Humor

[Optimistic Paranoid]

That's an awfully long joke. Are you sure you're not just a rich plastic surgeon that likes to play with our silly putty minds?

If I were a rich plastic surgeon, I'd be too busy escorting super models and actresses around to have time to mess with your mind.

 

[slynne]

I know this is political but I have been laughing at this PM McDreamy meme all morning

 

[Optimistic Paranoid]

I know we have some Texians here.  Please tell me this is just a joke, and not the way Chili really is in Texas:

A Texas Chili Contest
.
This story is about an inexperienced chili taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield, IL.
 
Frank: "Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges  (native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy.
Besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted."

Here are the scorecards from the event: (Frank is Judge #3)

Chili # 1 - Eddie's Maniac Monster Chili...

Judge # 1:  A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2:  Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3: (Frank) What the hell is this stuff?! You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put out the flames. I hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy!

Chili # 2 - Austin's Afterburner Chili...

Judge # 1: Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge # 2:  Exciting BBQ flavor; needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge # 3:  Keep this out of the reach of children. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.

Chili # 3 - Ronny's Famous Burn Down the Barn Chili...

Judge # 1:  Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick. Needs more enthusiasm.
Judge # 2:  A decent chili, a bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3:  Call the EPA. I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting pie-eyed from all of the beer...

Chili # 4 - Dave's Black Magic...

Judge # 1:  Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2:  Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish, or other mild foods; not much of a chili.
Judge # 3:  I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it.  Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the barmaid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. That 300-lb. woman is starting to look HOT...just like this nuclear waste I'm eating! Is chili an aphrodisiac?

Chili # 5 - Lisa's Legal Lip Remover...

Judge # 1: Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge # 2: Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3:  My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead, and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed  paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I'm burning my lips off. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw those rednecks.

Chili # 6 - Pam's Very Vegetarian Variety...

Judge # 1: Thin, yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge # 2: The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.
Judge # 3:  My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I pooped on myself when I farted and I'm worried it will eat through the chair! No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that Sally. Can't feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my butt with a snow cone.

Chili # 7 - Carla's Screaming Sensation Chili...

Judge # 1:  A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge # 2:  Ho-hum; tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. (I should take note that I am worried about Judge # 3. He appears to be in a bit of distress, as he is cursing uncontrollably.)
Judge # 3: You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn't feel a thing. I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it        is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing; it's too painful. Screw it; I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.

Chili # 8 - Karen's Toenail Curling Chili...

Judge # 1:  The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too bold, but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2:  This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild, nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge# 3 farted, passed out, fell over, and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he's going to make it. Poor fella, wonder how he'd have reacted to really hot chili?

 

[rvpopeye]

No Texicans responding so I'm voting REAL.

 

[ArtW]

it depends
Texicans learned Mexican dishes from Mexico, originally, and modified them into Gringo Mexican foods
As a result, Texicans and Mexicans seem to compete for who makes the pepperiest stuff, and the closer to the border you get, the hotter the food gets
Also, of course the perception of 'spicy' is individual and you acclimatize, so if you have my rule that 'If you didn't sweat, it wasn't chili" and you eat a lot of chili, it gets hotter over time
I've had folks tell me my chili is thermonuclear, and I'v had folks tell me it's bland

Close to the border, I'd call that story real, with allowances for satirical exaggeration

 

[Gunny]

Chili is one of my favorite foods, I like the chili competitions but pain and food don't mix, at least not to me. I've used Wick Fowlers Two Alarm chili mix for years. If you use both packets of red pepper it is spicy enough for most. He won several awards with the recipe and you can doctor it up with beans (then it's not really chili) or whatever. I put in a can of diced tomatoes and both packets of heat.

https://www.walmart.com/ip/Wick-Fowler-s-2-Alarm-Chili-Kit-3.625-oz/10314625

Rob

Just noticed they now only have one packet of red pepper and you use your judgment on how much. Must be saving .000001 by combining the packets.

 

[ArtW]

I'll try that, one reason I usually don't make chili is I do it from scratch, and it's a bit of a pain
very few 'mixes' make good chili
If it ain't hot enough, I just add cayenne

 

[ArtW]

In some police training systems, they have begun teaching officers to deal with folks using contact weapons (knives, clubs) by shooting them in the hip girdle instead of center mass (think of shooting just below the belt buckle) because breaking the hip cradle could stop an attacker without killing him, like a center mass shot might
On officer so trained recounts an encounter with a violent knife wielding actor, reporting that the actor paid no heed to having sights centered on his chest and the command 'Don't move'
The officer then remembered the training and set his sights just below the actor's belt buckle, preparing to shoot, when the actor suddenly dropped his weapon and surrendered
When asked why the change of heart the actor responded, " man, you was gonna shoot me in the balls!"
Priorities

 

[IanC]

Coming into Tennessee it was a pretty long haul so I pulled into the first truck stop on the Interstate to stealth for the night. Dang, the lot lizards were out in full force.  I had a girl banging on my door for two hours. Finally I got pi**ed off, got up, and let her out.

 

[Optimistic Paranoid]

Things are not always as they appear . . .

 

[GotSmart]

Another one for the Texas crowd


[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups, too.[/font]

[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being “behind the power curve”. It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle…at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a car that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there![/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness…all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that “edge” so frequently required when riding.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Little did I suspect…… As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it – it was that close.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I hate to run over animals,…and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves! Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, “Banzai!” or maybe, “Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!” , as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage![/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street –and in the fight of his life with a squirrel….. And losing.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed- off squirrel. This was an Evil Attack Squirrel Of Death! Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him![/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in…well I just plain screamed.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street…on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle; my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish Attack Squirrel Of Death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]The rpms on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Finally I got the upper hand…I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked…sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I heard screams. They weren’t mine this time… I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to “let the professionals handle it” anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was flipping me the finger…[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car! I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80 mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic Attack Squirrel Of Death… I’ll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.[/font]
[font=Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]And I’ll buy myself a new pair of gloves.[/font]

 

[LeeRevell]

This attack squirrel story has been a classic on the motorcycle forums for years!

 

[ArtW]

Yes, it has, and breaks me up every time I read it
Attack Squirrel of death! lol

 

[TrainChaser]

That would be a hilarious video! But a trifle tricky to make. It would easily get 50 billion views.

 

[John61CT]

Animation using the fast-talking squirrel from Hoodwinked. . .



My kids just love this!

 

[slynne]

Q: Why did the Post Office decide to abbreviate Michigan with an MI?

A: It stands for "Mostly Idiots".


  That is a joke for any Ohio folks offended by this picture. I think it is just good funning between neighbors. Everyone knows that aside from being home to OSU, Ohio is a wonderful state. We aren't really sad to have lost that war over Toledo

 

[Gunny]

Rob

 

[Thirsty Boots Nomad]

^^^^

Been reading that for a few years; ... I wouldn't think it was as funny as I do if it weren't for the fact that a few months ago I came upon 5 kids, the oldest possibly 8, chasing their dog that had escaped outside. None of them could get him to come when they called, if one caught his collar as he tried running by he put on the brakes and then pulled till they lost their grip; so on the off chance he would listen I hollered his name (had heard them yelling it), he came running straight to me and plopped down on the ground looking exhausted ---- he looked almost betrayed when I led him back to his house and put him inside with the kids.

 

[ArtW]

Poor pup lol

 

[Optimistic Paranoid]