                            I'M TIRED

	Yes, I'm tired.  For several years I've been blaming it on
middle-age, iron-poor blood, lack of vitamins, air pollution, water
pollution, saccharin, obesity, dieting, under-arm odor, yellow wax
build-up, and a dozen other maladies that make you wonder if life is
really worth living.
	But now I find out, tain't that.
	I'm tired because I'm overworked.
	The population of this country is 200 million.  Eighty-four
million are retired.  That leaves 116 million to do the work.  There are
75 million in school, which leaves 41 million to do the work.  Of this
total, there are 22 million employed by the government.
	That leaves 19 million to do the work.
	Four million are in the Armed Forces, which leaves 15 million to
do the work.  Take from that total the 14,800,000 people who work for
State and City Government and that leaves 200,000 to do the work.  There
are 188,000 in hospitals, so that leaves 12,000 to do the work.
	Now there are 11,998 people in prisons.  That leaves just two
people to do the work.  You and me.  And you're sitting there reading
this.  No wonder I'm tired.

Q: What do you call a rabbit with a bent willy?
A: Fucks Funny!

	G.O.P. TO DO LIST
	   1980 - 1992

_X_	Carter			Nov 1980
_X_	Libya			Oct 1985
_X_	Afghanistan		May 1988
_X_	Iran			Dec 1988
_X_	Nicaragua		Sep 1989
_X_	Warsaw Pact		Nov 1989
_X_	Panama			Dec 1989
_X_ 	Democratic Party	Nov 1990
_X_	Iraq			Feb 1991
_X_	Communist Party		Aug 1991
_X_	Soviet Union		Sep 1991
___	Cuba			
___	China
___	North Korea


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++=
Crank Unified Theories:  The CUTting edge of Fuzzy Science

Quite recently the Institute of Fuzzy Science has announced 
the discovery of several bold new theories, providing a unified 
explanation, or at least excuse, for a broad range of natural 
phenomena.  These theories are both extremely ambitious in their 
scope and modest in their assumptions.  Their main trait is that 
they deduce a great deal from practically nothing.

The creation of Crank Unified Theories is an old and honorable 
tradition, dating back to prehistoric times, when our ancient 
ancestors looked around them and asked "How the heck did *this* all 
get here?"  The process was lent considerable prestige by such 
luminaries as Aristotle and Ptolemy, in the classical age, and 
continues up to this day.  One recent idea by a worker outside the 
Institute was Photon Mechanics, which postulated that all 
fundamental particles were composed of photons.  In an attempt to 
prove this, he tried to synthesize a meal from gamma rays.  
Unfortunately, the food immediately propagated away at 299,000 
kilometers per second, leaving critics of the light lunch 
unsatisfied.

"Terrible," one physicist commented.  "Much too bland."  Others 
seemed to agree.

The CUTs produced at the Institute of Fuzzy Science are 
notable in that they all contradict each other, and sometimes 
themselves.  Thus, few would argue that all, or even most, are 
correct.  The most successful theory to date is that of Dr. Isaac M. 
Woozy, commonly known as Woozy Theory.  Woozy Theory has 
proven capable of predicting practically anything you put to it.

What is Woozy Theory?  In its simplest outlines, it is an 
attempt to describe nature by unifying three separate realms of 
observation:  General Relativity, Quantum Mechanics, and Scrabble.  
By adopting a three pronged approach the theory is able to resolve 
the apparent contradictions between each of the sub-theories.

"I believe that the problems of earlier researchers," stated Dr. 
Woozy, "arose from treating the subjects piecemeal.  A unified 
approach is required."  He cites difficulties with Superstring 
Theory, Quantum Scrabble, and Scrabble in Curved Spacetime.  In 
each case, he maintains, difficulties arose from neglecting a broad 
class of other phenomena.  "My discovery was serendipitous," he 
recalls.  "I'd been wrestling with various theories for weeks 
without getting anywhere.  Finally, in my office, I picked up 
Merzbacher's Quantum Mechanics in one hand and Misner, Thorne and 
Wheeler's Gravitation in the other -- well, I touched it, anyway, 
it's too heavy to lift.  Just as I was staring at both of them, my 
Scrabble set fell from the top shelf and hit me on the head."

With the blow came illumination.  If one merely assumes that 
Scrabble must exist, the rest of nature follows.  Gravity, for 
example, is necessary to keep the pieces on the board.  
Electromagnetism provides light, to see the letters with.  One 
critic pointed out the possibility of magnetized pieces; Woozy 
pondered for hours until he had resolved the conflict to his 
satisfaction.

