Category Archives: humorous

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 https://tilliespuncturedromance.wordpress.com  

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Q: Why do Scottish people wear kilts? A: Sheep can hear a zipper from a mile away.

Two Irishmen friends are drinking together at one of their homes. One friend takes out a bottle of Irish whiskey and asks the other, “Will you pour this bottle out on my grave if I die first?” His friend replies, “Do you mind if I pass it through my kidneys first?”

Q: If a plane crashed on the Canada/USA border, where would the survivors be buried?
A: You don’t bury survivors.

Q: Why were the Indians here first?
A: They had reservations.

There was a preacher who fell in the ocean and he couldn’t swim. When a boat came by, the captain yelled, “Do you need help, sir?” The preacher calmly said “No, God will save me.” A little later, another boat came by and a fisherman asked, “Hey, do you need help?” The preacher replied again, “No God will save me.” Eventually the preacher drowned & went to heaven. The preacher asked God, “Why didn’t you save me?” God replied, “Fool, I sent you two boats!”

Q: What do a Christmas tree and a priest have in common?
A: Their balls are just for decoration.

A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention, but the drunk continues to sit there. Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall. The drunk mumbles, “Ain’t no use knockin’! There’s no paper on this side either!”

Mother superior tells two new nuns that they have to paint their room without getting any paint on their clothes. One nun suggests to the other, “Hey, let’s take all our clothes off, fold them up, and lock the door.” So they do this, and begin painting their room. Soon they hear a knock at the door. They ask, “Who is it?” “Blind man!” The nuns look at each other and one nun says, “He’s blind, so he can’t see. What could it hurt?” They let him in. The blind man walks in and says, “Hey, nice tits. Where do you want me to hang the blinds?”

A boy is selling fish on a corner. To get his customers’ attention, he is yelling, “Dam fish for sale! Get your dam fish here!” A pastor hears this and asks, “Why are you calling them ‘dam fish.'” The boy responds, “Because I caught these fish at the local dam.” The pastor buys a couple fish, takes them home to his wife, and asks her to cook the dam fish. The wife responds surprised, “I didn’t know it was acceptable for a preacher to speak that way.” He explains to her why they are dam fish. Later at the dinner table, he asks his son to pass the dam fish. He responds, “That’s the spirit, Dad! Now pass the f*cking potatoes!”

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A boy is selling fish on a corner. To get his customers’ attention, he is yelling, “Dam fish for sale! Get your dam fish here!” A pastor hears this and asks, “Why are you calling them ‘dam fish.'” The boy responds, “Because I caught these fish at the local dam.” The pastor buys a couple fish, takes them home to his wife, and asks her to cook the dam fish. The wife responds surprised, “I didn’t know it was acceptable for a preacher to speak that way.” He explains to her why they are dam fish. Later at the dinner table, he asks his son to pass the dam fish. He responds, “That’s the spirit, Dad! Now pass the f*cking potatoes!”

A man gets on a bus, and ends up sitting next to a very attractive nun. Enamored with her, he asks if he can have sex with her. Naturally, she says no, and gets off the bus. The man goes to the bus driver and asks him if he knows of a way for him to have sex with the nun. “Well,” says the bus driver, “every night at 8 o’clock, she goes to the cemetery to pray. If you dress up as God, I’m sure you could convince her to have sex with you.” The man decides to try it, and dresses up in his best God costume. At eight, he sees the nun and appears before her. “Oh, God!” she exclaims. “Take me with you!” The man tells the nun that she must first have sex with him to prove her loyalty. The nun says yes, but tells him she prefers anal sex. Before you know it, they’re getting down to it, having nasty, grunty, loud sex. After it’s over, the man pulls off his God disguise. “Ha, ha!” he says, “I’m the man from the bus!” “Ha, ha!” says the nun, removing her costume, “I’m the bus driver!”

A little boy wants a bike for Christmas really badly, but the kid is a real bad seed, and he knows it. He writes a letter to Jesus. “Dear Jesus, if I get a bike for Christmas, I’ll be good for a whole week.” He thinks about it, crosses out what he wrote, and says, “I can’t be good for a whole week, I’ll be good for five days.” He crosses that out and writes, “I’ll be good for four days.” Then he thinks again and says, “Can’t do that.” He gets down to one day and says, “I can’t even be good for a day.” Then in frustration, goes in his mother’s room and get the statue of the Virgin Mary, wraps it up in a blanket, puts it in a paper bag, throws it in the closet and says, “Dear Jesus, if I don’t get a bike for Christmas, you’ll never see your mother again!”

