INTERNUTS Digest Wed, 22 Oct 1997 Volume 01 : Issue 19 Today's Topics: AMERICAN GRAFFITI --- old urban legend question..... Marv Albert jokes assignment completed O'LEARY'S TOUPEE Historical JdJ from 1 April 1996 Three pregnant women at lunch.... Blood is thicker Cars Traffic lights again ... put a good word in for me sotally tober ye UK humo(u)r manglish Those Helpful Troopers air quality alert ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 20 Oct 1997 19:49:14 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: AMERICAN GRAFFITI --- old urban legend question..... Message-ID: <345493b3.6490364@mail.qis.net> On Sat, 18 Oct 1997 12:58:19 -0500, in alt.folklore.urban Jim Everman wrote: bizbee wrote: > where Richard Dreyfus is roped into crawing under the police car and > chaining the axle, then driving by and baiting the cops to chase, > thereby ripping the axle off the police car. In 9th grade (1954) I was personally involved with lifting (manualy) the rear end of the local (one-horse Ohio town) police chiefs car so someone could put some cinder blocks under the rear axel. Just enough so the wheels only slightly touched the ground. The chief had the cruiser parked in front of his house (as usual). Then we all hide while one of the local "bad boys" drove by at a high rate of speed, honking his horn. Not as spectacular as a chain, but funny anyway. My chem teacher (an old guy then) use to tell a story about using a steel cable to tie the rear axel of someones old "hand crank to start" car to a light pole. Seems like the owner didn't like to hand crank the car (I wonder why not?), so he would back it up hill until it was flush with the light pole. Then to start it, he would let it coast down hill a ways, "pop" the clutch and be off. The guys who tied the cable left enough slack so it pulled tight just after the engine fired. "Jerked the rear axel right out of the car and he continued down the hill with no rear end." My brother and some friends "tried" to pull it on another "friend" (?) at the local lovers lane - they didn't leave any slack in the rope they used, and *nothing* happened. The victim just couldn't go anywhere until he got out and undid the rope they'd used. Left my bro & crew scrambling to get out of there before the victim figured out who they were (for later retaliation). I wasn't there, but I heard later that the funniest part was watching all the perps tying to get away without being seen. -- Jim Everman everman@Anet-STL.com Never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained by stupidity. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 20 Oct 1997 19:49:22 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: Marv Albert jokes Message-ID: <3458afa2.13642169@mail.qis.net> On Thu, 16 Oct 1997 21:34:29 GMT, in rec.humor pipitone@nicmad.uucp (Jeff Pipitone) wrote: Q: Did you hear Marv has got a role in the remake of Star Wars? A: He's playing Chewbacca. Apparently Marv Albert decided to accept the plea bargain from the Prosecutor when he learned that his defense attorney's opening line was going to be: "If the panties don't fit, you must aquit!" Q: Did you hear about the fight Don King is promoting between Mike Tyson and Marv Albert? A: He thinks they'll eat each other up. Q. What's the difference between McGruff the Crime Dog and Marv Albert? A. McGruff takes a bite out of crime but Albert didn't know it was a crime to bite. What does Marv Albert have in common with a new electric razor. No more Knicks! Q. What's the difference between Marv Albert and Sharon Stone. A. Marv wears panties! Q: What's the difference between Marv Albert and the Chicago Bears? A: --Marv Albert ADMITS he bites... ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 20 Oct 1997 19:49:23 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: assignment completed Message-ID: <3459b0c0.13928727@mail.qis.net> On 17 Oct 97 13:07:25 GMT, in rec.humor "zeneca" wrote: Here's a humorous and supposedly true little tid-bit. A university creative writing class was asked to write a concise essay containing these four elements: *religion *royalty *sex *mystery The prize-winning essay read: "My God," said the Queen. "I'm pregnant. I wonder who did it?" ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 20 Oct 1997 19:49:24 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: O'LEARY'S TOUPEE Message-ID: <345ab105.13997216@mail.qis.net> On 17 Oct 1997 20:11:39 GMT, in rec.humor JMFS19A@prodigy.com (Nancy Carson) wrote: When old Mr. O'Leary died, an elaborate wake was planned. In preparation, Mrs. O'Leary called the undertaker aside for a private little talk. "Please be sure to fasten his toupee to his head very securely. No one but I knew he was bald," she confided, "and he'd never rest in peace if anyone found out at this point. Our friends from the old country are sure to hold his hands and touch his head before they're through paying their last respects." "Rest assured, Mrs. O'Leary," comforted the undertaker. "I'll fix it so that toupee will never come off." Sure enough, the day of the wake the old timers were giving O'Leary's corpse quite a going-over, but the toupee stayed firmly in place. At the end of the day, a delighted Mrs. O'Leary offered the undertaker an extra thousand dollars for handling the matter so professionally. "Oh, I couldn't possibly accept your money," protested the undertaker. "What's a few nails?" .... Nancy ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 20 Oct 1997 19:49:25 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: Historical JdJ from 1 April 1996 Message-ID: <345bb242.14314596@mail.qis.net> On Sat, 18 Oct 1997 06:54:51 -0500, in rec.humor Manly Matt Schulman wrote: April Fools' JdJ for 1 Apr 96 A woman is in the hospital giving birth, having been in labor for 12 hours. Eventually the baby comes out, and the doctor whips it up, bangs its head on the table, and stabs it several times with a scalpel! Obviously this sends the woman into hysterics -- Woman (shrieks): "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" etc. Doctor: "April fool! It was dead already!" ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 20 Oct 1997 19:49:26 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: Three pregnant women at lunch.... Message-ID: <345cb4d1.14970212@mail.qis.net> On Thu, 16 Oct 97 19:20:04 EDT, in rec.humor.funny.reruns jik@pit-manager.mit.edu (Jonathan I. Kamens) wrote: Three pregnant women are sitting in a cafe having lunch, when one of them says, "I know that I'm going to have a boy." The other two women think about that for a moment, and then one of them says, "OK, _how_ do you know you're going to have a boy?" "Well, when the child was conceived," says the first women, "I was on top. So I'm going to have a boy." They sit and eat for a few minutes more, and then the second woman says, "Well, {it8 I'm} going to have a girl." "OK," says the first one, "how do you know you're going to have a girl?" "Well, when _my_ child was conceived, I was on the bottom. So I'm going to have a girl." They sit and eat for a few minutes more, the third woman obviously getting more and more distressed, until finally she breaks down into horrible sobbing? "What's wrong, what's wrong?" the first two women ask with concern. The third woman manages to stifle her sobs long enough to only say one thing.... "I'm going to have a puppy!" -- >From the RHF archives as selected by Brad Templeton, Maddi Hausmann and Jim Griffith. This newsgroup posts former jokes from the newsgroup rec.humor.funny. Visit http://comedy.clari.net/rhf to browse the RHF pages and archives on the web. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 16:53:40 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: Blood is thicker Message-ID: <344dc165.83736402@mail.qis.net> On Tue, 21 Oct 1997 10:36:45 +0000, "Paraic O'Donnell" wrote: File this under Highly Implausible Coincidences Many of you will be aware that Bram Stoker published _Dracula_ in May 1897. Stoker being a son of the Ould Sod, the Irish postal authority (An Post) has seen fit to commemorate the centenary with a series of stamps. The designers of the stamps have eschewed fidelity to Stoker's vision, opting instead for lurid colours and enticingly exposed necks. Ed Wood would have approved. I certainly do. This morning, my boss arrived brandishing an envelope. Thrusting it upon me, he challenged me to notice something "amusing or unusual". Being in constant quest of both qualities, I picked up the gauntlet and the envelope. Handwritten address. Hmm. No entertaining missleppings. No telltale stains. Ink? Blue ballpoint. Perhaps the letter had been posted years previously? No. Dated September 17th 1997. Stamp? One of the above-mentioned Dracula series - not to everyone's taste, but a perfectly valid stamp. Then I saw it. The postmark: "Blood donors are always needed". I'll be scanning and uploading the evidence, so check http://indigo.ie/~paraic/dracula.htm after 2 p.m. GMT. Paraic ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 16:53:45 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: Cars Message-ID: <3451ceaa.87133839@mail.qis.net> On 20 Oct 1997 10:04:26 -0700, in alt.folklore.suburban nobots.john.ings@ottawa.com (John Ings) wrote: asasparks@mindspring.com (Asa) wrote: >Back in the 60s I was told about