<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218</id><updated>2011-12-14T18:55:48.585-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Humor 4 all of US</title><subtitle type='html'>Humor, jokes, chit-chat and anyother ha..ha..hi..hi.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>53</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-115132544086521033</id><published>2006-06-26T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T05:37:20.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who would be the winner of the 2006 World Cup?</title><content type='html'>&lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;I got this from a colleagea in Kenya. What do you  think? Look how interesting:&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;-- Brazil won the world cup in 1994. Before  that, had won this title for the last time in 1970. If you add up: 1970 + 1994 =  3964&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;-- Argentina won the world cup for the last time in 1986. Before  that only in 1978. And 1978 + 1986 = 3964&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;-- Germany, though, won the  world cup in 1990. Before that, Germany won in 1974. Look: 1990 + 1974 =  3964&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;This could lead us to guess the winner of the World Cup in 2002,  since it should be the winner of the 1962 World Cup (In fact 3964 - 2002 =  1962). And Brazil won the world cup in 1962! (And, in fact,&lt;BR&gt;Brazil won the  2002 WC). &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/DIV&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;This numerology seems to work...&lt;BR&gt;And now, who  would be the winner of the 2006 world cup?&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;Let's see, 3964 - 2006 = 1958, And who won in  1958?....&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;Oh, Brazil did!!!&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Sorry if your are Germany  and Argentina fans...&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-115132544086521033?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/115132544086521033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=115132544086521033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/115132544086521033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/115132544086521033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2006/06/who-would-be-winner-of-2006-world-cup.html' title='Who would be the winner of the 2006 World Cup?'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-115098003290026164</id><published>2006-06-22T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T05:40:33.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Samsung Electronics</title><content type='html'>&lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;Caller: "Can you give me the telephone number for  Jack?"&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Operator: "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand  who you are talking about". &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;FONT&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial  size=2&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;Caller: "On page 1, section 5, of the user  guide it clearly states that I need to unplug the fax machine from the AC wall  socket and &lt;STRONG&gt;telephone jack&lt;/STRONG&gt; before cleaning. &lt;STRONG&gt;Now, can you  give me the number for Jack?&lt;/STRONG&gt;" &lt;BR&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;Operator: "I think you mean the telephone point on  the wall". &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-115098003290026164?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/115098003290026164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=115098003290026164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/115098003290026164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/115098003290026164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2006/06/samsung-electronics.html' title='Samsung Electronics'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-113662117449372023</id><published>2006-01-06T20:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T00:06:14.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good, Better, Best</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;GOOD&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Pittsburgh, PA policeman had a perfect spot to watch for speeders, but wasn't getting many. Then he discovered the problem -- a 12-year-old boy was standing up the road with a hand painted sign, which read "RADAR TRAP AHEAD." The officer then found a young accomplice down the road with a sign reading "TIPS" and a bucket full &lt;br /&gt;of money. (And we used to just sell lemonade!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BETTER&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A motorist was mailed a picture of his car speeding through an automated radar post in Greensburg, PA. A $40 speeding ticket was included. Being cute, he sent the police department a picture of  $40. The police responded with another mailed photo of handcuffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BEST&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young woman was pulled over for speeding. As a PA State Trooper walked to her car window, flipping open his ticket book, she said, "I bet you are going to sell me a ticket to the PA State Police Ball. "He replied, "PA State Troopers don't have balls."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a moment of silence while she smiled, and he realized what he'd just said. He then closed his book, got back in his patrol car and left. She was laughing too hard to start her car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-113662117449372023?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/113662117449372023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=113662117449372023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113662117449372023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113662117449372023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2006/01/good-better-best.html' title='Good, Better, Best'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-113522711364077461</id><published>2005-12-21T20:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T20:51:53.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Magic of Math</title><content type='html'>0 x 9 + 0 = 0&lt;br /&gt;1 x 9 + 1 = 10&lt;br /&gt;12 x 9 + 2 = 110&lt;br /&gt;123 x 9 + 3 = 1110&lt;br /&gt;1234 x 9 + 4 = 11110&lt;br /&gt;12345 x 9 + 5 = 111110&lt;br /&gt;123456 x 9 + 6 = 1111110&lt;br /&gt;1234567 x 9 + 7 = 11111110&lt;br /&gt;12345678 x 9+ 8 = 111111110&lt;br /&gt;123456789 x 9 + 9 = 1111111110&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another Magic of Math:&lt;br /&gt;1 x 8 + 1 = 9&lt;br /&gt;12 x 8 + 2 = 98&lt;br /&gt;123 x 8 + 3 = 987&lt;br /&gt;1234 x 8 + 4 = 9876&lt;br /&gt;12345 x 8 + 5 = 98765&lt;br /&gt;123456 x 8 + 6 = 987654&lt;br /&gt;1234567 x 8 + 7 = 9876543&lt;br /&gt;12345678 x 8 + 8 = 98765432&lt;br /&gt;123456789 x 8 + 9 = 987654321&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-113522711364077461?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/113522711364077461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=113522711364077461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113522711364077461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113522711364077461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/12/magic-of-math.html' title='Magic of Math'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-113410308011811243</id><published>2005-12-08T20:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T20:38:00.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Female Hormones Discovered In Beer!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Beer Study&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday scientists suggested that in consideration of the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer, men should take a look cutting back their beer consumption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scientists discovered the female hormones while conducting a study in which 100 men were fed a case of beer within a one hour time period.&lt;br /&gt;The scientists observed that 100% of the men gained weight, talked excessively without making sense, became overly emotional, couldn't drive, failed to think rationally, argued over nothing, and refused to apologize when wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO further testing is planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Note&lt;/em&gt;: &lt;em&gt;I bet the men also spent half the day in the bathroom because you only RENT beer. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-113410308011811243?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/113410308011811243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=113410308011811243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113410308011811243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113410308011811243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/12/female-hormones-discovered-in-beer.html' title='Female Hormones Discovered In Beer!!!'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-113205056312951643</id><published>2005-11-15T02:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T02:29:23.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I own the fastest car</title><content type='html'>A man goes out and buys the best car available in the US or Europe, a 2001 Turbo BeepBeep. It is the best and most expensive car in the world, and it runs him $500,000. He takes it out for a spin and, while doing so, stops for a red light. An old man on a moped, both looking about 90 years old, pulls up next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man looks over the sleek, shiny surface of the car and asks "What kind of car ya got there, sonny?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dude replies "A 2001 Turbo BeepBeep. They cost $500,000."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's a lotta money!" says the old man, shocked. "Why does it cost so much?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cause this car can do up to 320 miles an hour!" states the cool dude proudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man asks "Can I take a look inside?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure" replies the owner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the old man pokes his head in the window and looks around. Leaning back on his moped, the old man says "That's a pretty nice car, alright!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then the light changes, so the guy decides to show the old man what his car can do. He floors it, and within 30 seconds the speedometer reads 320. Suddenly, the guy notices a dot in his rear view mirror. It seems to be getting closer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whhhoooooooooossssshhhhhh! Something whips by him! Going maybe three times as fast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy wonders "what on earth could be going faster than my Turbo BeepBeeP?" Then, ahead of him, he sees a dot coming toward him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whooooooooooosh! Goes by again! And, it almost looked like the old man on the moped! Couldn't be thinks the guy. How could a moped outrun a Turbo BeepBeep? Again, he sees a dot in his rearview mirror!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WhoooooooshhhhhhhhKa-BbbbblaMMMMM! It plows into the back of his car, demolishing the rear end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy jumps out and discovers it is the old man! Of course, the moped and the old man are hurting for certain. The guy runs up to the dying old man and asks "You're hurt bad! Is there anything I can do for you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man replies &lt;strong&gt;"Yeah. Unhook my suspenders from the side-view mirror on your car!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-113205056312951643?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/113205056312951643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=113205056312951643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113205056312951643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/113205056312951643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/11/i-own-fastest-car.html' title='I own the fastest car'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112979498075913174</id><published>2005-10-20T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-20T00:56:20.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter From Tennessee Farm Kid, San Diego Marine Corps</title><content type='html'>Dear Ma and Pa,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Am well. Hope you are.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before maybe all of the places are filled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 A.M., but am getting so I like to sleep late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing. Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you till noon, when you get fed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much. We go on "route" marches, which the Platoon Sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it is not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The country is nice, but awful flat. The Sergeant is like a schoolteacher. He nags some. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and Colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move. And it ain't shooting at you, like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He joined up the same time as me. But I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and weighs near 300 pounds dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your loving daughter,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ellie Mae&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112979498075913174?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112979498075913174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112979498075913174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112979498075913174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112979498075913174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/10/letter-from-tennessee-farm-kid-san.html' title='Letter From Tennessee Farm Kid, San Diego Marine Corps'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112815507206072762</id><published>2005-10-01T01:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T01:24:32.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am A Father</title><content type='html'>A little boy got on the bus, sat next to a man reading a book, and noticed he had his collar on backwards. The little boy asked why he wore his collar that way. The man, who was a priest, said, " I am a Father." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy replied, "My Daddy doesn't wear his collar like that." &lt;br /&gt;The priest looked up from his book and answered "I am the Father of many." &lt;br /&gt;The boy said, "My Dad has 4 boys, 4 girls and two grandchildren and he doesn't wear his collar that way." &lt;br /&gt;The priest, getting impatient, said, "I am the Father of hundreds" and went back to reading his book. &lt;br /&gt;The little boy sat quietly thinking for a while, then leaned over and said, &lt;strong&gt;"Maybe you should wear your pants backwards instead of your collar."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112815507206072762?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112815507206072762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112815507206072762' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112815507206072762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112815507206072762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-am-father.html' title='I Am A Father'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112797300084428820</id><published>2005-09-28T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T22:50:03.