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One day on a lonely vessel of the British Navy, the lookout came down from the crow's nest with urgent news for the captain.
"Sir, there be an enemy ship approaching!"

The captain replied, "Very well. Crewman, go to my cabin and bring me my red shirt."

The lookout was confused. "Why do you need your red shirt?"

The captain explained, "If I am wounded in the battle to come, the blood will not show on my red shirt. The men will not know, they will not loose faith in me, and their courage will not waver."

The lookout complimented this good idea, ran to get the red shirt, and returned to his post. A minute later, he came back down with more news.
"Captain, there are ten other ships joining the first!"

The captain squared his jaw and gave another order to the lookout. "Crewman, go get my brown pants..."

EDIT: Good one, Jag.

 

I've been wondering about the brown pants. Are you suggesting an involuntary farthing with attachments? Or am I starting get really gross here.

 

It's so they won't notice when he cr*ps himself.

[ August 19, 2005, 22:21: Message edited by: Felinoid ]

 

This is not a joke but things more a less to think about...

Never under any circumstances take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.
If you have to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved, and never will achieve, its full potential, that word would be "meetings".

There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness".

People who want to share their religious veiws with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

And when God, who created the entire universe with all of its glories, decides to deliver a message to humanity, He WILL NOT use, as His messenger, a person on cable TV with a bad hairstyle.

You should not confuse your career with your life, because if you have a career that probably means you have no life.

No matter what happens... somebody will find a way to take it too seriously.

Never lick a steak knife.

Take out the fortune before you eat the cookie.

The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above average drivers.

You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.

 

Cancel your Credit Card before you Die!

Be sure and cancel your credit cards before you die. This is so priceless, and so easy to see happening, customer service being what it is today.

A lady died this past January, and Citibank billed her for February and March for their annual service charges on her credit card, and then added late fees and interest on the monthly charge. The balance had been $0.00, now is somewhere around $60.00.

A family member placed a call to Citibank:

Family Member: "I am calling to tell you that she died in January."

Citibank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply."

Family Member: "Maybe, you should turn it over to collections."

Citibank: "Since it is two months past due, it already has been."

Family Member: So, what will they do when they find out she is dead?"

Citibank: "Either report her account to the frauds division or report her to the credit bureau, maybe both!"

Family Member: "Do you think God will be mad at her?"

Citibank: "Excuse me?"

Family Member: "Did you just get what I was telling you - the part about her being dead?"

Citibank: "Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor."

Supervisor gets on the phone:

Family Member: "I'm calling to tell you, she died in January."

Citibank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply.

Family Member: "You mean you want to collect from her estate?"

Citibank: "Are you her lawyer?"

Family Member: "No, I'm her great nephew." (Lawyer info given)

Citibank: "Could you fax us a certificate of death?"

Family Member: "Sure." (fax number is given)

After they get the fax: Citibank: "Our system just isn't set up for death. I don't know what more I can do to help."

Family Member: "Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her. I don't think she will care."

Citibank: "Well, the late fees and charges do still apply."

Family Member: "Would you like her new billing address?"

Citibank: "That might help."

Family Member: "Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, Plot Number 69."

Citibank: "Sir, that's a cemetery!"

Family Member: "What do you do with dead people on your planet?"

 

Sorry for the bump, but...

@Rolsuk

Sigh, first - we are called 'NewfIEs' not 'newfYs' (takes a daft Mainlander to get that wrong) At least you corrected yourself.

Second - yes living on an island isolated from the rest of Canada has given us a unique dialect - sadly even our Gaelic forebears wouldn't (and don't) understand us.

Third - we Newfies are the best source of Newfie jokes - our propensity to make fun of ourselves is near-legendary. (but apparently not famous enough )

(Barmy? Newfoundland was settled mostly by people of Irish descent, you could think of us as 'the Ireland of North America' For Canada we fill the role of the Irishman for Europe, or the 'Yokel Farmer' for America - though we fish, not farm)

But I have to say, Rolsuk - the first was MAGNIFICENT! Good job! The second was a little predictable, though. *shrug*

And to justify my post to this thread; here's a few:

=================

A young man in his teens is a fanatic for sport - all through school he plays football(soccer).

As he enters college in his twenties, he meets the girl of his dreams, and takes up the sport of tennis to spend more time with her.

