It was a coupla years ago that he sent me that - while Bush was still pres. I found it while digging through a bunch of old emails. I thought I'd throw it up just for fun.
Yeah, Bush, Obama, Clinton, Bush, Reagan, Carter, Ford, Nixon, Johnson, Kennedy...they're all idiots back until Teddy. The last good American president.
Oh, don't get me started on politics.
Due to the climate of political correctness now pervading America.....
Kentuckians, Tennesseans and West Virginians will no longer be referred to as'HILLBILLIES.'
You must now refer to them as
APPALACHIAN-AMERICANS
And furthermore
HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT WOMEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:
1. She is not a 'BABE' or a 'CHICK' - She is a
'BREASTED AMERICAN. '
2. She is not 'EASY' - She is
'HORIZONTALLY ACCESSIBLE.'
3. She is not a 'DUMB BLONDE' - She is a
'LIGHT-HAIRED DETOUR OFF THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY..'
4. She has not 'BEEN AROUND' - She is a
'PREVIOUSLY-ENJOYED COMPANION.'
5. She does not 'NAG' you - She becomes
'VERBALLY REPETITIVE..'
6. She is not a 'TWO-BIT HOOKER' - She is a
'LOW COST SERVICEPROVIDER.'
HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT MENAND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:
1. He does not have a 'BEER GUT' - He has developed a'LIQUID GRAIN STORAGE FACILITY.'
2. He is not a 'BAD DANCER' - He is
'OVERLY CAUCASIAN.'
3. He does not 'GET LOST ALL THE TIME' - He'INVESTIGATES ALTERNATIVE DESTINATIONS.'
4. He is not 'BALDING' - He is in'FOLLICLE REGRESSION.'
5. He does not act like a 'TOTAL ASS' - He develops a case ofRECTAL-CRANIAL INVERSION.'(Loved this one!)
6. It's not his 'CRACK' you see hanging out of his pants - It's'TROUSER CLEAVAGE.'
--- The Mother of all jokes
Two Middle East mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over
a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat's milk.
The older of the two pulls a bag out of her purse and
starts flipping through photos. They start reminiscing.
'This is my oldest son, Mujibar. He would have
been 24 years old now.'
'Yes, I remember him as a baby,' says the other mother cheerfully.
'He's a martyr now though,' the mother confides.
'Oh, so sad dear,' says the other..
'And this is my second son, Khalid. He would have been 21.'
'Oh, I remember him,' says the other happily,
'he had such curly hair when he was born.'
'He's a martyr too,' says the mother quietly.
'Oh, gracious me . . . , ' says the other.
'And this is my third son, my baby, my beautiful Ahmed.
He would have been 18,' she whispers.
'Yes,' says the friend enthusiastically, 'I
remember when he first started school.'
'He's a martyr also,' says the mother, with
tears in her eyes.
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother
looks wistfully at the photographs and, searching for the
right words, says . . .
'They blow up so fast, don't they?'
This was originally shown on BBC TV back in the 70's. Ronnie Barker
could say all this without a snigger, though God knows after how many
takes.
The irony is, BBC received not one complaint.
The speed of delivery must have been too much for the whining herds. Try
getting through it without converting the spoonerisms as you read.......
This is the story of Rindercella and her sugly isters.
Rindercella and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion. Rindercella
worked very hard frubbing sloors, emptying poss pits, and shivelling shot.
At the end of the day, she was knucking fackered. The sugly isters were
right bugly astards. One was called Mary Hinge, and the other was called
Betty Swallocks; they were really forrible huckers;they had fetty sweet
and fatty swannies.
The sugly isters had tickets to go to the ball, but the cotton runts
would not let Rindercella go.
Suddenly there was a bucking fang, and her gairy fodmother appeared. Her
name was Shairy Hithole and she was a light rucking fesbian. She turned
a pumpkin and six mite wice into a hucking cuge farriage with six dandy
ronkeys who had buge hollocks and digbicks. The gairy fodmother told
Rindercella to be back by dimnlight otherwise, there would be a cucking
falamity.
At the ball, Rindercella was dancing with the prandsome hince when
suddenly the clock struck twelve. "Mist all chucking frighty!!!" said
Rindercella, and she ran out tripping barse over ollocks,so dropping her
slass glipper.
The very next day, the prandsome hince knocked
on Rindercella's door and the sugly isters let him in.. Suddenly, Betty
Swallocks lifted her leg and let off a fig bart. "Who's fust jarted?"
asked the prandsome hince. "Blame that fugly ucker over there!!" said
Mary Hinge.
When the stinking brown cloud had lifted, he tried the slass glipper on
both the sugly isters without success and their feet stucking funk.
Betty Swallocks was ducking fisgusted and gave the prandsome hince a
knack in the kickers. This was not difficult as he had bucking fuge
halls and a hig bard on. He tried the slass glipper on Rindercella and
it fitted pucking ferfectly.
Rindercella and the prandsome hince were married. The pransome hince
lived his life in lucking fuxury, and Rindercella lived hers with a
follen swanny!
Oh well. I'll have to settle for watching USA thrash Canada again on their way to a gold.