A while ago, I posted a collection of quotes I plastered my door with. I've
also got these:
Here we sit, 'mongst yonder junk.
Our room smells like a skunk.
Eyes will water, and noses burn--
It's enough to make your stomach churn.
This room will give you quite a scare;
To all who enter here beware:
You'll lose all hope of breathing air!
Since the mess in this room has known antidote,
You're better off just leaving a note.
Here we sit, we're cursed liars:
No mess, no junk, no toxic fires.
Alas, dear lass: would dass to ask?
How to repent: prevent this indenting
precedent for demented impediments
with pennace?
For here we sit, 'mongst yonder space,
Void of clutter, butter, and mace.
There is no trace; we've room to pace!
So now the old is obsolete.
Bear it well, and be discrete.
Here I sit, beyonder you,
Wonder what I want to do.
Flee the bees, ski the seas,
Knee the peas, or speak Chinese--
All these would please my Pekinese.
But what I really want is poetry,
And then you really have to know a tree.
Like the maple or the birch or the elm or the oak,
And don't forget the giant artichoke.
But alas, dear lass, I have to pass,
For I know no trees and blow no breeze,
Believe me reader! I do not tease,
Deceive the dead, or weave the web,
Perceive the bed, or leave the sled!
So what I'll do no soul could guess--
I'm going to make my room a mess.
A kindly old priest, while taking his afternoon walk, sees a little boy
sitting beside a basket in the back yard of a house in the neighborhood.
The priest takes a closer look and notices that the basket contains a
mother cat and five tiny kittens, obviously just a few days old.
"Well, now," the priest says to the child, "and what kind of kittens
might those be?"
"They're Catholic kittens, Father!" says the little boy.
The priest, chuckling, pats the kid on the head and walks on.
Three weeks later, the priest is taking his walk and sees the same
little boy playing in the yard. The kittens are there, too, now
much larger and scampering around.
The priest smiles and says "Well, my little friend, what kind of
kittens did you say those were?"
"They're agnostic kittens, Father." the little boy answers.
Taken aback, the priest asks "Now, what would make you say a thing
like that?"
"Well," the boy says, "they have their eyes open now!"
Why is everyone in Alaska grinding the sights off of their handguns?
So when the Grizzly Bear gets ahold of the gun, it doesn't hurt as much
when he shoves it up uour ass!!!!
Q. Why does Ted Kennedy cry during sex?
A. Mace.
What do you call a turtle with a hard-on?
A slow poke.
What was the blonde psychic's greatest achievement?
An IN-body experience!
Q: Why is the Disease Control Center changing the name of the AIDS virus ?
a: Because all the minorities keep signing up for it !
W H Y C O P S H A T E Y O U <<<<&l <
-if you have to ask get out of the way-
Have you ever been stopped by a traffic cop and, while he was
writing a ticket or giving you a warning, you got the feeling that
he would just love to yank you out of the car, right through the
window, and smash your face into the front fender?...
