Here, presented below for you enjoyment is a compendium of time wasting, e-mail inbox hogging, internet junk that has been forwarded to me via e-mail by various colleagues, friends and family members who obviously have nothing better to do with their time and resources!
A nice looking girl goes into a bar and orders 6 Budweiser's.
The bar-keep asked if she wanted them all at once, and she said yes. She started drinking one after the other and finished all 6 in about 10 minutes she dropped her head on the bar, passed out.
The bar-keep didn't know what to do. The bar was empty and he had a cot in the back room, so he thought he would take her there and let her sleep it off. He did and as he was about to go back to tending bar, he looked at her and thought, damn, she ain't bad looking. The bar was empty, so he just got him a little bit of that pussy. He went back to the bar, and in about a hour, she came staggering out and went out the door without saying a thing.
The next day she came back and ordered 6 more Budweiser's, and after drinking all of them, she passed out again. Again he took her to the back room and got some of that good pussy.
Again a hour latter she came out and went home.
The next evening she came in while the bar was busy and ordered another 6 more Budweiser's. After she passed out, the bar-keep yelled at his buddy and told him what he was going to do and wanted the buddy to watch the bar. The bar-keep got his, and then told his buddy to go get some also. Other fellows in the bar saw what was happening, and they wanted some to.
The girl ended up getting her pussy popped 13 times. She woke up and staggered home.
The next night she came in and ordered 6 Miller beers. The bar-keep asked her why she changed from Budweiser to miller, and she said that it seems that Budweiser was making her pussy sore.
John was in the egg business. He had several hundred hens, called ‘pullets’, and ten roosters to fertilize them. He kept records, and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.
This monitoring took a lot of time, so John bought some tiny bells and attached them to the roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so he could tell from a distance which rooster was performing. Now, he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report just by listening to the bells.
John’s very favorite rooster, Obama, was a very fine specimen, but one morning he noticed Obama’s bell hadn’t rung at all. When he went to investigate, he saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells a-ringing. But the pullets, hearing the bells and having gotten smarter, would run for cover and escape their fate.
To John’s amazement, however, Obama had thought of a way around the problem. He had his bell in his beak so it couldn’t ring. So outfitted, he could sneak up on a pullet, do his job and move on to the next one.
John was so proud of Obama that he entered him in the State Fair, where Obama became an overnight sensation among the judges. The result was the judges not only awarded Obama the No-Bell Piece Prize, but also the highly-coveted Pullet Surprise.
Clearly Obama was a natural politician as well as a mighty fine rooster.
Who else but a chicken politician could figure out how to win two of the most prestigious awards on the planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace, and by screwing them when they weren’t paying attention.
The Moral of this fable? Vote carefully this year. The bell is not always audible.
Five surgeons from big cities are discussing who makes the best patients to operate on.
The first surgeon, from New York , says, "I like to see accountants on my operating table because when you open them up, everything inside is numbered."
The second, from Chicago, responds, "Yeah, but you should try electricians! Everything inside them is color coded."
The third surgeon, from Dallas, says, "No, I really think librarians are the best, everything inside them is in alphabetical order."
The fourth surgeon, from Los Angeles chimes in: "You know, I like construction workers. Those guys always understand when you have a few parts left over."
But the fifth surgeon, from, Washington DC, shut them all up when he observed: "You're all wrong. Politicians are the easiest to operate on. There's no guts, no heart, no balls, no brains, and no spine. Plus, the head and the ass are interchangeable."