"Insurance"
I am writing in response to your request for additional
information. In block number 3 of the accident reporting form, I put
"Lost Presence of Mind", as the cause of my accident. You said in your
letter that I should explain more fully, and I trust this will be
sufficient.
I am a bricklayer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was
working on the roof of a six story building alone. When I completed my
work, I discovered that I had about 500 pounds of bricks left over.
Rather than carry the bricks down by hand I decided to lower them down
in a barrel by using the pulley which was attached to the side of the
building at the sixth floor. Securing the rope at ground level, I went
up on the roof, swung the barrel out, and loaded the brick into it.
Then I went back to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly
to insure a slow decent of the 500 pounds of bricks. You will note
back to block number 11 of the accident reporting form that I weigh
135 pounds.
Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I
LOST MY PRESENCE OF MIND and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless
to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate up the side of the
building.
In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming down.
This explains the fractured skull and broken collarbone. Slowed only
slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers
of my right hand were two knuckles deep in the pulley. This explains
the lacerations of my right hand.
Fortunately, by this time I had regained my presence of mind and
was able to hold tightly to the rope in spite of the pain.
At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of bricks hit the
ground, -----and the bottom fell out of the barrel. Devoid of the
weight of the bricks, the barrel now weighted approximately 50 pounds.
Well.........
I refer you again to my weight of 135 pounds in block number 11.
As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the
building.
In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up.
This accounts for the two fractured ankles and the lacerations of my
legs and lower body.
The encounter with the barrel slowed me enough to lessen my
injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and, fortunately, only
three vertebrae were cracked.
I am sorry to report, however, that as I lay there - in pain -
unable to stand, and watching the empty barrel six stories above me -
I again lost my presence of mind--------------
I LET GO OF THE ROPE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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I have been subjected to the biases and special pleadings of
the artsy-fartsy culture vultures long enough. They sneer at
anything which isn't in their own mould of avant-gardishness. They perpetuate
stupid jokes by laughing at people who quite seriously say, "I may not know
much about.... but I know what I like."
It is time for the rest of us to revolt against this
claptrap of self-indulgent behaviour which passes itself off as "the
actualization of one's self potential," and which somehow has
unfortunately bedeviled enough politicians
that fully 65.7% of our tax dollars go to supporting these alleged
artistes through direct grants and purchases of junk that any
sensible person would pay someone else to haul off to the municipal
landfill site. It is time for a new organization to be formed to aid
this revolution. To that end, I hereby announce the formation of
The P.L.O.
The Philistine Liberation Organization welcomes as new
members those who support this cause. The basic tenets of the PLO
are divided into two general categories: things we like and things
we don't like. An overall score of 80% qualifies you for membership.
Things we like:
1. Montovani's music - great stuff, easy listening.
2. McDonald's burgers - good taste, fast service, ok price.
3. Vinyl instead of leather for gloves, clothing, upholstery, etc.
- cheaper, requires less care, more durable.
4. Canadian wine - good high for the buck (in Ontario, anyway).
5. Shopping at K-mart - hey, they got some good stuff there, ya know.
6. Commodore 64s - good games and they're real computers, too.
7. Shopping Mall landscape art - isn't it amazing how real those pictures
look?
8. Barry Manilow's songs - they capture the true meaning of life.
9. Hockey Night in Canada, Monday Night ____ball, etc. - great
entertainment.
10. "If I have to go to a 'concert', I hope they play some marches - you
know, something I can hum along with and tap my feet to."
11. Prime time television - when I get home from work, I don't want to
have to think; I want to relax and feel good.
12. Winnebagos - why go camping without some of the bare necessities of
life?
13. LaChoy Chinese dinners. - authentic and easy to fix.
14. Pictures of dogs playing poker; they're *so* cute!
15. Velvet Elvis paintings.
16. Chicken Cordon Bleu; but other restaurants should follow Arby's
lead and put it on a bun. With ketchup.
17. Slim Whitman; he has an amazing vocal gift.
18. Beer in cans. None of this "fancy rubber stopper" imported stuff. And
forget the glass.
19. Red meat.
20. 8-track tapes or auto-reverse sound blasters: continuous play for
Manilow and Whitman, of course.
21. Cold pizza. It's not just for breakfast anymore!
22. Velcro closures. Zippers, snaps, laces, buttons are all passe' and much
less reliable.
23. Belching contests.
24. Watermelon seed spitting contests.
25. Ripplesole shoes - great comfort.
26. Burt Kaemfert and Lawrence Welk - good toe-tappin' music.
27. Micky's Malt Liquor - "It gets you there quicker."
28. Tuna casserole and lime jello - quick, easy, tasty, and sticks
to your ribs.
29. Boxcar Willie - the sounds of the lonesome road.
Things we don't like:
1. Real flowers - they wilt and need care - plastic's much better.
2. BMW's, Mercedes, etc. - I'll take an Econoline any day.
3. Gourmet food - so little food, such bad tastes, such high prices!
4. 100% wool or cotton - they require too much and too costly care - give
me polyester or acrylic instead.
5. Symphony orchestra concerts - especially playing 20th century music.
6. Real wood furniture - vinyl laminate is easier to care for and harder
to damage.
7. Birkenstock Sandals - footwear of the truly effete snobs.
8. "Serious" drama - hey, for $25 it had better make me laugh --- a lot.
9. Pictures that aren't pictures of anything.
10. "Cocktail" parties that serve only Perrier and vegetables.
11. PBS - if I wanted educational junk, I'd go to school.
12. backpacking - you mean people really LIKE to be uncomfortable?
That's sick.