 

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Three guys are at the gates of Heaven, and God tells them, “We have a special today! If you died a terrible death, you’re in for free.” So God asks the first guy his story. “I was a hard working man and a loving husband, but I began to suspect that my wife was cheating on me. One day, I called in sick to work and left for home to hide and closely watch my apartment. I saw a man go in, and I decided to wait a few minutes to catch them in the act. Then, I started banging on my door. They wouldn’t open it, so I broke down the door and walked in to see my wife sitting naked, but the man wasn’t in sight. I went to the balcony, where I saw a naked man hanging on the edge. I began to stomp on his hands until he fell down, but there were bushes, so I got my fridge and tossed it on him. In the process of tossing the fridge, I also fell over and died.” God replies, “Wow, that’s pretty bad, finding out your wife cheated and falling off your balcony. You pass.” The second guy says, “God, my only crime was that I enjoyed dancing naked in my apartment while eating pickles out of the jar. I was doing just that one day, when I slipped on a pickle and fell over my balcony. Luckily, I was able to grab on to the ledge below mine. After a few minutes, a man came and I thought he was going to rescue me, but he began to stomp on my hands. I fell, but luckily, I fell into the bushes. I thought I had survived, but that man threw a fridge at me and I died!” God replies, “Wow, that’s very cruel, being crushed to death.” The third man says, “I died naked in a fridge.”

Three guys are at the gates of Heaven, and God tells them, “We have a special today! If you died a terrible death, you’re in for free.” So God asks the first guy his story. “I was a hard working man and a loving husband, but I began to suspect that my wife was cheating on me. One day, I called in sick to work and left for home to hide and closely watch my apartment. I saw a man go in, and I decided to wait a few minutes to catch them in the act. Then, I started banging on my door. They wouldn’t open it, so I broke down the door and walked in to see my wife sitting naked, but the man wasn’t in sight. I went to the balcony, where I saw a naked man hanging on the edge. I began to stomp on his hands until he fell down, but there were bushes, so I got my fridge and tossed it on him. In the process of tossing the fridge, I also fell over and died.” God replies, “Wow, that’s pretty bad, finding out your wife cheated and falling off your balcony. You pass.” The second guy says, “God, my only crime was that I enjoyed dancing naked in my apartment while eating pickles out of the jar. I was doing just that one day, when I slipped on a pickle and fell over my balcony. Luckily, I was able to grab on to the ledge below mine. After a few minutes, a man came and I thought he was going to rescue me, but he began to stomp on my hands. I fell, but luckily, I fell into the bushes. I thought I had survived, but that man threw a fridge at me and I died!” God replies, “Wow, that’s very cruel, being crushed to death.” The third man says, “I died naked in a fridge.”

A priest, a minister, and a rabbi want to see who’s best at his job. So they each go into the woods, find a bear, and attempt to convert it. Later they get together. The priest begins: “When I found the bear, I read to him from the Catechism and sprinkled him with holy water. Next week is his first communion.” “I found a bear by the stream,” says the minister, “and preached God’s holy word. The bear was so mesmerized that he let me baptize him.” They both look down at the rabbi, who is lying on a gurney in a body cast. “Looking back,” he says, “maybe I shouldn’t have started with the circumcision.”

In surgery for a heart attack, a middle-aged woman has a vision of God by her bedside. “Will I die?” she asks. God says, “No. You have 30 more years to live.” With 30 years to look forward to, she decides to make the best of it. So since she’s in the hospital, she gets breast implants, liposuction, a tummy tuck, hair transplants, and collagen injections in her lips. She looks great! The day she’s discharged, she exits the hospital with a swagger, crosses the street, and is immediately hit by an ambulance and killed. Up in heaven, she sees God. “You said I had 30 more years to live,” she complains. “That’s true,” says God. “So what happened?” she asks. God shrugs, “I didn’t recognize you.”

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If Mary had Jesus, and Jesus is the lamb of God, does that mean Mary had a little lamb?

A gentleman is preparing to board a plane, when he hears that the Pope is on the same flight. “This is exciting,” thinks the gentleman. “Perhaps I’ll be able to see him in person.” Imagine his surprise when the Pope sits down in the seat next to him. Shortly after take-off, the Pope begins a crossword puzzle. Almost immediately, the Pope turns to the gentleman and says, “Excuse me, but do you know a four letter word referring to a woman that ends in ‘unt?’” Only one word leaps to mind. “My goodness,” thinks the gentleman, “I can’t tell the Pope that. There must be another word.” The gentleman thinks for quite a while, and then it hits him. Turning to the Pope, the gentleman says, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘aunt.’” “Of course,” says the Pope. “Do you have an eraser?”

A husband and wife are in church. The preacher notices that the husband has fallen asleep and says to the wife, “Wake your husband up!” The wife answers, “You’re the one who made him fall asleep, you wake him up!”

