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marolyn

By marolyn
in Ramble On

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weslgarlic

weslgarlic

Posted
Posted

Dealing with Alcoholism - Heidie Vodka
Love at first sight - Bea Sotted
Keep Smiling - Den Tistry
The Chill Wind - Dora Jarr
Daydream Believer = Edina Cloud
Don't be afraid to Try -Gowon Lemmee
Dealing with Fear - Lilly Livered
The Good Underwear Guide - Lucy Lastic
Modern Solar Heating - Luke Warm
The Art of Complaining Propery - Mona Lott
How to get your point across quickly - Mo Termouth
How to Stop Smoking - Nick O'Teen
Coming off the booze - Norma Leigh Lucid
The Art of Female Seduction - Paul Zernikazof
Kitchen Cleanliness - Sal Monella
Waxing for Beginers - Anita Bush

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redrum

redrum

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Something I saw in my Muzzle Blasts magazine:

A Very Short Story

There were four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and Nobody. There was a very important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it but Nobody did. Somebody got angry because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it. It ended up with Everybody blaming Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.

Sounds like our current government.

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TypeO

TypeO

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Guy goes out drinking after work with his mates one evening, still wearing his best work-suit. Armani. As the night unfolds, they all get progressively drunker, and just before they leave for the next pub, someone orders a round of slammers. The guy knocks his back, then starts to feel it all welling up inside...he can't hold it back, and vomits profusely down the front of his fine suit.

"Fucking hell, the missus is gonna kill me for this", he says. "Don't worry," says one of his mates. "Here's what you do. Stick a £20 note in your outside pocket now, and when your wife goes mental, tell her it was someone else who puked, and he felt so bad that he gave you £20 to get it dry-cleaned." "That's brilliant!", he says, and he takes a £20 note, folds it up and sticks it in his pocket...and they move on to the next pub.

Next thing he knows, it's morning, and the he's waking up on the sofa, with his wife standing over him, holding his puke-crusted jacket at arm's length with a face like thunder. "You disgusting animal", she says, "just look what you've done to your Armani suit". Guy looks at her, remembers the plan, and says "Oh no, no no no, it wasn't me, darling. It was some drunken stranger, and he felt so guilty that he gave me £20 to get it cleaned. There should be a £20 note in the pocket, take a look".

"Actually, there was £40 in the pocket", she says, "so where did the other £20 come from?"

"Oh", he says, "that's from the guy who shat in my pants".

This reminds me of a YouTube comment on a video from Liberal radio talk show host Randi Rhodes claiming she was mugged after walking out of a bar, suggesting it was right-wingers who disliked her.

She makes the comment about it being "Blackwater thugs".

The

to this day, which still makes me laugh like crazy -

1.jpg

blogagog 5 years ago

One time I drank 14 beers, and Blackwater thugs peed in my pants and threw up all over me.

True story.

Reply · 24 pixel-vfl3z5WfW.gifpixel-vfl3z5WfW.gif

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slave to zep

slave to zep

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this is rather long ( sorry ), i copied it from facebook.

just replace the names with your own politicians ..... :)

While on her morning ride on her broomstick, Prime Minister Julia Gillard falls off, has a heart attack and dies because the 'accident and emergency' dept at her nearest hospital is too understaffed to treat her in time.

So her soul arrives in Heaven and she is met by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. 'Welcome to Heaven,' says Saint Peter, 'Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a Socialist around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you.'

'No problem, just let me in; I'm a good Christian; I'm a believer,' says the PM.

'I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from God. He says that since the implementation of his new HEAVEN CHOICES policy, you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity.'

'But I've already made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven,' replies Gillard.

'I'm sorry .. But we have our rules,' Peter interjects. And, with that, St. Peter escorts her to a lift and she goes down, down, down ....all the way to Hell.

The doors open and she finds herself in the middle of a lush golf course.

The sun is shining in a cloudless sky. The temperature is a perfect 22°C. In the distance is a beautiful club-house. Standing in front of it are Gough Whitlam and thousands of other Socialist luminaries who had helped her out over the years --- Bob Hawke, Paul Keating, etc., even Kevin Rudd - The whole of the Labor Party leaders were there (and all the socialists from other parts of the world..)

Everyone is laughing, happy, and casually but expensively dressed.

They run to greet her, to hug her (except Rudd who is still recovering from the stab wounds to his back!! ) and to reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at the expense of 'suckers and peasants.'

They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar. The Devil himself comes up to Gillard with a frosty drink, 'Have a tequila and relax, Julia!'

'Uh, I can't drink anymore; I took a pledge,' says Gillard, dejectedly.

'This is Hell, ma’am. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry and it just gets better from there!'

Gillard takes the drink and finds herself liking the Devil, who she thinks is a really very friendly bloke who tells funny jokes like herself and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like the ones the Labor Party pulled at the last election with their master strokes on Education, Immigration, National Broadband Network, Petrol Prices, Carbon Tax, Mining Tax, Budget Surpluses, Solar Schemes, Health Rebate, and Tough on Crime promises.

They are having such a great time that, before she realises it, it's time to go. Everyone gives her a big hug (except Rudd!) and waves as she steps into the lift and heads upward.

When the lift door reopen, she is in Heaven again and Saint Peter is waiting for her. 'Now it's time to visit Heaven,' the old man says, opening the gate.

So for 24 hours Gillard is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or short-arse joke among them. No fancy country clubs here and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor. She doesn't see anybody she knows and she isn't even treated like someone special!

'Whoa,' she says uncomfortably to herself. 'Gough Whitlam never prepared me for this!'

The day done, Saint Peter returns and says, 'Well, you've spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for Eternity.'

With the 'Deal or No Deal' theme playing softly in the background, Gillard reflects for a minute ... Then answers: 'Well, I would never have thought I'd say this -- I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all -- but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends.'

So Saint Peter escorts her to the lift and down she goes, down, down, all the way to Hell.

The doors of the lift open and she is in the middle of a barren scorched earth covered with garbage and toxic industrial wasteland, looking a bit like the eroded, rabbit and fox affected Australian outback, but worse and more desolate.

She is horrified to see all of her friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the roadside rubbish and putting it into black plastic bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime.

The Devil comes over to Gillard and puts an arm around her shoulder.' I don't understand,' stammers a shocked Gillard, 'Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a club-house and we ate lobster and caviar and drank tequila. We lazed around and had a great time.. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!'

The Devil looks at her, smiles slyly and purrs, 'Yesterday we were campaigning; today you voted for us!'

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