What does Egret taste like?
The local game warden in a small town in Oregon had arrested a man for killing and eating an Egret. The man went before a judge to plead his case. After pleading guilty, but with an explanation, the judge asked him why he did it.
“I was just trying to feed my hungry family,” he told the judge, “and I’ve never done anything like that before.”
The judge, being a family man himself, had a soft heart and agreed to let the man go free, since he was only trying to feed his starving family and it was his first and only offense.
“Before you go, though, I want to ask you a question,” the judge quipped, “What does Egret taste like?”
“Well your Honor,” the man told him, “Its not as tender as Spotted Owl but its better than Bald Eagle!”
Welcome to Walmart
As many of you know, I had ambitions of finding a simple, uncomplicated part time job after retiring from my ‘day job’. Unfortunately, as I have gotten a little older, I have become a little less sensitive. So after landing my new job as a Wal-Mart greeter, a good find for many retirees, I lasted less than a day……
About two hours into my first day on the job a very loud, unattractive, mean-acting woman walked into the store with her two kids, yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance. As I had been instructed, I said pleasantly, ‘Good morning, a nd welcome to Wal-Mart. Nice children you have there. Are they twins?’
The ugly woman stopped yelling long enough to say, ‘Hell no, they ain’t twins. The oldest one’s 9, and the other one’s 7. Why the hell would you think they’re twins? Are you blind, or just stupid?’
So I replied, ‘I’m neither blind nor stupid, Ma’am, I just couldn’t believe you got laid twice. Have a good day and thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart.’
My supervisor said I probably wasn’t cut out for this line of work…
This is a strictly mathematical viewpoint… it goes like this:
What Makes 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%? Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%. How about achieving 103%? What makes up 100% in life?
Here’s a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%
2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 = 103%
AND, look how far ass kissing will take you.
1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7 = 118%
So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that While Hard work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it’s the Bullshit and Ass kissing that will put you over the top.
Calling In Sick
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.
On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.
The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife’s wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially the new acquisition was no problem, but one morning I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. “Ed! the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it.”
You know where the button is.” I protested through the shower (pitter- patter). “Reset it yourself!”
“I am scared!” She pleaded. “What if it starts going and sucks me in?” (Pause) “C’mon, it’ll only take a second.”
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence.
I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, it wasn’t a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink.
At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.
Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step manner.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a “fight or flight” syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the “flight” option.
Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter.
At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
If they had only known.
Two doctors are in the hallway complaining about nurse Nancy.
”She’s out of control!” the first doctor says. ”She does everything backwards. Just last week I told her to give a man two milligrams of morphine every ten hours, she gave him 10 milligrams every two hours, he alomost died!”
”That’s nothing,” said the second doctor, ”earlier this week I told her to give a man an enema every 24 hours, she tried to give him 24 enemas in one hour!”
All of a sudden they heard a blood curldling scream from down the hallway.
”OH MY GOD! I just realized that I told nurse Nancy to prick Mr. Smiths boil!”’