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Another Friday, some more frivolity, fun, jests, japes and
jokes . . . enjoy dear readers.
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SOME HUMOUR:
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A man bought cigarettes and was given a packet with the advisory
warning “SMOKING CAUSES IMPOTENCE”. He handed
them back to the cashier and said “Please give me the ones that causes
cancer".
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(If, like me, you’re not up on young peoples’ abbreviations
and text-speak, TIFU stands for Today I fucked up. I had to look it up)
TIFU by causing a massive fight at our families’ Labor Day
BBQ.
Now, a bit of background for you all.
Every year, my grandparents invite the entire family over to
their place for their annual Labor Day barbecue.
Very rarely, my cousin Samuel decides to come along, and
usually only if he's desperate for a free meal.
Everyone in my family talks mad shit about Samuel, because
he used to be a hardcore drug addict, but he tries his hardest to quit and he’s
really a nice guy so I've never thought poorly of him.
Remember this, as it will come into play later in the story.
Grandpa starts up the grill, and soon enough my dad and all
of his brothers are gathered around talking about football or some nonsense.
Out of the blue, Samuel walks into the back yard and
suddenly the entire crowd falls deathly silent.
"Nope," my uncle Robert blurts out, "we are
not fucking doing this again this year."
Near him is a croquet mallet left behind by another of my
cousins, and Robert picks it up like he’s going to start swinging it.
Aunt Wendy, Samuel's mom, screams bloody fucking murder but
doesn't lift a finger to help her poor son, who flees back to the front yard as
fast as he can.
Grandpa and the rest of his sons follow Robert as he chases
Samuel down, but not one of them tells him to cut it out.
I blow my top, however, and full-on sprint to put myself
between my uncle and my cousin.
Very forcefully, I take the mallet from Robert's hand and
throw it over the fence onto his neighbor's lawn.
Every one of my family members looks at me like I've just
defaced the Holy Grail, but that doesn't stop me from exploding.
"You ought to be fucking ashamed of yourself !
Over and over you keep punishing Samuel for his past
mistakes, but you never give him a chance to show you how he’s changed!"
Ultimately, my uncle returned to the party with the rest of
my family, his tail between his legs, but not before making it very clear that
I was never allowed to his home again.
Upset about what transpired, Samuel tried to apologize to me
for ruining my relationship with Uncle Robert.
"Please,” I replied with a laugh, "I'm the first
letter of every sentence in this story!"
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Okay, I will explain the above item. It is an example of what is known as a Rickroll,
the sneaky insertion of lyrics from Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”, or
the insertion of a link that takes you to a video of the performance. Essentially it is a bait and switch prank,
tricking people into viewing or reading “Never Gonna Give You Up”. I have
posted about Rickrolling before.
Here are some further examples, quite elaborate and all the
more amazing in that the text of the items as a whole still make sense. Click on the links:
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A man smelling of booze and cigarettes sat down on a train
next to a priest. His tie was stained, there was red lipstick on his collar and
face and a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket.
He opened his newspaper and began reading.
After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked,
"’Scuse me Father, do you happen to know what causes gout?"
The priest replies, "My son, it's caused by loose
living, consorting with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for
your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and lack of a bath."
The drunk muttered in response, "Well, I'll be
damned", then returned to his paper.
The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man
and apologized. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How
long have you had gout?"
The man answered, "I don't have it, Father. I was just
reading here that the Pope suffers from it."
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A police officer stops a minivan full of elderly ladies
being driven by an old gentleman because they’re only going 25 mph, stopping
the mid-day traffic.
The policeman asks the driver why is he going so slow.
“Well that’s the speed limit, isn’t it! There was a sign
saying 25” the driver defends himself.
The policeman sighs, “No, sir, that’s the number of the
highway you’re on. It has nothing to do with the speed limit.”
“Oh, so that’s what it means…” says the driver, looking
shocked.
The officer looks at the rest of the van and notices the
grannies are looking somewhat frozen and stiff.
“What’s up with the ladies?” he asks the driver.
“Um…” the driver scratches his head, “you see, we just got
off highway 150…”
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LIMERICK OF THE WEEK:
A responsive young girl from the East
In bed was an able artiste.
She had
learned two positions
From family
physicians,
And ten more from the old parish priest.
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FROM THE VAULT:
Proof that women do things just to start an argument:
My missus rang me at work today and said "I've not had
time to start tea, do you fancy going out for some?”
"Yeah, that sounds good," I replied.
When I got home from the restaurant, there she was, sat at
the kitchen table with a face like thunder.
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GALLERY:
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CORN CORNER:
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What is the number one cause of dry skin?
Towels.
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Job interviewer: “And where do you see yourself in five
years’ time?"
Me: "Personally I believe my biggest weakness is in listening."
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8:00pm: I get an SMS from my girlfriend: “Me or football?!”
11:00pm: I SMS my girlfriend: “You, of course.”
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