PADERBORN, GERMANY - Overzealous zookeeper Friedrich Riesfeldt fed his constipated elephant Stefan 22 doses of animal laxative and more than a bushel of berries, figs and prunes before the plugged-up pachyderm finally let it fly -- and suffocated the keeper under 200 pounds of poop!

Investigators say ill-fated Friedrich, 46, was attempting to give the ailing elephant an olive-oil enema when the relieved beast unloaded on him like a dump truck full of mud.

"The sheer force of the elephant's unexpected defecation knocked Mr. Riesfeldt to the ground, where he struck his head on a rock and lay unconscious as the elephant continued to evacuate his bowels on top of him," said flabbergasted Paderborn police detective Erik Dern. "With no one there to help him, he lay under all that dung for at least an hour before a watchman came along, and during that time he suffocated. It seems to be just one of those freak accidents that happen sometimes -- a billion-to-one shot, at least."

The heartbreaking tale of constipation and tragedy began April 23 when the conscientious zookeeper noticed that his prize, 8,000-pound African elephant didn't seem to be producing his usual poop aplenty.

"Friedrich had actually been concerned for several days because he knew that severe constipation can kill an elephant," assistant zookeeper Kurt Herrman recalled. "He told me he was going to stay late that Thursday night to treat Stefan with laxatives and possibly give him an enema. I offered to help, but he sent me on home, saying he had everything under control."

But two hours later, horrified night watchman Walter Pleuger found Friedrich lying lifeless under a mound of muck, his body visible only from the knees down. "I had never really thought about it before," Det. Dern said. "But obviously, giving an elephant an enema can be a very dangerous activity -- and not something that should be attempted alone."


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn't afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It is a '70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the prototypical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch your crotch and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires, tra la la la.

I'm driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this assh*le, over aerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up.

Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance. She proceeds to yell in my window, "Hey, slow down you %$&#@ idiot." I'm a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, "asshole" at me again. Twice? *&%$# that. I turn around and drive up next to her.

"Do you have a problem?" I ask.

"Yeah, why are you driving like an idiot?"

"I was driving like an idiot? How, exactly?"

"You were speeding. I watched you." "You were? I see. How did you measure my speed?" (Ever the interrogator, I am.)

"I heard you."

"So, you measured my speed by ear?"

"I can hear."

"How fast did you HEAR me going?"

"Look," she says, "I don't have to take this. Here comes a cop. I'll wave him down."

THE POLICE? This woman is a trip. She waves him down, and proceeds to tell him that she observed me speeding.

"What happened?" he asks. I told him the story, and told him that I accelerated to an indicated 30 mph (the speed limit is 50) to avoid a collision.

"Are those mufflers legal?" Ethel asks.

She's pushing it. I reply, "I have a C.A.R.B. exemption for them." I give the paperwork to the cop.

She tries to find another thing to screw me with. She says "What about those big tires? They CAN'T be legal. " I began feeling little overheated gears in the back of my head start to turn.

"These tires were available on the 1970 Boss 429, " I told the cop, " Which makes them street legal as a replacement."

Ethel gets angry. She whines, "So you're not going to give out any tickets to this assh*le?"

The cop says, "No, I am not."

I've about had it. So I say, "Sir, this woman told you that she left the street at the corner, and then she met up with my car here. According to Title 19, pedestrians have to cross the street at a right angle. This woman admitted she crossed at a 45-degree angle, which is a ticketable offence."

"What?" The cop looks confused.

"Also, she told you that she walked in front of my car to stop me. A citizen can't detain someone without probable cause, under Terry v. Ohio (My new favorite case). Since she couldn't measure my speed, she had no probable cause to detain me. That is an indictable offence."

The cop says, "But, I didn't see any of this."

"But," I said, "I did, and, as an officer of the Court, I can demand her arrest. I'll agree to dismiss the Illegal Detention charge, but I want her cited for not crossing at a right angle and Hazardous Conduct on a Public Street."

The cop called his Lieutenant, and after the cop told the story, he authorized the summonses.

She went home with $215.00 worth of traffic tickets, and they are worth a total of four points against her license, as well as the appropriate insurance surcharge!

