usvi-on-line
Need a laugh?
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Last edited by shoemak38 on Wed Jan 19, 2011 9:57 pm, edited 3 times in total.
A man owned a small farm in Ireland. The Irish Internal Revenue determined he was not paying proper wages to his staff and sent an investigator out to interview him.
"I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them" demanded the investigator.
"Well," replied the farmer, "there's my farm hand who's been with me for three years. I pay him $200 a week plus free room and board.
"The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $150 per week plus free room and board."
"Then there's the halfwit. He works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 a week. He pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of whiskey every Saturday night. He also sleeps with my wife occasionally."
"That's the guy I want to talk to...the halfwit!" said the agent.
"That would be me," replied the farmer.
"I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them" demanded the investigator.
"Well," replied the farmer, "there's my farm hand who's been with me for three years. I pay him $200 a week plus free room and board.
"The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $150 per week plus free room and board."
"Then there's the halfwit. He works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 a week. He pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of whiskey every Saturday night. He also sleeps with my wife occasionally."
"That's the guy I want to talk to...the halfwit!" said the agent.
"That would be me," replied the farmer.
Immigration in perspective...
From The Manitoba Herald, Canada R20; Reported by Clive Runnels
The flood of American liberals sneaking across the border into Canada has intensified in the past week, sparking calls for increased patrols to stop the illegal immigration. The recent actions of the Tea Party are prompting an exodus among left-leaning citizens who fear they'll soon be required to hunt, pray, and to agree with Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck. Canadian border farmers say it's not uncommon to see dozens of sociology professors, animal-rights activists and Unitarians crossing their fields at night. "I went out to milk the cows the other day, and there was a Hollywood producer huddled in the barn," said Manitoba farmer Red Greenfield, whose acreage borders North Dakota. The producer was cold, exhausted and hungry. He asked me if I could spare a latte and some free-range chicken. When I said I didn't have any, he left before I even got a chance to show him my screenplay, eh?”;
In an effort to stop the illegal aliens, Greenfield erected higher fences, but the liberals scaled them. He then installed loudspeakers that blared Rush Limbaugh across the fields. "Not real effective," he said. "The liberals still got through.”;
Officials are particularly concerned about smugglers who meet liberals near the Canadian border, pack them into Volvo station wagons and drive them across the border where they are simply left to fend for themselves." A lot of these people are not prepared for our rugged conditions," an Ontario border patrolman said. "I found one carload without a single bottle of imported drinking water. They did have a nice little Napa Valley Cabernet, though."
When liberals are caught, they are sent back across the border, often wailing loudly that they fear retribution from conservatives. Rumors have been circulating about plans being made to build re-education camps where liberals will be forced to drink domestic beer and watch NASCAR races.
In recent days, liberals have turned to ingenious ways of crossing the border. Some have been disguised as senior citizens taking a bus trip to buy cheap Canadian prescription drugs. After catching a half-dozen young vegans in powdered wig disguises, Canadian immigration authorities began stopping buses and quizzing the supposed senior citizens about Perry Como and Rosemary Clooney to prove that they were alive in the '50s. "If they can't identify the accordion player on The Lawrence Welk Show, we become very suspicious about their age." an official said.
Canadian citizens have complained that the illegal immigrants are creating an organic-broccoli shortage and are renting all the Michael Moore movies. "I really feel sorry for American liberals, but the Canadian economy just can't support them." an Ottawa resident said. "How many art-history majors does one country need?"
From The Manitoba Herald, Canada R20; Reported by Clive Runnels
The flood of American liberals sneaking across the border into Canada has intensified in the past week, sparking calls for increased patrols to stop the illegal immigration. The recent actions of the Tea Party are prompting an exodus among left-leaning citizens who fear they'll soon be required to hunt, pray, and to agree with Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck. Canadian border farmers say it's not uncommon to see dozens of sociology professors, animal-rights activists and Unitarians crossing their fields at night. "I went out to milk the cows the other day, and there was a Hollywood producer huddled in the barn," said Manitoba farmer Red Greenfield, whose acreage borders North Dakota. The producer was cold, exhausted and hungry. He asked me if I could spare a latte and some free-range chicken. When I said I didn't have any, he left before I even got a chance to show him my screenplay, eh?”;
In an effort to stop the illegal aliens, Greenfield erected higher fences, but the liberals scaled them. He then installed loudspeakers that blared Rush Limbaugh across the fields. "Not real effective," he said. "The liberals still got through.”;
Officials are particularly concerned about smugglers who meet liberals near the Canadian border, pack them into Volvo station wagons and drive them across the border where they are simply left to fend for themselves." A lot of these people are not prepared for our rugged conditions," an Ontario border patrolman said. "I found one carload without a single bottle of imported drinking water. They did have a nice little Napa Valley Cabernet, though."
