A rabbit one day managed to break free from the laboratory where he had been born and brought up. As he scurried away from the fencing of the compound, he felt grass under his little feet and saw the dawn breaking for the first time in his life.

'Wow, this is great,' he thought. It wasn't long before he came to a hedge and, after squeezing under it he saw a wonderful sight lots of other bunny rabbits, all free and nibbling at the lush grass.

'Hey,' he called. 'I'm a rabbit from the laboratory and I've just escaped. Are you wild rabbits?

'Yes. Come and join us,' they cried.

Our friend hopped over to them and started eating the grass. It tasted so good. 'What else do you wild rabbits do?' he asked.

'Well,' one of them said. 'You see that field there? It's got carrots growing in it. We dig them up and eat them.'

This, he couldn't resist and he spent the next hour eating the most succulent carrots. They were wonderful.

Later, he asked them again, 'What else do you do?'

'You see that field there? It's got lettuce growing in it. We eat them as well.' The lettuce tasted just as good and he returned a while later completely full. 'Is there anything else you guys do?' he asked.

One of the other rabbits came a bit closer to him and spoke softly. 'There's one other thing you must try. You see those rabbits there,' he said, pointing to the far corner of the field. 'They're girls. We poke them. Go and try it.'

Well, our friend spent the rest of the morning screwing his little heart out until, completely knackered, he staggered back over to the guys.

'That was fantastic,' he panted.

'So are you going to live with us then?' one of them asked.

'I'm sorry, I had a great time but I can't.'

The wild rabbits all stared at him, a bit surprised. 'Why? We thought you liked it here.'

'I do,' our friend replied. 'But I must get back to the laboratory. I'm dying for a cigarette.'

A Cleveland Browns Player reaches the Pearly Gates and announces his presence to St. Peter, who looks him up in his Big Book. Upon reading the entry for the Football Player, St. Peter invites him to pick up a silk robe and a golden staff and to proceed into Heaven.

A preacher is next in line behind the Cleveland Browns Player and has been watching these proceedings with interest. He announces himself to St. Peter. Upon scanning the preacher's entry in the Big Book, St. Peter furrows his brow and says, "Okay, we'll let you in, but take that cloth robe and wooden staff."

The preacher is astonished and replies, "But I am a man of the cloth. You gave that Football Player a gold staff and a silk robe. Surely I rate higher than a Football Player."

St. Peter responded matter-of-factly: "This is Heaven and up here, we are interested in results. When you preached, people slept. When the Cleveland Browns played, people prayed."

A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see the bed nicely made up and everything neat and tidy. Then he saw an envelope propped up prominently on the pillow. It was addressed, "Dad". With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter with trembling hands:

Dear Dad,

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with you and Mom. I've been finding real passion with Joan and she is so nice. I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercings, tattoos, her tight motorcycle clothes and because she is so much older than I am but it's not only the passion, Dad, she's pregnant. Joan says that we are going to be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood, enough for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children. Joan has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it and trading it with the other people in the commune for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want. In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Joan can get better; she sure deserves it! Don't worry Dad, I'm 15 years old now and I know how to take care of myself. Someday, I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get to know your grandchildren.

Your son, Chad

P.S. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the report card that's in my desk drawer. I love you! Call when it is safe for me to come home!

Obviously a forwarded joke, since I have no children, much less grandchildren...

When my grandson asked me how old I was, I teasingly replied, "I'm not sure."
"Look in your underwear, Grandma," he advised. "Mine says I'm four to six."

When my grandson Billy and I entered our vacation cabin, we kept the lights off until we were inside to keep from attracting pesky insects. Still, a few fireflies followed us in. Noticing them before I did, Billy whispered, "It's no use, Grandpa. The mosquitoes are coming after us with flashlights."

Two fish swam into a wall. One looked at the other and said "dam."

Hey bodams_locker - 3 out of 10, and 0 out of 10 because he didn't show up. *sigh*

How To Drive In Los Angeles
--------------------------------------------

1. You must first learn to pronounce the city name, it is L. A.

2. The morning rush hour is from 5:00 a.m. to noon. The evening rush hour is from noon to 7:00 p.m. Friday's rush hour starts on Thursday morning.

