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A Mafia Godfather finds out that his bookkeeper, Guido, has cheated him out of $10,000,000. His bookkeeper is deaf and dumb. That was the reason he got the job in the first place. It was assumed that Guido would hear nothing so he would never have to testify in court. When the Godfather goes to confront Guido about his missing $10 million, he takes along his lawyer who knows sign language. The Godfather tells the lawyer, "Ask him where the money is!" The lawyer, using sign language, asks Guido, Where's the money? Guido signs back, "I don't know what you are talking about." The lawyer tells the Godfather, "He says he doesn't know what you're talking about." The Godfather pulls out a pistol, puts it to Guido's head, and says, "Ask him again or I'll kill him!" The lawyer signs to Guido, "He'll kill you if you don't tell him." Guido trembles and signs, "OK! You win! The money is in a brown briefcase, buried behind the shed at my cousin Bruno's house." The Godfather asks the lawyer, "What did he say?" The lawyer replies, "He says you don't have the guts to pull the trigger.”

The majority of this generation of kids today, teaches us why our parents, whipped our Backsides.

Elementary School English test

I Know it's a bit early but...

THE NEXT HOME GAME The parachutist slapped the special delivery package in its zippered nylon chest carrier. The UH1B, well older than either pilot, copilot, jumpmaster or parachutist, clattered noisily through the Colorado darkness, beating the air benath it into submission in order to stay aloft. They circled the objective, twice, then came to a hover at a prescribed altitude. It was an easy jump; the LZ was scouted, the hazards memorized: gloved hands reached down, triggered the strobes at the jumper's ankles, then the big side door slid open, and with it, a noisy, tumultuous blast of rotorwash and the stink of burnt JP-4. A slap on the shoulder, a thumbs-up, the athletic form in the military coveralls dove into the darkness. Well below, young eyes saw twin white strobes separate from the bird: strong young hands bent plastic glowsticks, shook them, illuminating a long row beside the stadium, back from the lights, marking a power line, invisible in the darkness. "Sheriff's supposed to have a special surprise tonight," a football player speculated. "Betcha that's her that jumped out of the helo." One looked at another, laughed: they agreed that sounded just like something their pale eyed "Cool Little Old Lady" would do. Chief of Police Will Keller slid his eight point milkman cap back on his head and grinned at the descending parachutist: it was one of those flying parachutes, the kind a man can steer and land on a car hood if need be, instead of the round, to-whom-it-may-concern variety he was used to seeing. A little boy with big and wondering eyes bumped his elbow: pointing at the descending strobes, he said "Is that her, Chief? Is that her?" Will laughed, rested his hand on the boy's shoulder, a fatherly gesture: "It wouldn't surprise me," he admitted. The crowd was on its feet, standing, heads craned back, screaming their encouragement: the announcer's voice, tinny over pole-mounted speakers, declared that tonight's game ball was being delivered by the United States Marine Corps. The home team bench was on its feet, whistling, cheering, thrusting their helmets into the air, and the crowd picked up the chant: VAL-KY-RIE! VAL-KY-RIE! VAL-KY-RIE! VAL-KY-RIE! Chief Keller and a breathless lad stood, heads craned back, watching the rectangular patch and two strobes beneath become a human figure, watched as a lean and athletic form came in for a very skilled, on-both-feet landing: home and visitor crowds alike absolutely roared their approval as the parachutist, anonymous in helmet and visor, unzipped the chest pack, pulled out a football, pitched it underhand to the approaching referee. Eager hands helped gather his chute and retreat from the field, and Firelands High School Marching Band strutted out from the end zone. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, please remain standing for the presentation of the Flag, followed by the National Anthem!" Later that night, Will and Willamina sat in the Chief's cruiser, sipping scalding coffee from the All-Night and talking quietly, their eyes busy. "I expected you to be under that parachute," Will admitted. Willamina laughed. "I've had more people tell me that tonight!" "You could've, you know." "I know." She took a cautious sip, took another. "I didn't want to steal the Corps' thunder. They needed a real Marine, not --" "Willaaaaa," Will said, a warning note in his voice. "Didn't you tell me once a Marine, always a Marine?" Willamina sighed. "I did." Another sip, a snort, she wiped at a dribble escaping down her chin. Will looked at his twin sister, grinned. "I know that snort," he said. "Out with it, little sis, what is it?" Willamina harrumphed, blinked, wiped at surprised tears: "Swallow, don't inhale," she gasped, coughed, coughed again. "I hate it when I do that!" "You're not supposed to imitate my bad example," Will muttered. "Now will you tell me what's so funny?" Willamina smiled, checked the mirror on her side of the car, swung her pale eyed gaze to the side, the unconscious habit of a soldier who'd served in-country, or a veteran badge packer who knew what it was to be ambushed. "The Valkyries came to me," she said, "and told me they'd been practicing the Can-Can." "Oh, really?" Will rumbled. "That's a show I'd like to see!" "You'd like it," Willamina smiled. "I showed them how." "Somehow I don't doubt that!" Will declared. "How did they have it choreographed?" Willamina sighed. "Eight of them were going to run onto the field before the game, or at halftime, whichever fit the schedule better. Four, a hole, four more. Old fashioned uniforms -- you know, pleated skirts and sweater shells over white blouses, knee socks, saddle shoes." "Your style uniform." "Mine still fits." "Braggart." Willamina smiled quietly. "Most women my age can still fit into their earrings. I can still fit into my cheerleading uniform." "Most women hate you for that." Willamina took a cautious sip, swallowed. "That's better." She looked at Will, smiled. "I was going to be number nine, running onto the field in a mid-calf skirt, something purple and white, like theirs, but loose -- something I could throw back and forth." "Throw your skirt?" Will frowned. "Didn't I tell you? The Marching Band has unofficially been practicing the Can-Can." "And ...?" "And the other eight Valkyries were going to handle their short pleated skirts with a dainty little grip, I would have a good two-hand grip on mine and throw mine back and forth, we would spin, we'd high-kick -- they've been practicing, and they're pretty good." "You wouldn't be practicing with them?" Will asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Willamina managed to look very innocent. "Will, if I can help motivate the home team, I'll work with the Valkyries, no problem!" "Yeah, right," Will muttered. "Why didn't you do it tonight?" "Well, tonight we had the game ball drop in by parachute, and besides ..." Willamina hesitated -- this was very uncharacteristic for her -- Will saw her ears reddening and she was studying the sippy lid on her coffee cup like it was of great importance. "Willaaaaa ...?" Willamina looked up at him with her very best Innocent Expression, which did not work at all. "The plan was for all of us to wear white tights and purple knee socks, but at the end of the Can-Can, when the dancers turn their backsides to the crowd, bend over and flip up their skirts --" "Yeeesssss?" Will drawled out the question, marveling at just how hot and scarlet looking his sister's ears were becoming. "The plan was to spell out FIRELANDS on the dancers' bottoms." "With you dead center in the lineup." Willamina sighed, nodded. "And you didn't." "I could lie to you and say the principal vetoed it," Willamina said slowly, looking back out the windshield, toward the harshly-illuminated gas islands: "I talked them out of it." "Which means they're going to do it anyway." "Just not for Homecoming." "You'll be in the middle?" Willamina sighed. "Will, I end up in the middle of a lot of things." She gave him a beseeching look. "Will you be there next home game?" Will grinned, nodded. "I'll be there."