Wilson runs a nail factory and decides his business needs a bit of advertising. He has a chat with a friend who works in marketing, and he offers to make a television ad for Wilson’s Nails. “Give me a week,” says the friend, “and I’ll be back with a tape.” A week goes by and the marketing executive comes to see Wilson. He puts a cassette in the video and presses play. A Roman soldier is busy nailing Jesus to the cross. He turns to face the camera and says with a grin, “Use Wilson’s Nails, they’ll hold anything.” Wilson goes mad, shouting, “What is the matter with you? They’ll never show that on television. Give it another try, but no more Romans crucifying Jesus!” Another week goes by and the marketing man comes back to see Wilson with another tape. He puts it in the machine and hits play. This time the camera pans out from a Roman standing with his arms folded to show Jesus on the cross. The Roman looks up at him and says, “Wilson’s Nails, they’ll hold anything.” Wilson is beside himself. “You don’t understand. I don’t want anything with Jesus on the cross! Now listen, I’ll give you one last chance. Come back in a week with an advertisement that I can broadcast.” A week passes and Wilson waits impatiently. The marketing executive arrives and puts on the new video. A naked man with long hair, gasping for breath, is running across a field. About a dozen Roman soldiers come over the hill, hot on his trail. One of them turns to the camera and says, “If only we had used Wilson’s Nails!”

Two nuns were riding their bicycles down the street. The first nun says, “I’ve never came this way before.” The second nun says, “Yeah, it’s the cobblestones!”

Two nuns were riding their bicycles down the street. The first nun says, “I’ve never came this way before.” The second nun says, “Yeah, it’s the cobblestones!”

Q: Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocaine during a root canal?
A: His goal: transcend dental medication.

A man walks into the ladies department of Macy’s, walks up to the woman behind the counter and says, “I’d like to buy a bra for my wife.” “What type of bra?” asks the clerk. “Type?” inquires the man. “There is more than one type?” “Look around,” says the saleslady, as she shows a sea of bras in every shape, size, color, and material. “Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only three types of bras,” replies the salesclerk. Confused, the man asks what the types are. The saleslady replies, “The Catholic type, the Salvation Army type, and the Baptist type. Which one do you need?” Still confused, the man asks, “What is the difference between them?” The lady responds, “It is all really quite simple. The Catholic type supports the masses, the Salvation Army type lifts up the fallen, and the Baptist type makes mountains out of mole hills.”

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A man walks into the ladies department of Macy’s, walks up to the woman behind the counter and says, “I’d like to buy a bra for my wife.” “What type of bra?” asks the clerk. “Type?” inquires the man. “There is more than one type?” “Look around,” says the saleslady, as she shows a sea of bras in every shape, size, color, and material. “Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only three types of bras,” replies the salesclerk. Confused, the man asks what the types are. The saleslady replies, “The Catholic type, the Salvation Army type, and the Baptist type. Which one do you need?” Still confused, the man asks, “What is the difference between them?” The lady responds, “It is all really quite simple. The Catholic type supports the masses, the Salvation Army type lifts up the fallen, and the Baptist type makes mountains out of mole hills.”

What did the Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor? Make me one with everything.

Why do Mormon women stop having kids at 29? Because 30 is too many!

When Paddy’s dog died, he took it to the local Catholic church. He asked the preacher if he could have a funeral service for his much loved pet, but the preacher explained that they didn’t do services like that for animals. Paddy asked who would and the preacher suggested that the Baptist church up the road would probably give the dog a funeral service. Paddy asked, “Preacher, do you think $5,000 would be enough payment for the dog’s funeral?” The preacher relied, “Dearest Paddy, why didn’t you tell me that your dog was a Catholic?”

Q: Why did all the hippies go to church on the first day of Lent? A: They heard it was “Hash Wednesday.”

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Q: How does Moses make his tea?
A: Hebrews it.

Did you hear about the dyslexic agnostic with insomnia who stayed up all night wondering if there really is a dog?

AUSTRALIANS DEAN AND EDUARD NITZ LAY CLAIM TO ‘WORLD’S OLDEST BURGER

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Mmm…..Casey Dean and Eduard Nitz have waited 20 years to taste this burger. Source: Channel 10

ONCE upon a time in Adelaide, Casey Dean, 14, and his good mate Eduard Nitz, 13, stopped off at their local McDonald’s to pick up some burgers. Among them was a Quarter Pounder with cheese they’d bought for another kid. That kid never turned up, but they didn’t eat his burger. Ever.

That was back in 1995. The boys have become men and the burger has turned 20 and to celebrate, Mr Dean and Mr Nitz are going to reveal it to the world for the first time with an appearance on The Project tonight.

To bite or not to bite? Casey Dean and Eduard Nitz have pondered this question for two de

To bite or not to bite? Casey Dean and Eduard Nitz have pondered this question for two decades. Source: Channel 10

“We’re pretty sure it’s the oldest burger in the world,” Mr Dean said.

“It started off as a joke, you know we told our friend we’d hold his burger for him but he never turned up and before we knew it six months had passed. The months became years and now, 20 years later, it looks the same as it did the day we bought it, perfectly preserved in its original wrapping.”

