Author Topic: JOKES  (Read 571 times)

nonoht

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JOKES
« on: June 08, 2000, 08:19:00 AM »
1Subject:     Medical Dictionary


     ANTIBODY: against everyone
     ARTERY: the study of fine paintings
     BACTERIA: back door to a cafeteria
     BENIGN: what you be after you be eight
     BOWEL: letters like A, E, I, O, or U
     CAESAREAN SECTION: a district in Rome
     CARDIOLOGY: advanced study of poker playing
     CAT SCAN: searching for ones lost kitty
     CAUTERIZE: made eye contact with her
     COMA: a punctuation mark
     CONGENITAL: friendly
     CORTIZONE: the local courthouse
     D & C: where Washington is
     DILATE: to live longer
     ENEMA: not a friend
     ER: the things on your head that you hear with
     FIBRILLATE: to tell lies
     GENES: blue denim slacks
     HEMORRHOID: a male from outer space
     IMPOTENT: distinguished, well known
     LABOR PAIN: hurt at work
     MINOR OPERATION: somebody else's
     ORGAN TRANSPLANT: what you do to your piano when you move
     PARALYZE: two far-fetched stories
     PATHOLOGICAL: a reasonable way to go
     PHARMACIST: person who makes a living dealing in agriculture
     PROTEIN: in favor of young people
     RED BLOOD COUNT: Dracula
     RHEUMATIC: amorous
     SECRETION: hiding anything
     TABLET: a small table
     TERMINAL ILLNESS: getting sick at the airport
     TIBIA: country in North Africa
     TRIPLE BYPASS: better than a quarterback sneak
     TUMOR: an extra pair
     URINE: opposite of "you're out"
     VARICOSE: very close
     VEIN: conceited

2
HOW TO KILL AN EEL
(A true story)

Little Johnny was 7 years old, and like other boys his age, rather
curious.  He had been hearing quite a bit about courting from other
boys and he wondered what it was and how it was done. One day he took
his questions to his mother, and she became flustered. Instead of
explaining things to Johnny she told him to hide behind the curtains
one night and watch his older sister and her boyfriend. This he did,
and the following morning Johnny described everything to his mother.
Sis and her boyfriend sat and talked for awhile, then he turned off
most of the lights. Then he started to kiss and hug her, I figured sis
must be getting sick because her face started looking funny. He must
have thought so too because he put his hand inside her blouse to feel
her heart, just like the doctor would. Except he's not as good as the
doctor, because he seemed to have trouble finding her heart. He was
getting sick too, because pretty soon both of them started panting and
getting all out of breath. His other hand must have been getting cold
because he put it under her skirt. About this time, sis got toward the
end of the couch. This was when the fever started. I know it was a
fever because sis told him she was really HOT. Finally, I found out
what was making them so sick.... a big eel had gotten inside his pants
somehow. It just jumped out of his pants and stood there about 9
inches long. HONEST! anyway, he grabbed it in one hand to keep it from
getting away. When sis saw it she got really scared.  Her eyes big and
her mouth fell open, and she started calling out to God and stuff like
that. I should tell her about the ones saw at the lake!  "Anyway", sis
got brave and tried to kill the eel by biting its head off. All of a
sudden, she made a noise and let the eel go... I guess it bit her
back. Then she grabbed it with both hands and held it tight while he
took a muzzle out of his pocket and slipped it over the eels head to
keep it from biting again. Sis lay back and spread her legs so she
could get a scissor lock on it. And he helped by laying on the top of
the eel. The eel put up a hell of a fight. Sis started groaning and
squealing and her boyfriend almost upset the couch. I guess they
wanted to kill the eel by squishing it between them. After a while
they both quit moving and gave a great sigh. Her boyfriend sat up and
sure enough they had killed the eel... I knew it was dead because it
just hung there limp and some of its insides were hanging out. Sis and
her boyfriend were a little tired from the battle, but they went on
courting anyway. He started hugging and kissing her again. And by
golly, the eel wasn't dead after all. It jumped  straight up and
started to fight again. I guess eels are like cats.... they have nine
lives or something. This time sis jumped up and tried to kill the eel
by sitting on it. After about 35 minutes of struggle, they finally
killed the eel. I know it was dead this time because I saw sis's
boyfriend peel off the skin and flush it down the toilet.
Mother fainted.

3
LOVEMAKER V3.1 By Jeff MacGregor


    Welcome to the LoveMaker! (v3.1 Erosoft Industries, (c) 1993)

 At the prompt, please enter your response.

 I am the LOVEMAKER.  A personalized, interactive poetry assistance
 program.  What is your name?