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PEPSI...</title><content type='html'>An airplane full of a shipment of Pepsi flying over Africa had a malfunction, and went down. A few weeks later, Pepsi Company sent a rescue plane. They searched the area and found a tribe of cannibals. They walked up to the Chief of the tribe and asked him if he knew anything about the crash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chief said, 'Yeah.' When asked where the crew was, the Chief replied, 'We ate the crew, and we drank the Pepsi.' &lt;br /&gt;The rescue crew was shocked. One man asked, 'Did you eat their legs?'&lt;br /&gt;The chief replied, 'We ate their legs, and we drank the Pepsi.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another rescuer asked, 'Did you eat their arms?'&lt;br /&gt;The Chief said, 'We ate their arms, and we drank the Pepsi.' &lt;br /&gt;After looking totally perplexed for a minute, a third asked,&lt;br /&gt;Did you.. you know...eat their...'things'??'&lt;br /&gt;The chief says, 'No.'&lt;br /&gt;'No?' asked the rescuer.&lt;br /&gt;'No,' replied the Chief, &lt;strong&gt;'THINGS go better with Coke!'&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112797300084428820?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112797300084428820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112797300084428820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112797300084428820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112797300084428820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/pepsi.html' title='PEPSI...'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112788358205908606</id><published>2005-09-27T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-27T21:59:42.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Lines</title><content type='html'>When everybody on earth dies and goes to heaven.God comes and says, "I want the men to make two lines. One line for the men that dominated their women on earth and the other line for the men that were dominated by their women. Also, I want all the women to go with St. Peter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said and done, the next time God looked, the women are gone and there are two lines. The line of the men that were dominated by their women was 100 miles long, and in the line of men that dominated their women, there was only one man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said, "You men should be ashamed of yourselves. I created, you in my image and you were all whipped by your mates. Look at the only one of my sons that stood up and made me proud. Learn from him! Tell them my son, how did you manage to be the only one in this line?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the man replied, "I don't know, my wife told me to stand here."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112788358205908606?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112788358205908606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112788358205908606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112788358205908606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112788358205908606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/two-lines.html' title='Two Lines'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112754340143939649</id><published>2005-09-23T23:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T23:30:01.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven and Holes</title><content type='html'>An old lady dies and goes to heaven. She's chatting it up with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates when all of a sudden she hears the most awful blood-curdling screams.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Don't worry about that," says St. Peter, "it's only someone having the holes put into her shoulder blades for wings." &lt;br /&gt;The old lady looks a little uncomfortable but carries on with the conversation. &lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes later, there are more blood curdling screams Oh my God, "says the old lady, "now what is happening?" &lt;br /&gt;"Not to worry," says St. Peter, "She's just having her head drilled to fit the halo." &lt;br /&gt;"I can't do this," says the old lady, "I'm going to he**." &lt;br /&gt;"You can't go there, "says St. Peter. "You'll be raped and sodomized." &lt;br /&gt;"Maybe so," says the old lady, "but I've already got the holes for that !"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112754340143939649?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112754340143939649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112754340143939649' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112754340143939649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112754340143939649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/heaven-and-holes.html' title='Heaven and Holes'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112650935222737119</id><published>2005-09-12T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T01:11:20.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How a man choose his woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A man is dating three women and wants to decide which to marry. He decides to give them a test. He gives each woman a present of $5,000 and watches to see what they do with the money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The first does a total makeover. She goes to a fancy beauty salon, gets her hair done, purchases new make-up and buys several new outfits, and dresses up very nicely for the man. She tells him that she has done this to be more attractive for him because she loves him so much.........The man was impressed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The second goes shopping to buy the man gifts. She gets him a new set of STRONG golf clubs, some new gizmos for his computer, and some expensive clothes. As she presents these gifts, she tells him that she has spent all the money on him because she loves him so much..........Again, the man is impressed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The third invests the money in the stock market. She earns several times the $5,000. She gives him back his $5000 and reinvests the remainder in a joint account. She tells him that she wants to save for their future because she loves him so much.........Obviously, the man was impressed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The man thought for a long time about what each woman had done with the money.&lt;br /&gt;and.....Finally, ooh..., he married the one with the largest breasts. WHY..?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Men are Men!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112650935222737119?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112650935222737119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112650935222737119' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112650935222737119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112650935222737119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/how-man-choose-his-woman.html' title='How a man choose his woman'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112631643568253991</id><published>2005-09-09T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T18:40:35.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Check Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 138px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 116px" height="149" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/320/mynose-a1.jpg" width="203" border="0" /&gt;Thought I'd let my doctor check me, 'Cause I didn't feel quite right. . . All those aches and pains annoyed me and I couldn't sleep at night. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;He could find no real disorder But he wouldn't let it rest. What with Medicare and Blue Cross, We would do a couple tests. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To the hospital he sent me though I didn't feel that bad. He arranged for them to give me every test that could be had. I was fluoroscoped and cystoscoped, my aging frame displayed. Stripped, on an ice cold table, while my gizzards were x-rayed. I was checked for worms and parasites, For fungus and the crud, while they pierced me with long needles taking samples of my blood. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Doctors came to check me over, probed and pushed and poked around, and to make sure I was living. They then wired me for sound. They have finally concluded, their results have filled a page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What I have will someday kill me; &lt;strong&gt;My affliction is OLD AGE&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112631643568253991?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112631643568253991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112631643568253991' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112631643568253991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112631643568253991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/check-up.html' title='Check Up'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112624086557685335</id><published>2005-09-08T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-08T21:41:05.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WordPerfect Customer Service</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This has got to be one of the funniest I've heard of in a long time. I think his guy should have been promoted, not fired. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is a true story from the "WordPerfect Helpline" which was transcribed from a recording monitoring the customer care department. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Needless to say, the Help Desk employee was fired; however, he is currently suing the WordPerfect organization for "Termination without Cause." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is the actual dialogue of a former WordPerfect Customer Support employee. (Now I know why they record these conversations). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Rich Hall computer assistance; May I help you?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yes, well, I'm having trouble with WordPerfect." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"What sort of trouble?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Went away?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"They disappeared." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hmmm. So what does your screen look like now?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Nothing." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Nothing?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"It's a blank; it won't accept anything when I type." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"How do I tell?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Can you see the C: prompt on the screen?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What's a sea-prompt?"&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Never mind, can you move your cursor around the screen?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"There isn't any cursor: I told you, it won't accept anything I type." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Does your monitor have a power indicator?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What's a monitor?"&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"It's the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it's on?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I don't know." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yes, I think so." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it's plugged into the wall." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yes, it is." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"No." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Okay, here it is." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Follow it for me, and tell me if it's plugged securely into the back of your computer." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I can't reach." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"No." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Oh, it's not because I don't have the right angle it's because it's dark." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Dark?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yes - the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, turn on the office light then." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I can't." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"No? Why not?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Because there's a power failure."&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"A power.......a power failure? Aha, Okay, we've got it licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, yes, I keep them in the closet." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Really? Is it that bad?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yes, I'm afraid it is." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Tell them you're too stupid to own a computer."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112624086557685335?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112624086557685335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112624086557685335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112624086557685335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112624086557685335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/wordperfect-customer-service.html' title='WordPerfect Customer Service'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112615168877801703</id><published>2005-09-07T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T20:54:48.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blonde and Football</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A guy took his blonde girlfriend to her first football game. They had great seats right behind their team's bench. After the game, he asked her how she liked the experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I really liked it," she replied "especially the tight pants and all the big muscles, but I just couldn't understand why they were killing each other for 25 cents."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dumbfounded, her date asked, "What do you mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I saw them flip a coin and one team got it and then for the rest of the game, all they kept screaming was: 'Get the quarterback! Get the quarterback!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hel-LLLO...it's only 25 cents! I hate to think what they'd do if it was a whole DOLLAR?!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112615168877801703?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112615168877801703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112615168877801703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112615168877801703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112615168877801703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/blonde-and-football.html' title='The Blonde and Football'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112596897013463227</id><published>2005-09-05T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T18:22:22.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ranch Hand/Helper</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted wife. She was a very good looking woman, and determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two men applied for the job. One was gay and the other a drunk. She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied, she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the house than the drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot about ranching. For weeks, the two of them worked, and the ranch was doing very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day, the rancher's widow said to the hired hand, "You have done a really good job and the ranch looks great. You should go into town and kick up your heels." The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However one o'clock came and he didn't return. Two o'clock and no hired hand. He returned around two-thirty and upon entering the room, he found the rancher's widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine waiting for him. She quietly called him over to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Unbutton my blouse and take it off," she said. Trembling, he did as she directed.