Of course, if she demands a trial I won't prosecute. But the look on her face as she walked away was more than enough satisfaction for me.

Yeah, I've passed the bar, and I'm on a mission from God.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

Earlier this year, the dazed crew of a Japanese Trawler were recovered off the Sea of Japan clinging to the wreckage of their ship. Their rescue, however, was followed by immediate imprisonment once authorities questioned the sailors on their ship's loss. They claimed that a cow, falling out of the clear blue sky, had struck the trawler amidships, shattering it's hull and sinking the vessel within minutes.

They remained in prison for several weeks, until the Russian Air Force reluctantly informed Japanese authorities that the crew of one of its cargo planes had apparently stolen a cow wandering at the edge of a Siberian airfield. They forced the cow into the plane's hold and hastily departed for home. Unprepared for live cargo, the Russian crew was ill-equipped to manage a rampaging cow within its hold. To save the aircraft and themselves, they shoved the animal out of the cargo hold as they crossed the Sea of Japan at an altitude of 30,000 feet.

Once again, fact is stranger than fiction...


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

I've seen some pretty good legalese threatening you if you fail to register or pay for software, but Alchemy Mindworks takes the cake. See where they say:

"Should you fail to register any of the shareware listed in this page and continue to use it, be advised that a leather winged demon of the night will tear itself, shrieking blood and fury, from the endless caverns of the nether world, hurl itself into the darkness with a thirst for blood on its slavering fangs and search the very threads of time for the throbbing of your heartbeat. Alchemy Mindworks Inc. accepts no responsibility for any loss, damage or expense caused by this, either."

Now that's a threat with teeth.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

Thanks to Dexus for this one.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

I was getting a bit hungry last week, so since I had to drop off some videos at the local Blockbuster ("Starship Troopers" and "Boogie Nights", if you must know), I'd go and get some lunch at McDonalds. It somewhat qualifies as a "food", at least until you get to dinner when you can make up for it with some real nutrients.

As I approached, it seemed odd that there was more than the usual number of morons going in there as well, along with a LOT of discarded Happy Meal containers in the parking lot. I worried that it may be "brat night", but noticed that the telltale sign of sprogs working up a good lawsuit were abscent from the playground out front, so I pressed on.

Anyways, as I was placing my order, this sweaty, fatassed she-freak tries to shove herself in front of me, screaming at the top of her lungs if they still had any of those pelican "Teeny Beany Babies" they were plopping into Happy Meals. It was bad enough that the line was extra long and extra slow because the McBots in the burger mines were working franticly to fill all those HM orders for the rest of the Beany-crazed herd.

I came close to wanting to grab this hippo and scream "GET OUT OF MY FACE, YOU BEANY-BRAINED MORON!! *I* *AM* *HUNGRYYYYYY*!!!!" at the top of my lungs, but Satan gave me a BETTER idea. Something with even MORE devastating potential.

I looked towards the harried, humanoid shaped pimple-farm behind the counter and asked how many of these Bobdammed pelicans they had left.

"Uh, about three", he said.

"Okay, I'd like to add THREE Happy Meals to my order, and make sure they have those pelicans in there, OK?"

"Uh, Okay.......sure" he replied, catching onto why I would order that many. It seemed to make him feel like he'd bring them to me on a McSilver tray if they had one.

I gave Mrs. Jabba a bigassed smirk (ever see that part where the Grinch grins from ear to ear?). She seemed so agast at the horror of her NOT getting her precious fucking Teeny Beanies that I actually had to make sure that when my order came up, she did'nt try to make a grab for one of the Happy Meals and run for the door (I'm sure she would'nt move very fast, but trying to stop THAT much mass may prove hazardous).

Instead, she screamed a bit shitfit, demanded to speak with the manager to make me GIVE HER those pelican Beanies (the head McManager just simply told her that it was "first come, first serve", and it was corporate policy). Realizing that she was as much of a loser as she was fat, she claimed that McDonald's & I were in on a conspiracy and swore that she was going to sue me and the McDonald's Corporation for every thin dime we both have and that were NOT going to get away with this, yatta-yatta-yatta, oink oink oink, moooooooo. Yeah, right.

