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Let's tell some jokes!!! I'll start:

A tomato, a piece of gum, and a penis are all talking.

The tomato says "I've got the worst live, I get cut up and stuck in a sandwhich".

The piece of gum says "No, mine's worse, I get chewed up, spit out and stepped on".

The penis says "No, by far I've gor the worst life... I get a plastic bag stuck over my head, then I'm shoved in a dark tunnel and made to do push ups 'till I throw up!"

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On a flight getting ready to depart for Detroit...

Jack was sitting on the plane when a guy took the
seat beside him. The guy was an emotional wreck,
he was pale and his hands were shaking.
"What's the matter?" Jack asked.

"I've been transferred to Detroit, there's crazy people there. They've got
lots of shootings, gangs, race riots, drugs, poor public schools, and the
highest crime rate."

Jack replied, "I've lived in Detroit all my life. It's not
as bad as the media says. Find a nice home, go to
work, mind your own business, enroll your kids in
a nice private school. It's as safe a place as
anywhere in the world."

The guy relaxed and stopped shaking and said, "Oh,
thank you. I've been worried to death. But if you live there and say it's
OK, I'll take your word for it. What do you do for a living?"

"Me?" said Jack. "I'm a tail gunner on a Budweiser truck."
John Fosgate
"In the end, its always best to choose the hard right over the easy wrong." LouDiamond
MB 4310

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Let's tell some jokes!!! I'll start:

A tomato, a piece of gum, and a penis are all talking.

The tomato says "I've got the worst live, I get cut up and stuck in a sandwhich".

The piece of gum says "No, mine's worse, I get chewed up, spit out and stepped on".

The penis says "No, by far I've gor the worst life... I get a plastic bag stuck over my head, then I'm shoved in a dark tunnel and made to do push ups 'till I throw up!"

I never thougth of it that way. I just knew that his neighbo's an asshole and his best friends are nuts.

My wife is hotter than your wife.

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Here's one:

Q: What does Dr. Karen say when done with work?
A: I'm bushed.

More medical humor...
Q: How do you hide $100 from a surgeon?
A: Put it in a chart.

Q: How do you hide $100 from a radiologist?
A: Put it on a patient.

Q: How do you hide $100 from an orthopedist?
A: Put it in a book.

Q: How do you hide $100 from a lawyer?
A: Can't do it.

Q: Did you hear about the plastic surgeon?
A: He hung himself.

Q: Why'd the condom fly across the room?
A: It was pissed off.

One for Lisa H:
Q: What's the difference between a deaf cow and an Alabama cow?
A: One says, "Moo." One says, "Moo outta da way."

Q: Why does a dog lick his balls?
A: Because he can.

Q: Why does a dog lick his butt?
A: To get ready to lick your face.

Q: What did the guy say to the woman with no boobs?
A: Not a damned thing.

My wife is hotter than your wife.

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Recession beater. Wife says to her husband, If you cycle to work, we can get rid of the second car. He replies, “If you take it up the arse and let me cum on your face, we can get rid of the nanny!

Was shagging this bird over her kitchen table when we heard thefront door open. She said, “It’s my husband! Quick, try the back door!”Thinking back, I really should have legged it – but you don’t get offers like that every day.

Sorry for not calling you on New Years, I just got out of jail. I got locked up for punching the fuck out of this bloke at a party. In my defence….. when you hear an Arab counting down from 10, your instincts kick in.

I saw a fortune teller the other day. She told me I would come into some money. Last night I rooted a sheila called Penny – spooky or what

The missus asked me, “When you’re on a boys only trip away, do you think about me?” Apparently “Only to stop myself coming too quickly” wasn’t the right answer.
Remember you don't stop laughing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop laughing.

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Joe wanted to buy a motorbike. He doesn't have much luck until one day, he comes across a Harley with a 'for sale' sign on it.

The bike seems even better than a new one, although it is 10 years old. It is shiny and in absolute mint condition.

He immediately buys it, and asks the seller how he kept it in such great condition for 10 years.

'Well, it's quite simple, really,' says the seller, 'whenever the bike is outside and it's gonna rain, rub Vaseline on the chrome. It protects it from the rain.'

And he hands Joe a jar of Vaseline.

That night, his girlfriend, Sandra, invites him over to meet her parents. Naturally, they take the bike there.

But just before they enter the house, Sandra stops him and says, 'I have to tell you something about my family before we go in.'

'When we eat dinner, we don't talk. In fact, the first person who says anything during dinner has to do the dishes.'

'No problem,' he says. And in they go.

Joe is shocked. Right smack in the middle of the living room is a huge stack of dirty dishes.

In the kitchen is another huge stack of dishes. Piled up on the stairs, in the corridor, everywhere he looks, dirty dishes.

They sit down to dinner and, sure enough, no one says a word.

As dinner progresses, Joe decides to take advantage of the situation.

So he leans over and kisses Sandra.

No one says a word.

So he reaches over and fondles her breasts.

Still, nobody says a word. So he stands up, grabs her, rips her clothes off, throws her on the table, and screws her right there, in front of her parents.

His girlfriend is a little flustered, her dad is obviously livid, and her mom horrified when he sits back down, but no one says a word.

He looks at her mom..

'She's got a great body,' he thinks..

So he grabs the mom, bends her over the dinner table, pulls down her panties, and screws her every which way right there on the dinner table. After she has a big orgasm, he sits down again.

Now his girlfriend is furious and her dad is boiling, the Mom is pleasantly beaming.
But still, Total silence.

All of a sudden there is a loud clap of thunder, and it starts to rain.