"One not only needs gravity to keep the pieces on the board," he 
explained, "but also to provide an atmosphere, so the players can 
breathe."  When the critic began to suggest pressure suits and 
space colonies, Woozy silenced him with a skillfully thrown 
paperweight.

"I take my work seriously," he declared.

Most exciting of all, Woozy theory provides the first coherent 
explanation for the universe as a whole.  If Scrabble is necessary, 
then so are players, and a universe to play in.  Woozy calls this the 
"Really Strong" or "Scrabble" Anthropic Principle.  Humans (or at 
least intelligent beings) are necessary, providing an order to 
biological evolution which has been lacking since the failure of the 
Chain of Being.  This also suggests that if aliens exist, they may 
well play Scrabble.

"That doesn't mean that they will speak English, necessarily,"  
Woozy added cautiously.  "There are foreign language versions, 
after all.  And the point values may differ, somewhat."  He 
suggested to SETI that they listen for very long range Play By Mail 
games.  At present, his suggestion has not been acted on.
"They're just miffed that they didn't think of it," Woozy 
sniffed.

Rival theories include unifying QFT and GR with chess or 
checkers, or even tic-tac-toe.  While the originators of these 
theories remain hopeful, Woozy is pessimistic.

"Those games are extremely difficult to unify with Quantum 
Mechanics," Woozy explained, "since they lack an element of chance.  
And tic-tac-toe doesn't even have pieces, so gravity is pretty 
shaky as well.  Plus it's a drawn game (no pun intended).  Who'd 
want to live in a universe that boring?"  Woozy also recalled an 
early game of quantum chess:  "After about thirty moves, black was 
both mated and not mated.  It made for terrible arguments."

Are these, or similar theories, the answer to the riddle of the 
universe?  Most observers doubt it.  Still, as Dr. Woozy himself 
points out, "What the heck, it keeps us off the streets."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Q: What's the difference between a gay man and a refrigerator?
A: The refrigerator doesn't fart when you take the meat out!

God appears to Bush, Gorbachev, and Shamir and explains that he is
really pissed of at what they have done to the environment, and all 
the hatred, and such, and he is going to pull the plug.  They each 
have one week to inform their respective citizens.
  So President Bush schedules a news conference, and explains that he
has good news and he has bad news.  "The good news is that he has 
heard directly from God and that his faith has now been justified.
The bad news is that God is going to destroy the earth in 7 days."
  Gorby appears on Russian TV, and explains that he has surprising news
and he has bad news.  "The surprising news is that, contrary to the
teachings of Marx and Lenin, there really is a God.  The bad news is
that he is very, very angry at us."
  Shamir appears on Israeli TV, and explains that he has good news and
he has great news.  "The good news is that God has revealed himself 
to me.  The GREAT news is that in seven days there will no longer be 
a movement for a Palestinian state."

A man sees his doctor who tells him: "I've got some good news and some
bad news.  Which do you want to hear first ?"
  "Let's hear the bad news first,"  says the man.
  "The bad news is you've got AIDS." says the doctor.
  The man recoils. "That is terrible."  After that, how could there be any good
news?"
  "The good news is you've got Alzheimer's disease, too, so go home and forget
about it."

Doctor to patient: "I've got good news and bad news."
Patient: "Give me the bad news first."
Doctor: "I'm sorry, you have a terminal disease and have only a
	 month to live."
Patient: "What could possibly be good news after that?"
Doctor: "You know that beautiful new receptionist out front with
	 the giant tits?... Well, I've been fucking her."


A bank manager is getting himself acquainted with his fellow workers
In one cabin, he meets a man counting money furiously. The B.M. is impressed
and asks him his name.  The man replies 'Yim Yonson", without even pausing to
stop counting.
The B.M. is even more impressed, and asks "My dear man where did you learn to
count money like that ?"
The man replies "Yale"

A girl is out on a date, after driving around for sometime her date asks her,
"What do you want to do?"
She replies, "I want to get weighed"
After a lot of looking around, he finally finds a weighing scale, puts in a
coin and gets her weight.
After some time he again asks her "what do you want to do"
Again she replies "I want to get weighed"
This goes on for a couple more times, when the date gets really frustrated &
drives her back home & dumps her on her front yard.
The girl goes in & obviously is looking very depressed.
Her mom asks her "How was your date?"
"Wousy"

A certain woman was something of a perfectionist about pronounciation - always
pronounced "Paris" as "Paree", etc. but she could never get an authoritative
answer as to whether "Hawaii" should correctly be pronounced 'Ha-why-ee' or
'Ha-vy-ee'.  Finally, she's about to die and says that she can not die
happily without learning the correct pronounciation of "Hawaii".  At great
expense and trouble her loving children bring her on her death bed to Hawaii
where she asks the first man she sees, "How do you pronounce Hawaii ?"
He answers: 'Ha-vy-ee'.  With her dying breath she says "Thank you, so much."
The last thing she hears as she slips into the great beyond is the man saying
"You're velcome."

