Use the comments for this post to tell us your favorite funny stories and jokes.
Hi Liz! Here’s a joke my dad emailed me:
A young farm boy from goes off to college, but about 1/3 of the way through the semester, he has foolishly squandered away all ofthe money his parents gave him. Then he gets an idea.
He calls his daddy. “Dad,” he says, “you won’t believe the wonders that modern education is coming up with! Why, they actually have a program here at Iowa State that will teach our dog Ole Blue how to talk!”
“That’s absolutely amazing,” his father says. “How do I get him in that program?”
“Just send him down here with $1,000” the boy says. “I’ll get him into the course.”
So, his father sends the dog and the $1,000. About 2/3 way through the semester, the money runs out. The boy calls his father again.
“So how’s Ole Blue doing, son,” his father asks.
“Awesome, Dad, he’s talking up a storm,” he says, “but you just won’t believe this – they’ve had such good results with this program that they’ve implemented a new one to teach the animals how to READ!”
“READ,” says his father, “No kidding! What do I have to do to get him in that program?”
Just send $2,500, I’ll get him in the class.”
His father sends the money.
The boy now has a problem. At the end of the year, his father will find out that the dog can neither talk, nor read.
So he shoots the dog. When he gets home at the end of the semester, his father is all excited.
“Where’s Ole Blue? I just can’t wait to see him talk and read something!”
“Dad,” the boy says, “I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Ole Blue was in the living room kicked back in the recliner, reading the Wall Street Journal, like he usually does. Then he turned to me and asked, ‘So, is your daddy still messin’ around with that little redhead who lives in town?’
The father says, “I hope you SHOT that son of a bitch before he says anything to your Mother!”
“I sure did, Dad!”
“That’s my boy!”
The kid went on to be a successful lawyer………………..
This is the best! I’ve been laughing about it all afternoon!
This one seemed particularly appropriate:
Many women are afraid of their first mammogram, but there’s no need to worry. By taking a few minutes each day for a week preceding the exam, and doing the following practice exercises, you will be totally prepared. And you can do this right in your own home!
Open your refrigerator door and insert one breast between the door and the main box. Have one of your strongest friends slam the door shut and lean on the door for good measure. Hold that position for five seconds (while you hold your breath). Repeat again, in case the first time wasn’t effective enough.
Visit your garage at 3 am when the temperature of the cement floor is just perfect. Take off your clothes and lie comfortably on the floor with one breast wedged under the rear tire of the car. Ask a friend to slowly back the car up until your breast is sufficiently flattened and chilled. Turn over and repeat for the other breast.
Freeze two metal bookends overnight. Strip to the waist. Invite a stranger into the room. Press the bookends against one of your breasts. Smash the bookends together as hard as you can. Set an appointment with the stranger to meet next year and do it again!!
Now you have nothing at all to worry about when you go for your Mammogram!
I’ve got the first three seasons of Northern Exposure and the first season of Boston Legal on DVD whenever you want!
Here’s a good one a buddy sent me:
This is the story of the night my ten-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head
stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience
would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front
that he’s fine. Getting him out wasn’t easy, though, and the process
included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency
overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours
of panic, and fifteen minutes of fame.=20 First, some background. My
husband, Rich, and I had just returned from a five-day spring-break
vacation in the Cayman Islands, where I had been sick as a dog the
whole time, trying to convince myself that if I had to feel lousy, it
was better to do it in paradise. We had arrived home at 9 p.m., a day
and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I
still had illness-related vertigo and because of the flight delays had
not been able to prepare the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the
next morning. I sat down at my desk to think about William Carlos
Williams, and around ten o’clock I heard Rich hollering something
indecipherable from the kitchen. As I raced out to see what was wrong,
I saw Rich frantically rooting around under the kitchen sink, and Rudy
— or, rather, Rudy’s headless body — scrambling around in the sink,
his claws clicking in panic on the metal. Rich had just ground up the
skin of some smoked salmon in the garbage disposal, and when he left t
he room, Rudy (whom we always did call a pinhead) had gone in after
It is very disturbing to see the headless body of your cat in the sink.