After graduating and feeling less energetic after a hard day's work, in his thirties he goes to the bar/pub and plays pool with his friends.

Then, fearing he's been getting too sedentary, in his forties, the man takes up golf.

Which all just goes to prove, as a man ages, his balls get smaller.

<drum roll>
=====================

And now a couple featuring my own ethnic (sub)group: Newfies.

This'll need a little exposition: Newfoundland is an isle a little bit larger than the British Isles, but with only about 600k people. A quarter of that population lives in the lone 'city' and provincial capitol (where I sit right now) of St. John's and almost all the rest live "'round the Bay" - various outport communities where the chief focus was fishing.

Now with the decline of fish stocks off Europe's coasts, their fleets started skipping across the Atlantic to fish off the Grand Banks. Add to that the rapacious greed that is human nature - domestic fishermen also kept increasing their catch to keep up with the increased cost of living (gotta have all those gewgaws you see the 'Mainlanders' with on TV ) The end result of this, is the North Atlantic Cod is rarer than a blue whale nowadays.

Anyway, this fish would be taken into regional fish plants where it's processed and turned into those 'yummy' fish-like products you buy at Red Lobster and Long John Silver's.

As the fishery declined, company morale at these plants also declined - concern about reduced production would mean layoffs, and in a 'one-horse town' like this province, there IS no other work apart from the fishery.

So employee theft got to be a greater and greater problem at the fish plants. Workers would make off with toilet paper from the bathrooms, extra work gloves, you name it - anything people thought could save some money 'when the bottom falls out'.

To combat this, the fish plant companies brought in security guards. Employees weren't yet being strip-searched, but any vehicle leaving the plant would be searched for evidence of theft.

Reid, an eager young man lucky to be hired on as his father's fishing boat wasn't bringing in enough of a catch to justify a crew of two, was posted for the night shift at the gate of one such fish plant.

He was worried for his job, as this plant had much theft going on, and little action by the company could stem the tide. Reid was made aware that his job hung in the balance, dependent on his performance.

One night, his 'spidey sense tingled;' he just KNEW the driver taking a truck out was stealing something. The man fidgetted guiltily, and Reid went over the truck with a fine-toothed comb. But he found nothing; not a thing. Baffled, Reid had to wave the driver on.

And it happened again a few weeks later; this driver would pull up in a truck, just oozing suspicion, and a search would find nothing.

After a couple of months of this, Reid's nerves couldn't take it anymore; he stepped up to the cab, and whispered to the driver:

"Okay, I know - I KNOW - you're stealing. Every time you pull up here I just FEEL it; but we can't find anything wrong. I have to ask - I tell you now, I swear I'll never tell another soul or report you or anything - but I *have* to know: what are you stealing?"

The driver shrugged meekly before replying with a shy smile:

"Trucks."


<drum-roll>
==============================

And the last is a classic re-arranged with the apporpriate ethnic groups:

Four strangers share a train compartment: A well-dressed middle-aged man, a modestly - and demurely-dressed elderly woman, a young man of twenty or so, and a gorgeous young woman of similar age.

As the train sets off from St. John's for its various outport stops, the people chat about why each of them are taking a trip.

The young man explains he's off from University 'in town' and going back 'round the Bay to see friends and family for the summer.

The old woman was visting a friend in an old-age home in St. John's and was also returning home.

The young woman had just graduated with an Education degree and was moving out to her first teaching job in a regional school and would spend the summer finding a place to stay, etc.

The middle-aged man was an executive from a mainland bank - he had the regretful task of closing one of the smaller branches in an outport community.

After a time, the train entered a tunnel. As darkness fell over the compartment, the loud, unmistakable 'smack!' of a kiss was heard, followed by the rather different, but still unmistakable 'smack!' of a slap.

As the train cleared the tunnel, the four occupants were thinking thusly:

- The old woman thought "Ah! One of those uncouth men tried to kiss the pretty girl, and she gave him a sharp one; good for her!"

- The young woman giggled inwardly "Oh! One of these men tried to kiss me, but found the old lady in the dark, and she slapped him!"

- The banker sighed despondently to himself "Figures! That young guy sneaks a peck at the pretty young thing there, but she slaps *me*!"