&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my boots." He did as she asked, ever so slowly.&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my socks." He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my skirt." He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the fire light.&lt;br /&gt;"Now take off my bra." Again with trembling hands he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;"Now," she said, "take off my panties." By the light of the fire, he slowly pulled them down and off.&lt;br /&gt;Then she looked at him and said, &lt;strong&gt;"If you ever wear my clothes into town again, I'll fire you on the spot."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112596897013463227?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112596897013463227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112596897013463227' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112596897013463227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112596897013463227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/ranch-handhelper.html' title='Ranch Hand/Helper'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112591502749202600</id><published>2005-09-04T03:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T18:25:04.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Hitched</title><content type='html'>An elderly couple had been dating for some time and decided it was finally time to marry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the wedding they embarked on a long conversation regarding how their marriage might work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They discussed finances, living arrangements and so on...&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the old man decided it was time to broach the subject of their sexual relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How do you feel about sex?" he asked, rather hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I like to have it infrequently," she responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old guy thought for a moment, then asked, "Was that one word or two?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112591502749202600?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112591502749202600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112591502749202600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112591502749202600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112591502749202600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/getting-hitched.html' title='Getting Hitched'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112591375008732589</id><published>2005-09-02T02:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T02:49:10.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For those of you who watch what you eat, Take Care</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting medical studies. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Africans drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Italians drink large amounts of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CONCLUSION:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God Bless Yours in Good Health and Well-Being.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112591375008732589?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112591375008732589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112591375008732589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112591375008732589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112591375008732589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/09/for-those-of-you-who-watch-what-you.html' title='For those of you who watch what you eat, Take Care'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112383293049644465</id><published>2005-08-11T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T02:50:44.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Smile #1:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Wife: You always carry my photo in your handbag to the office. Why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hubby: When there is a problem, no matter how impossible, I look at yourpicture and the problem disappears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Wife: You see, how miraculous and powerful I am for you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hubby: Yes, I see your picture and say to myself, "What other problem can there be greater than this one?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Smile #2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Girl: When we get married, I want to share all your worries, troublesand lighten your burden.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Boy: It's very kind of you, darling, But I don't have any worries ortroubles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Girl: Well that's because we aren't married yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Smile #3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Son: Mom, when I was on the bus with Dad this morning, he told me togive up my seat to a lady.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mom: Well, you have done the right thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Son: But mum, I was sitting on daddy's lap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112383293049644465?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112383293049644465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112383293049644465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112383293049644465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112383293049644465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/just-smile.html' title='Just Smile'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112382974716989532</id><published>2005-08-10T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T23:55:47.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is A Million Years?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A man was wandering in the woods, pondering all the mysteries of life and his own personal problems. The man couldn't find the answers, so he sought help from God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"God? You there, God?" he asked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yes. What is it, my son?" God answered. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Mind if I ask a few questions?" the man asked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Go ahead, my son, anything." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"God, what is a million years to you?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;God answered, "A million years to me is only a second." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The man asked, "God, what is a million dollars worth to you?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;God replied, "A million dollars to me is worth only a penny." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The man lifted his eyebrows and asked his final question. "God, can I have a penny?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;God answered, &lt;strong&gt;"Sure, give me a second."&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112382974716989532?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112382974716989532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112382974716989532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112382974716989532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112382974716989532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/what-is-million-years.html' title='What Is A Million Years?'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112346582904606116</id><published>2005-08-06T18:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-07T18:50:29.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Intellect</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A noted psychiatrist was a guest at a blonde gathering, and his hostess naturally broached the subject in which thedoctor was most at ease. "Would you mind telling me,Doctor," she asked, "how you detect a mental deficiency insomebody who appears completely normal?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Nothing is easier," he replied. "You ask him a simplequestion which everyone should answer with no trouble. If hehesitates, that puts you on the track."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"What sort of question?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, you might ask him, 'Captain Cook made three tripsaround the world and died during one of them. Which one?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The blonde thought a moment, then said with a nervous laugh,"You wouldn't happen to have another example would you? Imust confess I don't know much about history."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112346582904606116?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112346582904606116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112346582904606116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112346582904606116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112346582904606116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/intellect.html' title='Intellect'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112346533510920639</id><published>2005-08-05T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-07T18:42:15.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>White hair on Mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do the dishes at the kitchen sink. She suddenly noticed that her mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast on her brunette head. She looked at her mother and asked, "Why are some of your hairs white, Mom?" Her mother replied, "Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white." The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and then said, "Momma, how come ALL of grandma's hairs are white?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112346533510920639?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112346533510920639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112346533510920639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112346533510920639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112346533510920639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/white-hair-on-mom.html' title='White hair on Mom'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112331808900452574</id><published>2005-08-04T00:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-06T01:48:09.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Question No. 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Two guys were taking chemistry at the University of Alabama. They were so confident going into the final that two days before, they decided to go up to the University of Tennessee and party with some friends. They had a great time, but they overslept and didn't make it back to Alabama until the morning of the exam. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Rather than take the final, they found their professor afterward to explain why they missed the final. They told him that they went up to the University of Tennessee for the weekend and had planned to come back in time to study, but they had a flat tire on the way back and didn't have a spare, and couldn't get help for a long time, so they were late getting back to campus. The professor thought this over and told them they could make up the final on the following day. The two guys were relieved. They studied that night and went in the next day to write the exam. The professor placed them in separate rooms, handed each of them a test booklet and told them to begin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;They looked at the first problem, which was worth five points. "Cool," they thought, "this is going to be easy." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;They each did that problem and then turned the page. &lt;strong&gt;Question #2 was&lt;/strong&gt;: "Which tire?" (95 points).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112331808900452574?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112331808900452574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112331808900452574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112331808900452574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112331808900452574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/question-no-2.html' title='Question No. 2'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112313230756946494</id><published>2005-08-03T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T22:11:47.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who are you..?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/1600/babysit3a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/200/babysit3a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sometimes when you have a stressful day or week, you need some silliness to break up the day. Here is your dose... Follow the instructions to find your new name. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;The following in an excerpt from a children's book, "Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants" by Dave Pilkey: The evil Professor forces everyone to assume new names... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Use &lt;strong&gt;the third letter of your first name&lt;/strong&gt; to determine &lt;em&gt;your New first name&lt;/em&gt;: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;a=poopsie, b=lumpy, c=buttercup, d=gidget, e=crusty, f=greasy, g=fluffy, h=cheeseball, i=chim-chim, j=stinky, k=flunky, l=boobie, m=pinky, n=zippy, o=goober, p=doofus, q=slimy, r=loopy, s=snotty, t=tootie, u=dorkey, v=squeezit, w=oprah, x=skipper, y=dinky, z=zsa-zsa.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Use &lt;strong&gt;the second letter of your last name&lt;/strong&gt; to determine &lt;em&gt;the first half of your new last name&lt;/em&gt;: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;a=apple, b=toilet, c=giggle, d=burger, e=girdle, f=barf, g=lizard, h=waffle, i=cootie, j=monkey, k=potty, l=liver, m=banana, n=rhino, o=bubble, p=hamster, q=toad, r=gizzard, s=pizza, t=gerbil, u=chicken, v=pickle, w=chuckle, x=tofu, y=gorilla, z=stinker.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Use &lt;strong&gt;the fourth letter of your last name&lt;/strong&gt; to determine &lt;em&gt;the second half of your new last name&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;a=head, b=mouth, c=face, d=nose, e=tush, f=breath, g=pants, h=shorts, i=lips, j=honker, k=butt, l=brain, m=tushie, n=chunks, o=hiney, p=biscuits, q=toes, r=buns, s=fanny, t=sniffer, u=sprinkles, v=kisser, w=squirt, x=humperdinck, y=brains, z=juice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Thus, for example, &lt;strong&gt;George W. Bush's new name&lt;/strong&gt; is &lt;em&gt;Goober Chickenshorts&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;and...Now, What is your new name ?? :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112313230756946494?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112313230756946494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112313230756946494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112313230756946494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112313230756946494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/who-are-you.html' title='Who are you..?'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112305893805777800</id><published>2005-08-03T01:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T01:48:58.