So there I sat, munching away on my McFood (there was enough there on the tray to even make the cow woman explode), with my little droopy-ass pelican toys sitting in full view so that as the Beany-morons left empty-handed, they'd see my treasure before them and they would know despair ("IIIIIIIIIIII-got, your-Beeeeeeeeee-nies! You-can-not, haaaaave-none! You-are-all-reeeeee-tards!"). A few of them actually came up to my table as I was eating and offered real money for them, but my evil was in full bloom that hour, and I had other plans for these little effigies of mediahype and human stupidity.

Before I departed (I was getting so full that I just ate the "meat" patty in each HM and left the buns and fries untouched), I sliced off the pelican heads and left each one perched on top of the straws of the undrunk small drinks as a warning to those who try to fuck around with MY personal space ever again (and used the ketchup packets to have simulated congealed blood running down the straws and neck stumps of the bodies, which I had placed in the uneaten buns). And to finish this masterpiece, I took out a marker to make a little billboard out of one of the HM boxes turned inside-out to write "BEANIES SUCK!!". It looked like a diorama of Vlad Teppes' visit to McDonaldLand.

I wish I had a camera to photograph the table before I left, but I get a feeling some of the workers may have done so before they cleared it off. I'm sure it made their day after their harrowing shift in Beanybrain Hell. I've got to ask them if they can make me print when I go back there some day.

Sure, I may have wasted a lot of good food and passed up the chance to make some moron money, but the chance to commit evil like this has NO price tag.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

For the engineers among us who understand that the obvious is not always the solution, and that the facts, no matter how implausible, are still the facts ...

This is a weird but true story (with a moral) ...

A complaint was received by the Pontiac Division of General Motors:

"This is the second time I have written you, and I don't blame you for not answering me, because I kind of sounded crazy, but it is a fact that we have a tradition in our family of ice cream for dessert after dinner each night. But the kind of ice cream varies so, every night, after we've eaten, the whole family votes on which kind of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. It's also a fact that I recently purchased a new Pontiac and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see, every time I buy vanilla ice cream, when I start back from the store my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream, the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds: 'What is there about a Pontiac that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start whenever I get any other kind?'"

The Pontiac President was understandably skeptical about the letter, but sent an engineer to check it out anyway. The latter was surprised to be greeted by a successful, obviously well educated man in a fine neighborhood. He had arranged to meet the man just after dinner time, so the two hopped into the car and drove to the ice cream store. It was vanilla ice cream that night and, sure enough, after they came back to the car, it wouldn't start.

The engineer returned for three more nights. The first night, the man got chocolate. The car started. The second night, he got strawberry. The car started. The third night he ordered vanilla. The car failed to start.

Now the engineer, being a logical man, refused to believe that this man's car was allergic to vanilla ice cream. He arranged, therefore, to continue his visits for as long as it took to solve the problem. And toward this end he began to take notes: he jotted down all sorts of data, time of day, type of gas used, time to drive back and forth, etc.

In a short time, he had a clue: the man took less time to buy vanilla than any other flavor. Why? The answer was in the layout of the store.

Vanilla, being the most popular flavor, was in a separate case at the front of the store for quick pickup. All the other flavors were kept in the back of the store at a different counter where it took considerably longer to find the flavor and get checked out.

Now the question for the engineer was why the car wouldn't start when it took less time. Once time became the problem -- not the vanilla ice cream -- the engineer quickly came up with the answer: vapor lock. It was happening every night, but the extra time taken to get the other flavors allowed the engine to cool down sufficiently to start. When the man got vanilla, the engine was still too hot for the vapor lock to dissipate.

Moral of the story: even insane looking problems are sometimes real.

(A better moral: chocolate ice cream cures vapor lock!)
 


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

A friend just got back from a holiday ski trip to Utah with the kind of story that warms the cockles of anybody's heart. Conditions were perfect, 12 below, no feeling in the toes, basic numbness all over. The "Tell me when we're having fun" kind of day.

One of the women in the group complained to her husband that she was in dire need of a restroom. He told her not to worry, that he was sure there was relief at the top of the lift in the form of a powder room for female skiers in distress. He was wrong, of course, and the pain did not go away.

