Bobtails are not bobcat tails. Management cannot be held responsible if you try to affix bells to the latter.
Thank you for your cooperation.
To be able to say "Noggle," you first must be able to say "Nah."
Bobtails are not bobcat tails. Management cannot be held responsible if you try to affix bells to the latter.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Since Jeff Goldstein of Protein Wisdom is in Utah, I am cutting into his turf with a short humor post like what he does. So I hereby present, sympathetically, the ways that people have certainly mangled poor Milla Jovavich‘s name to her face, probably when she was arguing with the maitre’d at a second tier restaurant in L.A.:
Dang, that list of humorous items is harder than it looks.
My wife said to me last night, “Honey?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Never mind,” she commanded.
Which puts me in quite the logical bind. The next time she tells me to do something and I don’t do it, she’ll be angry, but I am only following orders. Of course, if I do the next thing she tells me, I am also not minding.
Just to be safe, I think I shall sit in the recliner and pretend I didn’t hear.
The friendly woman at the gym did really say that the friendly staph was there to serve us?
I guess, then, as the opposite of disenfranchised voter, an enfranchised voter is a voter whose product, votes, is available in many different locations, such as several different polling places or states.
The Best Way to End the Huge Partisan Divide is a Bloody Civil War by Frank J.:
For years now, the country seems to have been split down the middle, and its eating away at the soul of the country. Usually, you have one group get a majority which then pushes around the other side and makes fun of how their children look, but the old way seems so distant now. How can we return to the former status quo? As usual, war is the answer.
Now all Americans will be united and happy, because the liberals will no longer be defined as Americans and will be shot by BBs.
It’s been a long time since we’ve had a civil war, but hopefully we learned plenty from the first one to make this one quick and efficient. It will be quite different, though. For one thing, it won’t have a stark geographical divide. Friendly and enemy territory will have to divided on a house to house basis – or maybe even room to room. Also, a big difference is that one side has all the guns since both gun owners and the military tend to be in the right-wing. This should make things easy if planned well.
I would be laughing if I didn’t think it was remotely possible.
Ban guns and try to make gun owners turn in their weapons and we’ll find out.
Hey, baby, care for some excessive palpation ? (Link SFW.)
Let’s see how many people click over to an almost-unrelated post on Ann Althouse’s blog with that lead-in.
In an effort to broaden the commentary here on MfBJN, we’ve sponsored a roundtable-style discussion of Election 2004:
RAY
What do you mean, choose? We don’t understand!
GOZER
Choose! Choose the form of the Destructor!
PETER
Whoa! I get it, I get it. Very cute! Whatever we think of – if we think of J. Edgar Hoover, J. Edgar Hoover will appear and destroy us, okay? So empty your heads. Empty your heads. Don’t think of anything. We’ve only got one shot at this.
GOZER
The choice is made! The Traveler has come!
PETER
Whoa! Whoa! Nobody choosed anything! Did you choose anything?
EGON
No!
PETER
Did you?
WINSTON
My mind’s totally blank!
PETER
I didn’t choose anything!
RAY
I couldn’t help it. It just popped in there!
Enjoy your president, America. He just popped in there.
For no other reason than because it’s my blog and I wanna, I’m going to lay upon you, gentle reader, three advertisements or advertising campaigns that really get on my nerves.
Jesus and mary chain, what the hell kind of bad acid trip in a muddy-field rave inspired this thing? I mean, I can understand a tendency to want to appeal to the average schlub who knows he doesn’t look like those eighteen year old pretty boys who pout their way through the pages between the cheesecake on the front cover and the table of contents, but good God, man, who identifies with an anthromorphized armpit? I mean, this set seriously creeps me out.
I mean, when the armpit has its fun in its one night stand and romps off with the next hot model in the next exotic locale, stranding the heartbroken previous hot model who thought she could tame his untamed but dry armpituous nature alone and unfortunately pregnant because he used the line not only am I dry, but I am sterile, you’ve got to wonder what will those poor children look like?