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is Good</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/1600/babysit1a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="176" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/320/babysit1a.jpg" width="299" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sometime you just have to step up and do what's right! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;An atheist professor was teaching a college class and he told the class that he was going to prove that there is no God. He said, "God, if you are real, then I want you to knock me off this platform. I'll give you 15 minutes!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ten minutes went by. He kept taunting God, saying,"Here I am, God. I'm still waiting."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He got down to the last couple of minutes and a Marine just released from active duty and newly registered in the class walked up to the professor, hit him full force in the face, and sent him flying from his platform. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The professor struggled up, obviously shaken and yelled, "What's the matter with you? Why did you do that?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Marine replied, "God was busy; He sent me." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Life is good.!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112305893805777800?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112305893805777800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112305893805777800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112305893805777800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112305893805777800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/life-is-good.html' title='Life is Good'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112305611088439226</id><published>2005-08-02T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T01:57:03.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Mergers for 2005</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/1600/babysit2a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/200/babysit2a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Investment tips for 2005 for all of you with any money left. In the wake of the Exxon/Mobile deal and the AOL/Time Warner implode, be aware of the next expected mergers so that you can get in on the ground floor and make some BIG bucks. Watch for these consolidations in 2005: &lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hale Business Systems, Mary Kay Cosmetics, Fuller Brush, and W. R. Grace Co. will merge and become: &lt;strong&gt;Hale, Mary, Fuller, Grace&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;PolyGram Records, Warner Bros. and Zesta Crackers join forces and become: &lt;strong&gt;Poly, Warner Cracker&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3M will merge with Goodyear and issue forth as: &lt;strong&gt;MMMGood&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Zippo Manufacturing, Audi Motors, Dofasco, and Dakota Mining will merge and become: &lt;strong&gt;ZipAudiDoD&lt;/strong&gt;a.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;FedEx is expected to join its major competitor, UPS, and become: &lt;strong&gt;FedUP&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Fairchild Electronics and Honeywell Computers will become: &lt;strong&gt;Fairwell Honeychild&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Grey Poupon and Docker Pants are expected to become: &lt;strong&gt;Poupon Pants&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Knotts Berry Farm and the National Organization of Women will become: &lt;strong&gt;Knott NOW!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;That's all for now.....invest wisely&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112305611088439226?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112305611088439226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112305611088439226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112305611088439226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112305611088439226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/new-mergers-for-2005.html' title='New Mergers for 2005'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112304510635473957</id><published>2005-08-01T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T02:07:56.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift to Mama</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/1600/fish1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2323/1319/320/fish.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Four brothers left home for college, and they became successful doctorsand lawyers and prospered. Some years later, they chatted after havingdinner together. They discussed the gifts they were able to give theirelderly mother who lived far away in another city. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The first said "I had a big house built for Mama."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The second said "I had a hundred thousand dollar theater built in thehouse."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The third said "I had my Mercedes dealer deliver an SL600 to her."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The fourth said "You know how Mama loved reading the Bible and you know she can't read anymore because she can't see very well. I met this preacher who told me about a parrot that can recite the entire Bible. It took twenty preachers 12 years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $100,000 a year for twenty years to the church, but it was worth it. Mama just has to name the chapter and verse and the parrot will recite it." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The other brothers were impressed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After the holidays, the Mom sent out her Thank You notes. She wrote: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Milton, the house you built is so huge. I live in only one room, but I have toclean the whole house. Thanks anyway. "Marvin, I am too old to travel. Istay home, I have my groceries delivered, so I never use the Mercedes. The thought was good. Thanks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Michael, you gave me an expensive theater with Dolby sound, it could hold 50 people, but all my friends are dead, I'velost my hearing and I'm nearly blind. I'll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Dearest Melvin, you were the only son to have the good sense to give a little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious. Thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112304510635473957?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112304510635473957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112304510635473957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112304510635473957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112304510635473957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/08/gift-to-mama.html' title='The Gift to Mama'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112304112864620446</id><published>2005-07-30T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T02:11:45.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sister Act...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A man is driving down a deserted stretch of highway when he notices a sign out of the comer of his eye ... It reads:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;10 MILES&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He thinks it was a figment of his imagination and drives on without a second thought ... Soon he sees another sign, which says:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;5 MILES&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Suddenly, he begins to realize that these signs are for real ... Then he drives past a third sign saying:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;SISTERS OF ST.FRANCIS&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;NEXT RIGHT&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;His curiosity gets the best of him and he pulls into the drive ... On the far side of the parking lot is a stone building with a small sign next to the door reading:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He climbs the steps and rings the bell.... The door is answered by a nun in a long black habit who asks, "What may we do for you, my son?" ... He answers, "I saw your signs along the highway, and was interested in possibly doing business. "Very well, my son. Please follow me." ...He is led through many winding passages and is soon quite disoriented ... The nun stops at a closed door and tells the man, Please knock on this door".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He does as he is told and another nun in a long habit, holding a tin cup asnwers the door. This nun instructs, "Please place $100 in the cup, then go through the large wooden door at the end of this hall way".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He gets $100 out of his wallet and places it in the second nuns cup. He trots eagerly down the hall and slips through the door, pulling it shut behind him. As the door locks behind him, he finds himself back in the parking lot, facing another small sign:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;GO IN PEACE !!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;YOU HAVE JUST BEEN SCREWED&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;BY THE SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;SERVES YOU RIGHT&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;YOU SINNER!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Perhaps I should forward this joke to the priests to give them an idea and let the church make some big bucks....very easily :-)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112304112864620446?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112304112864620446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112304112864620446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112304112864620446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112304112864620446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/sister-act.html' title='The Sister Act...'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112270067589154009</id><published>2005-07-29T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T22:20:28.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Texan</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A man from Texas, driving a Volkswagen Beetle, pulls up next to a guy in a Rolls Royce at a stop sign. Their windows are open and he yells at the guy in the Roll Royce, "Hey, you got a telephone in that Rolls?"&lt;br /&gt;The guy in the Rolls says, "Yes, of course I do."&lt;br /&gt;"I got one too... see?" the Texan says.&lt;br /&gt;"Uh, huh, yes, that's very nice."&lt;br /&gt;"You got a fax machine?" asks the Texan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Why, actually, yes, I do."&lt;br /&gt;"I do too! See? It's right here!" brags the Texan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The light is just about to turn green and the guy in the Volkswagen says, "So, do you have a double bed in back there?"&lt;br /&gt;The guy in the Rolls replies, "NO! Do you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yep, got my double bed right in back here," the Texan replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The light turns and the man in the Volkswagen takes off.&lt;br /&gt;Well, the guy in the Rolls is not about to be one-upped, so he immediately goes to a customizing shop and orders them to put a double bed in back of his car. About 2 weeks later, the job is finally done. He picks up his car and drives all over town looking for the Volkswagen beetle with the Texas plates. Finally, he finds it parked alongside the road, so he pulls his Rolls up next to it. The windows on the Volkswagen are all fogged up and he feels somewhat awkward about it, but gets out of his newly modified Rolls and taps on the foggy window of the Volkswagen. (It's ok, the joke is CLEAN)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man in the Volkswagen finally opens the window a crack and peeks out. The guy with the Rolls says, "Hey, remember me?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, yeah, I remember you," replies the Texan,&lt;br /&gt;"What's up?"&lt;br /&gt;"Check this out...I got a double bed installed in my Rolls."&lt;br /&gt;The Texan exclaims, "YOU GOT ME OUT OF THE SHOWER TO TELL ME THAT?!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was going to put a jacuzzi in my car, but the only place there was enough room for it was off the dining room ........&lt;/em&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112270067589154009?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112270067589154009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112270067589154009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112270067589154009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112270067589154009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/texan.html' title='The Texan'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112270039665958225</id><published>2005-07-28T20:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T02:19:46.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Law Court Transcripts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;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.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Are you sexually active?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: No, I just lie there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;-------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: What is your date of birth?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: July 15th.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: What year?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Every year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: And in what ways does it affect your memory?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: I forget.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: You forget? Can you give us an example of something that you've forgotten?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: How old is your son, the one living with you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: How long has he lived with you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Forty-five years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he wokeup that morning?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: And why did that upset you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: My name is Susan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo or the occult?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: We both do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Voodoo?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: We do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: You do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Yes, voodoo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Did you actually pass the bar exam?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Were you present when your picture was taken?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: And what were you doing at that time?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: She had three children, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: How many were boys?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: None.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Were there any girls?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: How was your first marriage terminated?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: By death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: And by whose death was it terminated?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Can you describe the individual?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: He was about medium height and had a beard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Was this a male, or a female?