This is an animal that I have slept with nightly for ten years, who
burrows under the covers and purrs against my side, and who now looked
like a desperate, fur-covered turkey carcass, set to defrost in the
sink while it’s still alive and kicking. It was also disturbing to see
Rich, Mr. Calm-in-an-Emergency, at his wits end, trying to soothe
Rudy, trying to undo the garbage disposal, failing at both, and
basically freaking out. Adding to the chaos was Rudy’s twin brother
Lowell, also upset, racing around in circles, jumping onto the kitchen
counter and alternately licking Rudy’s butt for comfort and biting it out of fear. Clearly, I had to do something.
First we tried to ease Rudy out of the disposal by lubricating his
head and neck. We tried Johnson’s baby shampoo (kept on hand for my nieces’ visits) and butter-flavored Crisco: both failed, and a now-greasy Rudy kept struggling. Rich then decided to take apart the garbage disposal, which was a good idea, but he couldn’t do it. Turns out, the thing is constructed like a metal onion: you peel off one layer and another one appears, with Rudy’s head still buried deep inside, stuck in a hard plastic collar. My job during this process was to sit on the kitchen counter petting Rudy, trying to calm him, with the room spinning (vertigo), Lowell howling (he’s part Siamese), and Rich clattering around with tools.=20 When all our efforts failed, we sought professional help. I called our regular plumber, who actually called me back quickly, even at 11 o’clock at night (thanks, Dave). He talked Rich through further layers of disposal dismantling, but still we couldn’t reach Rudy. I called the 1-800 number for Insinkerator (no
response), a pest removal service that advertises 24-hour service (no
response), an all-night emergency veterinary clinic (who had no
experience in this matter, and so, no advice), and finally, in
desperation, 911. I could see that Rudy’s normally pink paw pads were
turning blue. The fire department, I figured, gets cats out of trees;
maybe they could get one out of a garbage disposal.
The dispatcher had other ideas and offered to send over two policemen.
This suggestion gave me pause. I’m from the sixties, and even if I am
currently a fine upstanding citizen, I had never considered calling
the cops and asking them to come to my house, on purpose. I resisted
the suggestion, but the dispatcher was adamant: “They’ll help you
out,” he said.=20 The cops arrived close to midnight and turned out to
be quite nice. More importantly, they were also able to think
rationally, which we were not. They were, of course, quite astonished by the situation: “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Officer Mike kept saying. (The unusual circumstances helped us get quickly on a first-name basis with ourcops.) Officer Tom, who expressed immediate sympathy for our plight — “I’ve had cats all my life,” he said, comfortingly — also had an idea.Evidently we needed a certain tool, a tiny, circular rotating saw, that could cut through the heavy plastic flange encircling Rudy’s neck without hurting Rudy, and Officer Tom happened to own one. “I live just five minutes from here,” he said; “I’ll go get it.” He soon returned, and the three of them — Rich and the two policemen — got under the sink together to cut through the garbage disposal. I sat on the counter, holding Rudy and trying not to succumb to the surreal-ness of the scene, with the we ird middle-of-the-night lighting, the room’s occasional spinning, Lowell’s spooky sound effects, an apparently headless cat in my sink and six disembodied legs poking out from under it. One good thing came of this: the guys did manage to get the bottom off of the disposal, so we could now see Rudy’s face and knew he could breathe. But they couldn’t cut the flange without risking the cat. Stumped.=20 Officer Tom had another
idea. “You know,” he said, “I think the reason we can’t get him out is
the angle of his head and body. If we could just get the sink out and lay it on its side, Ill bet we could slip him out.”
That sounded like a good idea at this point. ANYTHING would have
sounded like a good idea, and as it turned out, Officer Mike runs a
plumbing business on weekends; he knew how to take out the sink! Again
they went to work, the three pairs of legs sticking out from under the
sink surrounded by an ever-increasing pile of tools and sink parts.
They cut the electrical supply, capped off the plumbing lines,
unfastened the metal clamps, unscrewed all the pipes, and about an hour later, voila! the sink was lifted gently out of the countertop, with one guy holding the garbage disposal (which contained Rudy’s head) up close to the sink (which contained Rudy’s body). We laid the sink on its side, but even at this more favorable removal angle, Rudy stayed stuck.