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U.K. farmer breeds the tears out of an onion

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U.K. farmer breeds the tears out of an onion

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The Sweet Red has just hit grocery shelves, promising fewer tears and sweeter-smelling breath.

It’s hard to chop an onion when you have tears in your eyes. (Photo: Sean Locke Photography/Shutterstock)

One of the most frequently used items in my kitchen is a pair of onion goggles. I need them because I’m incredibly susceptible to the sulfur that’s released when an onion is sliced. Within half a minute, my eyes burn and tear up, making it very difficult to chop an onion without harming myself with my chef’s knife.
A farmer in England may be on his way to making my onion goggles obsolete, at least when I’m chopping a red onion for dishes like Sourdough Panzanella or Guacamole. For 20 years, Alastair Findlay of Bedfordshire Growers has worked on creating a new type of onion, one he calls a Sweet Red, according to Yahoo.
Sweet Reds have a flavor that’s milder than other red onions. They also don’t leave your breath smelling as onion-y, and they don’t give off as much tear-producing sulfur.
I assume the Sweet Red is a hybrid vegetable. The hybrid process crossbreeds two different types or varieties of vegetables or fruits, creating a new, natural variety. This is different from genetically modifying foods, by the way.
Findlay isn’t done tweaking the onions. He’s working on improving the flavor of his Sweet Red even further.
For now, the first harvest of Sweet Reds is available only at the U.K. grocery chain Asda, so I suppose I’ll need my onion goggles for a while longer. I’d love to get my hands on one, though, and test the no-more-tears promise of the Sweet Red.

Read more: http://www.mnn.com/food/healthy-eating/blogs/uk-farmer-breeds-the-tears-out-of-an-onion#ixzz3S227VMer

THE SUBTLE ART OF NOT GIVING A FUCK

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THE SUBTLE ART OF NOT GIVING A FUCK

 

In my life, I have given a fuck about many people and many things. I have also not given a fuck about many people and many things. And those fucks I have not given have made all the difference.

People often say the key to confidence and success in life is to simply “not give a fuck.” Indeed, we often refer to the strongest, most admirable people we know in terms of their lack of fucks given. Like “Oh, look at Susie working weekends again, she doesn’t give a fuck.” Or “Did you hear that Tom called the company president an asshole and still got a raise anyway? Holy shit, that dude does not give a fuck.” Or “Jason got up and ended his date with Cindy after 20 minutes. He said he wasn’t going to listen to her bullshit anymore. Man, that guy does not give a fuck.”

Chances are you know somebody in your life who, at one time or another, did not give a fuck and went on to accomplish amazing feats. Perhaps there was a time in your life where you simply did not give a fuck and excelled to some extraordinary heights. I know for myself, quitting my day job in finance after only six weeks and telling my boss that I was going to start selling dating advice online ranks pretty high up there in my own “didn’t give a fuck” hall of fame. Same with deciding tosell most of my possessions and move to South America. Fucks given? None. Just went and did it.

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Now, while not giving a fuck may seem simple on the surface, it’s a whole new bag of burritos under the hood. I don’t even know what that sentence means, but I don’t give a fuck. A bag of burritos sounds awesome, so let’s just go with it.

The point is, most of us struggle throughout our lives by giving too many fucks in situations where fucks do not deserve to be given. We give a fuck about the rude gas station attendant who gave us too many nickels. We give a fuck when a show we liked was canceled on TV. We give a fuck when our coworkers don’t bother asking us about our awesome weekend. We give a fuck when it’s raining and we were supposed to go jogging in the morning.

Fucks given everywhere. Strewn about like seeds in mother-fucking spring time. And for what purpose? For what reason? Convenience? Easy comforts? A pat on the fucking back maybe?

This is the problem, my friend.

Because when we give too many fucks, when we choose to give a fuck about everything, then we feel as though we are perpetually entitled to feel comfortable and happy at all times, that’s when life fucks us.

Indeed, the ability to reserve our fucks for only the most fuckworthy of situations would surely make life a hell of a lot easier. Failure would be less terrifying. Rejection less painful. Unpleasant necessities more pleasant and the unsavory shit sandwiches a little bit more savory. I mean, if we could only give a few less fucks, or a few more consciously-directed fucks, then life would feel pretty fucking easy.

What we don’t realize is that there is a fine art of non-fuck-giving. People aren’t just born not giving a fuck. In fact, we’re born giving way too many fucks. Ever watch a kid cry his eyes out because his hat is the wrong shade of blue? Exactly. Fuck that kid.

Developing the ability to control and manage the fucks you give is the essence of strength and integrity. We must craft and hone our lack of fuckery over the course of years and decades. Like a fine wine, our fucks must age into a fine vintage, only uncorked and given on the most special fucking occasions.

This may sound easy. But it is not. Most of us, most of the time, get sucked in by life’s mean trivialities, steamrolled by its unimportant dramas; we live and die by the sidenotes and distractions and vicissitudes that suck the fucks out of us likeSasha Grey in the middle of a gangbang.