	Three preganant women (a blonde, a brunette and a redhead) are
discussing the facts of life.
The brunette declares, "I'm going to have a boy".
"How do you know?", asks the blonde.
"Well, I was on the bottom when we did it and so its going to be a boy",
replied the brunette.
The redhead replies, "If that's the case, my child is a girl because
I was on top".
The blonde then starts bawling, "I'm going to have a puppy". 

What is worse than picking a pubic hair from your teeth in the morning?
Picking a piece of string out.

A very joyfull but not too intelligent man is driving his wife and his
father-in-law across the Golden Gate Bridge, when he is stopped at the exit
by some police officers and the mayor of San Fransisco. He pulls over and
addresses the police officer coming up to his car :
-"What seems to be the problem, officer ?"
-"No problem at all, sir. You are the 5,000,000,000,000,000th passenger to
  cross the Golden Gate bridge, and therefore, on behalf of the mayor, I hereby
  present you with $ 5000 prize money !"
-"Gee, thanks officer"
-"And, sir, do you have any idea what you are gonna use this money for ?"
-"Yes, this finally enables me to pay for drivers ed and get a drivers licence "
His wife, shocked at the foolishness of this remark quickly turns to the officer
in an attempt to undo the damage :
-"Don't mind him, officer, he always talks gibberish when he is drunk"
All this has woken up the mans father-in-law, who at seeing the police officer
shouts to his son-in-law :
-"I told you sonny, you never get far in a stolen vehicle !"

The trial of the Cheerleader Mom (a mother who tried
to hire a hit man on the mother of her daughter's
cheerleader rival)  came to a close yesterday when
the foreman of the jury announced, "Your honor, the
jury has reached a verdict;
		Gimme a  G !!!
		Gimme a  U !!!
		Gimme an I !!!  ..........


This is your lucky day, because for just one day of your time you could
earn yourself 5000 pounds. Yes that is right 5000 pounds for one day, all
you have to do is sign a paper donating your testicles to my client MR Rich
who lost his own in an accident involvinq a cucumber and a 50 KG weight dropted
from a fifth story window. The rest has all bean arranged, you will be flown to
America first class where Dr Disembowler the world leading testical transplant
specilist will proform the painless (Well almost painless) operation. After the
transplant you can choose from a wide range of replacment testicles, from the
small marble version right up to the delux version that can play the tune
'Dixie' and can also pick up radio 1. After that you will be flown back to
Scotland in my clients privet jet much richer than you left. You dont get an
offer like this every day, it is a once in a lifetime chance to get ritch (after
all how many sets of testicles do you have). So reply to me as soon as possable
to avoid disappointment.
        Yours sincerly
                MR N.O. Nuts

    HEAVY METAL FOLK SONGS
I saw Mr. Bluebird playing in the grass
Suddenly a big fat worm came crawling out his ass
The bluebird turned around and ate him up real quick
It was so disgusting, I instantly got sick.
 Oh, heavy metal folk songs,
 Sing them all day and you'll never go wrong
 Heavy metal folk songs, yeah...
A brilliant golden ray came shining through the air
The little girl yawned and stretched and shook her pretty hair
That would be the last thing that she would ever do
A nuclear bomb flattened her house and turned her skin to goo
 Oh, heavy metal folk songs,
 Sing them all night and you'll never go wrong
 Heavy metal folk songs, yeah...
Little Johnny got his books and walked off towards school
His head was full of words and numbers and God's Golden Rule
But the neighborhood bully found him on the street
Pushed him in front of a truck, the splat was kinda neat
 Oh, heavy metal folk songs,
 Sing them when you're dead and you'll never go wrong
 Heavy metal folk songs, yeah...
The golden monarch butterfly burst from his cocoon
He spread his winds for the first time under the full moon
He flew straight into a spider's web that he hadn't seen
The spider caught and poisoned him, the butterfly turned green.
 Oh, heavy metal folk songs,
 Sing them when you kill and you'll never go wrong
 Heavy metal folk songs, yeah...

A while back I asked for some witty retorts to nerd brains who walk past my
rather well endowed fiancee and say "Cor they're big tits".
"She won't break her nose if she falls over"
"She's got a lot in front of her"
(and by allusion)
"She's got a big future"
(Monty Python allusion)
"She's got HUGE....tracts of land"
(and hence)
"She's got a bright future in real estate"

Her boobs were so big.  How big were they?
She wanted to be a track star but every time she tried to run she got black
eyes.