Joe remembers his bike, so he pulls the jar of Vaseline from his pocket...

Suddenly the father shouts.....

'I'll do the fucking dishes!'
Remember you don't stop laughing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop laughing.

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Hi Mate.

I am writing to you because I need your help to get me bloody pilot's license back. You keep telling me you got all the right contacts. Well now's your chance to make something happen for me because, mate, I'm bloody desperate.

But first, I'd better tell you what happened during my last flight review with the CAA Examiner.

On the phone, Ron (that's the CAA ****head) seemed a reasonable sort of a bloke. He politely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He even offered to drive out, have a look over my property and let me operate from my own strip. Naturally I agreed to that.

Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to see the plane on a small strip outside my homestead, because the ALA (Authorised Landing Area) is about a mile away. I explained that because this strip was so close to the homestead, it was more convenient than the ALA, and despite the power lines crossing about midway down the strip, it's really not a problem to land and take-off, because at the halfway point down the strip you're usually still on the ground.

For some reason Ron seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flight inspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all over again. Because the p**ck was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three times instead of my usual two.

My effort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron"s cheeks. In fact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously better mood, l told him I was going to combine the test flight with some farm work, as I had to deliver three paddy calves from the home paddock to the main herd. After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into the back of the of Cessna 172. We climbed aboard, but Ron started getting onto me about weight and balance calculations and all that crap. Of course I knew that sort of thing was a waste of time because, calves like to move around a bit particularly when they see themselves 500 feet off the ground! So, it's bloody pointless trying to secure them as you know. However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the trim wheel set on neutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages throughout the flight.

Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time by tramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500 rpm. I then discovered that Ron has very acute hearing, even though he was wearing a bloody headset. Through all that noise he detected a metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it began about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floor and lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The selector can't be moved now, but it doesn't matter because it's jammed on 'All tanks'. so I suppose that's Okay.

However, as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed the noise on vibration from a stainless steel thermos flask which I keep in a beaut little possie between the windshield and the magnetic compass. My explanation seemed to relax Ron, because he slumped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof. I released the brakes to taxi out, but unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to the right. "Hell" I thought, "not the starboard wheel chock again".

The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness. He looked around just in time to see a rock thrown by the prop-wash disappear completely through the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. "Now I'm really in trouble", I thought.

While Ron was busy ranting about his car, l ignored his requirement that we taxi to the ALA, and instead took off under the power lines. Ron didn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at the lift off point, and then he bloody screamed his head off. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!"

"Now take it easy, Ron" I told him firmly. "That often happens on take-off and there is a good reason for it". I explained patiently that I usually run the plane on standard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene. To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons of super MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. Since then, the engine has been coughing a bit but in general it works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly.

Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my test flight. He pulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer. (I didn't think anyone was a Catholic these days). I selected some nice music on the HF radio to help him relax.

Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising attitude of 10,500 feet. I don't normally put in a flight plan or get the weather because. as you know getting FAX access out here is a flippin' joke and the weather is always 8/8 blue anyway. But since I had that near miss with a Saab 340,1 might have to change me thinking on that.

Anyhow, on leveling out, I noticed some wild camels heading into my improved pasture. I hate bloody camels, and always carry a loaded .303 clipped inside the door of the Cessna, just in case I see any of the bastards.

We were too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a go through the open window. Mate, when I pulled the bloody rifle out, the effect on Ron was flippin' electric. As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about six inches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo. He really looked as if he had been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron's reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and the next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about the shooting (probably one of those pinko animal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little problem with the tyre.

Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my fighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence, I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 10,500 feet down to 500 feet at 130 knots indicated (the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushed up to the red area on me ASI. What a buzz, mate! About half way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calves gracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going to comment on this unusual sight, but Ron looked a bit green and had rolled himself into the fetal position and was screamin' his freakin' head off. Mate, talk about being in a bloody zoo. You should've been there, it was so bloody funny!

At about 500 feet I leveled out, but for some reason we kept sinking. When we reached 50 feet I applied full power but nothin' happened; no noise no nothin'. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying `,carby heat, carby heat". So I pulled carby heat on and that helped quite a lot, with the engine finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me tell you!

Then mate. you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have it, at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R, mate. BJ, you would have been really proud of me as I didn't panic once, not once, but 1 did make a mental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a while now). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His mouth opened wide, very wide, but no sound emerged. "'fake it easy," I told him, "we'll be out of this in a minute". Sure enough, about a minute later we emerged, still straight and level and still at 50 feet.

Admittedly I was surprised to notice that we were upside down, and I kept thinking to myself, "I hope Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set
the QNH when we were taxiing". This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley in which I had to do a half roll to get upright again.

By now the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip between them. "Ah!" I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there." Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with full flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loud in me ear that I cut it's circuit breaker to shut it up, but by then I knew we were slow enough anyway. I turned steeply onto a 75 foot final and put her down with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a tail dragger but, as usual, l was proved wrong again!

Halfway through our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of humour. Talk about laugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He couldn't stop. We finally rolled to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of the aircraft like there was no tomorrow.

I then began picking clumps of dry grass. Between gut wrenching fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. I explained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the homestead. It was then that Ron really lost the plot and started running away from the aircraft. Can you believe it? The last time I saw him he was off into the distance, arms flailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter. I later heard that he had been confined to a psychiatric institution - poor bugger!

Anyhow mate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this letter from CASA withdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone a complete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight proficiency test.

Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and not setting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see what else I did that
was a so bloody bad that they have to withdraw me flamin' license. Can you?

Ralph H Bell
Mud Creek Plantation
Remember you don't stop laughing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop laughing.

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