Sunday, July 29, 2007

Cows revisited

a big shout-out to Charlotte for this one:

SOCIALISM: You have 2 cows, and you give one to your neighbor.

COMMUNISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and gives you
some milk.

FASCISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and sells you some milk.

NAZISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and shoots you.

BUREAUCRATISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, then throws the milk away.

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM: You have two cows. You sell one and buy
a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and
retire on the income.

SURREALISM: You have two giraffes. The government requires you to
take harmonica lessons.

AN AMERICAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows. Later, you hire a consultant to analyze why the cow has dropped dead.

ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM: You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax
exemption for five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your
listed company.
The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. Sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States , leaving you with nine cows. No balance sheet provided with the release. The public buys your bull.

THE ANDERSEN MODEL: You have two cows. You shred them.

A FRENCH CORPORATION: You have two cows. You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.

A JAPANESE CORPORATION: You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called "Cowkimon" and market it worldwide.

A GERMAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.

AN ITALIAN CORPORATION: You have two cows, but you don't know where they are. You decide to have lunch.

A RUSSIAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You count them and learn you have five cows. You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. You count them again and learn you have 2 cows. You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.

A SWISS CORPORATION: You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you. You charge the owners for storing them.

A CHINESE CORPORATION: You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity, and arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.

AN INDIAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. You worship them.

A BRITISH CORPORATION: You have two cows. Both are mad.

IRAQI CORPORATION: Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. No-one believes you, so they bomb the s**t out of you and invade your country. You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy.

WELSH CORPORATION: You have two cows. The one on the left looks very attractive.

AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION: You have two cows. Business seems pretty good. You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Bubba Knows

with a big shout-out to Richard

Bubba was bragging to his boss one day, "You know,
I know everyone there is to know. Just name someone,
anyone, and I know them."

Tired of his boasting, his boss called his bluff, "OK,
Bubba how about Tom Cruise?"

"Sure, yes, Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it."
So Bubba and his boss fly out to Hollywood and knock
on Tom Cruise's door, and sure enough, Tom Cruise
shouts, "Bubba! Great to see you! You and your friend
come right in and join me for lunch!"

Although impressed, Bubba's boss is still skeptical. After
they leave Cruise's house, he tells Bubba that he thinks
Bubba's knowing Cruise was just lucky.

"No, no, just name anyone else," Bubba says.

"President Bush," his boss quickly retorts.

"Yes," Bubba says, "I know him, let's fly out to

And off they go. At the White House, Bush spots
Bubba on the tour and motions him and his boss over,
saying, "Bubba, what a surprise, I was just on my way
to a meeting, but you and your friend come on in and
let's have a cup of coffee first and catch up."

Well, the boss is very shaken by now, but still not
totally convinced.

After they leave the White house grounds, he expresses
his doubts to Bubba, who again implores him to name
anyone else.

"The Pope," his boss replies.

"Sure!" says Bubba. "My folks are from Poland, and
I've known the Pope a long time."

So off they fly to Rome. Bubba and his boss are
assembled with the masses in Vatican Square when
Bubba says, "This will never work. I can't catch the
Pope's eye among all these people. Tell you what,
I know all the guards so let me just go upstairs and
I'll come out on the balcony with the Pope." and he
disappears into the crowd headed toward the
Vatican. Sure enough, half an hour later Bubba emerges
with the Pope on the balcony. But by the time Bubba
returns, he finds that his boss has had a heart attack
and is surrounded by paramedics.

Working his way to his boss' side, Bubba asks him,
"What happened?"

His boss looks up and says, "I was doing fine until you
and the Pope came out on the balcony and the man next
to me said, "Who's that on the balcony with Bubba?"

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Damsel in Distress

shouting out to Charlotte!

A woman from New York was driving through a remote part of Arizona when her car broke down.
An American Indian on horseback came along and offered her a ride to a nearby town.
She climbed up behind him on the horse and then rode off.

The ride was uneventful, except that every few minutes the Indian would let out a "Ye-e-e-e-h-a-a-a-a" so loud that it echoed from the surrounding hills.
When they arrived in town, he let her off at the local service station, yelled one final "Ye-e-e-e-h-a-a-a-a!" and rode off.

"What did you do to get that Indian so excited?" asked the service-station attendant.
"Nothing," the woman answered. "I merely sat behind him on the horse, put my arms around his waist, and held onto the saddle horn so I wouldn't fall off."
"Lady," the attendant said, "Indians don't use saddles."

Light Bulb

a big shout-out to owlie who is an angel!

How many group members does it take
To change a lightbulb?

One to change the light bulb and to post
That the light bulb has been changed.

Fourteen to share similar experiences
Of changing light bulbs and how the light bulb
Could have been changed differently.

Seven to caution about the dangers
Of changing light bulbs.

Seven more to point out spelling/grammar
Errors in posts about changing light bulbs.

Three to correct spelling/grammar errors.