When liberals are caught, they are sent back across the border, often wailing loudly that they fear retribution from conservatives. Rumors have been circulating about plans being made to build re-education camps where liberals will be forced to drink domestic beer and watch NASCAR races.
In recent days, liberals have turned to ingenious ways of crossing the border. Some have been disguised as senior citizens taking a bus trip to buy cheap Canadian prescription drugs. After catching a half-dozen young vegans in powdered wig disguises, Canadian immigration authorities began stopping buses and quizzing the supposed senior citizens about Perry Como and Rosemary Clooney to prove that they were alive in the '50s. "If they can't identify the accordion player on The Lawrence Welk Show, we become very suspicious about their age." an official said.
Canadian citizens have complained that the illegal immigrants are creating an organic-broccoli shortage and are renting all the Michael Moore movies. "I really feel sorry for American liberals, but the Canadian economy just can't support them." an Ottawa resident said. "How many art-history majors does one country need?"
-
California Girl
sorry had to skip photo's (can not use Flickr at work)
Last week, I took my children to a restaurant.
My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace.
As we bowed our heads he said, 'God is good, God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all! Amen!'
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman
remark, 'That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!'
Hearing this, my son burst into tears and
asked me, 'Did I do it wrong? Is
God mad at me?'
As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job, and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table.
He winked at my son and said, 'I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.'
'Really?' my son asked.
'Cross my heart,' the man replied.
Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), 'Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.'
Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment, and then did something I will remember the rest of my life.
He picked up his sundae and, without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, 'Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes; and my soul is good
already.'
Last week, I took my children to a restaurant.
My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace.
As we bowed our heads he said, 'God is good, God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all! Amen!'
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman
remark, 'That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!'
Hearing this, my son burst into tears and
asked me, 'Did I do it wrong? Is
God mad at me?'
As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job, and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table.
He winked at my son and said, 'I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.'
'Really?' my son asked.
'Cross my heart,' the man replied.
Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), 'Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.'
Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment, and then did something I will remember the rest of my life.
He picked up his sundae and, without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, 'Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes; and my soul is good
already.'
Fifty-one years ago, Herman James, a North Carolina mountain man, was
drafted by the Army. On his first day in basic training, the Army issued him a
comb. That afternoon the Army barber sheared off all his hair. On his second
day, the Army issued Herman a toothbrush. That afternoon the Army dentist
yanked seven of his teeth. On the third day, the Army issued him a jock strap.
The Army has been looking for Herman for 51 years.
drafted by the Army. On his first day in basic training, the Army issued him a
comb. That afternoon the Army barber sheared off all his hair. On his second
day, the Army issued Herman a toothbrush. That afternoon the Army dentist
yanked seven of his teeth. On the third day, the Army issued him a jock strap.
The Army has been looking for Herman for 51 years.
A wife was making a breakfast of fried eggs for her husband. Suddenly,
her husband burst into the kitchen. 'Careful,' he said, 'CAREFUL! Put in
some more butter! Oh my gosh! You're cooking too many at once.
TOO MANY! Turn them! TURN THEM NOW! We need more butter. Oh my
gosh! WHERE are we going to get MORE BUTTER? They're going to STICK!
Careful. CAREFUL! I said be CAREFUL! You NEVER listen to me when
you're cooking! Never! Turn them! Hurry up! Are you CRAZY? Have you
LOST your mind? Don't forget to salt them. You know you always forget to
salt them. Use the! Salt. USE THE SALT! THE SALT!' The wife stared at
him. 'What in the world is wrong with you? You think I don't know how to
fry a couple of eggs?' The husband calmly replied, 'I just wanted to show
you what it feels like when I'm driving.'
her husband burst into the kitchen. 'Careful,' he said, 'CAREFUL! Put in
some more butter! Oh my gosh! You're cooking too many at once.
TOO MANY! Turn them! TURN THEM NOW! We need more butter. Oh my
gosh! WHERE are we going to get MORE BUTTER? They're going to STICK!
Careful. CAREFUL! I said be CAREFUL! You NEVER listen to me when
you're cooking! Never! Turn them! Hurry up! Are you CRAZY? Have you
LOST your mind? Don't forget to salt them. You know you always forget to
salt them. Use the! Salt. USE THE SALT! THE SALT!' The wife stared at
him. 'What in the world is wrong with you? You think I don't know how to
fry a couple of eggs?' The husband calmly replied, 'I just wanted to show
you what it feels like when I'm driving.'
Romance Novel 2011 Edition...
He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice close to my ear. "Just relax."
Without warning he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves slowly
but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.
When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.
Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking `no' for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say ...
"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."
My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."
He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice close to my ear. "Just relax."
Without warning he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves slowly
but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.
When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.
Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking `no' for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say ...
"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."
My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."
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