If you've ever had nature hit its panic button in you, then you know that a temperature of 12 below zero doesn't help matters. So with time running out, she weighed her options.

Her husband, picking up on the intensity of the pain, suggested that since she was wearing an all white ski outfit, she should go off in the woods. No one would ever notice, he assured her. The white will provide more than adequate camouflage. So she headed for the tree line, began disrobing and proceeded to do her thing. If you've ever parked on the side of a slope, then you know there is a right way and a wrong way to set your skies so you don't move. Yup, you got it. She had the skies positioned the wrong way.

Steep slopes are not forgiving, even during embarrassing moments. Without any warning, the woman found herself skiing backward, out of control racing through the trees, somehow missing all of them, and on to the slope. Her derriere and the reverse side were still bare, her pants down around her knees, and she was picking up speed all the while she continued on backwards, totally out-of-control, creating an unusual sight for the other skiers.

The woman skied, if you define that verb loosely, back under the lift, and finally collided violently with a pylon. The bad news was she broke her arm and was unable to pull up the ski pants. At long last her husband arrived, put an end to her nude show, then went to the base of the mountain and summoned the ski patrol, who transported her to a hospital.

In the emergency room she was regrouping when a man with a broken leg was put in a bed next to hers.

"So, how'd you break your leg?" She asked, making small talk.

"It was the darndest thing you ever saw," he said "I was riding up this ski lift and suddenly I couldn't believe my eyes. There was this crazy woman skiing backwards out of control down the mountain with her bare bottom hanging out. I leaned over to get a better look and I guess I didn't realize how far I'd moved. I fell out of the lift."

"So how'd you break your arm?"


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

Attila the Hun:

One of the most notorious villains in history, Attila's army had conquered all of Asia by 450 AD--from Mongolia to the edge of the Russian Empire--by destroying villages and pillaging the countryside.

How he died: He got a nosebleed on his wedding night

In 453 AD, Attila married a young girl named Ildico. Despite his reputation for ferocity on the battlefield, he tended to eat and drink lightly during large banquets. On his wedding night, however, he really cut loose, gorging himself on food and drink. Sometime during the night he suffered a nosebleed, but was too drunk to notice. He drowned in his own blood and was found dead the next morning.

--------------------

Tycho Brahe:

An important Danish astronomer of the 16th century. His ground breaking research allowed Sir Isaac Newton to come up with the theory of gravity.

How he died: Didn't get to the bathroom in time

In the 16th century, it was considered an insult to leave a banquet table before the meal was over. Brahe, known to drink excessively, had a bladder condition -- but failed to relieve himself before the banquet started. He made matters worse by drinking too much at dinner, and was too polite to ask to be excused. His bladder finally burst, killing him slowly and painfully over the next 11 days.

--------------------

Horace Wells:

Pioneered the use of anesthesia in the 1840s

How he died: Used anesthetics to commit suicide

While experimenting with various gases during his anesthesia research, Wells became addicted to chloroform. In 1848 he was arrested for spraying two women with sulfuric acid. In a letter he wrote from jail, he blamed chloroform for his problems, claiming that he'd gotten high before the attack. Four days later he was found dead in his cell. He'd anaesthetized himself with chloroform and slashed open his thigh with a razor.

--------------------

Francis Bacon:

One of the most influential minds of the late 16th century. A statesman, a philosopher, a writer, and a scientist, he was even rumored to have written some of Shakespeare's plays.

How he died: Stuffing snow into a chicken

One afternoon in 1625, Bacon was watching a snowstorm and was struck by the wondrous notion that maybe snow could be used to preserve meat in the same way that salt was used. Determined to find out, he purchased a chicken from a nearby village, killed it, and then, standing outside in the snow, attempted to stuff the chicken full of snow to freeze it. The chicken never froze, but Bacon did.

--------------------

Jerome Irving Rodale:

Founding father of the organic food movement, creator of "Organic Farming and Gardening" magazine, and founder of Rodale Press, a major publishing corporation.

How he died: On the "Dick Cavett Show", while discussing the benefits of organic foods.