an effort to cross a Comet with a >Volksvagen. They called it a Vomet and it came in seven pukey colors. My >favorite was burple. They also had a short wheelbase version of the Astra. It was to be called the Half-Astra. john.ings@ottawa.com ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 16:53:46 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: Traffic lights again ... Message-ID: <3454d898.89675994@mail.qis.net> On Tue, 21 Oct 1997 13:52:10 +0100, in alt.folklore.urban Ben Walsh wrote: Phil Edwards wrote: > The first time I spent any time in a USAn city[1], one of the things > that felt most foreign was the road signage. When you're used to a > vocabulary of standard symbols & sign types (here the same symbol of a > bicycle can mean three different things[2]), USAn signage seems really > *wordy*. To me it looked as if the signs were saying > > THE SPEED LIMIT IS > 55 MPH > SO DON'T GO ANY FASTER The Economist refers to the USA as the world's bossiest democracy. It's that sort of thing which earns it the reputation. Here on the Archipeligo, a sign might say "Patrons are kindly requested to refrain from smoking" or, more bluntly, "NO SMOKING." In the US, the sign will say, in English, Flemish and Tagalog, something like "Calif. Penal Code ƒ%15/7 s.b 123 (7*&) 12 sub. 42 para 19(a) (amendment) prohibits any person or animal from possessing any smouldering tobacco products, or any intact tobacco products with intent to cause them to smoulder, anywhere in this area, so defined as the space enclosed by this wall, those other walls, that door and the ceiling. Oh, and the floor." "There no limit to the number of seeing-eye dogs that can be carried on this bus" is a favourite. 1. At whom is it aimed? The (presumably non-literate) dog or the blind human? 2. No limit? Like, really no limit? ben "would an infinite number of seeing-eye dogs bark the words of Shakespeare?" w. -- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Drug dealers dealt heavy blow" | ben walsh -- Irish Times | benw@iona.com (allegedly) | http://bounce.to/heretic ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 16:53:55 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: put a good word in for me Message-ID: <3456da85.90168936@mail.qis.net> On Tue, 21 Oct 1997 08:51:18 +0100, in alt.folklore.urban "Allan Murphy" wrote: And on this topic here is my favourite of my dad's psychiatrist ULs, told as true of course (cheers dad): (I checked the FAQ, I couldn't find it but my apologies etc if its old old old) Psychiatrist goes to visit senior colleague at another psychiatric hospital. As he arrives, he notices how beautifully kept the grounds and gardens are. As he parks, he sees a guy working on a flower bed. He goes over and says "Wow, you're doing a great job with these grounds, can you come and sort my garden out?". The guy says "Well actually I'm a patient here." The psychiatrist reckons the gardening is occupational therapy and says "So do you enjoy gardening ?" The guy says "Well to be honest I was very ill when I first got here, but over the years the treatment I've had and the gardening and all has done me a lot of good, and I'm hoping to get back into the community soon." The psychiatrist says "You certainly seem to be well organised." The guy, realising the psychiatrist is a psychiatrist says, "well I was wondering if you could put a good word in for me, you know". The psychiatrist, impressed by the gardens and how together the guy is, says "No problem - look I have to go, I have a meeting." As he walks away, he feels something hit him on the back of the head. Looking down, he sees a brick, and the guy shouts after him "Don't forget now." Allan "there's plenty more where that came from" Murphy -- Allan Murphy Software Engineer allan@nospampleasewe'rebritish.innerworkings.co.uk ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 22:05:03 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: sotally tober Message-ID: <344f0918.102093775@mail.qis.net> SOTALLY TOBER starkle starkle little twink who the hell you are I think I'm not under what you call the alcofluence of incohol I'm just a little slort of sheep I'm not drunk like tinkle peep I don't know who is me yet but the drunker I stand here the longer I get Just give me one more drink to fill me cup 'cuz I got all day sober to Sunday up ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 22:05:04 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: ye UK humo(u)r Message-ID: <34500a2a.102368023@mail.qis.net> On 20 Oct 97 19:26:57 +0500, in rec.humor steve rendle wrote: The new clerk of the works was inspecting the sewers. In the gloom he stumbles upon