Tuesday, December 27, 2011
All women should live so long as to be this kind of lady!
Toward the end of Sunday service, the Minister asked, "How many of you have forgiven your enemies?"
Eighty percent held up their hands.
The Minister then repeated his question. All responded this time, except one small elderly lady.
"Mrs. Neely? Are you not willing to forgive your enemies?"
"I don't have any," she replied, smiling sweetly.
"Mrs. Neely, that is very unusual. How old are you?"
"Ninety-eight," she replied. The congregation stood up and clapped their hands.
"Oh, Mrs. Neely, would you please come down in front & tell us all how a person can live ninety-eight years and not have an enemy in the world?"
The little sweetheart of a lady tottered down the aisle, faced the congregation, and said,
"I outlived the bastards".
Sunday, December 25, 2011
I wanted to send some sort of holiday greeting to my friends and colleagues, but it is difficult in today's world to know exactly what to say without offending someone. So I met with my lawyer yesterday, and on advice I wish to say the following :
Please accept with no obligation , implied or implicit , my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the summer solstice holiday practised with the most enjoyable traditions of religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practise religious or secular traditions at all .
I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2012 , but not without due respect for the calendar of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make our country great (not to imply that Australia is necessarily greater than any other country ) and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee .
By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms :
This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/ him or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. The wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher .
Best Regards ( without prejudice )
Name withheld ( Privacy Act ).
Now what I really want to say is.......
AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR
Lots of Best Wishes
Friday, December 23, 2011
This was originally shown on BBC TV back in the 70's. Ronnie Barker could say all this without a snigger, though God knows after how many takes.
The irony is, BBC received not one complaint.
The speed of delivery must have been too much for the whining herds.
Try getting through it without converting the spoonerisms [and not wetting your pants] as you read.......
This is the story of Rindercella and her sugly isters.
Rindercella and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion. Rindercella worked very hard frubbing sloors, emptying poss pits, and shivelling shot. At the end of the day, she was knucking fackered. The sugly isters were right bugly astards. One was called Mary Hinge, and the other was called Betty Swallocks; they were really forrible huckers; they had fetty sweet and fatty swannies. The sugly isters had tickets to go to the ball, but the cotton runts would not let Rindercella go.
Suddenly there was a bucking fang, and her gairy fodmother appeared. Her name was Shairy Hithole and she was a light rucking fesbian. She turned a pumpkin and six mite wice into a hucking cuge farriage with six dandy ronkeys who had buge hollocks and digbicks.. The gairy fodmother told Rindercella to be back by dimnlight otherwise, there would be a cucking falamity. At the ball, Rindercella was dancing with the prandsome hince when suddenly the clock struck twelve. "Mist all chucking frighty!!!" said Rindercella, and she ran out tripping barse over ollocks, so dropping her slass glipper.
The very next day, the prandsome hince knocked on Rindercella's door and the sugly isters let him in.. Suddenly, Betty Swallocks lifted her leg and let off a fig bart. "Who's fust jarted?" asked the prandsome hince. "Blame that fugly ucker over there!!" said Mary Hinge. When the stinking brown cloud had lifted, he tried the slass glipper on both the sugly isters without success and their feet stucking funk. Betty Swallocks was ducking fisgusted and gave the prandsome hince a knack in the kickers. This was not difficult as he had bucking fuge halls and a hig bard on. He tried the slass glipper on Rindercella and it fitted pucking ferfectly. Rindercella and the prandsome hince were married. The pransome hince lived his life in lucking fuxury, and Rindercella lived hers with a follen swanny!
MAY 2012 BRING ALL YOU WISH FOR, HEALTH, PEACE , HAPPINESS AND FULFILMENT.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Bert feared his wife Peg wasn't hearing as well as she used to and he thought she might need a hearing aid.
Not quite sure how to approach her, he called the family Doctor to discuss the problem.
The Doctor told him there is a simple informal test the husband could perform to give the Doctor a better idea about her hearing loss.
'Here's what you do,' said the Doctor, 'stand about 40 feet away from her, and in a normal conversational speaking tone see if she hears you. If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a response.'
That evening, the wife is in the kitchen cooking dinner, and he was in the den. He says to himself, 'I'm about 40 feet away, let's see what happens.' Then in a normal tone he asks, 'Honey, what's for dinner?'
So the husband moves closer to the kitchen, about 30 feet from his wife and repeats, 'Peg, what's for dinner?'
Still no response.
Next he moves into the dining room where he is about 20 feet from his wife and asks, 'Honey, what's for dinner?'
Again he gets no response.
So, he walks up to the kitchen door, about 10 feet away. 'Honey, what's for dinner?'
Again there is no response.
So he walks right up behind her. 'Peg, what's for dinner?'
(I just love this)
'For *ucks sake, Bert, for the FIFTH time, CHICKEN!!!!!
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