The Day The Earth Stood Still

Why will the new Black Sea Fleet have glass bottom boats? So they can look at the old Black Sea Fleet.

Back when I was playing D&D, one guy played a thief that wore an eye patch. And when they went out of the bright sunlight into a dark castle or a cave, he would move the patch to the other eye. The eye that it had the patch over it was already adjusted to the dark. Such was the theory, anyhow.

let's see/hear some of them .... they might actually be funny ..........., funnier than actuality ........

...................... throwbacks ?

Funny enough, there was a news article yesterday saying the latest theory as to why Neanderthals died out was because they only wanted sex with Homo Sapiens and not their own kind, so they bred themselves out of existence. I guess if I were a Neanderthal and had the choice of Rosie O'Donnell or Raquel Welch the choice would be pretty obvious to me as well.

INTERIOR OF A BARK HUT. Early settlement Australia Date and Location unknown

They have no predators except bigger crocs so if they don't get eaten by a bigger one they just keep growing. Thankfully they are only in the top parts of Australia!

Okay, just had the wife cancel our travel plans downunder! How common is one that size anyway? Regards Gateway Kid

These were before my time, anyone ever use a tyre (or for you heathen yanks 'tire' ) groover?

How'd you like to get this team ready in the morning

Quick Aussie Summer 'Sandwich' served cold.