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Oral.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing anautopsy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;--------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Did you check for blood pressure?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: Did you check for breathing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Q: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112270039665958225?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112270039665958225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112270039665958225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112270039665958225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112270039665958225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/law-court-transcripts.html' title='Law Court Transcripts'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112252537181470734</id><published>2005-07-26T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T21:46:55.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My son in trouble now!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Someday a Technical Support got a call from a customer:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Customer: "My youngest son was surfing the web last night and to my shock he was at [a British comedy site]."&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "Yes, what is the problem?"&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "The 'dot uk' at the end -- doesn't that stand for United Kingdom?"&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "Yes."&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "Just great -- I knew it! He's in trouble now! He was there for almost a half hour! How much does AOL charge for long distance?"&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "It does not work that way. You can surf anywhere without long distance charges."&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "No, I am sure AOL charges extra. It doesn't make any sense that they wouldn't. England is a long way away, they would lose millions not to."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After trying to explain how the web worked, the customer refused to take my word and said she was going to call AOL. A while later she called back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Customer: "Well, AOL said you were correct; no long distance charge for overseas web sites. I do have another question I thought of after I hung up with AOL."&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "Yes?"&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "Do you think they charge extra for long distance email?"&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "Trust me -- they don't."&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "Wonderful! My oldest son works in Sweden. He sends us email, but I was always afraid to reply because I didn't know how much it would cost, so I just called him on the phone. This will save us lots of money! Still if AOL was smart they would charge for this service." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112252537181470734?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112252537181470734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112252537181470734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112252537181470734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112252537181470734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-son-in-trouble-now.html' title='My son in trouble now!'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112245929323534976</id><published>2005-07-25T03:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T03:14:53.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Incredible Confession</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The privacy partition in the confessional booth slides and an excited voice bursts through the screen: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Father, I gotta tell you what happened to me last night. I'm 90 years old, and I made love to two 18 year old women for eight hours last night!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The stunned priest, replies incredulously, "you did WHAT!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I said, I'm 90 years old, and I made love to two eighteen year old women last night for eight hours." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The stern father replies, "boy, I've been waiting all my life for a guy like you. I'm gonna give you a penance like you'll never forget." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To which the voice replies, "Father, you can't give me a penance." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Why not?" asks the man of the cloth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Because I'm Jewish," claims the voice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The perplexed Father asks, "then why are you telling me?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I'm telling everyone!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112245929323534976?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112245929323534976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112245929323534976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112245929323534976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112245929323534976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/incredible-confession.html' title='Incredible Confession'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112244543052263901</id><published>2005-07-21T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T23:23:50.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde with a Computer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A man was in his front yard mowing grass when his attractive blonde neighbor came out of her house and went straight to the mail box.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She opened it, then slammed it shut, and stormed back in the house. A little later she came out of her house and again went to the mail box and again opened it, then slammed it shut again. Angrily, back into the house she went.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As the man was getting ready to edge the lawn, here she came out again, marched to the mail box, opened it and then slammed it closed harder than ever. Puzzled by her actions the man asked her, "Is something wrong?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To which she replied, "There certainly is! My stupid computer keeps saying, "YOU'VE GOT MAIL!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112244543052263901?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112244543052263901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112244543052263901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112244543052263901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112244543052263901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/blonde-with-computer.html' title='Blonde with a Computer'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112237373785368709</id><published>2005-07-19T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T03:28:57.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Bowl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A man had 50-yard line tickets for the Super Bowl. As he sits down, another man comes down and asks if anyone is sitting in the seat next to him. "No," he says, "The seat is empty." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"This is incredible," said the man. "Who in their right mind would have a seat like this for the Super Bowl, the biggest sporting event in the world, and not use it?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He says, "Well, actually, the seat belongs to me. I was supposed to come with my wife, but she passed away. This is the first Super Bowl we haven't been to together since we got married in 1967." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. That's terrible. But couldn't you find someone else -- a friend or relative, or even a neighbor to take the seat?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The man shakes his head. "No, they're all at the funeral." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112237373785368709?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112237373785368709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112237373785368709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237373785368709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237373785368709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/super-bowl.html' title='Super Bowl'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112243026801843342</id><published>2005-07-14T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T19:27:42.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Onestone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There once was an Indian whose given name was "Onestone", so named because he had only one testicle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He hated that name and asked everyone to not to call him Onestone! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After years and years of torment, Onestone finally cracked and said, "If anyone calls me Onestone again I will kill them!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The word got around and nobody called him that any more. Then one day a young girl named Blue Bird forgot and said, "Good morning, Onestone..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He jumped up, grabbed her, and took her deep into the forest where he made love to her all day and all night. He made love to her all the next day, until Blue Bird died from exhaustion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The word got around that Onestone meant serious business.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Years went by and no one dared call him by his given name until a womannamed Yellow Bird returned to the village after being away for many years. Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird's cousin, was overjoyed when she saw Onestone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She hugged him and said, "Good to see you, Onestone..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Onestone grabbed her, took her deep into the forest, then he screwed her all day, screwed her all night, screwed her all the next day, screwed her all the next night...but, Yellow Bird wouldn't die!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What is the moral of this story???&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Come on..........take a guess!. Think about it................&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You can't kill two birds with one stone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112243026801843342?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112243026801843342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112243026801843342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112243026801843342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112243026801843342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/onestone.html' title='Onestone'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236943917079531</id><published>2005-07-09T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T02:17:19.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Engineers and the Stalled Car</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Three engineers are riding in a car: an electrical engineer, a chemical engineer, and a Microsoft engineer. Suddenly the car stalls and stops by the side of the road. The three engineers look at each other with bewilderment, wondering what could be wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The electrical engineer, not knowing much about mechanics, suggests, "Let's strip down the electronics of the car and try to trace where a fault might have occurred." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The chemical engineer, not knowing much about electronics, suggests, "Maybe the fuel has become emulsified and is causing a blockage somewhere in the system." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Microsoft engineer suggests, "Why don't we close all the windows, get out, get back in, open the windows again, and maybe it will work." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236943917079531?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236943917079531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236943917079531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236943917079531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236943917079531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/3-engineers-and-stalled-car.html' title='3 Engineers and the Stalled Car'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112237529554518108</id><published>2005-07-04T04:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T03:54:55.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch that Speed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sitting on the side of the highway waiting to catch speeding drivers, a state police officer sees a car puttering along at 22 mph. He thinks to himself, "This driver is just as dangerous as a speeder!" So he turns onhis lights and pulls the driver over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Approaching the car, he notices that there are five little old ladies-two in the front seat and three in the back-wide eyed and white as ghosts. The driver, obviously confused, says to him, "Officer, I don't understand. Iwas doing exactly the speed limit! What seems to be the problem?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Ma'am," the officer replies, "you weren't speeding, but you should know that driving slower than the speed limit can also be a danger to other drivers."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Slower than the speed limit? No sir! I was doing the speed limit exactly -- twenty-two miles an hour!" the old woman says quite proudly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The state police officer, trying to contain a chuckle, explains to her that "22" was the route number, not the speed limit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A bit embarrassed, the woman grinned sheepishly and thanked the officer for pointing out her error.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"But before I let you go, ma'am, I have to ask...is everyone in this car OK? These women seem awfully shaken, and they haven't muttered a single peep this whole time," the officer says with concern.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Oh, they'll be all right in a minute, Officer. We just got off Route 119."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I think at 119 mph the odd undie change might be needed....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112237529554518108?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112237529554518108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112237529554518108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237529554518108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237529554518108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/07/watch-that-speed.html' title='Watch that Speed'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112237358731471554</id><published>2005-06-25T02:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T03:26:27.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If Blonde wants Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A Blonde Wants a Pair of Alligator Shoes. A young blonde was on vacation in the depths of Louisiana. She wanted a pair of genuine alligator shoes in the worst way, but was very reluctant to pay the high prices the local vendors were asking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After becoming very frustrated with the "no haggle" attitude of one of the shopkeepers, the blonde shouted, "Maybe I'll just go out and catch my own alligator so I can get a pair of shoes at a reasonable price!