Kalmia Records Blog

Irrigation Austin
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New York Travel Packages
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1. When Chuck Norris does a push up, instead of pushing himself up, he pushes the world down
2. There are no steroids in baseball… only people Chuck Norris has breathed on
3. Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris decided to punch his way out of his mothers womb
4. Chuck Norris once shot down a German Fighter plane by pointing at it with his finger and shouting “Bang!”
5. Chuck Norris does not churn butter… he simply roundhouse kicks the cow, and the butter comes straight out
6. When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. He has not had to pay taxes, ever.
7. In the final page of the Guinness Book of World Records, in fine print, it notes that all records are held by Chuck Norris, and these are only the closest anyone else has ever come
8. When the boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris
9. Chuck Norris is currently sueing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.
10. Chuck Norris’ tears cure cancer. Too bad he hasn’t cried. Ever

For the full video, visit http://www.jokebadger.com/joke/157/

Joshua Yudaken currently runs a joke site that is build up steam, especially with the latest Chuck Norris Jokes craze.

Have you been noticing more and more people answering a question with “I am” and the first time you hear it you think, well that sounds cool. Did you know that “I am” is actually the shortest complete sentence in the English Language? It may also be the shortest title of any article you read this week. That is not to say that it is necessary a good answer to a question unless it is stated with a proper tone.

I am could be a question or it could be an answer. It could be a very positive answer or a quizzical question. It could also be a snide remark or a number of other things. Stop for a second and say, “I am” in several different ways. See what I mean? You should therefore add this to your vocabulary of conversational phrases, but only in a limited sense, as you do not want anyone to become offended and think that “You Aren’t” a very good friend. I am, too!

Indeed you may very well be a wonderful, personable, well-intentioned person, I do not doubt it. But make sure you are making the right impression and listen closely when someone else misuses that phrase and see how silly it sounds when they do? When someone says “I am” they maybe telling the truth or hiding the truth depending on how they say it.

Brevity has its place and is not always the best policy. J.P Morgan once said “Say little, know a lot” and this makes a lot of sense in many human endeavors, however it may not be the most polite way to play your personal affairs.

If you read a transcript back, which has the sentence; I am in it; it could be read that you are making a statement to someone and they are saying; “I am?” rather than answering it in the affirmative; I am! You see the difference.

Generally I find some people say this to be cool, others use it tactfully when they do not wish to reveal information. Always call the person on it, if you see that their body language does not match the way they use those words. Trust is too hard to come by to allow game playing tactics of this sort. Think on this in 2006.

“Lance Winslow” - Online Think Tank forum board. If you have innovative thoughts and unique perspectives, come think with Lance; http://www.WorldThinkTank.net/wttbbs/

The art of the schmooze, small talk, gift of gab, these are all descriptions given to a special talent some people have. It’s the ability to make conversation with a chunk of tanzanite if one had to. I’m not talking about loud mouths, conversation hogs, salespeople and the like. Folks with the gift of gab are people who engage others to talk, not themselves. At parties, they seek out the meek, timid, and shy to test their skills. They can find something in nothing. Every gathering needs them. I’m allegedly such a person. Allegedly!

Here is an example of the art form. It occurred at a party at a neighbor’s home not long ago. It was a surprise birthday party for someone I did not know. Not surprisingly, I did not know anyone else at the party either, other than the host and two or three stragglers. It was a challenge. People with the gift like challenges.

The trick is always the same, talk about something innocuous until you hear a trigger word that can segue into a nightlong conversation. This particular time, I moved into action almost immediately. My target was the wife (assuming) of some hoopin’ and hollerin’ guy. They are easy targets because they are just dying for someone to listen to them. As usual, she was left to fend for herself, sitting alone near a cheese platter. She seemed a bit self-conscious of being alone too. Perfect. It was going to be like taking candy from a child. It was time for me to do my thing.

I sauntered over to the platter and studied the assortment of cheeses.

“Anything you recommend?” I asked calmly, as I picked up a piece of provolone by the toothpick.

“Um, I’m not really a cheese person. I’m lactose intolerant.”

Okay, there’s a piece of information but I don’t know much about the subject.

