Built like a brick…

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Bubba stepped back from the finished structure and wiped his brow with his cap.
“Nice outhouse,” said Cletus. “Purty, too.”
“Thanks,” said Bubba. “No damn tornado’s gonna knock this sucker down. I used rock-solid stone.”
“What’s with them statues on top?” asked Cletus.
“Gargoyles,” said Bubba. “Looked sorta like that Notre Dame church, so I reckoned that it needed some gargoyles.”
“Mind if I try it out?” asked Cletus.
“Go right ahead,” said Bubba.
Cletus walked up to the outhouse, and then walked all the way around it.
“Where’s the door?” asked Cletus.
“Door?” said Bubba.
Cletus laughed. Bubba didn’t.

The Tale of Larry Vanover

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One upon a time, there was a blind man who needed a job.
So, Major League Baseball hired him and dressed him in a black shirt and pads.
“When you hear the announcer say Greg Maddux is pitching, call strikes,” said the league official. “And when you hear that Andy Pettitte is pitching, call balls”
“What if someone hits the ball?” said the umpire.
“Just listen to the crowd and you’ll figure out of it’s foul, a popout, or a home run,” said the league official.
And the Cubs lived happily ever after, even though they didn’t fucking deserve it.

That’s the way

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“Honestly, I have no idea what this means,” said Foster, running the tickertape through his hands. “I just like the feel of the paper and I look good doing it.”
“How about a graph?” said Duke. He flicked on the overhead projector light, and a black line wiggled down… down… down…
“We’re broke!” screamed Foster.
“No we’re not,” said Duke.
“The market’s crashed!” yelled Foster. “It’s all over!”
Foster jumped out the window, pulling a tickertape trail all the way down.
Duke looked up at the graph and said “oops.”
He reached for the transparency and flipped it back around.

Greasing the windmills of your mind with the blood of the guilty

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Hans hated tulips. He had a special pair of tulip-stomping boots he wore when he went on his tulip-stomping walks.
“Why do you do this?” said his neighbors. “Tulips are beautiful.”
“Tulips are Satan’s handiwork,” growled Hans, stomping.
Hans’ neighbors replanted the tulips.
And Hans kept stomping them.
The neighbors were worried for Hans, so they asked the mayor to pay Hans a visit.
They argued, Hans stomped the mayor (with his mayor-stomping boots), and the neighbors began to worry for themselves.
That night, an angry mob killed Hans.
I bet you can guess what flowers were at the funeral.

Mohowuku

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You won’t find Mohowuku on a map. It doesn’t exist yet.
Well, it exists, but not as an independent country.
Yet.
The ink is still drying on their constitution. The thatching on the Parliament Hut is fresh and tight. The god-totems have been polished to a luscious shine. Even the flag has that new-flag smell to it.
Minor problem with the anthem, though.
Oh, it’s breathtaking. Majestic strings, soaring flutes… to hear it is to know the angels’ laughter.
Sadly, the Mohowuku only know how to play steel drums.
The composer was absolutely furious.
And, according to the Mohowuku, delicious.

An ode to Frank J of IMAO

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Want to know what’s more fun that a barrel full of monkeys? Watching the idiot trying to put them in there.
Okay, so you put a monkey in the barrel, close the lid, and grab another monkey. Sure enough, the monkey you got in there will escape the moment that lid comes off.
Frank has an easy solution to this: He kills the monkeys.
Sure, you could tranquilize them, but Frank really hates monkeys. And he really likes killing them.
By the time he fills up the barrel, well, he’s had about as much fun as he could possibly have.

Empty is the head that wears the crown

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My theory about Jughead is that he’s really a member of the Royal Family, smuggled into Riverdale to protect the royal bloodline from extinction in the event of an emergency.
This makes sense if you consider that Jughead first appeared in Archie Comics in 1941. England was in danger of falling to Hitler, so hiding a Royal in America would make perfect sense.
Even though this explains the crown, this doesn’t explain his lack of an accent. However, through intense brainwashing sessions and the proper application of high voltages to his genitals, anything is possible.
Heck, just look at Sting.

The Lost Lakes

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Evil Ned rubbed his hands together and cackled as the massive pumps churned into the night.
“Are you sure this is going to work, Ned?” asked his sidekick Ralph.
“Minnesota will pay dearly to get their ten thousand lakes back!” said Ned.
Ralph stood by the last of the lakes and watched the water level slowly sink. The shore shrank away, and he walked along the muddy lakebottom.
“I feel bad for the fish,” said Ralph. “They’ll die.”
“A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” said Ned. “Oh, and grab a few of those fish. We’ll grill them for dinner tonight.”

The difference between a chef and a cook

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They flipped a coin.
Bob won. “You type.”
When Terrence typed “Cook” in the field for Occupation, Bob balked.
“He’s a chef, not a cook,” said Bob.
“There is no difference between chef and cook,” said Terrence. “Chefs are professional cooks, and professional only means that you’re getting paid.”
“Professionalism means more than just payment,” said Bob. “There’s an element of experience, and dedication you’re leaving out.”
“Fine,” said Terrence. As always, he got out the correction fluid, painted over “Cook” and typed in “Chef.”
“Thank you,” said Bob. “So, what does the coroner think?”
“Ahem. Medical examiner.”
Bob groaned.

Beta Testing

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Dear Microsoft,
We are returning your test unit from the Microsoft OfficeAndroid Bob beta program.
Yes, we were impressed with Bob’s diligence and endurance, but there are problems with the verbal interface:
* When told to “Bounce this off of Dick,” Bob cracked three of the Vice President’s ribs.
* “Light a fire under Mueller’s ass” resulted in second-degree burns to the FBI Director that required skin grafts.
* Finally, “Help me wrap my head around this” caused the tragic death of our Transportation Secretary.
So, we’ll wait for Version 2.0.
Thank you,
Andrew Card
White House Chief of Staff