This is no way to live, man. So stop fucking around. Get your fucks together. And here, allow me to fucking show you.

SUBTLETY #1: NOT GIVING A FUCK DOES NOT MEAN BEING INDIFFERENT; IT MEANS BEING COMFORTABLE WITH BEING DIFFERENT

When most people envision giving no fucks whatsoever, they envision a kind of perfect and serene indifference to everything, a calm that weathers all storms.

This is misguided. There’s absolutely nothing admirable or confident about indifference. People who are indifferent are lame and scared. They’re couch potatoes and internet trolls. In fact, indifferent people often attempt to be indifferent because in reality they actually give too many fucks. They are afraid of the world and the repercussions of their own choices. Therefore, they make none. They hide in a grey emotionless pit of their own making, self-absorbed and self-pitied, perpetually distracting themselves from this unfortunate thing demanding their time and energy called life.

My mother was recently screwed out of a large chunk of money by a close friend of hers. Had I been indifferent, I would have shrugged my shoulders, sipped some mocha and downloaded another season of The Wire. Sorry mom.

But instead, I was indignant. I was pissed off. I said, “No, screw that mom, we’re going to lawyer the fuck up and go after this asshole. Why? Because I don’t give a fuck. I will ruin this guy’s life if I have to.”

This illustrates the first subtlety about not giving a fuck. When we say, “Damn, watch out, Mark Manson just don’t give a fuck,” we don’t mean that Mark Manson doesn’t care about anything; on the contrary, what we mean is that Mark Manson doesn’t care about adversity in the face of his goals, he doesn’t care about pissing some people off to do what he feels is right or important or noble. What we mean is that Mark Manson is the type of guy who would write about himself in third person and use the word ‘fuck’ in an article 127 different times just because he thought it was the right thing to do. He just doesn’t give a fuck.

This is what is so admirable — no, not me, dumbass — the overcoming adversity stuff. The staring failure in the face and shoving your middle finger back at it. The people who don’t give a fuck about adversity or failure or embarrassing themselves or shitting the bed a few times. The people who just laugh and then do it anyway. Because they know it’s right. They know it’s more important than them and their own feelings and their own pride and their own needs. They say “Fuck it,” not to everything in life, but rather they say “Fuck it” to everything unimportant in life. They reserve their fucks for what truly fucking matters. Friends. Family. Purpose. Burritos. And an occasional lawsuit or two. And because of that, because they reserve their fucks for only the big things, the important things, people give a fuck about them in return.

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SUBTLETY #2: TO NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ADVERSITY, YOU MUST FIRST GIVE A FUCK ABOUT SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN ADVERSITY

Eric Hoffer once wrote: “A man is likely to mind his own business when it is worth minding. When it is not, he takes his mind off his own meaningless affairs by minding other people’s business.”

The problem with people who hand out fucks like ice cream at a goddamn summer camp is that they don’t have anything more fuckworthy to dedicate their fucks to.

Think for a second. You’re at a grocery store. And there’s an elderly lady screaming at the cashier, berating him for not accepting her 30-cent coupon. Why does this lady give a fuck? It’s just 30 cents.

Well, I’ll tell you why. That old lady probably doesn’t have anything better to do with her days than to sit at home cutting out coupons all morning. She’s old and lonely. Her kids are dickheads and never visit. She hasn’t had sex in over 30 years. Her pension is on its last legs and she’s probably going to die in a diaper thinking she’s in Candyland. She can’t fart without extreme lower back pain. She can’t even watch TV for more than 15 minutes without falling asleep or forgetting the main plotline.

So she snips coupons. That’s all she’s got. It’s her and her damn coupons. All day, every day. It’s all she can give a fuck about because there is nothing else to give a fuck about. And so when that pimply-faced 17-year-old cashier refuses to accept one of them, when he defends his cash register’s purity the way knights used to defend maidens’ virginities, you can damn well bet granny is going to erupt and verbally hulk smash his fucking face in. Eighty years of fucks will rain down all at once, like a fiery hailstorm of “Back in my day” and “People used to show more respect” stories, boring the world around her to tears in her creaking and wobbly voice.

If you find yourself consistently giving too many fucks about trivial shit that bothers you — your ex-girlfriend’s new Facebook picture, how quickly the batteries die in the TV remote, missing out on yet another 2-for-1 sale on hand sanitizer — chances are you don’t have much going on in your life to give a legitimate fuck about. And that’s your real problem. Not the hand sanitizer.

Way too many fucks given.
Way too many fucks given.

In life, our fucks must be spent on something. There really is no such thing as not giving a fuck. The question is simply how we each choose to allot our fucks. You only get a limited amount of fucks to give over your lifetime, so you must spend them with care. As my father used to say, “Fucks don’t grow on trees, Mark.” OK, he never actually said that. But fuck it, pretend like he did. The point is that fucks have to be earned and then invested wisely. Fucks are cultivated like a beautiful fucking garden, where if you fuck shit up and the fucks get fucked, then you’ve fucking fucked your fucks all the fuck up.