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The shopkeeper said, "By all means, be my guest. Maybe you'll luck out and catch yourself a big one!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Determined, the blonde turned and headed for the swamps, set on catching herself an alligator.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Later in the day, the shopkeeper is driving home, when he spots the young woman standing waist deep in the water, shotgun in hand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Just then, he sees a huge 9 foot alligator swimming quickly toward her. She takes aim, kills the creature and with a great deal of effort hauls it on to the swamp bank. Laying nearby were several more of the dead creatures. The shopkeeper watches in amazement. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Just then the blonde flips the alligator on it's back, and frustrated, shouts out, "darn it, this one isn't wearing any shoes either!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112237358731471554?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112237358731471554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112237358731471554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237358731471554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237358731471554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/06/if-blonde-wants-shoes.html' title='If Blonde wants Shoes'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112243060900497973</id><published>2005-06-23T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T19:16:49.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Government Cutbacks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A guy stopped at a local gas station and, after filling his tank, he paid the bill and bought a Pepsi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He stood by his car to drink his Pepsi and watched a couple of men working along the roadside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One man would dig a hole two or three feet deep and then move on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The other man would come along behind him and fill in the hole. The men worked right past the guy with the soft drink and went on down the road.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I can't stand this," said the man tossing the can into a trash container and heading down the road toward the men. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hold it, hold it," he said to the men. "Can you tell me what's going on here with all this digging and refilling?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, we work for the government and we're just doing our job," one of the men said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"But one of you is digging a hole and the other fills it up. You're not accomplishing anything. Aren't you wasting the taxpayers' money?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"You don't understand, mister," one of the men said, leaning on his shovel and wiping his brow. "Normally there's three of us - me, Elmer, and Leroy. I dig the hole, Elmer sticks in the tree, and Leroy here puts the dirt back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Elmer's job's been cut... so now it's just me an' Leroy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112243060900497973?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112243060900497973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112243060900497973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112243060900497973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112243060900497973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/06/government-cutbacks.html' title='Government Cutbacks'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112237189643282405</id><published>2005-06-15T00:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T02:58:16.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde on Job</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A blonde began a job as an elementary school counselor, and she was eager to help. One day during recess she noticed a boy standing by himself on the side of a playing field while the rest of the kids enjoyed a game of soccer at the other. Sandy approached and asked if he was alright. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The boy said he was. A little while later, however, Sandy noticed the boy was in the same spot, still by himself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Approaching again, Sandy said, "Would you like me to be your friend?" The boy hesitated, then said, "Okay", looking at the woman suspiciously. Feeling she was making progress, Sandy then asked, "Why are you standing here alone?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Because," the little boy said with great exasperation, "I'm the goalie."&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112237189643282405?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112237189643282405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112237189643282405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237189643282405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237189643282405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/06/blonde-on-job.html' title='Blonde on Job'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236931100238275</id><published>2005-06-05T02:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T02:15:11.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Heaven Clocks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A man dies and goes up to heaven. He sees the pearly gates and St. Peter. &lt;strong&gt;"Welcome to heaven. I'll guide you to your house."&lt;/strong&gt; says Peter. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So they walk through a court yard full of clocks. A lot of clocks. "Whats with all the clocks?" asked the man. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"These are the clocks of all the people in the world. Everytime they lie, it jumps one minute in the future of their life. Here, let me show you." Peter moves over to a clock. "This is Jack, a car salesman, any moment, his clock will jump." Sure enough, about 3 seconds later it moved a minute forward. So they keep walking, and the man is seeing all his friend's and family's clocks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He gets to his house and asks Peter, "Where is President Clinton's Clock?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Didn't you see it? Look up. We use it as a ceiling fan!"&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236931100238275?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236931100238275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236931100238275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236931100238275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236931100238275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/06/heaven-clocks.html' title='The Heaven Clocks'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112237100036526970</id><published>2005-05-11T02:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T02:43:20.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde Wants Money</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There was a blonde who wanted to make some money, so she decided to kidnap a child and hold him for ransom. She went to the park and grabbed a boy and pulled him behind a tree. She wrote a note that said:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've kidnapped your son! Leave a bag of 10,000 dollars next to this tree tomorrow at 3 pm.-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Signed: A Blonde.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Then she pinned the note to the kid's shirt and sent him home to show his mom. She went back the next day and sure enough, there was a bag. She looked in the bag and found 10,000 dollars along with a note that said:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Here's your money, but how could you do this to a fellow blonde? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112237100036526970?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112237100036526970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112237100036526970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237100036526970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237100036526970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/05/blonde-wants-money.html' title='Blonde Wants Money'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236918363278560</id><published>2005-05-03T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T02:13:03.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>55 Ways to get rid of a Bad Date</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;At dinner, guard your plate with fork and steak knife, so as to give the impression that you'll stab anyone, including the waiter, who reaches for it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Collect the salt shakers from all of the tables in the restaurant, and balance them in a tower on your table.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wipe your nose on your date's sleeve. Twice. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make funny faces at other patrons, then sneer at their reactions. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Repeat every third third word you say say. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bring your middle school yearbook. Point out every signle person, and give a life history of each.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Read a newspaper or book during the meal. Ignore your date. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stare at your date's neck, and grind your teeth audibly. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Twitch spastically. If asked about it, pretend you don't know what they are talking about. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stand up every five minutes, circle your table with your arms outstretched, and make airplane sounds. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Order a bucket of lard. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask for crayons to color the placemat. This works very well in fancier venues that use linen table cloths. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How and whistle at womens' legs, especially if you are female. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Recite your dating history. Improvise. Include pets. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pull out a harmonica and play blues songs when your date begins talking about themselves. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sacrifice french fries to the great deity, Pomme. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When ordering, inquire whether the restaurant has any live food. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Without asking, eat off your date's plate. Eat more from their plate than they do. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drool. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chew with your mouth open, talk with your mouth full and spray crumbs. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eat everything on your plate within 30 seconds of it being placed in front of you. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Excuse yourself to use the restroom. Go back to the head waiter/hostess and ask for another table in a different part of the restaurant. Order another meal. When your date finally finds you, ask him/her "What took you so long in the restroom?!?" &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Recite graphic limericks to the people at the table next to you. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask the people at the neighboring table for food from their plates. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Beg your date to tattoo your name on their derriere. Keep bringing the subject up. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask your date how much money they have with them. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Order for your date. Order something nasty. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Communicate in mime the entire evening. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Upon entering the restaurant, ask for a seat away from the windows, where you have a you have a good view of all exits, and where you can keep your back to the wall. Act nervous. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lick your plate. Offer to lick theirs. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hum. Loudly. In monotone. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fill your pockets with sugar packets, as well as salt and pepper shakers, silverware, floral arrangements... i.e anything on the table that isn't bolted down. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hold a debate. Take both sides. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Undress your date verbally. Use a bullhorn. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Auction your date off for silverware. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slide under the table. Take your plate with you. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Order a baked potato for a side dish. When the waiter brings your food, hide the potato, wait a few minutes, and ask the waiter for the potato you "never got". When the waiter returns with another potato for you, have the first one back up on the plate. Repeat later in the meal. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Order beef tongue. Make lewd comparisons or comments. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get your date drunk. Talk about their philosophy. Get it on tape, and use good judgement in editing to twist their words around. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Discuss boils and lesions, as if from personal experience. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Speak in pig latin throughout the meal (Or ubber-dubber language, or just nonsense).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take a break, and go into the restroom. When you return to the table, throw a spare pair of underwear on the back of one of the chairs. Insist that they just need airing out. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If they are paying, order the most expensive thing on the menu. Take one bite. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bring 20 or so candles with you, and during the meal get up and arrange them around the table in a circle. Chant. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Save the bones from your meal, and explain that you're taking them home to your invalid, senile old mother, because it's a lot cheaper than actually feeding her. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Order your food by colors and textures. Sculpt. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take a thermos along, and hide it under the table. Order coffee, and fill the thermos one cup at a time, taking advantage of the free refills. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Insist that the waiter cuts your food into little pieces. In a simliar vein, insist thathe take a bite of everything on the plate, to make sure no one poisoned it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Accuse your date of espionage. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make odd allusions to dangerous religious cults. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't use any verbs during the entire meal. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pass the hat in the restaurant. Use the proceeds (if any) to pay the bill. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Break wind loudly. Add color commentary. Bow. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Feed imaginary friends, or toy dolls you've brought along. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;and... 55. Bring a bucket along. Explain that you frequently get ill.