- And the college student tried to not grin as he thought "Perfect! I kiss the back of my hand, and get to cuff one of those Mainlander bankers and get away with it!"

<drum-roll>
===================

Pant-pant-pant THERE! Are you tired reading all this? Think how my fingers feel!

 

I liked the Credit Card cancellation, shows how stupid some people can really be. Sad.

 

@noir: Yeah, saw that a few months back on another forum. I work in 'Customer Service' (for now) so I can state that I have seen people with souls so eroded by their corporate employers that they end up acting like that.

What's to blame is a bureau^h^h^h^h^h^h I mean burro-cratic system that insists on constant input at the customer's peril.

In this instance, Citibank (or whoever they are) will persist in collecting *their* money. And sadly, in this case, the bank is in the legal right.

For (unless CB is different, and if they are, the period is probably longer) in the TERMS AND CONDITIONS of grandma's Service Agreement, CB requests something like 'The customer agrees to provide the bank with written notice 30 days in advance to any cancellation of services'

In other words - 'you didn't tell us she was dead, and you didn't pay off the amount owing on her account on time, so the late charges stand' and sadly the courts would have to agree.

But rest assured, most corporations have a few employees who foolishly persist in retaining some tiny part of their souls, and are able to cut a little common-sense in with the burro-cratic 'chaff'. Someone like me, for example, would have a) expressed sympathies for the deceased, b) asked the descendent to send a copy of the death certificate to resolve the account. My employer, ironically, posted a reminder in the employee reference database TODAY about this very process: next of kin faxes/mails cert of death, agent receives same, agent cancels acct/service/etc effective the date of death and reconciles acct for any late charges, etc. I'd like to think any large company that's been in existence for more than a couple of years would have a similar common-sense process in place (if the zombie-employees can bang a few brain cells together to recollect it )

Anyway, in short - 'They' (the corporate entity that is organized so that no one person can take the blame for being greedy, rapacious, and underhanded) they don't care about your circumstances, they just want THEIR money, and don't bother disputing anything with them ever, because they already sewed up any arguements with that 'Service Agreement' - that you HAD to agree to lock-stock-and-barrel to even GET anything from Them - and it's wonderful clause "Your continued use of the Service constitutes your acceptance of" these charges/the terms and conditions or any changes made via obscure notification to you, etc.

Basically when any 'Sales Representative' from any big name company (insurance, bank, cable tv/satellite provider, ISP, celluar/landline provider, etc.etc.etc.) asks you to sign on the dotted line, spare yourself some pain and ask for some Vaseline first.
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Me? Bitter about my line of work? Never!

But enough about another email 'virus' (these are the true ones; benign enough to not affect the pc/email acct/etc, but appealing enough to get the true victim (the *human* reading it) to a)waste time on it, and b)WANT to send it to all their friends.*sigh*) - we're here for JOKES!

=========
A man is driving along in the countryside in his new car, enjoying his recently-acquired possession. As he's passing some farm fields, he gets a flat.

He keeps his cool, steers the car onto the shoulder, and slows to a stop next to a paddock with a couple of horses in it.

The man sighs, sets his shoulders and starts to change the tire. As he gets the spare in place, he reaches for the hubcap where the lug nuts are safely located. Unfortunately, he strikes the hubcap and it spills off the shoulder and into the roadside ditch. The man then hears an unsettling 'clang' and some rattling.

Standing up, he discovers the ditch has a small metal culvert draining it to the other side of the road. The hubcap was too large to fit into the culvert, but the lug nuts were fine, and the trickle of water from the ditch was enough to wash them well into the culvert, out of reach.

The man sits back on the edge of the ditch, sighs despondently, and asks himself "Well, now what am I supposed to do?"

"Just take one lug nut from each of the other three tires, and use those on the spare."

"Huh?" The man looks up, expecting to see a farmhand or some pedestrian, but he's alone, apart from his car and the two horses - one of which - a chestnut stallion - is standing just behind the fence, watching him. The other, a black mare, is off in the field cantering around.
Off in the distance some miles away, there is a farmhouse where the horses' owner probably lives.