“What is lactose exactly? Is it that mold part? Can you scrape it off?” Ah, the art of disarming stupidity. It’s the finely honed tool of a conversational craftsman.

She smiled.

“No, it’s in the cheese itself.”

“What does it do if you eat it? Turn you into a Democrat?” Now this is what I call a conversation revealer. It’s geared deliberately to expose potential topics. I win either way. If she is a Democrat, she’ll ask me if I’m a Republican in which case I’ll tell her no way. Then I’m off to the races in a hundred directions of my choosing. If she is a Republican, she’ll chuckle and I will have learned what to stay away from. She struck me as a Republican.

“Oh God not that!” She laughed.

I was right. I am too tricky for my shirt. I also learned that she could be a little engaging and forthright, again, as I had figured. She was probably all bottled up by that no-goodnik she married. Good to confirm because I can take some chances now.

“Are you?” She asks.

“I’m not real political. Gotta lot of opinions but I try to stay away from the party stuff.” I needed to dump this path licketty split. Politics, unless shared, is risky at best. I got back to the cheese thing right away.

“So seriously, what is lactose intolerance?” I really was smooth.

“It’s like an allergy to lactose, a byproduct of dairy products.”

“Do you swell up like a blimp? Like if I go in the other room and look in here later and you look like a Macy’s Parade balloon, I should call 911?”

She laughed.

“It’s more like a digestion thing.”

“A digestion thing?” This was another gimmick. I repeated the sentence, as if in thought. Instead it was intended to buy some time while I ran a few potential lines through my head. I wondered if I should use a projectile vomiting line. I decided against it too much, too soon. I didn’t have enough confidence to be sure it would work. So I slowed it down some more.

“Hum, digestive thing.” I played my last stall card. I decided to move on.

“Oh well, I won’t eat cheese in front of you, okay?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s all right.” She seemed very agreeable.

Okay, let’s see, Republican, not that shy, laughs, lactose intolerant, agreeable. Hmm, I know.

“Is it something that is passed from generation to generation?”

“Actually, I have one daughter who is fine and a son who has the problem.”

“By the way, my name is Bob and yours?”

Bingo! Match over! I must be in the front row! Kids are one of the gifts in the gift of gab. They can take a conversation a million ways. I nodded my head in smiling approval for hours as she talked about kid issues, interrupted by me only to inject some humor to redirect the subject. It was fun.

I look at the whole ordeal like a slot machine. I drop about ten lines in and if nothing comes up, I take my questions to the next person. Usually, I can find something. I just need to find the slightest little opening and I can bring out the stars. Having said all that, there is one conversation killer I have yet to figure out. It stops me dead in my tracks. It goes something like this (maybe it’s happened to you).
Let’s use the same scenario.

I saunter over to the cheese platter.

“Anything you recommend?” I ask calmly as I pick up a piece of provolone by the toothpick.

“Um, I’m not really a cheese person. I’m lactose intolerant.”

“What is lactose exactly? Is it that mold part? Can you scrape it off?”

She smiles.

“No, it’s in the cheese itself.”

“What does it do to you? Does it turn you into a Democrat if you eat it?”

“Not if my savior Jesus Christ has anything to do with it!” she laughs. “Praise the Lord.”

“Alrighty then. Do you know where the bathroom is. Had a little too much beer.”

I’m not good with Jesus Christ types, not that there is anything wrong with that. I just don’t know how to listen. Well, it’s more than “how to”. I can’t. My mind swirls when I hear verse numbers and stuff. Look, I want to make this clear. It’s not their fault. It’s my problem, pure and simple. I think it exposes me for the fraud I really am. I can’t claim to have the gift of gab if I can’t engage a Bible quoter.

I think what really makes me less than an honorable human being is that I’ve been known to dump a bore or two by playing the Jesus Christ card myself.

On one occasion, I managed to engage one rather self-important, recent, first-time mom. I just got done listening to her one hour story about delivering her baby in a vat of salt water from Atlantic Ocean. She cruised through the first twenty days and seemed hell bent on dragging me through the next sixty. I had to do something. My head could not nod encouragingly anymore.

“So let’s see, I told you about how my daughter was already walking by the age of three weeks. We decided to enroll her in “foreign language first” school for exceptional one month olds. The idea is to expose infants to a foreign language before they learn English. Edwin and I think it is the right thing to do. She was number one in her”

“Jesus Christ is Lord!” I clasped my hands.