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236918363278560?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236918363278560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236918363278560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236918363278560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236918363278560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/05/55-ways-to-get-rid-of-bad-date.html' title='55 Ways to get rid of a Bad Date'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112237045314960777</id><published>2005-04-10T04:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T02:34:13.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some thoughts to ponder</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;For those moments when you have nothing better to think about . . . here are a few things that you've probably never thought about. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Can you cry under water? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have branches? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Since bread is square, then why is sandwich meat round? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why do you have to "put your two cents in"... but it's only a "penny for your thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going to? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why does a round pizza come in a square box? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What did cured ham actually have? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up like every two hours? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If you drink Pepsi at work in the Coke factory, will they fire you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why are you IN a movie, but your ON TV? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;How come we choose from just two people for President and fifty for Miss America! ? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If a 911 operator has a heart attack, whom does he/she call? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why is "bra" singular and "panties" plural? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet soup? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When your photo is taken for your driver's license, why do they tell you to smile?. If you are stopped by the police and asked for your license, are you going to be smiling? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If the professor on Gilligan's Island can make a radio out of coconut... why can't he fix a hole in a boat? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What do you call male ballerinas? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Can blind people see their dreams? Do they dream? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Is Disney World the only people trap operated by a mouse? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why did you just try singing the two songs above? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him for a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112237045314960777?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112237045314960777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112237045314960777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237045314960777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112237045314960777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/04/some-thoughts-to-ponder.html' title='Some thoughts to ponder'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236837783000265</id><published>2005-04-03T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T01:59:37.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Idiots on the computer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Any time you feel dumb, don't worry. Check out the following excerpts from a "Wall Street Journal" article by Jim Carlton. Lots of people are dumber than you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Compaq is considering changing the command "Press Any Key" to "Press Return Key" because of the many calls asking where the "Any" key is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;AST technical support had a caller complaining that her mouse was hard to control with the dust cover on. The cover turned out to be the plastic bag the mouse was packaged in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Another Compaq technician received a call from a man complaining that the system wouldn't read word processing files from his old diskettes. After trouble-shooting for magnets and heat failed to diagnose the problem, it was found that the customer labeled the diskettes by rolling them into a typewriter to type on them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Another AST customer was asked to send a copy of her defective diskettes. A few days later a letter arrived from the customer along with Xeroxed copies of the floppies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A Dell technician advised his customer to put his troubled floppy back in the drive and close the door. The customer asked the tech to hold on, and was then heard putting the phone down, getting up and crossing the room to close the door to his room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Another Dell customer called to say he couldn't get his computer to fax anything. After 40 minutes of trouble-shooting, the technician discovered the man was trying to fax a piece of paper by holding it in front of the monitor screen and hitting the "send" key.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Another Dell customer needed help setting up a new program, so a Dell tech suggested he go to the local Egghead. "Yeah, I got me a couple of friends," the customer replied. When told "Egghead" was a software store, the man said, "Oh, I thought you meant for me to find a couple of geeks."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Yet another Dell customer called to complain that his keyboard no longer worked. He had cleaned it by filling up his tub with soap and water and soaking the keyboard for a day, then removing all the keys and washing them individually.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A Dell technician received a call from a customer who was enraged because his computer had told him he was "bad and an invalid". The tech explained that the computer's "bad command" and "invalid" responses shouldn't be taken personally.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;An exasperated caller to Dell Computer Tech Support couldn't get her new Dell Computer to turn on. After ensuring that the computer was plugged in, the technician asked her what happened when she pushed the power button. Her response, "I pushed and pushed on this foot pedal and nothing happens." The "foot pedal" turned out to be the computer's mouse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Another customer called Compaq tech support to say her brand-new computer wouldn't work. She said she unpacked the unit, plugged it in, and sat there for 20 minutes waiting for something to happen. When asked what happened when she pressed the power switch, she asked "What power switch?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;And.... a True story from a Novell NetWire SysOp:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Caller: "Hello, is this Tech Support?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Tech: "Yes, it is. How may I help you?" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Caller: "The cup holder on my PC is broken and I am within my warranty period. How do I go about getting that fixed?" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Tech: "I'm sorry, but did you say a "cup holder"?" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Caller: "Yes, it's attached to the front of my computer." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Tech: "Please excuse me if I seem a bit stumped; it's because I am. Did you receive this as part of a promotion, like at a trade show? How did you get this cup holder? Does it have any trademark on it?" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Caller: "It came with my computer, I don't know anything about a promotional. It just has '4X' on it". &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;At this point the Tech Rep had to mute the caller, because he couldn't stand it. The caller had been using the load drawer of the CD-ROM drive as a cup holder, and snapped it off the drive!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Another well-known one that I can add is the true tale of the user who called up complaining that the instructions said to load the four diskettes into "Drive A" but he couldn't possibly get more than two in.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236837783000265?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236837783000265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236837783000265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236837783000265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236837783000265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/04/idiots-on-computer.html' title='Idiots on the computer'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236616588596671</id><published>2005-03-30T11:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T01:22:45.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 answering machine messages</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 10&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My wife and I can't come to the phone right now, but if you'll leave your name and number, we'll get back to you as soon as we're finished.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 9&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hello, you are talking to a machine. I am capable of receiving messages. My owners do not need siding, windows or a hot tub, and their carpets are clean. They give to charity at the office and don't need their picture taken. If you're still with me, leave your name and home phone number and they will get back to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 8&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is not an answering machine - this is a telepathic thought-recording device. After the tone, think about your name, your number, and your reason for calling.... and I'll think about returning your call.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hi! John's answering machine is broken. This is his refrigerator. Please speak very slowly, and I'll stick your message to myself with one of these magnets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 6.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hi. This is John: If you are the phone company, I already sent the money. If you are my parents, please send money. If you are my bank, you didn't lend me enough money. If you are my friends, you owe me money. If you are a female, don't worry, I have LOTS of money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 5.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A is for academics, B is for beer. One of those reasons is why we're not here. So, leave a message.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 4.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hello! If you leave a message, I'll call you soon. If you leave a "sexy" message, I'll call sooner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 3.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hi. Now YOU say something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 2.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hi. I'm probably home, I'm just avoiding someone I don't like. Leave me a message, and if I don't call back, it's you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And the Number 1 Actual Answering Machine Message Recorded and Verified by The World Famous International Institute of Answering Machine Messages.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No. 1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hello, you've reached Jim and Sonya. We can't pick up the phone right now, because we're doing something we really enjoy. Sonya likes doing it up and down, and I like doing it left to right... real slowly. So leave a message, and when we're done brushing our teeth, we'll call you back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236616588596671?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236616588596671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236616588596671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236616588596671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236616588596671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/03/top-10-answering-machine-messages.html' title='Top 10 answering machine messages'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236587691604442</id><published>2005-03-19T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T01:17:56.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping a healthy level of insanity</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;How to keep a healty level of insanity...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;At lunchtime, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Every time someone asks you to do something, ask if they want fries with that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "IN."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Reply to everything someone says with, "That's what you think."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Finish all your sentences with "In accordance with the prophecy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Adjust the tint on your monitor so that the brightness level lights up the entire work area. Insist to others that you like it that way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Don't use any punctuation&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As often as possible, skip rather than walk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ask people what sex they are. Laugh hysterically after they answer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Specify that your drive-through order is "to go."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sing along at the opera.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Go to a poetry recital and ask why the poems don't rhyme.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Find out where your boss shops and buy exactly the same outfits. Wear them one day after your boss does. (This is especially effective if your boss is of the opposite gender).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Send email to the rest of the company to tell them what you're doing. For example, "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the bathroom, in Stall #3."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Put mosquito netting around your cubicle. Play a tape of jungle sounds all day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party because you're not in the mood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Call the psychic hotline and don't say anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Have your own coworkers address you by your wrestling name, Rock Hard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When the money comes out of the ATM, scream "I Won!", "I Won!", "3rd time this week!!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot yelling "Run for your lives, they're loose!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tell your boos "It's not the voices in my head that bother me, it's the voices in your head that do."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;any other else...?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236587691604442?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236587691604442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236587691604442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236587691604442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236587691604442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/03/keeping-healthy-level-of-insanity.html' title='Keeping a healthy level of insanity'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236543531250732</id><published>2005-03-09T03:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T01:10:35.