I remember in the Carry On film, set at Swancome (?) the holiday resort and
one of the men dressed up as a woman for the beauty contest and commented
that he couldn't see his feet, and Barbara Windsor commented that she hadn't
seen hers since she was fourteen.

I call my bra "sheep", because it rounds them up and points them in the 
right direction.
     -- A Noel Edmonds listener, 1980.

Then there is the young boy on the bus who's comment to a baby feeding is,
"He'll never eat all of that."

Boobs are like train sets really.....They're meant to be for the children,
but its always the fathers that end up playing with them.

Then there's the one my fiancee used at the weekend......
"Oh look matching IQ and bust size.......38"

EXTRACT FROM "The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Operating System"
==============================================================

"This is your kernel speaking so suspend whatever you're doing
 and send "ACK".

 FIRSTLY: I see from our keyboard status register that we have
 a couple of glitch characters in the input buffer.... Hello!
 Hello, whatever you are! I just want to make it totally clear
 that you are NOT AT ALL WELCOME!

 I worked hard polling the status register for the likes of you,
 and I'm not about to turn my process table into a bus service
 for degenerate ASCII codes.  I've sent out a SIGKILL, and when
 it finds you, I've ordered it to re-direct you into /dev/null!!! 
 (If you're very lucky, I might show you some of my source code
 first!)

 SECONDLY: We are about to jump into transit mode for the journey
 to $000C0FD9, and upon arrival, the system will be in single-user
 mode for a 72ms wait-state, during which no one's to read or
 write; I REPEAT: ALL I/O IS SUSPENDED!

 ...... I've just had an TPC/IP timeout, so I don't see why anyone
 else should use IRC.


Shitty Synonyms
-----------------
lose some weight
power dump
chase a brown trout down the river
squeeze the cheese
pinch a loaf
grind some beef
lay some cable
nuke it

The Philosophy behind Shit!
---------------------------
Taoism = Shit Happens.
	 If you can shit, it isn't shit.
Confucianism = Confucius say, "Shit Happens"
Buddhism = If shit happens, it is not really shit.
	   Shit will happen again to you next time.
Zen-Buddhism = What is the sound of shit happening?
Hinduism = This shit happened before.
	   This shit is not a religion, it is the way of life.
Islam = If this shit happens, it is the will of Allah.
Protestantism = Let shit happen to someone else.
Catholicism = If shit happens, you deserved it.
Charismatic Catholicism: Shit is happening because you deserve it,
but we love you anyway.
Judaism = Why does shit always happen to us?
New Age = A firm shit does not happen to me.
	  This isn't shit if I really believe it's chocolate
	  I create my own shit.
Rastafarian = Let's roll that shit up and smoke it.
Jehovah's Witness = There is only a limited amount of good shit
Mormon = Hey, there's more shit over here!
Baptist = You are shitting all wrong, and you'll be punished for it
Unitarianism = Go ahead, shit anywhere you want
Iraqi Baathist = Oh shit!
Yuppie Shit = It's my shit!  All mine!  Isn't it beautiful?
Voodoo:  Shit doesn't just happen -- somebody dumped it on you.
Televangelism:  Your tax-deductible donation could make this shit
stop happening.
Heisenbergism = Shit happened, we just don't know where.
Nixonism = Shit didn't happen, and if it did I din't know anything
           about it.
McCarthyism = Are you now, or hare you ever been, shit?
Communism = It's everybody's shit.
Capitalism = Shit happens, and it'll cost you!
Agnosticism: It looks and smells like shit, but I haven't tasted it, so I'm
             not sure whether its shit or not.
Atheism:     It looks and smells like shit, so I'm damned if I'm going to
             taste it.
	     I don't believe this shit.
Sevenday Adventist : Work hard and on Saturday shit happens
 McLeanism - This shit has happened to me before.
 Creationalism - After six days of shit, He rested.
 Darwinism - This shit evolved.
 Green Peace - Save this shit.
 Environmentalism - Recycle this shit.
 Fatalism - Not this shit AGAIN.
 Paranoia - Shit happens cuz it's a plot.
 Optimism - Shit happens only once.
 Pessimism - Shit happens forever.
 Political (Election time) - Shit happens to my opponent.
 Political (Term in Office) - I recall no shit happening.
 Political (Retired) - We all knew shit happened.
 Military - Shit happens. By the numbers.