3. The minimum acceptable speed on most freeways is 85 mph. On the 105 or 110, your speed is expected to match the highway number. Anything less is considered "Wussy."

4. Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere. L A has its own version of traffic rules. For example, cars/trucks with the loudest muffler go first at a four-way stop; the trucks with the biggest tires go second. However, in Malibu, SUV-driving, cellphone-talking moms ALWAYS have the right of way.

5. If you actually stop at a yellow light, you will be rear ended, cussed out, and possibly shot.

6. Never honk at anyone. Ever. Seriously. It's another offense that can get you shot.

7. Road construction is permanent and continuous in all of L A and Orange counties. Detour barrels are moved around for your entertainment pleasure during the middle of the night to make the next day's driving a bit more exciting.

8. Watch carefully for road hazards such as drunks, skunks, dogs, cats, barrels, cones, celebs, rubber-neckers, shredded tires, cell-phoners, deer and other road kill, and the coyotes feeding on any of these items.

9. MapQuest does not work here -- none of the roads are where they say they are or go where they say they do and all the freeway off and on ramps are moved each night.

10. If someone actually has their turn signal on, wave them to the shoulder immediately to let them know it has been "accidentally activated."

11. If you are in the left lane and only driving 70 in a 55-65mph zone, you are considered a road hazard and will be "flipped off" accordingly. If you return the flip, you'll be shot.

12. Do not try to estimate travel time -- just leave Monday afternoon for Tuesday appointments, by noon Thursday for Friday and right after church on Sunday for anything on Monday morning.

The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment:

Get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it.

The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

"Tony, do you have a story to share?"

"Yes ma'am. My daddy told a story about my Aunt Karen. She was a pilot in Desert Storm and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a flask of whiskey, a pistol and a survival knife. She drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then her parachute landed right in the middle of twenty enemy troops. She shot fifteen of them with the gun until she ran out of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands."

"Good Heavens" said the horrified teacher. "What kind of moral did your daddy tell you from this horrible story?"

"Stay the $#%# away from Aunt Karen when she's drinking!"

A husband in his back yard is trying to fly a kite. He throws the kite up in the air, the wind catches it for a few seconds, then it comes crashing back down to earth. He tries this a few more times with no success.

All the while, his wife is watching from the kitchen window, muttering to herself how men need to be told how to do everything. She opens the window and yells to her husband, "You need a piece of tail."

The man turns with a confused look on his face and says, "Make up your mind. Last night, you told me to go fly a kite."

One of the most interesting items that comes with Microsoft's new operating system, Vista, is called User Account Control. Very simply stated, it forces the user of the system to specifically authorized any function that requires administrative credentials. For example, if you want to change install WEP to connect to "secure" wireless networks, you would need to put in your password, basically reaffirming this is something that could be dangerious and that you really want to do this. A geekier explaination is avaialble here from Microsoft.

This is a great theory, and many other systems have it. In *nix, there's a speciall command called sa which allows you to enter a system administration session to do system administration work, since you should never log in as root. I'm sure there will be a comment shortly from zarchasmpgmr telling me how long ago IBM implemented this within their architecture. =)

Well, Microsoft is finally joining the frey with UAC on Vista. And, in theory, this is good. However, Microsoft's implementation has been considered less than stellar by many people. The major offense is that UAC is too "chatty", asking for credentials a lot more often than people would think they should need.

To this point, I offer you this gem, brought to you by those fine people at Apple.

One winter morning a couple was listening to the radio overbreakfast.They heard the announcer say, "We are going to have 8 to 10 inches of snow today. You must park your car on the even-numbered side of the street, so the snowplows can get through."

Norm's wife goes out and moves her car.

A week later while they are eating breakfast again, the radio announcer says, "We are expecting 10 to 12 inches of snow today. You must park your car on the odd-numbered side of the street, so the snowplows can get through."

Norm's wife goes out and moves her car again.

The next week they are again having breakfast, when the radio announcer says, "We are expecting 12 to 14 inches of snow today. You must park..."

Then the power went out.

Norm's wife is very upset, and with a worried look on her face she says,"Honey, I don't know what to do. Which side of the street do I need to park on so the snowplows can get through?"