13. Restaurants that serve crepes, but don't bring you any syrup.
14. And even if they do bring syrup, it's some horrid tasting stuff
made from a tree; I much prefer Aunt Jemima's.
15. French paintings that look as if the artist needed glasses.
16. Silly magazines with no sports section.
17. ...and no fold-out? You don't really read that stuff, do you?
18. Hi-fi systems with too many controls, like "equalizers" & "Dolby."
19. The Motion Picture Academy, for not giving "Rambo III" the Best
Picture Award; damn snobs.
20. sprouts of any kind.
21. Restaurants with ferns - who needs an annoying plant in the face;
especially one that sheds.
22. salad bars.
23. mixed drinks. Why bother?
24. Herbal tea - there's a good reason this stuff never catches on.
25. Any bar with stained glass (except maybe for beer stains).
26. Carob powder.
27. Foreign language menus - what pretentious snobs.
28. Gourmet food with wine in it! - a fine wine should be shaken first
and drunk from a bag, if possible.
29. Meaningful (i.e. pretentious) Fellini and Bergman movies with no
redeeming merit such as nudity or action or good music.
We hope you read this announcement in the spirit that one might
read, say, the drive-in movie reviews of Joe Bob Briggs.
The purpose of our organization, it must be made clear, is to pro-
mote tolerance and open-mindedness; to lampoon arrogance and self-
indulgent pomposity. We don't really give a $hit if you like Shostakovich,
escargot, and Birkenstocks. We also don't really give a $hit if you like
Neil Diamond, pizza, and Kodiak Grebs. We do, however, give a $hit if
you try to tell us what we should like; and we have real diarrhea if you
try to get us to pay for what you think we should like.
Want to join the P.L.O.? ok, you're probably already a member
then. Want to add to the tenets? Mail your suggestions to me, and I'll
keep a list.
|"You know what I'd like? a little plastic container
|of Hollandaise sauce for my Egg McMuffin." ---
|Quoted from 5 & 1/2 year-old Donald McDonald --
|Bless his little gourmet heart.
---------------------------------------------
Into deepest, and darkest if it came to that, Africa, came those
intrepid scavengers of yore, Keats and Chapman, eager for glory,
booty, and a chance to espy all that National Geographic left out.
Actually, as a lad Keats had devoured H. Rider Haggard by the yard,
and he always yearned to take a peek for himself. But it
was mere gelt...swag...valuta...GOLD...that lured the avaricious
Chapman.
Reality soon intervened. Their myths withstood the chaotic, 21st century
streets of Lagos, the boom boxes of Nairobi and the teens with Madonna
teeshirts in Kinshassa. But what finally made the boys give up their
youthful misconceptions were the mimes. "King Solomon's Mimes" they
called themselves, proving that bad puns could appear anywhere
in one of these pieces, and not just at the end.
These buzzards, whose rites are apparently as rigid as
Masons', tortured passers-by in the same way as their American
cousins: they padded around imaginary walls, sat upon imaginary
stools, mimicked the gait and appearance of innocents, and
projected such a dreary air of gaiety that the gay hairdressers
of the "interior" banded together to wreak an appropriate
vengence upon them: they butchered them in their sleep. And
by way of calling card and warning, they shrank their victims'
heads. All the while maintaining really good hair.
Chapman was staggered. And seconds passed before he could come
up with his usual thick witted response: something about losing
one's head, but he shamefacedly mumbled his words and pretended
that he had said nothing, pointing instead to a macaw on a nearby
perch. (Neither macaws nor perch, however, are native to Africa.)
Keats, however, was more than a little impressed by the
hairdresser's attention to detail. "A marcelled morceau!" he
exclaimed, holding a head aloft. Chapman gave a fine impression
of a man lost in thought, while quizzical eyes from every
quarter measured him for tonsure.
--------------------------------------------------------
"farberisms"
He would forget his head if it weren't screwed up.
I'm signing my own death knell.
It's the old Paul Revere bit . . . one if by two and two if by one.
It's a hairy can of worms.
It's your ball of wax, you unravel it.
I know what we have to do to get our feet off the ground.
I'll hit him right between the teeth.
She hit the nail on the nose.
Do not fumble with a woman's logic.
Are there any problems we haven't beat out to death?
He got taken right through the nose.
Let's set up a straw vote and knock it down.
Don't pull an enigma on me.
Let me throw a monkey into the wrench.
It's raining like a bandit.
One doesn't swallow the whole cake at the first sitting.
Gander your eye at that!
I case my ground very well before I jump into it.
There are two sides to every marshmallow.
I wouldn't give it to a wet dog.
I'll be there in the next foreseeable future.
People in glass houses shouldn't call the kettle black.
The whole thing is a hairy potpourri.
Every cloud has a blue horizon.
That solves two stones with one bird.
Come down off your charlie horse.
Just cut a thin slither of it.
A carpenter's son doesn't have shoes.
There were foot-high puddles.
Getting him to do anything is like pulling hen's teeth.
He's the king of queens.
It's a mecca of people.
It's the blind leading the deaf.
Let's kick the bucket with a certain amount of daintiness.
It's a slap in the chaps.
He smokes like a fish.
He's so far above me I can't reach his bootstraps.
It's like asking a man to stop eating in the middle of a starvation diet.
He has his neck out on a limb.
He's a young peeksqueek.
It fills a well-needed gap.
Lay a bugaboo to rest.
For all intensive purposes, the act is over.
The early bird will find his can of worms.
He's running around like a chicken with his ass cut off.
If the onus fits, wear it.
This thing kills me to the bone.
We can't get through the forest for the trees.
---------------------------------------------------
Ya know Christ was a nice jewish boy....
You could tell.... He thought his mom was a virgin; she thought he was a
god..
Jokes