Obama hits head. Where are the comedians?

First, he mistook an Oval Office window for a door. Then as he was campaigning for his pork barrel spending bill “stimulus package”, he manages to bonk his head while entering Marine One.

Now, I seem to recall the comedians having a FIELD DAY when Gerald Ford stumbled down the steps from Air Force One, and when George W. Bush (a) choked on a pretzel and (b) mistook an ornamental door for….well….a door. What klutzes ! What dolts! What nimrods! Remember that? Let’s see what the late night comedians have to say about Obama’s pratfalls. I don’t know about you, but I’m not holding my breath.

Hillary speaks to Native Americans

Senator Hillary Clinton was invited to address a major gathering of The American Indian nation last year in upper New York State …She spoke for almost an hour on her future plans for increasing every Native American’s present standard of living, should she one day become the first female President.

She referred to her career as a New York Senator, how she had signed “YES” for every Indian issue that came to her desk for approval. Although the Senator was vague on the details of her plan, she seemed most enthusiastic about her future ideas for helping her “red sisters and brothers”.

At the conclusion of her speech, the Tribes presented the Senator with a plaque inscribed with her new Indian name – Walking Eagle.

The proud Senator then departed in her motorcade, waving to the crowds. A news reporter later inquired of the group of chiefs of how they had come to select the new name given to the Senator.

They explained that Walking Eagle is the name given to a bird so full of shit it can no longer fly.

Repeat Customer

The madam opened the brothel door to see a rather dignified, well-dressed good looking man in his late 40s or early 50s.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I want to see Valerie,” the man replied.

“Sir, Valerie is one of our most expensive ladies. Perhaps you would prefer someone else,” said the madam.

“No. I must see Valerie,” was the man’s reply.

Just then, Valerie appeared and announced to the man that she charged $1,000 a visit. Without hesitation, the man pulled out ten one-hundred dollar bills, gave them to Valerie, and they went upstairs.

After an hour, the man calmly left.

The next night, the same man appeared again, demanding to see Valerie.

Valerie explained that none had ever come back two nights in a row–too expensive–and there were no discounts. The price was still $1,000. Again the man pulled out the money, gave it to Valerie and they went upstairs. After an hour, he left.

The following night the man was there again. Everyone was astounded that he had come for the third consecutive night, but he paid Valerie and they went upstairs.

After their session, Valerie questioned the man. “No one has ever been with me three nights in a row. Where are you from?” she asked.

The man replied, “South Carolina.” “Really” she said. “I have family in South Carolina.”

“I know,” the man said. “Your father died, and I am your sister’s attorney. She asked me to give you your $3,000 inheritance.”

The moral of the story is that there are three things in life that are certain:

1. Death

2. Taxes

3. Being screwed by a lawyer

Clocks in Heaven

A man died and went to Heaven. As he stood in front of the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him.
He asked, “What are all those clocks?”

St. Peter answered, “Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie the hands on your clock move.”

“Oh”, said the man. “Whose clock is that?”

“That’s Mother Teresa’s”, replied St. Peter. “The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie.”

“Incredible”, said the man. “And whose clock is that one?”

St. Peter responded, “That’s Abraham Lincoln’s clock. The hands have moved twice, telling us that Abraham told only two lies in his entire life.”

“Where’s Hillary’s clock?” asked the man.

“Hillary’s clock is in Jesus’ office. He’s using it as a ceiling fan. “

Chinese Laundry

A woman was unhappy with the way her laundry was done at the local Chinese Laundry, so she wrote a note and put it in the bag with the next collection of soiled clothes :

“USE MORE SOAP ON PANTIES!”

She got the clean laundry back, and was still dissatisfied with the results, so the following week she enclosed another note:

“USE MORE SOAP ON PANTIES!”

The Chinese laundryman became very annoyed, and when her clean laundry was delivered, it contained a note from him:

“I USE PLENTY SOAP ON PANTIES!!! USE MORE PAPER ON ASS!!”

HUMOR – Letter of Resignation

An actual letter of resignation from an employee to her boss, (who apparently resigned very soon afterwards!)

Dear Mr. Baker,

As an employee of an institution of higher education, I have a few very basic expectations. Chief among these is that my direct superiors have an intellect that ranges above the common ground squirrel. After your consistent and annoying harassment of my co-workers and myself during the commission of our duties, I can only surmise that you are one of the few true genetic wastes of our time.

Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every little nuance of everything I do each time you happen to stroll into my office is not only a waste of time, but also a waste of precious oxygen. I was hired because I know how to network computer systems, and you were apparently hired to provide amusement to myself and other employees, who watch you vainly attempt to understand the concept of “cut and paste” for the hundredth time.

You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly simple as binary still gives you too many options. You will also never understand why people hate you, but I am going to try and explain it to you, even though I am sure this will be just as effective as telling you what an IP is.

Your shiny new iMac has more personality than you ever will. You walk around the building all day, shiftlessly looking for fault in others. You have a sharp dressed useless look about you that may have worked for your interview, but now that you actually have responsibility, you pawn it off on overworked staff, hoping their talent will cover for your glaring ineptitude. In a world of managerial evolution, you are the blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at. Managers like you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle. Seeing as this situation is unlikely to change without you getting a full frontal lobotomy reversal, I am forced to tender my resignation, however I have a few parting thoughts.

1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is illegal for you to give me a bad recommendation. The most you can say to hurt me is “I prefer not to comment.” I will have friends randomly call you over the next couple of years to keep you honest, because I know you would be unable to do it on your own.

2. I have all the passwords to every account on the system, and I know every password you have used for the last five years. If you decide to get cute, I am going to publish your “favorites list”, which I conveniently saved when you made me “back up” your useless files. I do believe that terms like “Lolita” are not usually viewed favorably by the administration.

3. When you borrowed the digital camera to “take pictures of your Mother’s birthday”, you neglected to mention that you were going to take pictures of yourself in the mirror nude. Then you forgot to erase them like the techno-moron you really are. Suffice it to say I have never seen such odd acts with a sauce bottle, but I assure you that those have been copied and kept in safe places pending the authoring of a glowing letter of recommendation. (Try to use a spell check please, I hate having to correct your mistakes.)

Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow. One word of this to anybody, and all of your little twisted repugnant obsessions will be open to the public.

Never f*** with your systems administrator. Why? Because they know what you do with all that free time!

Wishing you a grand and glorious day.

Cecelia

Robots with IQ-centric humor

A man walked into a very high-tech restaurant in a fancy hotel.

As he waited to be seated, he noticed that the Maitre D’ was a robot.

The robot clicked to attention and said, “Sir, there is a one hour wait.

And I am programmed to converse with you until a table is ready, If you please.”

Intrigued, the man said, “OK.”

The robot clicked a couple more times and then asked, “Sir, what is your IQ?

“The man answered, “Oh, about 164.”

The robot then proceeded to discuss the theory of relativity, Interstellar space travel, the latest medical breakthroughs, etc . .

The man was most impressed. The next day he returned, but thought he would try a different tack.

The robot again asked “What is your IQ, sir?” This time the man answered, “Oh, about 100″.

So the robot started discussing NASCAR racing, the latest basketball scores, and what to expect the Red Sox to do this weekend.

The guy had to try it one more time. So the next day he returned.

Again the robot asked the question, “What is your IQ?”

This time the man drawled out, ” Uh…..’bout 50.”

The robot clicked, then leaned close and very slowly asked,

“A-r-e
y-o-u-r
p-e-o-p-l-e
g-o-i-n-g
t-o
n-o-m-i-n-a-t-e
H-i-l-l-a-r-y?”

Two months without posts? Time for a laugh!