A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?" Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the breadwinner of the family, so let's call me capitalism. Your Mom, she's the administrator of the money, so we'll call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the people. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents' room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room.
Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.
The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I Understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."
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Einstein dies and goes to heaven. Saint Peter says, "You look like Einstein, but you have no idea the lengths some people will go to, to sneak in. Can you prove who you really are?" Einstein ponders for a few seconds and asks, "Could I have a blackboard and some chalk?"
Saint Peter snaps his fingers and a blackboard and chalk instantly appear. Einstein proceeds to describe with arcane mathematics and symbols his theory of relativity. Saint Peter is suitably impressed. "You really are Einstein! Welcome to Heaven!"
The next to arrive is Picasso. Once again Saint Peter asks for his credentials. Picasso asks, "Mind if I use that blackboard and chalk?" Saint Peter says, "Go ahead." Picasso erases Einstein's equations and sketches a truly stunning mural with just a few strokes of chalk. Saint Peter claps. "Surely you are the great artist you claim to be! Come on in!"
Then Saint Peter looks up and sees George W. Bush. Saint Peter scratches his head and says, "Einstein and Picasso both managed to prove their identity. How can you prove yours?" George W looks bewildered and says, "Who are Einstein and Picasso?" Saint Peter sighs, "Come on in, George."
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Bill Clinton is visiting a school. In one class, he asks the students if anyone can give him an example of a "tragedy." One little boy stands up and offers that, "If my best friend who lives next door is playing in the street when a car came by and killed him, that would be a tragedy."
"No," Clinton says, "That would be an ACCIDENT."
A girl raises her hand. "If a school bus carrying fifty children drove off a cliff, killing everyone inside...that would be a tragedy."
"I'm afraid not," explains Clinton. "That is what we would call a GREAT LOSS."
The room is silent; none of the other children dare volunteer.
"What?" asks Clinton, "Isn't there anyone here who can give me an example of a tragedy?"
Finally a boy in the back raises his hand. In a timid voice, he says: "If an airplane carrying Bill and Hillary Clinton was blown up by a bomb, *that* would be a tragedy."
"Wonderful!" Clinton beams. "Marvelous! And can you tell me WHY that would be a tragedy?"
"Well," says the boy, "because it wouldn't be an accident, and it certainly would be no great loss!"
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This is an actual job application a 17 year old boy submitted at a McDonald's fast-food establishment in Florida... and they hired him because he was so honest and funny!
NAME: Greg Bulmash
SEX: Not yet. Still waiting for the right person.
DESIRED POSITION: Company's President or Vice President. But seriously, whatever's available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn't be applying here in the first place.
DESIRED SALARY: $185,000 a year plus stock options and a Michael Ovitz style severance package. If that's not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.
EDUCATION: Yes.
LAST POSITION HELD: Target for middle management hostility.
SALARY: Less than I'm worth.
MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT: My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.
REASON FOR LEAVING: It sucked.
HOURS AVAILABLE TO WORK: Any.
PREFERRED HOURS: 1:30-3:30 p.m., Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.
DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?: Yes, but they're better suited to a more intimate environment.
MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?: If I had one, would I be here?
DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 LBS?: Of what?
DO YOU HAVE A CAR?: I think the more appropriate question here would be "Do you have a car that runs?"
HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?: I may already be a winner of the Publishers Clearing house Sweepstakes.
DO YOU SMOKE?: On the job no, on my breaks yes.
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS?: Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy dumb sexy blonde super model who thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I'd like to be doing that now.
DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE?: Yes. Absolutely.
SIGN HERE: Aries.
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One day, Mr. Phillard rushed his pregnant wife over to the hospital. As the doctors were prepping his wife, Mr. Phillard's idiot brother Bill arrived to watch the birth. But when Mr. Phillard saw the blood and everything else, he fainted. When Mr. Phillard woke up he was in a bed with the doctor standing above him.
"Mr. Phillard," the doctor said, "you are in the recovery room. Don't worry, your wife is fine and she had twins, a boy and a girl. Because you were unconscious and your wife was still under anaesthesia, she requested that your brother Bill name the kids."
"What! My brother, the idiot! I can't believe you let him! What did he name them?"
"He named your daughter Denise."
"Hey, not bad! I underestimated my brother. What did he name my son?"
"He named your son Denephew."
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A lady approaches her priest and says, "Father, I have a problem. I have two female talking parrots, but they only know how to say one thing."
"What do they say?" the priest inquires.
"They only know how to say, 'Hi, we're prostitutes. Want to have some fun?'"
"That's terrible," the priest exclaims, "but I have a solution to your problem. Bring your two female parrots over to my house, and I will put them with my two male talking parrots whom I taught to pray and read the bible. My parrots will teach your parrots to stop saying that terrible phrase, and your female parrots will learn to praise and worship."
"Thank you!" the woman responds.
The next day, the woman brings her female parrots to the priest's house. His two male parrots are holding rosary beads and praying in their cage. The lady puts her two female parrots in with the male parrots, and the female parrots say, "Hi, we're prostitutes, want to have some fun?"
One male parrot looks at the other male parrot and exclaims, "Put the beads away. Our prayers have been answered!"
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Have a nice day!!
Starmandala I particularly liked the last one about the praying parrots.