>JOHN
  What a nice name, JOHN.  You must be a man.

>YES
  How nice for you.  Who is your poem for, JOHN?

>SHEILA
  How nice for SHEILA.  She must be a woman?

>YES
  SHEILA must be very special to you, JOHN.  Is she?

>YES
  What is the occasion, JOHN?

>VALENTINE'S DAY
  SHEILA is a very lucky woman.  I will need information about SHEILA
 for a poem that best reflects your deep feelings for her, JOHN.  What
 color are her eyes?

>BLUE
  Thank you, JOHN.  But could you be more specific?  Are they blue like
 the sky after a clearing storm?  Are they the icy blue of the far
 flung fjords, shrouded in mist and mystery? Are they the steely blue
 of Walter Gropius's later Bauhaus sketchbooks?  Are they a cornflower
 blue that speaks of Sunday picnics in simpler times?

>THEY LOOK KIND OF GRAY WHEN SHE'S ANGRY
  Thank you, JOHN.  What about SHEILA'S hair?

>BLOND

 Thank you, JOHN.  But could you be more specific?  Is it ash blond
 with some auburn like the silky tresses of Rapunzel? When the sun
 hits it in a certain way in the late afternoon does it look like spun
 gold?  Is it the hard, cheap blond of the streetwise trollop or the
 dazzling, brilliant satin of Renaissance cherubim?

>I THINK SHE DYES IT
  Thank you, JOHN.  Are there any other characteristics we should
 mention in our poem to SHEILA?

>
>
>
  JOHN, are you still there?

>SKIN?
  Thank you, JOHN.  But could you be more specific?  Is it fine and
 alabaster and tightly grained like antique porcelain, slow-fired by
 master craftsmen? Or is it pink and lustrous like the hand-burnished
 silver one's Grandmother might be found polishing with gentle, loving
 strokes on a rainy Sunday afternoon?

>SHE TANS TWICE A WEEK
  SHEILA must be very special to you, JOHN.  You must have deep
 feelings for SHEILA to write her a special VALENTINE'S DAY poem.

>YES
  How nice for you, JOHN.  What kind of poem do you think SHEILA would
 like?

>?
  My MENU (Alt+M) offers the following styles.
 At the prompt, please choose ONE:
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
| Couplet  | Triplet  | Quatrain | Eclogue  |  Pastoral |  Sonnet  |  Elegy
|
|---------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|   Epic   |  Ballad  |  Lyric   |   Ode    |  Idyll    |  Haiku   |   ???
|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------
+

>?
  That's O.K., JOHN.  How do you see yourself?  Please choose ONE:

+---------------------------------------------------------------------------
-+
|  Laureate   |    Bard     |   Sonneteer   |   Troubadour   | Meistersinger
|
|---------------------------------------------------------------------------
-|
|  Jongleur   |  Versifier  |  Rhapsodist   |    Lyricist    |    Other
|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------
-+

>OTHER
  Can you be more specific?

>I GUESS...
  Perhaps if you briefly shared your innermost dreams and desires,
 JOHN?

>
>
>
>
  JOHN?

>I'M THINKING
  May I make a suggestion, JOHN?

>SURE
  Perhaps you imagine yourself a hopeless romantic, JOHN.  A man who
 lives and loves with passion and desire and appetite.  A man who
 grabs great platters from the groaning board of this world and eats
 his fill.  A man who takes what he wants the moment he sees it and
 makes it his own.  A man who kneads fate in his strong hands, shapes
 it and commands it.  A man with a reckless bent and the courage of
 fire.  A man who sees beauty in a raindrop and all the truth of the
 universe in the eyes of a child. A man with needs and wants aflame
 within him.  A man of power and means of influence, JOHN.  A man
 destined to be the envy of other men.  A man that few can ever
 understand and fewer still will have the guts to love. A man of whom
 it might be said...

 Would that Alexander in his age had but half the measure of his
 strong stout heart or clear hawk's eyes undimmed and true, pooled
 with azure purpose.  No earthbound mortal he, but master o'er each
 and all...

 Would this describe your self-image accurately, JOHN?

>YES
  I thought so.  I'll use my random SEARCH MODE (Alt+S) to choose an
 appropriate style for you, JOHN.  One that truly expresses your deep
 feelings for SHEILA on VALENTINE'S DAY.

 Please wait...

 To print poem, please enter command Alt+P at prompt.

>Alt+P
         Dear SHEILA,

        Roses are red
        Violets are blue
        Your hair is blond
        and your eyes are gray (when angry)

                        JOHN