Officer Tom’s radio beeped, calling him away on some kind of real
police business. As he was leaving, though, he had another good idea:
“You know,” he said, “I don’t think we can get him out while he’s
struggling so much. We need to get the cat sedated. If he were limp,
we could slide him out.” And off he went, regretfully, a cat lover
still worried about Rudy. The remaining three of us decided that
getting Rudy sedated was a good idea, but Rich and I were new to the
area. We knew that the overnight emergency veterinary clinic was only
a few minutes away, but we didn’t know exactly how to get there. “I
know where it is!” declared Officer Mike. “Follow me!” So Mike got
into his patrol car, Rich got into the driver’s seat of our car, and I
got into the back, carrying the kitchen sink, what was left of the
garbage disposal, and Rudy. It was now about 2:00 a.m. We followed
Officer Mike for a few blocks when I decided to put my hand into the
garbage disposal to pet Rudy’s face, hoping I could comfort him.
Instead, my sweet, gentle bedfellow chomped down on my finger hard,
really hard, and wouldn’t let go. My scream reflex kicked into gear,
and I couldn’t stop the noise. Rich slammed on the brakes, hollering
“What? What happened? Should I stop?”, checking us out in the rearview
mirror. “No,” I managed to get out between screams, “just keep driving. Rudy’s biting me, but we’ve got to get to the vet.
Just go!” Rich turned his attention back to the road, where Officer
Mike took a turn we hadn’t expected, and we followed. After a few
minutes Rudy let go, and as I stopped screaming, I looked up to
discover that we were wandering aimlessly through an industrial park,
in and out of empty parking lots, past little streets that didn’t look at all familiar.
“Where’s he taking us?” I asked. “We should have been there ten
minutes ago!” Rich was as mystified as I was, but all we knew to do
was follow the police car until, finally, he pulled into a church
parking lot and we pul led up next to him. As Rich rolled down the
window to ask, “Mike, where are we going?”, the cop, who was not Mike,
rolled down his window and asked, “Why are you following me?” Once
Rich and I recovered from our shock at having tailed the wrong cop car
and the policeman from his pique at being stalked, he led us quickly
to the emergency vet, where Mike greeted us by holding open the door,
exclaiming “Where were you guys???”=20 It was lucky that Mike got to
the vet’s ahead of us, because we hadn’t thought to call and warn them
about what was coming. (Clearly, by this time we weren’t really
thinking at all.) We brought in the kitchen sink containing Rudy and
the garbage disposal containing his head, and the clinic staff was
ready. They took his temperature (which was down 10
degrees) and his oxygen level (which was half of normal), and the vet
declared: “This cat is in serious shock. We’ve got to sedate him and
get him out of there immediately.” When I asked if it was OK to sedate
a cat in shock, the vet said grimly, “We don’t have a choice.” With
that, he injected the cat; Rudy went limp; and the vet squeezed about
half a tube of K-Y jelly onto the cat’s neck and pulled him free. Then
the whole team jumped into “code blue” mode. (I know this from
watching a lot of
ER.) They laid Rudy on a cart, where one person hooked up IV fluids,
another put little socks on his paws (“You’d be amazed how much heat
they lose through their pads,” she said), one covered him with hot
water bottles and a blanket, and another took a blow-dryer to warm up
Rudy’s now very gunky head. The fur on his head dried in stiff little
spikes, making him look rather pathetically punk as he lay there, limp
and motionless. At this point they sent Rich, Mike, and me to sit in
the waiting room while they tried to bring Rudy back to life. I told
Mike he didn’t have to stay, but he just stood there, shaking his
head. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said again. At about 3
a.m, the vet came in to tell us that the prognosis was good for a full
recovery. They needed to keep Rudy overnight to re-hydrate him and
give him something for the brain swelling they assumed he had, but if
all went well, we could take him home the following night. Just in
time to hear the good news, Officer Tom rushed in, finished with his
real police work and concerned about Rudy. I figured that once this
ordeal was over and Rudy was home saf ely, I would have to re-think my
position on the police.=20 Rich and I got back home about 3:30. We
hadn’t unpacked from our trip, I was still intermittently dizzy, and I
still hadn’t prepared my 8:40 class. “I need a vacation,” I said, and
while I called the office to leave a message canceling my class, Rich
made us a pitcher of martinis.=20 I slept late the next day and then
badgered the vet about Rudy’s condition until he said that Rudy could
come home later that day. I was working on the suitcases when the
phone rang. “Hi, this is Steve Huskey from the Norristown
Times-Herald,” a voice told me. “Listen, I was just going through the
police blotter from last night. Mostly it’s the usual stuff breaking
and entering, petty theft but there’s this one item. Um, do you have a
cat?” So I told Steve the whole story, which interested him. A couple
hours later he called back to say that his editor was interested, too;
did I have a picture of Rudy? The next day Rudy was front-page news,
under the ridiculous headline “Catch of the Day Lands Cat in Hot
There were some noteworthy repercussions to the newspaper article. Mr.