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Job Application</title><content type='html'>This is an actual job application that a 17 year old boy submitted to McDonald's in Florida... and they hired him because he was so honest and funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;NAME: Greg Bulmash.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;SEX: Not yet. Still waiting for the right person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DESIRED POSITION: Company's President or Vice President. But seriously, whatever's available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn't be applying here in the first place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DESIRED SALARY: $185,000 a year plus stock options and a Michael Ovitz style severance package. If that's not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;EDUCATION: Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;LAST POSITION HELD: Target for middle management hostility.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;SALARY: Less than I'm worth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT: My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;REASON FOR LEAVING: It sucked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;HOURS AVAILABLE TO WORK: Any.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;PREFERRED HOURS: 1:30-3:30 p.m., Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?: Yes, but they're better suited to a more intimate environment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?: If I had one, would I be here?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 LBS?: Of what?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DO YOU HAVE A CAR?: I think the more appropriate question here would be "Do you have a car that runs?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?: I may already be a winner of the Publishers Clearing house Sweepstakes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DO YOU SMOKE?: On the job no, on my breaks yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS?: Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy dumb sexy blonde super model who thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I'd like to be doing that now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE?: Yes. Absolutely.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;SIGN HERE: Aries. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Would you like to try it..?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236543531250732?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236543531250732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236543531250732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236543531250732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236543531250732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/03/job-application.html' title='Job Application'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236512131014044</id><published>2005-03-05T01:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T01:12:25.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things You Sometimes Wish You Could Say</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How about never? Is never good for you?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted the paychecks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It sounds like English, but I can't understand a word you're saying.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can see your point, but I still think you're full of shooey.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like you. You remind me of when I was young and stupid.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don't give a darn.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And your crybaby whiny-butt opinion would be...?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do I look like a people person?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This isn't an office. It's he** with fluorescent lighting.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I started out with nothing &amp;amp; still have most of it left.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A PBS mind in an MTV world.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Allow me to introduce my selves.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Say it if you wish...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236512131014044?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236512131014044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236512131014044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236512131014044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236512131014044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/03/things-you-sometimes-wish-you-could.html' title='Things You Sometimes Wish You Could Say'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112236475612162053</id><published>2005-02-28T23:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T00:59:16.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Japanese Student</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was the first day of school and a new student named Suzuki, the son of a Japanese businessman, entered the fourth grade. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The teacher said, "Let's begin by reviewing some American history. Who said: Give me Liberty, or give me Death?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She saw a sea of blank faces, except for Suzuki, "Patrick Henry, 1775", She said. "Very good! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Who said 'Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth'?". Again, no response except from Suzuki: "Abraham Lincoln, 1863", said Suzuki. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The teacher snapped at the class, "Class, you should be ashamed. Suzuki, who is new to our country, knows more about its history than you do"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She heard a loud whisper: - "Screw the Japs - Who said that?" she demanded. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Suzuki put his hand up. - "Lee Iacocca, 1982". At that point, a student in the back said, - "I'm gonna puke".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The teacher glares and asks - "All right! Now, who said that?". Again, Suzuki says, "George Bush to the Japanese Prime Minister, 1991". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now furious, another student yells, - "Oh yeah? Suck this!". Suzuki jumps out of his chair waving his hand and shouts to the teacher, "Bill Clinton, to Monica Lewinsky, 1997!". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now with almost a mob hysteria someone said, "You little shooey. If you say anything else, I'll kill you". Suzuki frantically yells at the top of his voice, "Gary Condit to Chandra Levy 2001".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The teacher fainted. And as the class gathered around the teacher on the floor, someone said, "Oh shooey, we're in BIG trouble!" and Suzuki said, "Arthur Andersen, 2002".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;what do you think...?:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112236475612162053?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112236475612162053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112236475612162053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236475612162053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112236475612162053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/02/japanese-student.html' title='Japanese Student'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112235715660148204</id><published>2005-02-18T22:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T22:52:36.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things to do in the Elevator</title><content type='html'>What should you do when you are in the Elevator, try this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;When there's only one other person in the elvator, tap themon the shoulder and then pretend it wasn't you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Push the buttons and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask if you can push the button for other people, but push the wrong ones.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Call the Psychic Hotline from your cell phone and ask if they know what floor your on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hold the doors open and say your waiting for a friend. After a while, let the doors close, and say, "Hi Greg. How's your day been?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Drop a pen and wait until someone goes to pick it up, then scream, "That's mine!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Bring a camera and take pictures of everyone in the elevator.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Move your desk into the elevator and whenever anyone gets on, ask if they have an apointment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lay down the twister mat and ask people if they would like toplay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Leave a box in the corner, and when someone gets on, ask them if they can hear ticking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pretend you are a flight attendant and review emergencyprocedures and exits with the passengers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ask, "Did you feel that?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Stand really close to someone, sniffing them occasionally.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When the doors close, announce to the others, "It's okay, don't panic, they open again!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Swat at flies that don't exist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tell people that you can see their aura.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Call out, "Group Hug!"and then enforce it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead andmuttering, "Shut up, all of you, just shut up!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Crack open your briefcase or purse, and while peering inside, ask, "Got enough air in there?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Stand silently and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce in horror, "Your one of THEM!" and back away slowly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Wear a puppet on your hand and use it to talk to the other passengers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Listen to the elevator walls with your stethoscope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Make explosion noises when anyone presses a button.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Stare, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce, "I have new socks on".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers, "This is MY personal space"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;You did that ?? ....do it now&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112235715660148204?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112235715660148204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112235715660148204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112235715660148204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112235715660148204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/02/things-to-do-in-elevator.html' title='Things to do in the Elevator'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112235675097240409</id><published>2005-02-15T22:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T22:45:50.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Illinois Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A Illinois man left the snowballed streets of Chicago for a vacation in Florida. His wife was on a business trip and was planning to meet him there the next day. When he reached his hotel, he decided to send his wife a quick e-mail. Unable to find the scrap of paper on which he had written her e-mail address, he did his best to type it in from memory. Unfortunately, he missed one letter and his note was directed instead to an elderly preacher's wife, whose husband had passed away only the day before. When the grieving widow checked her e-mail, she took one look at the monitor, let out a piercing scream, and fell to the floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;At the sound, her family rushed into the room and saw this note on the screen:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Dearest Wife, Just got checked in. Everything prepared for your arrival tomorrow" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Your Loving Husband&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sure is hot down here..!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112235675097240409?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112235675097240409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112235675097240409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112235675097240409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112235675097240409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/02/illinois-man.html' title='Illinois Man'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14821218.post-112235634441395370</id><published>2005-02-10T22:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T22:39:04.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She was so blonde</title><content type='html'>She was so blonde, she..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Took her new scarf back to the store because it was too tight.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Couldn't learn to water ski because she couldn't find a lake with a slope.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Can't work in a pharmacy because the bottles won't fit into thetypewriter&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got excited because she finished a jigsaw puzzle in 6 months and the boxsaid 2 to 4 years.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Was trapped on an escalator for hours when the power went out.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Couldn't call 911 because there was no 11 on any phone button.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When asked what the capital of California was, she answered C.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Burnt her nose bobbing for French Fries.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Baked a turkey for 5 days because the instructions said 1 hour perpound and she weighed 125.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Can't make Kool-Aid because 8 cups of water won't fit into those littlepackets.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hates M&amp;M's because they are so hard to peel.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got hurt while raking leaves; fell out of the tree.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Changes the baby's diaper only once a month because the label said goodup to 20 pounds.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After losing in a breaststroke swimming competition, complained that the other swimmers were using their arms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;and Now...??&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14821218-112235634441395370?l=humor4us.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/feeds/112235634441395370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14821218&amp;postID=112235634441395370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112235634441395370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14821218/posts/default/112235634441395370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://humor4us.blogspot.com/2005/02/she-was-so-blonde.html' title='She was so blonde'/><author><name>sid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