With the love and understanding in his voice that all men who are married to blondes exhibit, Norman says.. "Why don't you just leave it in the garage, this time?"

A woman named Evelyn stood up at her church's Testimony Meeting, or as some churches call it, "Cry Sunday", one Sunday morning, took the microphone from one of the church ushers, and bared her soul to the enrapt congregation: "I want to tell you about the awful accident that my husband, Richard, has suffered this past month. He was riding his bike, lost control, ran off the highway and hit a tree. He was rushed to the hospital, and could have died, but thank the Lord, all he suffered was a broken scrotum."

The congregation gasped in horror. The men in the congregation were obviously uneasy and writhed in their seats.

"Jim has been in terrible pain all month since the accident. He has trouble breathing. He has trouble swallowing his food. He can hardly lift anything, he's in so much pain, and he has missed work because of it. He can't lift our children up to hold them and give them the personal love that they need. Worst of all, we can no longer cuddle and have intimate relations. He is in constant pain, a pain so terrible that our love life has all but slipped away into oblivion. I would like to ask you all in the congregation to pray for Jim, and pray for us, that his broken scrotum will soon heal and be as good as new."

A dull murmur erupted within the congregation as the full impact of this terrible accident sunk in, and the men in the congregation were visibly shaken up with the thought that, "there but for the grace of God go I."

Then, as the murmuring settled down, a lone figure stood up in midst of the congregation, worked his way up to the pulpit, obviously in pain, adjusted the microphone to his liking, then leaned over and said to the congregation: "My name is Richard, and I have only one word for my wife, Evelyn. That word is: STERNUM!"

Well, Girl Potato and Boy Potato had eyes for each other, and finally they got married, and had a little sweet potato, which they called 'Yam.' Of course, they wanted the best for Yam. When it was time, they told her about the facts of life.

They warned her about going out and getting half-baked, so she wouldn't get accidentally mashed, and get a bad name for herself like 'Hot Potato,' and end up with a bunch of Tater Tots.

Yam said not to worry; no Spud would get her into the sack and make a rotten potato out of her! But on the other hand she wouldn't stay home and become a Couch Potato either. She would get plenty of exercise but just the right amount so as not to get skinny like her Shoestring cousins.

When she went off to Europe, Mr. and Mrs. Potato told Yam to watch out for those hard-boiled guys from I reland. And the greasy guys from France called the French Fries. And when she went out west, to watch out for the Indians so she wouldn't get scalloped. Yam said she would stay on the straight and narrow and wouldn't associate with those high class Yukon Golds, or the ones from the other side of the tracks who advertise their trade on all the trucks that say, 'Frito Lay.'

Mr. and Mrs. Potato sent Yam to Idaho P.U. (that's Potato University) so that when she graduated she'd really be in the Chips. But in spite of all they did for her, one day Yam came home and announced she was going to marry Tom Brokaw. Tom Brokaw!

Mr. and Mrs. Potato were very upset. They told Yam she couldn't possibly marry Tom Brokaw because he's just...





A COMMONTATER

Ole and Sven Fishing Story

Ole and Sven die and wake up in hell. The devil stops in and sees them dressed in parkas and mittens, warming themselves around the fire. The devil asks them, "What are you doing? Isn't it hot enough for you?" Ole replies, "Vell, you know, ve're from nordern Visconsin, da land of snow an ice, an ve're yust happy fer a chance to varm up a little bit, You know."

Later when the devil returns to the room of the two guys from Wisconsin, he finds them in T-shirts, grilling walleye and drinking beer. The devil is astonished. "Everyone down here is in misery and you two seem to be enjoying yourselves."

Sven replies, "Vell, ya know, ve don't git too much varm veather back home in Visconsin, so ve've got ta haff a fish fry vhen da veather's dis nice." The devil is so furious he can't see straight. Finally, he comes up with the answer. The two guys love the heat because they have been cold all their lives. So, the devil decides to turn off all the heat in hell. The next morning, the temperature is 40 below zero. Every person living in hell is shivering something awful. Icicles are hanging everywhere. The devil smiles and heads for the room where Ole and Sven are living and finds them back in their parka and mittens. They are jumping up and down, cheering, yelling and screaming like mad men. The devil is dumbfounded. "I can't understand. When I turn up the heat you're happy. Now it's freezing cold and you're still happy. What's wrong with you two?"