Huskey had somehow inferred that I called 911 because I thought Rich,
my husband, was going into shock, although how he concluded this from
my comment that “his pads were turning blue,” I don’t quite
understand. So the first thing I had to do was call Rich at work Rich,
who had worked tirelessly to free Rudy — and swear that I had been
misquoted. When I arrived at work myself, I was famous; people had
been calling my secretary all morning to inquire about Rudy’s health.
When I called our regular vet (whom I had met only once) to make a
follow-up appointment for Rudy, the receptionist asked, “Is this the famous Rudy’s mother?”
When I brought my car in for routine maintenance a few days later,
Dave, my mechanic, said, “We read about your cat. Is he OK?” When I
called a tree surgeon about my dying red oak, he asked if I knew the
person on that street whose cat had been in the garbage disposal. And
when I went to g et my hair cut, the shampoo person told me the funny
story her grandma had read in the paper, about a cat who got stuck in
the garbage disposal. Even today, over a year later, people ask about
Rudy, whom a 9-year-old neighbor had always called “the Adventure Cat”
because he used to climb on the roof of her house and peer in the
second-story window at her.=20 I don’t know what the moral of this
story is, but I do know that this “adventure” cost me $1100 in
emergency vet bills, follow-up vet care, new sink, new plumbing, new
electrical wiring, and new garbage disposal, one with a cover. The vet
can no longer say he’s seen everything but the kitchen sink. I wanted
to thank Officers Tom and Mike by giving them gift certificates to the
local hardware store, but was told that they couldn’t accept gifts,
that I would put them in a bad position if I tried. So I wrote a
letter to the Police Chief praising their good deeds and sent
individual thank-you notes to Tom and Mike, complete with pictures of
Rudy, so they could see what he looks like with his head on.
And Rudy, whom we originally got for free (or so we thought), still
sleeps with me under the covers on cold nights and unaccountably, he
still sometimes prowls the sink, hoping for fish.
Oh my gosh sherri. Laughed so hard I need tissues!
Recently I started receiving joke emails, after a drought of many months. I think they are really coming for you! Here’s one:
WITNESSES – 1 — LAWYERS – 0
Disorder In The Court…
These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters who had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
A TTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you
ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, “Where am I, Cathy?”
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!
ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn’t it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn’t know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: Uh, he’s twenty.
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitt’in me?
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Uh…. I was gett’in laid!
ATTORNEY: She had three chi ldren, right?
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Are you shitt’in me? Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Now whose death do you suppose terminated it?
ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people. Would you like to rephrase that?
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. D enton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy on him!
ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Huh….are you qualified to ask that question?
And the best for last:
ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.
Here’s another – for the punster in you!
FOR LEXOPHILES (LOVERS OF WORDS):
1. A bicycle can’t stand alone; it is two tired.
2. A will is a dead giveaway
3. Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.
4. A backward poet writes inverse.
5. In a democracy it’s your vote that counts; in feudalism, it’s your Count that votes.
6. A chicken crossing the road: poultry in motion.
7. If you don’t pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.
8. With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.
9. Show me a piano falling down a mine shaft and I’ll show you A-flat miner.
10. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.
11. The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine was fully recovered.
12. A grenade fell onto a kitchen floor in France, resulted in Linoleum Blownapart.
13. You are stuck with your debt if you can’t budge it.
14. Local Area Network in Australia: The LAN down under.
15. He broke into song because he couldn’t find the key.
16. A calendar’s days are numbered.
17. A lot of money is tainted: ‘Taint yours, and ‘taint mine.
18. A boiled egg is hard to beat.
19. He had a photographic memory which was never developed.
20. A plateau is a high form of flattery.
21. A short fortuneteller who escaped from prison: a small medium at large.
22. Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.