What the wet sprocket? With the purchase of bleach and bread, I can make a sandwich, but I’m not using both for it. How on earth do they expect to convince a rational person to purchase their insurance by hyping the AAA membership, which is $105 a year for the Gold plan last I checked? Who can trust a vendor who tries to sell you the falcoing insurance for a lot of money to give you the separate advertised features thrown in for a little extra?
Apparently, they’re targeting undecided voters, too.
Then, with the music coming up but before it cuts to the still featuring the latest financing package, a truck roars into the frame at probably thirty miles an hour and skids to a stop, fishtailing it forty degrees over a very stern Professional Driver. Closed Course. Do Not Attempt caption that does its best textual impression of James Earl Jones warning you about skidding in your automobile. Personally, I’ve never gotten the whole idea behind using footage of the vehicle out of control to sell a car, but I work for a living.
Message: Don’t try some small fry fancy maneuvers while driving unless you’re a professional; however, standing under your truck while it’s swinging from the rafters on a single bolt is a perfectly good way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Chumbawamba, how many half-gassed suburbanites have to die while trying to impress their hemi-having neighbors before this commercial carries the appropriate number of antilitigatory warnings that if you consume hyberbolic acid, you could have a bad trip?
Thanks. I feel better now, but not much.
Here’s what passes for hard-hitting investigative journalism here at MfBJN. Our crackhead staff contacted our sources looking for insight into John F. Kerry’s plan:

I had to get a screencap because I understand that thirty seconds after I click Publish Post, George Soros will go the extra $75 to buy that domain.
You want to know the length I will go for a gag? It’s obviously less than a single domain name registration. There you have it.
Red Hair Ring.
Write your own joke around it. Jeez, do I have to do everything?
Jane’s Addiction, "Been Caught Stealing":
We sat around the pile.
Sudden Pelf.
Sudden Pelf and
Waved it into the air!
And we did it just like that.
When we want something,
We don’t want to pay for it.
Emily Dickinson, Poem 544, circa 1862:
The Martyr Poets — did not tell —
But wrought their Pang in syllable —
That when their mortal name be numb —
Their mortal fate — encourage Some —The Martyr Painters — never spoke —
Bequeathing — rather — to their Work —
That when their conscious fingers cease —
Some seek in Art — the Art of Peace —
The Bush administration, which rules the world and all of nature through Haliburton and Enron and Martha Stewart Omnipedia with the full support of the Optimists International and Boy Scouts of America, has decided to distract voters from its horrible environmental policies which are turning the northwest into desert and are strip mining all of the sanity from the northeast by temporarily closing the ozone aperature that its supporters at Coppertone paid for.
It’s the only possible explanation!!!1!!!
Come on, guys, when do we get to do some photoshops of the CBS logo? Here are some to get you started:


Now get to it!
I’ve racked my brains and broke my wit to come up with a suitable surrounding joke where the punchline is a pun of malfeasance as mall fee seance.
Cripes, I’m not man enough to do it.
This woman, who’s a real *UNT, told me this joke today:
An old woman, watching the news, sees the traffic report and calls her husband, who’s on his way home. “Honey, be careful on 270, they say there’s someone driving the wrong way.”
He says, “One? There’s hundreds of them!”
My mother’s sister is so spunky. When used regarding a six-year-old, that adjective’s just precious. Applied against anyone over fifty, the adjective’s condescending and ALMOST SEEMS TO BE SPOKEN SLOWLY AND LOUDLY, have you noticed?
With oil prices going up and temperatures unseasonably cool, isn’t it obvious to anyone else that Enroniburton has secretly reversed global warming to pump up its profits this winter?
Am I the only one connecting the dots dancing before my eyes? Come on, people, wake up!
Humorist Frank J., who will probably enjoy publishing success before I do (the bastard!), pens:
Truth to power.