SUBTLETY #3: WE ALL HAVE A LIMITED NUMBER OF FUCKS TO GIVE; PAY ATTENTION TO WHERE AND WHO YOU GIVE THEM TO

When we’re young, we have tons of energy. Everything is new and exciting. And everything seems to matter so much. Therefore, we give tons of fucks. We give a fuck about everything and everyone — about what people are saying about us, about whether that cute boy/girl called us back or not, about whether our socks match or not or what color our birthday balloon is.

As we get older, we gain experience and begin to notice that most of these things have little lasting impact on our lives. Those people’s opinions we cared about so much before have long been removed from our lives. We’ve found the love we need and so those embarrassing romantic rejections cease to mean much anymore. We realize how little people pay attention to the superficial details about us and we focus on doing things more for ourselves rather than for others.

Bunk Moreland, not giving a fuck since 2002.
Bunk Moreland, not giving a fuck since 2002.

Essentially, we become more selective about the fucks we’re willing to give. This is something called ‘maturity.’ It’s nice, you should try it sometime. Maturity is what happens when one learns to only give a fuck about what’s truly fuckworthy. As Bunk Moreland said in The Wire(which, fuck you, I still downloaded it) to his partner Detective McNulty: “That’s what you get for giving a fuck when it wasn’t your turn to give a fuck.”

Then, as we grow older and enter middle age, something else begins to change. Our energy levels drop. Our identities solidify. We know who we are and we no longer have a desire to change what now seems inevitable in our lives.

And in a strange way, this is liberating. We no longer need to give a fuck about everything. Life is just what it is. We accept it, warts and all. We realize that we’re never going to cure cancer or go to the moon or feel Jennifer Aniston’s tits. And that’s OK. Life fucking goes on. We now reserve our ever-dwindling fucks only for the most truly fuckworthy parts of our lives: our families, our best friends, our golf swing. And to our astonishment, this is enough. This simplification actually makes us really fucking happy.

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Then somehow, one day, much later, we wake up and we’re old. And along with our gum lines and our sex drive, our ability to give a fuck has receded to the point of non-existence. In the twilight of our days, we carry out a paradoxical existence where we no longer have the energy to give a fuck about the big things in life, and instead we must dedicate the few fucks we have left to the simple and mundane yet increasingly difficult aspects of our lives: where to eat lunch, doctors appointments for our creaky joints, 30-cent discounts at the supermarket, and driving without drifting to sleep and killing a parking lot full of orphans. You know, practical concerns.

 Jingle Bells Christmas song started as a drinking song written by a ‘jerk’

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The truth about Jingle Bells – drag racing, drunk driving, a deadbeat dad and conspiracy theories

By Daybreak South, CBC News Posted: Dec 16, 2014 7:16 PM PT Last Updated: Dec 17, 2014 7:41 AM PT

James Pierpont, the man credited with composing Jingle Bells in Medford, Mass.

James Pierpont, the man credited with composing Jingle Bells in Medford, Mass. (Wikipedia)

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The secret history of Jingle Bells 8:39

Here’s the truth about Jingle Bells. It’s not a Christmas song — it’s a Thanksgiving song. It’s not a jolly family song — it’s a drinking song. It’s at the centre of a nasty dispute, and it was written by a ‘jerk’.

The real story of Jingle Bells starts on the banks of the Mystic River in New England, just upstream from Boston, in Medford, Mass.

If you walk along High Street, and stop at Rosetti Optical, you’ll find a plaque, which reads

Jingle Bells composed here.

On this site stood the Simpson Tavern, where in 1850, James Pierpont wrote the song Jingle Bells.

Jingle Bells

A plaque marks the spot in Medford, Mass. where Jingle Bells was composed by James Pierpont. (Medford Historical Society)

Kyna Hamill, professor of literature at Boston University and vice-president of the Medford Historical Society, spoke to Daybreak South’s Chris Walker about the origins of Jingle Bells.

As you might expect, the story begins with a one-horse open sleigh.

“Medford is home to a series of sleigh races that used to occur on a street called Salem Street, and because of this event, which pretty much happened in the middle of the 19th century, these sleigh races — which you could pretty much call drag races  — down this street was one of the most popular events,” said Hamill.

“Because of that, the influence and inspiration of the song, we believe came from those races.”

Who was the author of Jingle Bells,  Jingle Bells Christmas song started as a drinking song written by a ‘jerk’? Jingle Bells Christmas song started as a drinking song written by a ‘jerk’

“He’s kind of a jerk, actually. He would leave all of the time. He went out west to try to make his way with the gold rush. He went all over the place and left his wife with his father,” said Hamill.

