eMailed Fun

All the organs of the body were having a meeting, trying to decide who was the one in charge.       

"I should be in charge," said the brain, "Because I run all the body's systems, so without me nothing would happen." 

"I should be in charge," said the blood , "because I circulate oxygen all over so without me you'd all waste away."      

"I should be in charge," said the stomach , "because I process food and give all of you energy."     

"I should be in charge," said the legs, "because I carry the body wherever it needs to go."   

"I should be in charge," said the eyes, "Because I allow the body to see where it goes."   

"I should be in charge," said the rectum, "Because I'm responsible for waste removal."    

All the other body parts laughed at the rectum and insulted him, so in a huff, he shut down tight. Within a few days, the brain had a terrible headache, the stomach was bloated, the legs got wobbly, the eyes got watery, and the blood was toxic. They all decided that the rectum should be the boss.

The Moral of the story? The ass hole is usually in charge!    

If you don't send this to at least three people….who gives a sh*t?

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eMailed Funny – The Dying Priest

In London an old priest lay dying in the hospital. For years he had faithfully served the people of the nation's capital. He motioned for his nurse to come near.

"Yes, Father?" said the nurse.

"I would really like to see Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling MP before I  die", whispered the priest.
"I'll see what I can do, Father", replied the nurse.

The nurse sent the request to The Houses of Parliament and waited for a  response.  Soon the word arrived; Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling would be delighted  to visit the priest.  As they went to the hospital, Brown commented to Darling,  "I don't know why the old priest wants to see us, but it will certainly will  help our images and might even get me re-elected."   Darling agreed it was a good thing.
When they arrived at the priest's room, the priest took Brown's hand in his right hand and Darling's hand in his left.   There was silence and a look of serenity on the old priest's face.
Finally Gordon Brown spoke. "Father, of all the people you could have chosen, why did you choose us to be with you as you near the end?"
The old priest slowly replied, "I have always tried to pattern my life after  our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

"Amen", said Brown. "Amen", said Darling.
The old priest continued, "Jesus died between two lying thieves; I would like to do the same."

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Jock The Painter

There was a tradesman, a painter called Jock, who was very interested in making a buck where he could, so he would thin down his paint to make it go a wee bit further.  He got away with this for some time, until the Baptist Church decided to do a big restoration job on the roof of one of their biggest churches. Jock put in a bid, and because his price was so
competitive, he got the job.

So he set to, with a right good will, erecting the trestles and setting up the planks, and buying the paint and, yes, I am sorry to say, thinning it down with the turpentine.

Well, Jock was up on the scaffolding, painting away, the job nearly done when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder, and the sky opened,  the rain poured down, washing the thin paint from all over the church and knocking Jock fair off the scaffold to land on the lawn, among the gravestones, surrounded by telltale puddles of the thinned and useless

Jock was no fool. He knew this was a judgment from the Almighty, so he got on his knees and cried: "Oh, God! Forgive me! What should I do?"

And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke: "Repaint! Repaint and thin no more!"

Just so you know, it is NOT Christianity or Judaism or Islamism or – well, whatever the fuck religion you are – that I hate.  It is hypocrisy, greed and self-righteousness, that sense of Pride in Belief that I hate.

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How to be Politically Correct – Lesson 1

Because this is the season of political correctness, Kentuckians, Tennesseeans and West Virginians will no longer be referred to as “Hillbillies.” You now must refer to them as “Appalachian-Americans.”

And furthermore:

How to Speak About Women and Be Politically Correct:

1. She is not a “Babe” or a “Chick.” She is a Breasted American.

2. She is not a “Dumb Blond.” She is a Light-Haired Detour off the Information Superhighway.

3. She has not “Been Around.” She is a Previously-Enjoyed Companion.

4. She does not “Nag” you. She becomes Verbally Repetitive.

5. She is not a “Two-Bit Hooker.” She is a Low-Cost Provider.

How to Speak About Men and Be Politically Correct:

1. He does not have a “Beer Gut.” He has developed a Liquid Grain Storage Facility.

2. He does not “Get Lost All the Time.” He Investigates Alternative Destinations.

3. He is not “Balding.” He is in Follicle Regression.

4. He does not act like a “Total Ass.” He develops a case of Rectal-Cranial Inversion.

5. It’s not his “Crack” you see hanging out of his pants. It is Rear Cleavage.

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A student comes to a young professor’s after office hours.  She glances down the hall, closes his door, and kneels pleadingly.

”I would do anything to pass this exam,” she says.

She leans closer to him, flips back her hair, and gazes meaningfully into his eyes.

“I mean,” she whispers, “I would do anything…”

He returns her gaze, “Anything?”

“Anything.” She says

His voice softens, “Anything?”

“Anything,” she repeats again.

His voice turns to a whisper.

“Would you … study?”

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Warning! Warning!! Watch Out!!!!!!!!!!!

If  you receive an  email entitled ‘Bedtimes’ …. Delete it IMMEDIATELY.  Do not open it.

Apparently this one is pretty nasty. It  will not only erase everything on your hard drive, but it will also delete anything on disks within 20 feet of your computer.  It demagnetizes the stripes on ALL of your credit cards. It reprograms your ATM access code, screws up the tracking on your VCR, and uses subspace field harmonics to scratch any CD’s you attempt to play. It will program your phone auto dial  to call only 900 numbers.

Other things this virus will do:

  • This virus will mix antifreeze into your fish tank.
  • It  will drink ALL your beer.
  •  It will leave dirty underwear on  the coffee table when you are expecting company.
  • It will replace your shampoo with Nair and your Nair with Rogaine.
  • If the ‘Bedtimes’  message opened in a Windows 95/98 environment, it will leave the toilet seat up and leave your hair dryer plugged in dangerously close to a full  bathtub.
  • It will not only remove the forbidden tags from your mattresses and pillows, it will also refill your skim milk with whole milk. 

And if you don’t send this to 5000 people in 20 seconds, you’ll fart so hard that your right leg will spasm and shoot straight out in front of you, sending sparks that will ignite the person nearest you.
  Send this warning to everyone!
  Right now, as you read this, 17  Million people are having SEX!!!
  And look at you - you’re on the computer…

And is anyone else out there having trouble uploading audio to Vox?  I have been trying to upload a single track for ten minutes now – I am just gonna leave it and see what happens – not getting an error message, just not getting anything uploaded at all!
Gonna try pictures now.

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Pleasure All The Way

The Commanding Officer of a Regiment in the U.S. Marine Corps was about to start the morning briefing to his Staff and Battalion and Company Commanders.

While waiting for the coffee machine to finish its brewing, the C.O. decided to pose a question to all assembled. He explained that his wife had been a bit frisky the night before and he failed to get his usual amount of sound sleep. He posed the question of just how much of sex was "work" and how much of it was "pleasure."

The X.O. chimed in with 75-25% in favor of work.

A Captain said it was 50-50%.

The Colonel's aide responded with 25-75% in favor if pleasure, depending upon his state of inebriation at the time.

There being no consensus, the Colonel turned to the PFC who was in charge of making the coffee. What was HIS opinion?

With no hesitation, the young PFC responded, "Sir, it has to be 100% pleasure."

The colonel was surprised and, as you might guess, asked why.

"Well, sir," began the PFC, "if there was any work involved, the Officers would have me doing it for them."

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