Rodale, who bragged "I'm going to live to be 100 unless I'm run down by a sugar-crazed taxi driver," was only 72 when he appeared on the "Dick Cavett Show" in January 1971. Part way through the interview, he dropped dead in his chair. Cause of death: heart attack. The show was never aired.

--------------------

Aeschylus:

A Greek playwright back in 500 BC. Many historians consider him the father of Greek tragedies.

How he died: An eagle dropped a tortoise on his head

According to legend, eagles picked up tortoises and attempt to crack them open by dropping them on rocks. An eagle mistook Aeschylus' head for a rock (he was bald) and dropped it on him instead.

--------------------

Jim Fixx:

Author of the best selling "Complete Book of Running," which started the jogging craze of the 1970s.

How he died: A heart attack....while jogging

Fixx was visiting Greensboro, Vermont when he walked out of his house and began jogging. He'd only gone a short distance when he had a massive coronary. His autopsy revealed that one of his coronary arteries was 99% clogged, another was 80% obstructed, and a third was 70% blocked....and that Fixx had had three other attacks in the weeks prior to his death.

--------------------

And finally there's Lully, one of our favorite 16th-century composers, who wrote music for the king of France.

While rehearsing the musicians, he got too serious beating time with his staff, and drove it right through his foot. He died of infection.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

The recital last evening in the Chamber Music Room of the Erawan Hotel by US pianist Myron Kropp can only be described by this reviewer as one of the most interesting experiences in a long time. Mr. Kropp had chosen the title "An Evening with Bach"; the evening opened with the Toccata and Fugue in D minor. As I have mentioned on several other occasions, the Baldwin concert grand needs constant attention; in this humidity the felts tend to swell, causing the occasional key to stick, which apparently was the case last evening with the D in the second octave.

Some who attended the performance later questioned whether the awkward key justified some of the language which was heard coming from the stage during softer passages of the Fugue. However, one member of the audience, who had sent his children out of the room by the midway point, commented that the workman who greased the stool might have done better to use some of the grease on the second octave D key. Indeed, Mr. Kropp's stool had more than enough grease, and during one passage in which the music was particularly violent he turned completely around. Whereas before his remarks had been largely aimed at the piano and were therefore somewhat muted, to his surprise and that of those in the Chamber Music Room he found himself addressing himself directly to the audience.

By the time the audience had regained its composure, Mr. Kropp appeared to be somewhat shaken. Nevertheless he swivelled himself back into position and, leaving the D major Fuge unfinished, commenced on the Fantasia and Fugue in G minor. Why the G key in the third octave chose that particular time to begin sticking I hesitate to guess. However Mr Kropp himself did nothing to help matters when he began using his feet to kick the lower portion of the piano instead of operate the pedals. Possibly it was this jarring, or the un-Bach-like hammerring to which the keyboard was being subjected: something caused the right front leg of the piano to buckle slightly forward, leaving the entire instrument listing at approximately a 5 degree angle. A gasp went up from the audience, for if the piano had actually fallen several of Mr. Kropp's tos, if not both his feet, would surely have been broken.

It was with a sigh of relief, therefore, that the audience saw Mr. Kropp slowly rise from his stool and leave the stage. A few men in the back of the room began clapping, and when Mr. Kropp reappeared a moment later it seemed he was responding to the ovation. Apparently, however, he had left to get the red-handled fire axe which was hung backstage in case of fire, for when he returned that was what he had in his hand.

My first reaction at seeing Mr. Kropp begin to chop at the left leg of the grand piano was that he was attempting to make it list at the same angle as the right leg. However, when the weakened legs finally collapsed altogether with a great crash and Mr. Kropp continued to chop, it became obvious to all that he had no intention of going on with the concert.

The ushers, who had heard the snapping of piano wires and splintering of sounding board from the dining room, came rushing in and, with the help of the hotel manager, two indian watchmen and a passing police corporal, finally succeeded in disarming Mr. Kropp and dragging him off the stage.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

Fire Authorities in California found a corpse in a burnt out section of forest whilst assessing the damage done by a forest fire. The deceased male was dressed in a full wetsuit, complete with a dive tank, flippers and face mask.

