says, "Gee, officer, I had it on cruise control at 60, perhaps your radar gun needs calibrating."
Not looking up from her knitting the wife says: "Now don't be silly dear, you know that this car doesn't have cruise control."
As the officer writes out the ticket, the driver looks over at his wife and growls, "Can't you please keep your mouth shut for once?"
The wife smiles demurely and says, "You should be thankful your radar detector went off when it did."
As the officer makes out the second ticket for the illegal radar detector unit, the man glowers at his wife and says through clenched teeth, "Darn it, woman, can't you keep your mouth shut The officer frowns and says, "And I notice that you're not wearing your seat belt, sir. That's an automatic $75 fine." The driver says, "Yeah, well, you see officer, I had it on, but took it off when you pulled me over so that I could get my license out of my back pocket."
The wife says, "Now, dear, you know very well that you didn't have your seat belt on. You never wear your seat belt when you're driving."
And as the police officer is writing out the third ticket the driver turns to his wife and barks, "WHY DON'T YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?"
The officer looks over at the woman and asks, "Does your husband always talk to you this way, Ma'am?"
(I love this part....)
She answered, "Only when he's been drinking."
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Jokes
Jan 14, 2007 15:42:07 GMT
Post by colin on Jan 14, 2007 15:42:07 GMT
Disclaimer: I don't have a Valkyrie, I don't live in Texas and I DID NOT WRITE THIS
See: cuagain.manilasites.com/d...7?mode=day
IMPORTANT NOTICE: Do NOT be drinking anything as you read... =============================================================== Neighborhood Hazard (or: Why the Cops Won't Patrol Brice Street)
I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!
Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.
Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being "behind the power curve". It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.
Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle... at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.
I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!
Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness... all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.
I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that "edge"so frequently required when riding.
Little did I suspect...
As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it - it was that close.
I hate to run over animals... and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.
Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Banzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.
Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street... and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.
I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.
But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.
This was an evil attack squirrel of death!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.
I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in... well... I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street... on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle... my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full- face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.
The rpm's on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.
Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.
Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.
Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.
I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger!
That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car!
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.
As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death... I'll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.
And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves.
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Jokes
Feb 7, 2007 17:21:29 GMT
Post by dreagle on Feb 7, 2007 17:21:29 GMT
A large woman, wearing a sleeveless sun dress, walked into a bar. She raised her right arm, revealing a huge, hairy armpit as she pointed to all the people sitting at the bar and asked, "What man here will buy a lady a drink?" The bar went silent as the patrons tried to ignore her. But down at the end of the bar, an owly-eyed drunk slammed his hand down on the counter and bellowed; "Give the ballerina a drink!"
The bartender poured the drink and the woman chugged it down. She turned to the patrons and again pointed around at all of them, revealing the same hairy armpit, and asked; "What man here will buy a lady a drink?" Once again, the same little drunk slapped his money down on the bar and said: "Give the ballerina another drink!" The bartender approached the little drunk and said; "I say, old chap, it's your business if you want to buy the lady a drink, but why do you keep calling her the ballerina?" The drunk replied; "Any woman who can lift her leg that high has to be a ballerina!"
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