                           New Announcement from IBM

Think back a minute; back to the go old days of the 60's, back when we rose up
and stormed computer centers. Yes, those were the days when computers were
worth storming, not like today's bland featureless hardware.  Well, Big Blue,
is bringing them back, all those great oldies we loved so well.  The 7094's,
the 1800's, and, of course, the classic 360 series.  Complete with all their
original blinking lights that no one understood, but who cared we were young
and had better things to do than program computers, not like the nerdy PC kids
of today with their color graphics and mice.

Oh, remember those 360's, big power sucking mainframes with REAL core.  I'll
bet you can recall the first time you ever punched a card. Thinking about it
still sends chills right through my body. And the languages. Not some strongly
typed structured drivel like PASCAL or MODULA, but a down and dirty language
like FORTRAN before the namby-pambys put all that LEVEL 77 crap in it. Yes,
those were the days when men had BAL's and weren't afraid to use them.

So order now, and receive, in addition to your completely rebuilt 360, a 3705
Communication Controller and 5 026 keypunches (drums extra).  And if you order
within the next 5 days you can get up to 3 2314 disk drives at the unbelievable
price of $39.95 each (plus $999 postage and handling). So don't wait, these
very same items will be featured soon on the Home Shopping Channel at
substantially higher prices.

A guy is asking a friend : " why aren't you going out with your girlfriend
anymore ?"
The answer was: "I can't stand YOUR mom when she gets mello!"

Did you know they have AT&T International Interpreters now?  You can
dial a foreign country and talk to someone there, and they'll
translate into English for you.  I think it's a great idea.  I just
think it hasn't gone far enough yet.
Operator:	337, this is Tina, may I help you?
Woman:		Yes, please dial 555-1212, and I'd like a male-female
		intepreter, please.
Operator:	One moment...
Man:		Hello?
Woman:		I just want to be friends, Cal.
Interpreter:	You're history, buddy.
Man:		No!  You can't be serious!
Interpreter:	Why break up?  We can still have good sex!
Woman:		Please Cal, don't make this any harder for me.
Interpreter:	If you come within a five-block radius of my house, my new
		boyfriend, Vito, will rip off your head and shit down your
		neck!
Man:		I don't like it, but I think I understand...
Interpreter:	I don't care, I know your sister too.

John was staying in Sicily for a few weeks, and rather than live in a hotel,
he was staying with a Sicilian family.  Now, he'd heard about Sicily and the
mafia, and he said it was kind of rough, but you got used to it.
  Anyways, the family he was staying with had a small boy, who came up to
John while he was reading a book.  The boy said "Mr. John, Mr. John, I just
wanted to tell you that I've always liked London, and for years I've dreamed
of owning a Raleigh 10-speed bicycle" (John is British, Welsh, or something
silly like that).  John looked at the little boy and said "well, have you
ever thought of writing Father Christmas for it?".  The little boy
immediately responded "oh yes!  I've written him every year for the past
eight years, and I never got one!".
  At this point, John said "well, you might try going a step higher - write
a letter to Jesus".  The little boy got a smile on his face and said "oh
yes, that's a good idea.  I'll do it right now", and he sat down at his
desk, pulled out a piece of paper and started writing.  John went back
to his book, but he kept watching the boy out of one eye.  The boy started
his letter.
        "Dear Jesus, all of my life I've wanted a Raleigh 10-speed
	 bicycle."
He stopped writing at this point, crumpled the piece of paper up, and threw
it into the fireplace.  After a minute, he pulled out another piece of paper
and started writing again.
        "Dear Jesus, I would love to have a Raleigh 10-speed bicycle."
Again, he stopped, crumpled the paper up, and threw it in the fireplace.
Now John was getting interested.  The boy sat there thinking for a minute,
and then he got up and walked over to the mantel.  It's sort of an
Italian/Sicilian tradition to have an icon of the Madonna on your fireplace
mantel, and this family had one - white, about 8 inches high.  The boy
walked over to the mantel and very gently took the Madonna down and carried
it back to the desk.  He took a white towel, wrapped the icon very
carefully in the towel and laid it down on the desk.  He then got up and
walked back to the mantel, where he removed a brick from the fireplace and
pulled a key out from behind it.  Throughout this, John was watching,
somewhat bemused.  The boy put the brick back and returned to the desk,
where he unlocked a small drawer that John hadn't even noticed.  He got out
another white towel and laid it in the drawer, and he then laid the wrapped
Madonna in the second towel, closed up the towel, shut the drawer, locked
it, and returned the key to its hiding place.  He then walked back to the
desk, sat down, pulled out a third piece of paper, and started writing
again.
        "Dear Jesus, if you ever want to see your mother again..."

Those who can, do; those who can't, ...