Six to argue over whether it's
"lightbulb" or "light bulb".

Another six to condemn those six as stupid.

Fifteen to claim experience in
The lighting industry and give
The correct spelling.

Nineteen to post that this group is not
About light bulbs and to please take
This discussion to a lightbulb
(or light bulb) forum.

Eleven to defend the posting to the group
Saying that we all use light bulbs
And therefore the posts are relevant
To this group.

Thirty-six to debate which method
Of changing light bulbs is superior,
Where to buy the best light bulbs,
What brand of light bulbs work best
For this technique, and what brands
Are faulty.

Seven to post URLs where one can see
Examples of different light bulbs.

Four to post that the URLs were posted
Incorrectly and then post the corrected URL.

Three to post about links they found
From the URLs that are relevant
To this group which makes light bulbs
Relevant to this group.

Thirteen to link all posts to date,
Quote them in their entirety
Including all headers and signatures,
And add "Me too".

Five to post to the group that they will
No longer post because they cannot handle
The light bulb controversy.

Four to say "Didn't we go through this
Already a short time ago?"

Thirteen to say "Do a Google search
On light bulbs before posting
Questions about light bulbs."

Three to tell a funny story about
Their cat and a light bulb.

- - - AND- - -

One group lurker to respond to
The original post 6 months from now
With something unrelated and start it
All over again.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Don't take the man shopping if he don't wanna go

After Mr. and Mrs. Fenton retired, Mrs. Fenton insisted her husband accompany her on her trips to Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, Mr. Fenton was like most men--he found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunately, Mrs. Fenton was like most women--she loved to browse. One day Mrs. Fenton received the following letter From her local Wal-Mart:

Dear Mrs. Fenton,

Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may be forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against Mr. Fenton are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras.

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they weren't looking.

2 . July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.

3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, "Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away."

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&M's on layaway.

6. September 14: Moved a "CAUTION - WET FLOOR" sign to a carpeted area.

7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department.

8. September 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, "Why can't you people just leave me alone?"

9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.

10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.

12. December 6: In the auto department, he practiced his "Madonna look"by using different sizes of funnels.

13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through,yelled "PICK ME! PICK ME!"

14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed "OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!"

And last, but not least...

15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, "Hey! There's no toilet paper in here!"

Regards, Wal-Mart

Just Fred

another shout out to 1588c

A local law enforcement officer stops a car for traveling faster than the posted speed limit. Since he's in a good mood that day he decides to give the poor fellow a break and write him out a warning instead of a ticket. So, he asks the man his name.

"Fred," he replies.

"Fred what?" the officer asks.

"Just Fred," the man responds.

When the officer presses him for a last name, the man tells him that he used to have a last name but lost it. The officer thinks he has a nut case on his hands but plays along with it. "Tell me Fred, how did you lose your last name?"

The man replies, "It's a long story so stay with me. I was born Fred Dingaling. I know, funny last name. The kids used to tease me all the time. So I stayed to myself. I studied hard and got good grades. When I got older I realized that I wanted to be a doctor. I went through college, medical school, internship, residency, finally got my degree so I was Fred Dingaling, MD.

"After a while I got bored being a doctor so I decided to go back to school. Dentistry was my dream. Got all the way through school, got my degree so I was now Fred Dingaling MD DDS. Got bored doing dentistry so I started fooling around with my assistant. She gave me VD. So, I was Fred Dingaling MD DDS with VD.

"Well, the ADA found out about the VD so they took away my DDS so I was Fred Dingaling MD with VD. Then the AMA found out about the ADA taking away my DDS because of the VD, so they took away my MD leaving me as Fred Dingaling with VD.

"Then the VD took away my dingaling so now I'm just Fred." The officer let him go without even a warning.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Stereo-Typical Meme

Original meme is at:

These words pretend to describe me. These words are words that pretend to describe me. I celebrate myself and so I no longer fear the lies. Darkness and light are indistinguishable from each other. I embrace all of these words:
bi-dyke and queer, atheist or polytheist, raw [self-taught] artist, atypical neurology, strong, woman, disabled, autistic or retarded or something, nuts, psycho, white or off-white of european extraction, language-delayed, angry, t.b.i., survivor liar, unique, different, different drum, pagan, witch, non-wiccan, satanist, free-thinker, lost in thought, dreamer, loner, silence, fluffy bunny, toxic bunny, down with the sickness, disturbed, radical, pissed-off, freak, writer, manipulative, seductive.

I am a bi-dyke and a queer.
You say I must fuck anything that moves.
Not exactly your business, is it?

I create raw art.
I am not interested in what you think are the hidden "meanings" in my artwork.
Go psycho-babble to someone who cares.
I don't care about that shit.
I like art.
And sometimes a rock
really is only a rock.

I am a writer.
Writing is the reason why I get out of bed many mornings.
If you cannot share my joy,
then get the hell out.

I am an atheist with polytheistic hopes and a satanic philos.
You say that I am secretly seeking someone else's g-d and that I will goto your hell.
You are my hell.

