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CHICKEN BUTT!

Guess Who!?

1. Sea captains don't like crew cuts
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2. Reading while sunbathing makes you well red
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3. With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress.
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4. Two rednecks decided that they weren't going anywhere in life and thought they should go to college to get ahead.

The first went in to see the counselor, who told him to take math, history, and logic.

"What's logic?" the first redneck asked.

The professor answered, "Let me give you an example. Do you own a weed eater?"

"I sure do."

"Then I can assume, using logic, that you have a yard," replied the professor.

"That's real good!" said the redneck.

The professor continued, "Logic will also tell me that since you have a yard, you also own a house."

Impressed, the redneck said, "Amazing!"

"And since you own a house, logic dictates that you have a wife."

"That's Betty Mae! This is incredible!"

The redneck was catching on.

"Finally, since you have a wife, logically I can assume that you are heterosexual," said the professor.

"You're absolutely right! Why that's the most fascinatin' thing I ever heard! I cain't wait to take that logic class!"

The redneck, proud of the new world opening up to him, walked back into the hallway where his friend was still waiting.

"So what classes are ya takin'?" asked the friend.

"Math, history, and logic!" replied the first redneck.

"What in tarnation is logic?" asked his friend.

"Let me give you an example. Do ya own a weed eater?" asked the first redneck.

"No," his friend replied.

"You're queer, ain't ya?
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5. Once a captain on his ship was disturbed by his assistant telling him, “Sir! Sir! There are 5 enemy ships on the horizon.”

The captain tells the man,” Get my red coat and prepare for battle!”

The assistant runs without question to get the captains red coat and prepares for battle. After their victory the assistant asks the captain why he wanted his red coat.

The captain tells the assistant “If I was shot you would not be able to tell I’m bleeding and you would keep fighting.”

The assistant thought this was a great idea. The next day the assistant came to the captain, “Sir! Sir! There are twenty enemy ships on the horizon!”

The captain was stunned. He looked at the assistant and told him “Get me my brown pants!”
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Spongey goggles. That is all thanks for reading.

In the 70's, there was a British Spy, sent to Germany. He was pretty good, too. He managed to gather some good intelligence.
Now, the thing about it, though, was that, for a Spy, stuck behind the Iron Curtain, under orders not to transmit anything electronically (everything was wired, those days), he didn't know how to get the info back.
He gets a bright idea, one day, to cater to his home country (which, his German identity, of course was exploiting in this scheme), and print up some books... Some books that were undoubtedly a head-nod toward Monty Python.
Every single page said only one word, and in large, bold text.
SPAM.
He made several hundred of these books, using a small printing press, and he offered them up for sale, and, not surprisingly, they sold like wildfire catches to a dry forest on a windy day.
On several of these books, though, he made a brail-like code, detailing the information he had gathered, and he put that code along the edge of the books, next to the spine.
It took him several years, really, to do all of this, but he never got caught.
Do you know why?
Because....
NO ONE INSPECTS THE SPAMMISH REPITITION!

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Notre Dame was having try-outs for a new bell-ringer. Two priests had a small area set aside just inside the cathedral and were patiently going through the applicants. Most of the day had gone by with no luck for the two priests. As the last rays of sunshine were just starting to wind down, the doors burst open! A hunchbacked man scurries into the cathedral in his peculiar shuffle, face red with the exertion of getting here. The stout hunchback belts out, "Am I too late?! Did I make it?" To which, slightly taken aback by the abruptness of the encounter, the priests looked at each other quizzically. The older priest shrugs his shoulders and motions for the hunchback to proceed with his audition. Immediately, the hunchback throws himself up the stars, bounding two at a time with a speed and agility unlikely for his frame and odd gait. As the hunchback reaches the top he pours on more speed and leaps at the great bell and creates a resounding "BBOOOONGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!"... and is thrown to his death as the bell swings back from the impact.
The younger priest is astonished at what he's just witnessed, and turns to the older priest and asks importantly, "Who was that hunchbacked man?"
The older priest looks upon his junior with a look of consternation but seems to settle upon a universal truth and says, "I don't know, my son, but his face sure does ring a bell."

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The very next day, the two priests are back at the job of finding a new bell-ringer, as their previous efforts hadn't yielded a permanent solution. Much as the previous day, the two priests also didn't have much luck finding anyone capable of ringing the great bell loud enough to satisfy the priests.
As the day grew long and the light was fading, once more did the doors to the cathedral burst inwards. A second Hunchbacked man entered through the open doors, his back to the fading daylight. This man, too, appeared red-faced and hurried as he scurried his hunched form to the table the priests had set up near the doors.
"Am I too late?! Did I make it? Can I still try?" The hunchback was very earnest and seemed quite desperate to be given this opportunity. So once more the priests looked to each other, and once more the elder priest allowed the audition with the nod of his head.
For the second time in two days, the two priests witnessed a marvel in sheer agility and speed of a hunchbacked man shuffle-running up stairs, two and three steps at a time.
Again they witnessed as a hunchbacked man threw his all into a last burst of speed until he hurled himself into the great bell. Once more, the Cathedral of Notre Dame filled with a resounding "BBOOOOONNNGGGGGGGGG!!!" And tragically, once more did a hunchbacked man fall to his death, propelled by the force of the returning bell's swing.
Completely mystified by the events that had transpired before him a full second time, the younger priest asks the elder priest, "Who was that man?! The first man's brother?"
The elder priest shook his head sadly and took in the senseless death, blessing the departed soul. "I don't know this man, either, my son. But, he was a dead ringer for the last guy."

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{If you don't already know, SCA is an acronym for the Society for Creative Anachronism - medieval reenactment. The following story is one passed down throughout friends in the SCA, having long since become an urban legend, of sorts.}

One of my friends lives in NYC and participates in the SCA. He's a stereotypical Viking; 6'7" tall, LONG blond hair, about 350 - 400 lbs of solid muscle, and looks every bit of it. Well, he was going to a meet in full getup with long cloak and battle axe and sitting on the subway... hunched over leaning on the axe with the cloak pulled over it so he wouldn't scare anybody.

Lo and behold some little punk comes up... MAYBE 5'2", 120 lbs soaking wet, and brandishes a knife saying "GIMME YOUR MONEY!" Naturally the guy sits there, somewhat befuddled at the balls of this punk.

"GIMME YOUR *bleepin* MONEY OR ELSE!" and the guy stands up... and up... and UP. Raising the battle axe over his head, screaming at the top of his lungs "BLOOD FOR ODIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

At this point, the fellow passengers learn the true sound of terror. Not a scream, no curses, just a simple little "urk" as the guy leaves a wet spot as he's bolting for anywhere but there.

A couple weeks later our friend is at a club in the Men's Room, doing what all guys do when they've had a bit of ale, and looks over and at the next stall is that SAME PUNK!

Up for a bit of a laugh, the guy leans over, and quietly whispers in the dude's ear "Blood for Odin!"

The cops catch up with him a couple blocks away.. screaming bloody murder, running like the Hounds of Hell are after him, with his pants around his ankles.

CONTEST CLOSED

Shuubi wins... blood for odin!!