Patrick O'flynn "Hi," says Patrick. "Hi," says the new clerk of the works "I'm the new clerk of the works and I'm down here doing a check on the people that work here." "Roight," says Patrick. "What's your name?" asks the clerk "Patrick O'Flynn" The clerk dutifully ticks his note book. "And what is your job here?" "Well sor along wid me brudder we keep the channels flowing. Y'know any piece of hows ya father blocks up a channel we hook it out. Keep things flowing loik." "Right," says the clerk and dutifully ticks his notebook again. "Part of this check, Mr O'Flynn," explains the clerk, "is finding out if the people working down here have any distinguishing marks on their bodies. So if, heaven forbid, there is some sort of terrible accident they can be identified." "Roight,good idea," says Patrick. "Could you explain de long word again" "Of course," says the clerk. "Distinguishing marks, you know like a tattoo or a birth mark, something that if you were unconscious or err... dead we could find the mark and say, well thats Patrick O'Flynn that is." "Roight sor! Good idea. Well I moight have the very thing you're after sor. It so happens that on this arm," says Patrick pointing to his right arm, "On this arm I have a tattoo in the shape of the beloved Shamrock." "Brilliant," exclaims the clerk, ticking his notebook. "Just what I need. What about your brother?" Well Patrick calls his brother Shamus over and it transpires that Shamus O'Flynn has a Shamrock tattooed on both arms. "Excellent" says the clerk of the works, very pleased. "Is there anyone else working down here?" "Well there's Mr Smith; he works about a mile down that tunnel," says Patrick pointing. "A mile you say," says the clerk "that's a good way. Mmmh. I don't suppose you know if Mr Smith has any 'distinguishing marks'?" "Well, not marks," says Patrick. "What then, what?" asks the clerk. "Well the poor bugger's got two anuses. Two poop chutes." "Are you sure?" says the clerk. "Positive," says Patrick. "How do you know?" says the clerk. "Well when we're up top and we go into the bar for a drink the barmen always says, 'Ah, here's Mr Smith with the two assholes.'" ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 22:05:05 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: manglish Message-ID: <34520f83.103737668@mail.qis.net> On Tue, 21 Oct 1997 06:27:05 -0400, in rec.humor "THE BIG PIG" wrote: "Then is strictly forbidden to: a) Reserve box parking, spaces with chairs, fences, rape or other means. B) Drainage of the plants and equiman. C) Not teak paper other box. D) Dig simples around tents. E) Play with ball of tamboury in the camp. F) Set to go into the camp, not autorized from the direction." --from rules posted at Camping Atlanta, Lungomare Sud, Italy ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 22:05:06 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: Those Helpful Troopers Message-ID: <345310e0.104086073@mail.qis.net> On Mon, 20 Oct 97 19:20:02 EDT, in rec.humor.funny.reruns dwv@ihuxz.UUCP wrote: This story was told to me by a family friend who is an Illinois State Trooper. One day he was pulling off an expressway near Chicago. When he turned onto the street at the end of the ramp, he noticed someone at a chicken place getting into his car. He placed the bucket of chicken on top of his car, got in and drove off with the bucket still atop his car. So the trooper decides to pull him over and perform a community service by giving the driver his chicken. So he pulled him over, walked up to the car, pulled the bucket off the roof and offered it to the driver. The driver looks at the trooper and says "No thanks, I just bought some." -- Dave Vollman - AT&T Bell Laboratories - Naperville, IL ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 22:05:08 GMT From: jschmitz@qis.net (JoAnne Schmitz) To: lnuts Subject: air quality alert Message-ID: <34551c52.107016308@mail.qis.net> On Thu, 16 Oct 1997 10:05:14 GMT, in alt.tv.homicide davelocke@bigfoot.com (Dave Locke) wrote: I drove through Akron once, back in the early 70s on a cross-country trip from Suthrun Califurnace to upstate NYok. Suddenly the smog from the rubber-processing factories was so thick I couldn't see the cars around us. Worse, I couldn't breathe. In wild desperation I reached into the back seat with one hand, fumbled open a suitcase, grabbed an article of clothing, and started breathing through it. It turned out to be a soiled pair of my son's shorts, but it was an improvement. --- Dave | davelocke@bigfoot.com | now living near beautiful Cincinnazi ------------------------------ End of INTERNUTS Digest V01 Issue #19 *************************************