23. When you’ve seen one shopping center you’ve seen a mall
24. If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine.
25. When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she’d dye.
26. Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead to know basis.
27. Santa’s helpers are subordinate clauses.
28. Acupuncture: a jab well done.
The Doctor and the Moped
A doctor goes out and buys the best car on the market, a brand new Ferrari GTO. It is also the most expensive car in the world, and it costs him $500,000.
He takes it out for a spin and stops at a red light. An old man on a Moped, looking about 100 years old, pulls up next to him. The old man looks over at the sleek shiny car and asks,
“What kind of car ya got there, sonny?”
The doctor replies, “A Ferrari GTO It cost half a million dollars!”
“That’s a lot of money,” says the old man. “Why does it cost so much?”
‘”Because this car can do up to 320 miles an hour!” states the doctor proudly.
The Moped driver asks, “Mind if I take a look inside?”
“No problem,” replies the doctor.
So the old man pokes his head in the window and looks around. Then, sitting back on hi s Moped, the old man says, “That’s a pretty nice car, all right.. but I’ll stick with my Moped!”
Just then the light changes, so the doctor decides to show the old man just what his car can do. He floors it, and within 30 seconds the speedometer reads 160 mph.
Suddenly, he notices a dot in his rear view mirror. It seems to be getting closer! He slows down to see what it could be and suddenly WHHHOOOOOOSSSSSHHH!
Something whips by him going much faster! “What on earth could be going faster than my Ferrari?” the doctor asks himself.
He floors the accelerator and takes the Ferrari up to 250 mph.
Then, up ahead of him, he sees that it’s the old man on the Moped! Amazed that the Moped could pass his Ferrari, he gives it more gas and passes the Moped at 275 mph.
He’s feeling pretty good until he looks in his mirror and sees the
old man gaining on him AGAIN! Astounded by the speed of this old guy, he floors the gas pedal and takes the Ferrari all the way up to 320 mph. Not ten seconds later, he sees the Moped bearing down on him again! The Ferrari is flat out, and there’s nothing he can do!
Suddenly, the Moped plows into the back of his Ferrari, demolishing the rear end. The doctor stops and jumps out and unbelievably the old man is still alive.
He runs up to the mangled old man and says, “I’m a doctor…. Is
there anything I can do for you?”
The old man whispers, “Unhook my suspenders from your side view mirror”
Best wishes for “speedy recovery” from surgery.
FINALLY — SOME REALISTIC MEDICAL ADVICE!!!
I Love this DOCTOR!!!!
HEALTH QUESTION & ANSWER SESSION
Q: I’ve heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life: is this true?
A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that’s it… Don’t waste them on exercise . Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that’s like saying you can extend the life of
your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.
Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?
A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products.
Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?
A: No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine, that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. Bottoms up!
Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?
A: Well, if you have a body and you have fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.
Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can’t think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain… … Good!
Q: Aren’t fried foods bad for you?
A: You’re not listening….Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil. In fact, they’re permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you?
Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?
A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach.
Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: Are you crazy? HELLO – Cocoa beans! Another vegetable. It’s the best feel-good food around!!
Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming is good for your figure, explain whales to me.
Q: Is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle ?
A: Hey! ‘Round’ is a shape! !
Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets.
“Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways – Chardonnay in one hand – chocolate in the other – body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, “WOO HOO, What a Ride!”
Mary, Really loved the body fat part!
Remember it takes a college degree to fly
a plane, but only a high school diploma to fix one.
Reassurance for those of us who fly routinely in our jobs.
After every flight, UPS pilots fill out a form, called a “gripe
which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft.
The mechanics correct the problems; document their repairs on the form,
and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight. Never
let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor.
Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by UPS pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers.
By the way, UPS is the only major airline that has never, ever, had an accident.
P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.
P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.
P: Something loose in cockpit
S: Something tightened in cockpit
P: Dead bugs on windshield.
S: Live bugs on back-order.
P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute
S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.
P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
S: Evidence removed.
P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
S: DME volume set to more believable level.
P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
S: That’s what friction locks are for.
P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode.
S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.
P: Suspected crack in windshield.
S: Suspect you’re right.
P: Number 3 engine missing.
S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.
P: Aircraft handles funny. (I love this one!)