Then when his wife died, he quickly remarried and abandoned his kids.

“He didn’t come, apparently, to his first wife’s funeral. He’s sort of not a nice guy.”

Hamill said there’s more to the song itself. It was never a Christmas song.

“If you think about the fact that one of the great industries of Medford was rum-making, and if you really think about the lyrics of the song, with the lens that these are drag races that are happening at top speed down the centre of this street, one of the suggestions is that it’s actually a drinking song,” she said.

“Some of the words are actually associated with the idea that this is a song you sing while you’re drunk, talking about an event that happened while they were drunk.”

MedfordRaces

Sleigh races held in Medford, Mass. in the mid-19th century – described as high speed drag racing – inspired the popular song, Jingle Bells. (Medford Historical Society)

‘People who love the history of Christmas will probably not like this answer’

Take a look at the lyrics in the second verse of Jingle Bells:

A day or two ago
I thought I’d take a ride
And soon, Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side,
The horse was lean and lank
Misfortune seemed his lot
He got into a drifted bank
And then we got upsot.

“If you want to go psychological about this, he’s a guy who was under the shadow of this very rigid father, who was totally against drinking, and was in the temperance movement, and was part of the abolitionist movement and took himself very seriously,” said Hamill.

“It’s kind of a song about a young guy breaking away from his father’s shadow.

“People who love the history of Christmas will probably not like this answer, but I think that there’s something about the relationship between the father and the son which kind of shows how he doesn’t want to be like his father in this song. He wants to have fun.”

So how did a drinking song by a deadbeat dad under the thumb of his strict father ever get to be the Christmas song of record?

“There’s people that have really strong conspiracy theories about this song. I really don’t know why people get so impassioned about this song,” Hamill said.

Those conspiracy theories originate in Savannah, Ga., where residents believe the people of Medford are stealing their song.

JingleBells-2

A plaque in Savannah, Ga. marks the city’s claim to the popularity of the song. (Daniel X. O’Neil)

The theory stems from the fact that when Pierpont’s first wife died, he moved to Savannah, married the mayor’s daughter, and became pastor at the church.

During a Thanksgiving service, he led the congregation in a rousing rendition of Jingle Bells. They loved it, and he performed it again a month later at Christmas.

Thus, Jingle Bells became a Christmas song — Savannah’s Christmas song.

One more thing about Jingle Bells.

Some 115 years after it was written in a pub in Medford, Jingle Bells became the first song ever broadcast to earth from space, during a Gemini mission in 1965.

To hear more about the secret history of Jingle Bells, click the audio labelled: Jingle Bells: drag racing, drunk driving, a deadbeat dad

HIWAY AMERICA – THE BANANA MUSEUM, Hwy 111 Mecca, SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

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HIWAY AMERICA – THE BANANA MUSEUM, Hwy 111 Mecca, SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

Southern California real estate agent Ken Bannister went bananas—literally—more than 40 years ago. What began as his marketing strategy of handing out banana stickers at conventions ripened into a full-blown persona as the “Banana Man.” He’s amassed nearly 20,000 artifacts now on display at the Banana Museum.

It’s just one of the odd collections found across America. Whether devoted to barbed wire or Bigfoot, most of these strange museums spring from the passionate hobbies of individuals like Bannister. And their labors of love are a reminder that what can be considered worthy to collect is as varied as the country itself.

Unlike major institutions displaying Picasso paintings, Egyptian sarcophagi, or Jeff Koons’s latest balloon animal, these strange museums are rarely crowded. You certainly won’t confuse New York’s MoMA with MOMA—the self-described “museum of meat awesomeness” devoted to SPAM in Austin, MN.

HIWAY AMERICA- WEIRD FLORIDA

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HIWAY AMERICA- WEIRD FLORIDA

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Dumb Laws in Florida

City Laws in Florida

Miami Beach
Skateboarding is not allowed at any police station.
Persons face up to thirty days in jail for selling oranges on the sidewalk.
Termite farms are not allowed within the city.
No one may bring a pig with them to the beach.
Naples
Neon signs are prohibited.
Palm Bay
Persons may not tow a sled behind their bicycles.
Pensacola
Citizens may not be caught downtown without at least 10 dollars on their person.
It is illegal to roll a barrel on any street, fines go up according to the contents of the barrel.
A women can be fined (only after death), for being electrocuted in a bath-tub because of using self-beautification utensils.
Sanford
Stage nudity is banned, with the exception of “bona fide” theatrical performances.
Sarasota
If you hit a pedestrian you are fined $78.
You may not catch crabs.
Satellite Beach
Beer may not be sold between 2 a.
Persons may not appear in public clothed in liquid latex.
Seaside
All houses much have white picket fences and full-width, two-story porches.
Tampa
Women may not expose their breasts while performing“topless dancing”.
Lap dances must be given at least six feet away from a patron.