A post mortem examination revealed that the person died not from burns but from massive internal injuries.

Dental records provided a positive identification. Investigators then set about determining how a fully clad diver ended up in the middle of a forest fire. It was revealed that, on the day of the fire, the person went for a diving trip off the coast - some 20 kilometers away from the forest.

The firefighters, seeking to control the fire as quickly as possible, called in a fleet of helicopters with very large buckets. The buckets were dropped into the ocean for rapid filling, then flown to the forest fire and emptied.

You guessed it. One minute our diver was making like Flipper in the Pacific,the next he was doing a breaststroke in a fire bucket 300m in the air. Apparently, he extinguished exactly 1.78m (5'10") of the fire.

Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

This story occurred on Auckland radio last week. One of the FM stations has a competition where they ring someone up, ask them three personal questions, ring their spouse or partner, ask them the same three questions, if the answers are the same, the couple win a holiday to Bali.

Last week the competition went like this:

Presenter: Gidday its XXX-FM, do you want to play the game ?

Brian: Yeah, sure.

Presenter: O.K., Question 1 - When was the last time you had sex?

Brian: Ohhh, maaaate. Ha Ha, well, about 8 o'clock thismorning.

Presenter: And how long did it go for Brian ? Brian: Orrrrr ... about 10 minutes.

Presenter: 10 minutes ? Good one. And where did you do it mate ?

Brian: Ohhhh maaaaate, I can't say that.

Presenter: There's a holiday to Bali at stake here Brian !

Brian: O.K. ... O.K. ... On the kitchen table.

Presenter: (and others in the room - much laughter). Good one Brian, now is it O.K. for us to call your wife ?

Brian: Yeah, alright.

Presenter: Hi Sharelle, how are you ? Sharelle: Hi. Good thanks.

Presenter: (Explains competition again) We've got Brian on the other line, say hello.

Sharelle: Hi Brian.

Brian: Hi Sharelle.

Presenter: Now Sharelle, we're going to ask you the same three questions we asked Brian and if you give the same answers, you win a trip for two to Bali.

Brian: Just tell the truth Honey.

Sharelle: O.K.

Presenter: Sharelle, when was the last time you had sex ?

Sharelle: Oohhhh, noooooo. I can't say that on radio.

Brian: Sharelle, it doesn't matter. I've already told them.

Sharelle: O.K. ... About 8:00 this morning before Brian went to work.

Presenter: Good, nice start ! Next question. How long did it go for Sharelle ?

Sharelle: (giggling) About 12, maybe 15 minutes.

Co-Presenter: That's close enough ... Brian was just being a gentleman.

Presenter: O.K. Sharelle, final question. Where did you do it ?

Sharelle: Oh no I can't say that. My mum could be listening. No way, no.

Presenter: There's a trip to Bali on the line here.

Brian: Sharelle, I've already told them so it doesn't matter anyway .. just tell em.

Sharelle: Ohhhh .... alright .... Up the ass !

Radio Silence

Advert

Presenter: Sorry if anyone was offended before, we're going live here, and sometimes these things happen. We've given Brian and Sharelle the holiday. Now we'll take a music break.


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

Two members of the British Lothian and Borders traffic police were out on the Berwickshire moors with a radar gun recently, happily engaged in apprehending speeding motorists, when their equipment suddenly locked-up completely with an unexpected reading of well over 300 mph.

The mystery was explained seconds later as a low flying Harrier hurtled over their heads. The boys in blue, upset at the damage to their radar gun, put in a complaint to the RAF, but were somewhat chastened when the RAF pointed out that the damage might well have been more severe.

It seems that the Harrier's target-seeker had locked onto the 'enemy' radar and triggered an automatic retaliatory air-to-surface missile attack. Luckily, the Harrier was operating unarmed.

Otherwise... "Gee Officer, sorry about your patrol car........"


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

For all you Halloween enthusiasts there is some real spooky stuff here, especially the last one !!!