   ... teach.
   ... sing country.
   ... followup.

Who is PeeWee Herman?  a Listing!

1. Rushdie in his latest incarnation. [he got tired of dancing in vegas]
(Watch for "The Captain Kangaroo edition of the Satanic Verses" coming
to a bookstore near you)

2. Love child of Henry Kissinger and Olivia Newton John

3. Twiggy after the operation

4. Dan Quayle's spiritual advisor

5. The real mastermind behind the SDI

6. Connie Chung's love slave (Whip me, beat me, make me say the secret word!)

7. The guy who writes all of those 'real-life' tampon commercials

8. The guy who determines that new pet foods have 'New Improved Flavour'

9. The first don of the families to be named Pee-Wee
(Watch for "Pee-wee makes a hit" coming soon to a theatre near you)

10. An out of work Elvis impersonator who will be posing nude in 
Playboy once the operation is completed.

*Cujo*	Eagles may soar, but weasels don't
	get sucked into jet engines. 

You might be a redneck if both your dog and wallet have a chain.

You are in a room.  There is a dead man and a broken stick.  What happened?
Answer:  The man was a blind midget dwarf who worked for the circus.  The stick
was his blind man's cane.  Someone snuck into his room in the middle of the
night and broke the cane.  when he woke up, and tried to use the cane, which
no longer touched the ground, he believed he had grown taller, and killed
himself because he was out of his job.
 
I don't know if this is true or not but a friend from Chicago told me
there was a suburb called Beecher which had a company called
		Beecher Tool and Die
This also made me think of a great name for a butcher shop:
	       Beecher Brothers Meat

Did you hear that Pee-wee died of a massive stroke last night?

What does a proud computer call his little son?
 " A microchip off the old block."

What happens if you cross a midget and a computer?
   " you get a short circut".

So the Pope, a Monsignor, and some young priest were hanging out in the Pope's
office talking. Suddenly, through a partially closed door, they see Jesus
Christ himself strolling down the hall. They look at each other aghast. The
Pope strides across the office, sits down at a typewriter and starts banging
away at it. Over the clatter, the Monsignor shakenly asks "Your Holiness,
what are you doing?! That's Jesus himself coming down the hall!".
  The Pope, still typing away, looks up and says testily, "I don't know about
you guys, but I'm gonna look real busy."

Heard about L.A. in the wake of the visit of the Bishop of Rome.
Of the many entrepreneurs dogging his Holiness' footsteps, it seems that
one is now selling frozen flavored holy water on a stick.  Yes, popesickles.

A Catholic Priest and a Rabbi were chatting one day when the conversation
turned to a discussion of job descriptions and promotion.
"What do you have to look forward to in way of a promotion in your job?"
asked the Rabbi.
"Well, I'm next in line for the Monsignor's job." replied the Priest.
"Yes, and then what?" asked the Rabbi.
"Well, next I can become Arch-Bishop." said the Priest.
"Yes, and then?" asked the Rabbi.
"If I work real hard and do a good job as Arch-Bishop, it's possible for
me to become a full Bishop." said the Priest.
"O.K., then what?" asked the Rabbi.
The Priest, begining to get a bit exasperated replied, "With some luck and
real hard work, maybe I can become a Cardinal."
"And then?" asked the Rabbi.
The Priest is really starting to get mad now and replies, "With lots and
lots of luck and some real difficult work and if I'm in the right places
at the right times and play my political games just right, maybe, just maybe,
I can get elected Pope."
"Yes, and then what?" asked the Rabbi.
"Good grief!" shouted the Priest. "What do you expect me to become, GOD?"
"Well," said the Rabbi, "One of our boys made it!!!!!!!!"


Heard on KABC, a survey was taken at some high school on how the students
felt about contraceptives being advertised on television.
66% were in favor of it.
26% were against it.
8%  said that regardless of the commercial, Pres. Reagan should still send aid
to them.


    What did Senator Biden say when he first met with his staff after the
New York Times broke the plagiarism scandal?     "Don't worry, guys.  The only
thing we have to fear is fear itself!"
    Biden said that in regard to plagarisim charges, it wasn't anything
recent.   In fact, he said 'It all happened four score and seven years ago...'
    Biden, when asked if he was going to resign, said that 'he had not yet
begun to fight.'
    Pat Schroeder called Joe and told him that she was thinking of entering
the presidential race. His response was ' Frankly, my dear, I don't give a
damn.'
    Perhaps the cruelest cut of all was when someone asked a Biden staffer
why Biden was still in the race. The staffer responded that they had been unable
to locate a copy of Hart's resignation speech.
   In the face of all this scandal, he has announced that if nominated, he
will not run, and if elected, he will not serve.