Ole and Sven looked at the devil in surprise and say, "Vell, don't ya know? If hell is froze over, dat must mean da Packers yust won a game!"

I figure that Nintendo is missing out on something. Their new gaming console, spelled Wii but pronounced like "We", will be introduced to the USA on Sunday. They should follow Sony's lead and rename their portable device after their console. Sony has the PlayStation Portable, AKA PSP, named after their highly successful PlayStation console. Nintento needs to rename the aging GameBoy name to Portable Wii, or, for short, P-Wii.

(if you don't get it, say that out loud...)

Thanks folks. I'm here all week. Remember to tip the veal and try the waitresses....

If you have XM, and love Weird Al, turn it on XM 29 U-POP RIGHT NOW! (8 am PT - 9 am PT) TOO LATE...

Heard from a patron on the train...( You've been warned )

So what happens now if Pluto is rising, and Xena (or Rupert) is in retrograde?

This icon was too funny not to share... As seen in im_a_pistol's journal, credited to opiumgaze.


The LA Times sent out an insert with the Sunday paper stating they would be discontinuing their TV Times as part of the Sunday paper, unless you opted in for free. Presumably, the LA Times did some sort of focus group or survey, and found out that most people don't use this paper guide anymore, and the cost of giving it to everyone versus only to those subscribers that want it pushed the decision to drop this by default. My pessimistic nature says that it will be free for now. But it shows how the tide it turning. Gone are the days when you had to have a TV Guide or local paper guide in order to know when anything was on. Enter the days of on-screen guides, PVRs, and Internet based listings.

Ironically, this leads me to a point -- I forgot that "The Amazing Race" was on last night, but thankfully, TiVo has it waiting for me. Oh, and for nyone who likes "Psych", it's been renewed for a second season. And George Duran of "Ham on the Street" made a funny in his blog, as syndicated here on LJ. Sure wish Alton Brown still kept a blog.

Not sure if anyone needs an external USB 2.0 hard drive or not, but here's a fairly good deal for a 160GB -- $57.95 shipped after rebate. Oh, and amazon.com has a sale on Harmony remote controls right now. Go. Get one now. Go on. I'll wait.

The Santa Ana winds have picked up over the weekend, resulting in me being down for the count on Sunday with an allergy/sinus headache. Took one of my "good" pills this morning, and that seemed to help. I can't take these at night because they make me jittery and therefore I can't sleep. Of course, I already couldn't sleep last night because of said headache, so I'm in a world of hurt today.

I did pick up The Death of Superman, World Without Superman, and The Return of Superman this weekend. Never read any of these stories, and thought I should finally get to them. I also picked up Dan Meltzer's The Millionaires and The Zero Game in hardcover for $3.33 each. Wasn't so fortunate on the pricing for Shadow of the Giant, which I am SO looking forward to reading.

Uhm, yeah. I suppose I should get lunch, since it's now 1 pm.

EDIT: Had I just waited for one more song to go through on the XM Radio, I would have said I was listening to Baha Men - Who Let the Dogs Out? *snerk*

  No longer considered a planet     No longer considered a star 

 "Don't underestimate Pluto. Pluto doesn't know the word quit."

Now seriously for a second. There are about 2,500 members of the International Astronomy Union, and 424 members voted on the definition of what is and is not a planet. That's about 17% -- a worse turnout than American elections. Doesn't seem all that fair to me somehow. And where the heck were all of the other astronomers anyway? Is there that much of a raging nightlife in Prague? (Yes, I know the conference was ending...)

A teacher is explaining biology to her fourth grade students. "Human beings are the only animals that stutter," she says. A little girl raises her hand. "I had a kitty-cat who stuttered," she volunteered. The teacher, knowing how precious some of these stories could become, asked the girl to describe the incident. "Well", she began, "I was in the back yard with my kitty and the Rottweiler who lives next door got a running start and before we knew it, he jumped over the fence into our yard!" "That must've been scary," said the teacher. "It sure was," said the little girl. "My kitty went 'Fffff, Fffff, Fffff,' and before he could say 'F@#$%,' the Rottweiler ate him!"