S: Aircraft warned to: straighten up, fly right, and be serious.
P: Target radar hums.
S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.
P: Mouse in cockpit.
S: Cat installed.
And the best one for last………………
P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget
pounding on something with a hammer.
S: Took hammer away from midget.
White House Seeks “Lying Czar”
Would Coordinate Distortions about Iraq, Afghanistan
The White House in recent weeks has been quietly searching for
for the position of “lying czar,” a high-level administrator who would
oversee all distortions and misrepresentations about the wars in Iraq
Afghanistan, a White House source confirmed today.
News of the administration’s search for a “lying czar” raised eyebrows
official Washington, where many insiders believe that the White House
already has enough personnel to handle the creation and dissemination
Specifically, many insiders wonder why an administration that already
advisor Karl Rove and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice would also
“The Bush administration has a lot of world-class manpower,
insider said. “This whole ‘lying czar’ thing seems like an unnecessary
But White House insiders disagree, saying that those who believe a
czar” is unnecessary are oblivious to the overwhelming volume of
that are sorely in need of coordination at a high administrative level.
“On any given day, the Defense Department and the State Department will
produce lies that are directly in conflict with each other, and that’s
counterproductive,” one insider said. “A ‘lying czar’ would change all
Professor Davis Logsdon, who holds the Clifford Irving chair at the
University of Minnesota’s School of Communication, says that the need
“lying czar” reveals certain weaknesses in the current Bush cabinet.
“When I hear that the White House is looking for a lying czar, one
becomes clear,” Dr. Logsdon said. “They really miss Rumsfeld.”
Elsewhere, responding to criticism, the National Gardening Association
it would no longer use the term “hoe.”
Another one from my dad. Sorry if it offends anyone!
A man suffered a serious heart attack and had open-heart bypass surgery. He awakened from the surgery to find himself in the care of nuns at a Catholic hospital.
As he was recovering, a nun asked him questions regarding how he would like to pay for his treatment. She asked if he had health insurance.
He replied, in a raspy voice, “No health insurance.”
The nun asked if he had money in the bank.
He replied, “No money in the bank.”
The nun asked, “Do you have a relative who could help you?”
He said, “I only have a spinster sister, who is a nun.”
The nun became agitated and announced loudly, “Nuns are not spinsters! Nuns are married to God.”
The patient replied, “Then send the bill to my brother-in-law.”
🙂 Rona, this is great! This and the granny smith pies are the best laughs today!
Moses and the Bush
George W. Bush, in an airport lobby, noticed a man in a long flowing white robe with a long flowing white beard and flowing white hair. The man had a staff in one hand and some stone tablets under the other arm.
George W. approached the man and inquired, “Aren’t you Moses?”
The man ignored George W. and stared at the ceiling.
George W. positioned himself more directly in the man’s view and asked again, “Aren’t you Moses?”
The man continued to peruse the ceiling.
George W. tugged at the man’s sleeve and asked once again, “Aren’t you Moses?”
The man finally responded in an irritated voice, “Yes I am.”
George W. asked him why he was so uppity.
Moses replied, “The last time I spoke to a Bush I had to spend forty years in the desert!”
thanks, rona! the perfect day for this.
8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.
However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow – but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now…
Check out this link and turn up the volume on your computer. It’s very funny!
Good luck with your treatment in Chicago, Liz! Here’s a joke for you!
A helicopter was in trouble and dangled a rope from which 11 people were hanging: 10 men and 1 woman.
The rope was not strong enough to carry them all, so they quickly decided that one had to leave because , otherwise , the rope would break and they would all fall.
They were unable to decide who should let go, until the woman gave an impassioned speech. She volunteered to let go of the rope, because, as a woman, she was accustomed to giving up everything for her husband and kids, and for men in general, and was used to making sacrifices with little in return.
As soon as she finished speaking, all the men began to clap.
Rona – Great joke! and nice to hear from you.
An Italian man is about to celebrate his 50th wedding anniversary, and someone at his church’s Men’s Group asks him to explain how he has been able to stay married to the same woman for 50 years. He says, “I took my wife to Italy for our 20th anniversary.” Another man asks, “What do you plan to do for your 50th anniversary?” The Italian says, “I’m going to bring her back.”
Liz, have you seen this?
Hi Chen Xi! I love this! Funny!
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