Ah, Florida: sun, surf, sand, South Beach, and senior citizens. That’s about it, right? Well, no, not exactly. Florida is also one of the best places to chart your weirdest travel destinations. And who better to chronicle this state’s fabled places, roadside wonders, bizarre beasts, and downright peculiar people than Charlie Carlson, a tenth-generation Floridian. All who know Charlie can testify that he is one very strange dude – and the perfect person to steer you to Florida’s best-kept secrets and oddest legends. Below you will find links to some of the weirdest Florida stories, but remember, the tales on this website are only the tip of the iceberg. To get the full weirdness we recommend you buy Weird Florida the book…

ABANDONED:
Devil’s School #4
Forgotten Gateway
Nike Missle Base
Old Citrus Packing House
Osceola Bank Vault
Popash School
Sunland Hospital
Xanadu

ANCIENT MYSTERIES
Fountain of Youth Burial Ground
Miami Mystery Circle
New Smyrna Ruins
Okeechobee Burial Ground
Wakulla Volcano

BIZARRE BEASTS:
Bardin Booger
El Chupacabra
Skunk Ape

CEMETERY SAFARI:
Brownie Grave
Devil’s Chair
Elena Milagro Hoyos
Horse Grave
Jackie Gleason’s Grave
Key West Graves
Lynard Skynard VanZant
Middle of Road Grave
Phillip’s Mausoleum
Pyramids
Rooster Graveyard

FABLED PEOPLE AND PLACES:
Christmas, FL
Fountain of Youth
Garden of Eden
Gibsonton
Hollow Earth

GHOSTS:
Ashley’s Ghost
Cassandaga
Catalina’s Ghost
Huguenot Cemetery
Midnight in the Castillo
Old Firehouse
Robert the Living Doll
St. Francis Inn

LOCAL LEGENDS:
Devil’s Millhopper
Devil’s Tree
Haunted Oaks – Deadman’s Trees
Tallahassee Witch Grave
Wiccademous Path

PERSONALIZED PROPERTIES:
House of Statues
American Dreyfus
Bowling Ball House
Gothic Garden
Mafia House?
Opa-Locka-Baghdad
Solomon’s Castle

ROADSIDE ODDITIES:
800 Year Old Building
Alligators
Big Tree
Bongoland
Crashed Planes
Drive-in Church
Mile Marker Zero
Miracle Wall
Most Unusual Monument
Panther Crossing
Possum Monument
Presidents Hall of Fame
Smalles Police Station
Smallest Post Office
Southernmost Point
Tallest Cross
Zero Milestone

ROAD LESS TRAVELED:
Blood Bucket Road
Green Briar Road
Magnolia Creek
Old Red Eyes-Kingsley Road
Rolling Acres Road
Route 4 Dead Zone
Suicide Road

UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA:
Booming Sounds
Carnivorous Cloud
Coral Castle Photos
Oviedo Lights
Spook Hill

Drug Suspect Brought 50 Grams Of Pot To Court

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Drug Suspect Brought 50 Grams Of Pot To Court: Cops

Posted: 10/03/2014 1:09 pm EDT Updated: 10/03/2014 1:59 pm ED
 Let’s be blunt: If you’re appearing in court on a drug charge, it might be a good idea to leave your marijuana at home.

Police for the New Jersey Port Authority said Richard Thompson didn’t do that.

Investigators allege he had 50 grams of pot in his backpack when he showed up at the Fort Lee Municipal Court Thursday morning.

Thompson, 32, of Stamford, Connecticut, was arrested in May at the George Washington Bridge on charges of driving under the influence, driving with a suspended license and having marijuana in his car, NJ.comreports.

He was in court to answer to those charges, and went through the normal security screenings.

While he was being searched, officials allegedly found 50 grams of marijuana,two packages of rolling papers and an unrolled cigar wrapper commonly re-used to smoke marijuana, Port Authority spokesman Joe Pentangelo told NorthJersey.com.

Thompson was arrested on marijuana and drug paraphernalia charges. The arresting officer, Steve Pisciotta, is the same cop who arrested Thompson on marijuana and drug paraphernalia charges back in May, according to the Cliffview Pilot.

COOL PEOPLE- ONE LINERS FROM GROUCHO MARX

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Groucho Marx – 30 great one-liners

Groucho Marx in 1933

Groucho Marx (1890-1977):

‘I never forget a face, but in your case I’d be glad to make an exception.’

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GUNNY.G: COCKED AND LOCKED ~ ONCE A BLOGGER ALWAYS A BLOGGER !

THE ORIGINAL/ONLY GUNNY G ! NEWS.VIEWS.HISTORY.POLITICS.CONTROVERSIAL.GOVERNMENT.LAW.MILITARY.ETC. ~ WHAT THE FOLKS OUT THERE ARE SAYING !

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the universe in infinite like my soul and my death

lizardpudding.com

Artwork By ISD

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