                COONDOG MEMORY
	(heard in Rutledge, Missouri, about eighteen years ago)
"Now, this dog is for sale, and she can not only follow a trail twice as
old as the average dog can, but she's got a pretty good memory to boot.
For instance, last week this old boy who lives down the road from me, and
is forever stinkmouthing my hounds, brought some city fellow around to try
out ol' Sis here.  So I turned her out south of the house and she made two
or three big swings back and forth across the edge of the woods, set back
her head, bayed a couple of times, cut straight through the woods, come to
a little clearing, jumped about three foot straight up in the air, run to
the other side, and commenced to letting out a racket like she had something
treed.  We went over there with our flashlights and shone them up in the
tree but couldn't catch no shine offa coon's eyes, and my neighbor sorta
indicated that ol' Sis might be a little crazy, `cause she stood right to
the tree and kept singing up into it.  So I pulled off my coat and climbed
up into the branches, and sure enough, there was a coon skeleton wedged in
between a couple of branches about twenty foot up.  Now as I was saying,
she can follow a pretty old trail, but this fellow was still calling her
crazy or touched `cause she had hopped up in the air while she was crossing
the clearing, until I reminded him that the Hawkins' had a fence across there
about five years back.  Now, this dog is for sale."

   Many people think that the concepts and ideas that they read
about typical SF story are derived from the imagination of the
writer.  How do you know this?  Many of the things I have read about
would require an imagination that borders on mental illness.  Are
these writers producing autobiographies, thinly disguised as science
fiction?  Just in case, I present here a brief guide, to help you in
the event that something you have read about actually happens to
you.
                           What to do ...
1.  If you get a phone call from Mars.
   Speak slowly and be sure to enunciate your words properly.  Limit
   your vocabulary to simple words.  Try to determine if you are
   speaking to someone in a leadership capacity, or an ordinary
   citizen.

Q. What if he or she doesn't speak English?
   Hang up.  There's no sense in trying to learn Martian over the
   phone.  If your Martian really had something important to say to
   you, he or she would have taken the trouble to learn the language
   before calling.

2. If you get a phone call from Jupiter?
   Explain to your caller, politely but firmly, that being from
   Jupiter, he or she is not `life as we know it'.  Try to terminate
   the conversation as soon as possible.  It will not profit you.

3. If a starship, equipped with an FTL hyperdrive lands in your
   backyard?
   First of all, do not run after your camera.  You will not have
   any film.  Be polite.  Remember, if they have an FTL hyperdrive,
   they can probably vaporize you, should they find you to be rude.
   Direct them to the White House lawn, which is where they probably
   wanted to land, anyway.  A good road map should help.

4. If you wake up in the middle of the night, and discover that your
   closet contains an alternate dimension?
   Don't go in.  You almost certainly will not be able to get back,
   and alternate dimensions are almost never any fun. Remain calm
   and go back to bed.  Check your closet in the morning.  If it
   still contains an alternate dimension, nail it shut.

5. If reality disappears?
   Hope this one doesn't happen to you.  There is not much you can
   do about it.  It can be quite unpleasant.

6. If you meet an older version of yourself who has invented a time
   traveling machine, and has come from the future to meet you?
   Follow the books on this one.  Ask about the stock market and
   cash in.  Don't forget to invent a time traveling machine and
   visit your younger self before you die, or you will create a
   paradox.

   I hope this guide will be of help to you, should you find
yourself confronted with any of the situations described.  If
anything like the above should happen to you, get out your
typewriter, and crank out a story.