I am a non-wiccan witch, pagan, hippie
so I sacrifice the children of christians.
I prefer them with barbeque sauce.
Please remember that when bringing me yours.

I am white or off-white.
I will never find a vodoun community that will accept me.
I am of European descent.
My ancestors screwed over the indigenous North American tribes
during the westward expansion.

My ancestors all came over here from Europe in the 1900s.
Your grasp of history is lacking.

I am disabled and not working. I must be white trash.
I must like being poor. It suits me.
Disability checks make for attractive living.
My traumatic brain injury is supposed to go away
or it is not supposed to give me any more problems
or I am not supposed to talk about it anymore.
I am tired, dammit.

Some professionals labeled me as autistic or retarded or something when I was younger;
whatever was "wrong" with me was because I had "emotional" problems
due to my parentals' problems with each other
Autism spectrum disorders cannot possibly be
part of atypical neurology. Mine, whatever it was--
autism or Asperger's or--
went away or was totally ignored after I started elementary school.
You decided that "emotional" problems covered everything-- all on your own--
leaving me null and void to drown in your towering logic.
Furthermore, it was a-okay for you to announce this at your father's wake
to a bunch of strangers who I didn't know.
What gave you that right?
I didn't talk or walk when expected.
I have a different way of being than you do.
So what?

I survived childhood and adult rape

and had the strength to talk about it.
You called me delusional, manipulative, and seductive.
And quite the liar too.
I failed to take on your false mantle of acceptability.
I chose instead to tell. By my telling, a few others
may have been spared.
You were doing your job.
You are still bastards, all of you.

I defended someone who was emotionally vulnerable.
I have been judged to be a fluffy bunny and a toxic bunny
within certain communities of folks who really should know better.
If I had to do it all over again, I would.
And I will.
Dear stoopids,
I refuse to eat your pile of shit today.

Because I do my own thing, I must be a freak forever.
Because I am angry, I am not to be viewed in polite society.
Because I am not like you, I am dangerous.

I broke free of addiction.
You are still stuck in the sewer of your expectations and niceties.
Well, fuck that.


Friday, July 06, 2007

Social Acceptability

Social Acceptability has become a dominant lifestyle. In fact, it has taken over. Well, I've had enough of Social Acceptability. And I quit. I am not doing it anymore. No. Nay. Never. Or rather, I am only doing the parts of it that I agree to. And I am dumping the rest of Social Acceptability back into the morass that is the cesspool of societal demands.

If I want to wear teeshirts with holes or jeans with threads hanging off the bottoms or odd artsy color combinations, then I am going to do so. If I want to talk to my dog in public or talk to my houseplants in private, there ain't no stopping me. If I want to express an unpopular opinion in public or at 12-step meetings or in any of my blogs, I'm gonna do that with reckless abandon. Get it? This is far beyond the red hat society; or wearing purple when I am older; or shouting, "We're here! We're queer! And we won't change our clothes!" in a rainstorm during a certain memorable gay-lesbian-trans-bisexual-intersexed-queer pride march in New York City.

I celebrate diversity. I embrace the freedom that I have to be me and the freedom you have to be you. I welcome well-thought out differences of opinions, rational thinking, good-natured debates, the willingness to take risks. Risk-taking is risky. Testing limits is cool. Stretching beyond the norms is freeing. I am a W.Y.S.I.W.Y.G. kind of being. I breath radical stuff. My life is not designed for your comfort.

I am no longer responsible for anyone's comfortability level. Those who are skating over to my blogs during work hours or in front of children should err on the side of caution and assume that something somewhere I post is not work-safe or kid-safe. I use L.J. cuts at El Gay El Jay for all of my entries, and the adult filter at yahell 369 for those entries that contain manure subject matter. Even so, please assume that there are many somethings lurking in my writings that are bound to offend. It just might be that we are each responsible for what we do and where we go when whoever may be watching. You are responsible for what you do at your job, not me. You are responsible for you [and your younger relateds that may be hanging over your shoulder] and I am responsible for me [and my younger relateds who I've told clearly not to hang over my shoulder].

Oh sure, I do agree to certain basic principles that make for good living with others like clean clothes, armpits that don't reek, freedom from dirt-encrusted skin and hair that one can squeeze salad dressing out of, mowing the lawn before my dog gets entangled in it, upkeep of my castle home, attempting to stay within the restraints guidelines set by service providers, and all of that. That is for my own comfort and the comfort of the 4 leggeds that live with me. Not for yours.

I have never considered Social Acceptability to be one of my goals. That is not going to change. I've earned the right to celebrate my own eccentricity. And even if you think I haven't, that's just too bloody bad. Complain to your boring Socially Acceptable friends, whine to your god, work through it with your sponsor or spiritual adviser or teacher, go do the Drama Llama dance, whatever. And hey. Here's a slug quarter. Call someone who cares even. Cuz i sure don't.