!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was submitted by a guy who purchased his lovely wife a
"pocket Taser" for their anniversary.
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop
that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 22nd
anniversary, and I was looking for a little something extra
for my wife Toni. What I came across was a 100,000-volt,
pocket/purse-sized Taser. The consequences of the Taser were
supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse
effects on her assailant, allowing her adequate time to
retreat to safety.... WAY TOO COOL!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I
loaded two triple-A batteries in the darn thing and pushed
the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however,
that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal
surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arch of
electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.
Awesome!!!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Toni what that burn
spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to
myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two
triple-A batteries, right?!!!
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on
intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the
directions and thinking that I really needed to try this
thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I
thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second)
and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I
was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself
against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would
work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my
reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose,
directions in one hand, Taser in another. The directions
said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your
assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle
spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second
burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the
ground like a fish out of water.
Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the
batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring
about 5 inches long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference --
pretty cute, really -- and loaded with two itsy, bitsy
triple-A batteries, thinking to myself, "No possible way!"
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do
my best.....
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head
cocked to one side as if to say, "Don't do it, master,"
reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little
ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.... I decided to give
myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched
the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY
WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door,
picked me up in the recliner, and then body slammed us both
on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely
recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with
tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, my
left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and
tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me making
meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face,
undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Do it again, do it again!"
Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a
Taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a
one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go
of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a
violent thrashing about on the floor. A three-second burst
would be considered conservative.
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a
relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what
little I had left), sat up, and surveyed the landscape. My
bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.
How did they get up there???
My triceps, right thigh, and both nipples were still
twitching. My face felt as if it had been shot up with
Novocain and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
Still in shock,
Tommy
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks to JLH -- who obviously doesn't agree with
this... I mean, really... :)
The Brain
The relatives gathered in the waiting room at the
hospital where their family member lay gravely ill.
Finally, the doctor came in looking tired and somber.
"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news," he said as he
surveyed the worried faces. "The only hope left for
your loved one at this time is a brain transplant.
It's an experimental procedure, very risky but it is
the only hope.
"Insurance will cover the procedure, but you will have
to pay for the brain yourselves."
The family members sat silent as they absorbed the
news. After a great length of time, someone asked,
"Well, how much does a brain cost?"
The doctor quickly responded, "$5,000 for a male
brain, and $200 for a female brain."
The moment turned awkward. Men in the room tried not
to smile, avoiding eye contact with the women, but
some actually smirked.
A man unable to control his curiosity, blurted out the
question everyone wanted to ask, "Why is the male
brain so much more?"
The doctor smiled at the childish innocence and
explained to the entire group, "It's just standard
pricing procedure. We have to mark down the price of
the female brains, because they've actually been
used."
SEND THIS TO A SMART WOMAN WHO NEEDS A LAUGH AND TO
THE MEN YOU THINK CAN HANDLE IT.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks to JLH: Why you never hear 'Muslim jokes'
Jackie Mason
Muslim fundamentalists have decided that even if you
never saw or heard of the cartoons, you deserve to be
hit with rocks, have your car wrecked and your
embassies destroyed.
Ironic ally, the cartoonists were not insulting Islam;
they were satirizing fanaticism. Now the fanatics have
decided that there are no laws, limits or boundaries
that apply to their behavior. They not only have the
right to take your life; they now have the right to
rob you of your freedom of expression.
Could you picture a Jew killing anybody for such
meaningless reasons? If a Jew gets mad he might sneak
into your house and steal your Lipitor or he would
make a deal with your doctor to lie about your
cholesterol number, or just when you have fasted a
whole day on Yom Kippur he would sneak into your house
and steal all the pastrami sandwiches.
I never saw a Jew going into meaningless fights. That
is why you seldom see Jewish football players. A Jew
is not going to take a chance in spraining his neck or
tearing a ligament in his knee just because he was
fighting with somebody about catching a ball. He would
rather go to a store and buy another ball and avoid
the whole problem. That is why there are also no
Jewish hockey players. Hockey players spend all their
time hitting each other in the mouth with sticks.
When Jews saw how Gentiles played hockey, that is how
Jews found out that instead of becoming hockey players
they would become dentists, and that way they decided
to let other people play the game while they found a
way to make a profit from it.
Jews are never known to get into unnecessary physical
battles. That is why people are never afraid of being
attacked by a Jew. Did you ever hear anybody say,
'Don't go into that neighborhood, it is very
dangerous, there are a lot of Jews there?' Jews have
so long been accustomed to being threatened and
persecuted all over the world that they cou ld never
dream of creating needless violence anywhere, because
they would be grateful to find a place where they are
allowed to live in peace.
Meanwhile, the world is reacting with an amazing
cowardice. Instead of a collective fury, we are
pleading forgiveness and promising not to offend them
with any more cartoons. Could anything be more
perverted?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Reason for Happiness?
Once my divorce was final, I went to the local Department of Motor
Vehicles and asked to have my maiden name reinstated on my driver's license.
"Will there be any change of address?" the clerk inquired.
"No," I replied.
"Oh, good," she said, clearly delighted. "You got the house."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Reason for Happiness?
Once my divorce was final, I went to the local Department of Motor
Vehicles and asked to have my maiden name reinstated on my driver's license.
"Will there be any change of address?" the clerk inquired.
"No," I replied.
"Oh, good," she said, clearly delighted. "You got the house."