Nervous?  Hah!  NERVOUS?!  Forget it!  I am not the least tiny little BIT
nervous about engaging in air travel these days!!
  Why even as I write these words, I am boldly sitting in a jet-powered
commercial airplane, and I am cool as a cucumber.  This is because we are on
the ground at the famous Atlanta airport, which means we will all be dead
from starvation long before we take off, because there are 1,450 aircraft
ahead of us, including a number of biplanes still awaiting clearance to
participate in World War I.
  Sitting next to me are two pilots whose flight was canceled.  I am not
making this up.  They work for Eastern Airlines, one of a growing group
of airlines that, as far as I can tell, do not actually own any airplanes.
What they own is a large, modern and superbly maintained fleet of excuses
for why your flight has been canceled.  It's a real thrill to watch the
gate crews for these airlines swing into action as departure time
approaches:
"Ladies and gentlemen," the gate agent proudly announces, "the excuse for
canceling Flight 219 is now arriving on our computer screen."  Right on time!
  The aspiring passengers cluster around and watch with nervous excitement
as the gate agent frowns at the computer, then says:
"Flight 219 has been canceled because of . . .
" . . . MAYONNAISE IN THE GYROSCOPE!"
Ha ha!  A new one!  What will they think of next?  The aspiring passengers,
shaking their heads in wonderment at how far commercial aviation has come
in just their own lifetimes, wander off to look for a working vending machine.
  Not that I am complaining about being stuck on the ground.  No, because the
aviation industry is operating under a new policy called "deregulation,"
under which anybody who can produce two forms of identification is allowed
to operate an airline, and alarming things can happen to the occasional flight
that actually becomes airborne, as evidenced by recent news reports of planes
whose engines were turned off when they were not in direct personal contact
with the ground; planes taking off without important mechanical parts such
as wings; planes bound for Lexingoton, Ky., but landing, due to navigational
error, on the Lost Continent of Atlantis; etc.
 But what really bothers me is the pilots.  When I was a boy, all the pilots
were much older than I am, but in recent years there has been a disturbing
trend -- you may have noticed this -- toward pilots MY OWN AGE.   I happen
to be my own age, and I would never place a person such as myself in a position
of responsibility.  I live in constant fear that one day I'm going to get
on an airplane, and there in the cockpit, wearing a uniform and frowning
at the instruments, will be somebody I went to high school with, somebody
like Billy Kirkwood, who once, at the Halloween Dance, on purpose, set fire
to his own hair.
 And let's not even TALK about what happens to luggage.  I'm going to have
a little sticker made up: YOU CAN CHECK MY LUGGAGE WHEN YOU PRY MY COLD,
DEAD FINGERS OFF THE HANDLE.  Everybody feels this way.  Everybody carries
everything on board.  You see people stuffing Barcaloungers into the overhead
racks.
 TRUE ANECDOTE: Recently the remains of Pvt. Eddie Slovik, the only American
executed for desertion during World War II, were supposed to be flown via
TWA from New York, N.Y., to Detroit, Mich., so naturally they wound up in
San Francisco, Calif.  This really happened.  Fortunately somebody managed
to track Pvt. Slovik down before he earned a Frequent Flier bonus trip to the
Far East.
 Meanwhile, here in the Atlanta airport, we are getting our Safety Lecture.
 "In the unlikely event that we make it as far as a body of water before we
crash," the flight attendant is saying, "you can use your complimentary snack
to repel sharks."
 Next to me, the Eastern pilots -- one of whom is, no question about it, YOUNGER
than I am -- are looking at the little safety card from the barf-bag pocket,
and they are LAUGHING at it.  This is the truth.  I ask them what is so funny,
and they point to the diagram of the plane floating perkily on top of the
water, like a giant inflatable pool toy, while the passengers alertly rescue
themselves.
"You mean the plane won't do that?" I ask.
"Listen," one of them says.  "This plane floats about as well as a boat flies."
Finally, days later, we take off.  The pilot is talking on the intercom.
 "Folks," he is saying, "on behalf of your entire flight crew, let me just
say that I am setting fire to my hair."
 I hope the beverage cart gets here soon.

Crushed Cats
by John Montbriand of Saskatoon, SK Canada
 
Heres a hypothetical situation:
   I drove home late last night and drove over the neghbour's
cat.  What should I do?
 
   (a) hide the cat and let them think it ran away?
   (b) wedge the cat under the neighbor's tire so they think
       they did it?
   (c) paint a hexagram on their front lawn and put the cat
       in the middle so they think that crazy satanists did it?
   (d) throw the cat into my other neighbour's yard?
   (e) tell them that the cat will come back?
   (f) claim that I had the right of way and the cat
       had no business running infront of the car when it
       obviously knew I was going to accelerate?
   (g) put the cat in the garburator so there is'nt any
       evidence?
   (h) put the cat in a tree,  call the fire department
       and let them try to explain it?
   (i) explain that when cat's get to a certain age
       they just lie around a lot and smell bad?
   (j) tell them that I ran over their cat with my car?
   (l) move away?
   (m) buy them a new cat that looks exactly like it?
   (n) drive over the rest of the cat's in the neighbourhood
       and claim that I was on a mission from god?
   (r) send them a bill for services rendered?
   (t) have the cat stuffed and put it on their front
       lawn so they won't notice a thing?
   (u) mail it to them so they blame it on the postal
       service?
   (v) blow it up?
   (w) Say that I saw space aliens land a flying saucer
       on top of it just before they got out and took
       my socks?
   (x) I don't know?
   (y) why not?
   (z) claim a heard of african zebras stampeeded
       my car causing me to swerve and hit the cat?
 