SPANISH LUCK
A Spanish man doing some business in Poland came across an open funeral home with a casket laid out for viewing. Bizarrely, he went in but found no one there. He felt bad for the dead man, said a prayer, and signed the registrar. A month later he got a call from the dead man's lawyer. Apparently, the deceased's will stipulated his multi-million dollar fortune be split evenly amongst all who attended his wake. The Spanish businessman was the only one who signed the book.

DEAD OR ALIVE?
Berlin - Just after World War II. A young woman made the following report to the police. She had met a blind man at a rally. She claims that they hit it off pretty well and the blind man asked her for a favor, could she possibly deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? As it was on her way home, she agreed. She started out to deliver the letter, but then turned around to ask the man a question. To her dismay, she spotted him hurrying through the crowd in the opposite direction - without his dark glasses or white cane. Sensing something seriously amiss, she went straight to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale. What was in the envelope? A note which said "this is the last one I am sending you today." (The girl, that is...)

DRIVING
On a Sunday evening, a young woman was driving herself to a meeting she had up north the next day when she noticed that she was running low on gas and didn't know where the next gas station was. Just as she thought she would have to pull over and sleep the night on the side of the road, she came across a rather scary-looking petrol station. When she pulled in, the attendant made his way around the car and seemed to be very distracted when she asked him to fill it up, she even thought that the man was making faces at her. He finally agreed to get the gas, but then asked her to pop open the hood of the car because there "seemed to be a problem." Naturally, the woman became a little anxious - she was all alone in a remote gas station, out in the middle of nowhere and it was obvious that the attendant was trying to find reasons to keep her there. He asked her to come look at the engine, because he had to "show her something". Not wanting to seem hysterical and paranoid, she did as he asked. As she rounded the front of the car he grabbed her arm and said that her car needed to be towed to the nearest town and she would have to come into the office to complete the paperwork. He then put his hand over her mouth and forced her into the office. She began to bite his hand once they were inside and he let her go. He explained to her that there was a man crouched down in the backseat of her car and the attendant didn't want him to know that he'd been seen. They called the police who came to arrest the man who, it was later discovered, was a known serial killer.

ROOMIE
Two friends moved to New York, and because rent was so high they shared a studio apartment. One of the girls was a real party girl and the other apparently a stay-at-home type. One Friday evening the party girl headed out for night on the town, and asked her roommate to come along. The girl declined and said she was going to read and then go to bed early. The girl had been out at the local bar for a few hours when she remembered she had forgotten something. By this time, pretty plastered, she stumbled back to the apartment and quietly let herself in. Not wanting to wake her roommate, she didn't turn the light on, picked up whatever it was she went back for and returned to the bar. When she got home the next morning, she opened the door to this: Her roommate's head had been cut off and was lying on the floor. Scrawled in her blood on the walls were the words "Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?"


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Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.

Introductory Chemistry at Duke University has been taught for about a zillion years by Professor Bonk (really), and his course is semi-affectionately known as "Bonkistry." He has been around forever, so I wouldn't put it past him to come up with something like this.

Anyway, one year there were these two guys who were taking Chemistry and who did pretty well on all of the quizzes and the midterms and labs, etc., such that going into the final they had a solid A.

These two friends were so confident going into the final that the weekend before finals week (even though the Chem final was on Monday), they decided to go up to UVirginia and party with some friends up there.

So they did this and had a great time. However, with their hangovers and everything, they overslept all day Sunday and didn't make it back to Duke until early monday morning. Rather than taking the final then, what they did was to find Professor Bonk after the final and explain to him why they missed the final. They told him that they went up to UVa for the weekend, and had planned to come back in time to study, but that they had a flat tire on the way back and didn't have a spare and couldn't get help for a long time and so were late getting back to campus.

Bonk thought this over and then agreed that they could make up the final on the following day. The two guys were elated and relieved. So, they studied that night and went in the next day at the time that Bonk had told them. He placed them in separate rooms and handed each of them a test booklet and told them to begin. They looked at the first problem, which was something simple about molarity and solutions and was worth 5 points. "Cool" they thought, "this is going to be easy." They did that problem and then turned the page. They were unprepared, however, for what they saw on the next page. It said:

(95 points) Which tire?


-------
Jason's Joke Thread.  
I am prepared to meet my Maker.
Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me
is another matter.