"It's simple," and since the man is now paying more attention, he realizes it's the horse giving advice. "Your car has four lugs per wheel, right? That's sixteen nuts for normal use. You've just lost four. If you take the remaining twelve and spread them evenly over the four wheels - three each - you'll be able to drive carefully to the nearest garage, where you can get a more permanent solution. Don't drive too fast, or for too long, though - you'll muck up your wheel alignment and balance."

The man stares at the horse, dumbfounded. As he watches, the horse seems to lose interest and steps away from the fence, notices the frollicing mare and chases after her.

After a few more moments, the man collects himself, looks at the car, and follows the horse's advice. With the spare tire now moderately secured to the wheel, he starts off, turns the car around and heads back for town.

As he nears the farmhouse, the driver gets a thought and pulls into the farm's drive. He gets out and approaches an older man outside his shed working on a ploughshare.

"Um, sir? Do you own this farm?"

"Ayep."

"Including the field off to the east of here and the two horses in it?"

"S'right."

"Well, sir - I think there's something about those horses you should know." And the driver recounts his experience.

When he has finished, feeling much better for the telling, he looks on the farmer and asks "So, what do you think?"

The farmer shrugs and turns back to his damaged plowshare. "Ain't surprised at all - the black one, she don't know nothin' 'bout cars."

<drum roll>
========

apathetic empath, lover of shaggy dog stories...

 

These are of the female simile variety:

Women are like the Bible. They're both full of contradictory rules.

 

He: Let's go to bed.
She: Sorry, but I believe sex before marriage is wrong.
He: Okay. Tell me when you're married.

 

@apathetic empath- your elabouration on the whole confusion surrounding the 'Newfie' is more accurate than my definition, I assumed mine provided enough information for people to get the jist of it. And thank you, I do try to be funny but only occasionally succeed.


Yet another Newfie joke

Fred is a Newfie who is completely fed-up with all the Newfie jokes and their reputation of stupidity which he believes to be unjustified.

One day Fred is driving along on the country roads outside of St. John's Newfoundland and he see's a Newfie paddling his cannoe in the middle of a field. Agitated, Fred pulls over and begins yelling at the Newfie in the cannoe, "What do you think you're doing?"

The Newfie in the cannoe replies, "I'm paddling in my cannoe."

Fred just snaps, "You know, it's stupid Newfies like you who give the rest of us a bad reputation to deal with! And if I knew how, I'd swim over there and kick your a$$!!"



I'm not sure if these have been posted or some similar to them, but I'll say them anyway.

Q: How do you confuse a Newfie?
A: Put him in a round room and tell him to pee in the corner.

Q: How does a Newfie confuse you?
A: Comes out and says he did.

 

The ex-marine standoff incident in Chicago reminded me of a story....

Several years ago the police in the Los Angeles area would allow military riders. On one occasion there were two Marines with the officers. The police were tracking drug dealers and followed a lead to a house. Going to investigate, the police turned to the Marines and said, "Cover us."

Now, to the police 'cover' means make sure no one comes up from behind and surprises the cop. To a Marine it means lay down cover fire.

After nearly 300 rounds were expended into the house by the Marines, the drug dealers surrendered.

 

*snicker*

As a fellow Canuk, I am loving reading the Newfie jokes here.... Bravo!

 

@T2Bruno, Loved it.

 

T2Bruno, good one!

 

A man bought himself a new sports car, and decided to go for a ride. Once he got to the freeway and saw the lack of traffic, he decided to test how the car would handle.

The car went past the speed limit easily, and he drove with a grin until a cop car, lights flashing, came after him. He thought, "I can loose 'em" and sped up, until he hit 100 andd realized just what the hell he was doing.

So he slowed down and pulled over, and when the cop came to talk to him, he was pretty panicked.

"Look, Mister," the cop said. "I've had a really crappy day, it's Firday the 13th, and I don't want any paperwork. If you have an excuse I haven't heard before, you get off with a warning."

The man thought quickly. "My wife left me for a police officer last week," he said, "I thought you were bringing her back."

"Have a nice day, sir."

[ August 30, 2005, 22:31: Message edited by: Arabwel ]

 

@Ara but what is a frin ?

 

I have no idea... will have to retrype the paragraph (am guessing I did that and then messed it up somehow)

 

That is awesome Ara.

 

Try again, Ara.
"andd"
"Firday"
"hhe"
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"retrype"