“Do you know where the bathroom is? I’ve had a little too much Perrier with lemon.” She left abruptly.

I’m going directly to hell and I’m not collecting two hundred dollars on the way. Am I?

This article was written by humorist Robert Crane. Author of “Still Living in the Sixties” and “The Single Adventure of Inlin Freebosh”, Robert also writes a popular blog of casual observations and polical commentary, almost always unfair and never balanced, all of which can be freely read at his website located in the outer edges of the “internets”: http://www.cranelegs.com

It is the solemn duty of this news commentator to not only report, but comment on current events. As a highly-respected journalist, I feel morally compelled to comment on the needless vandalism of urinal cakes across the nation. While true they are referred to as cakes, and true that homeless people are hungry, I don’t believe that homeless people should have to be so hungry as to eat just any thing that resembles — or is named — cake. Perhaps I am an idealist. Perhaps I should accept society the way it is, realizing that a small, poor man such as myself could never change the establishment. Call it a feeling, call it a drug-induced hallucination, but I think there should be food for everyone to eat — particularly when there is food for everyone to eat.

Allow me to be more specific. I’m not writing about the mentally ill people who hold down jobs and lead productive lives. If I were, I’d be writing about the people who do cocaine so they can work long hours. Those are the people who usually eat meals, even if they don’t require food for a week straight from being so incredibly wired.

Also, I’m not writing about the mentally ill people who lie, steal, or exploit to achieve success and financial freedom in business, or politics, nor any other profession or career. I won’t write about those who climb ladders through corruption and greed for the sole sake of profit, forgetting moral obligations to people they serve, their employees, or stockholders. These people I have mentioned are the productive members of society who find food and beverages at the top of the ladder to success, and not committing senseless acts of destruction by eating valuable urinal cakes. This basically amounts to theft or vandalism since the urinal cake is neither returned to the owner, or it’s left half-eaten (in effect, damaged).

If this pattern of devastation is not stopped, I foresee terrible consequences. After a time, people may cease trips to bars, pubs and taverns for fear of utilizing the restroom. The olfactory sense is a powerful one, and we must never allow it to deter us, we the people, from using public urinating facilities. Though this “bathroom phobia” would not be caused by mental illness, it would still be highly destructive to our society. Productive members of society would instead go home, rather than going to get drunk or smashed at a pub. Staying home could lead to spousal or child abuse. Perhaps a child would feel neglected if that child knew their parent was actually home, but occupied in the other room having a drink while watching television — the parent trying to relax after having a productive and non-homeless day.

The economic repercussions would be disastrous, of course, and taverns across the nation would have to close. We need to ensure the safety of urinal cakes to prevent our way of life from collapsing. We need to make sure bathrooms have an acceptable level of smell, pleasing both to the nose, and containing a well formed urinal cake for the aesthetic delight of curious onlookers.

We must all work together to promote urinal cake awareness and meals among the homeless and starving people of this, the wealthiest nation on Earth. I think we should first feed any homeless war veterans, since many of them were promised free medical care for life. Perhaps we should reallocate funds from spreading freedom, peanut butter, jelly, and democracy around in other nations; then allocate this extra “freedom” money into a “democracy” treasury and spread meals and desserts around, to prevent terroristic attacks of the tummy. Although some of these veterans are disabled and unable to spread freedom and democracy any longer, they still deserve to eat, in my humble opinion. Perhaps even some of that free health care is also deserved, without having to war for it from the government which originally hired them. After the allocation of this “freedom” fund is used for any misplaced veterans, there should indeed be enough leftovers for anyone else who’s hungry or starving, especially people who need to eat in order to survive.

Andy Alt
http://www.mentaldimensions.com/
Mental Dimensions Humor Ezine
Warped minds can come here for observational humor, comedy editorials, farce, satire and spoof

It is a well known fact that when it comes to sleeping habits, some people seem oblivious to the house falling down around them, while others are roused by the slightest noise that seems out of place.

In a little known lifetime study conducted with questionable scientific reliability, I have come to the conclusion that many people who suffer from sleeping disorders owe their afflictions in no small part to allowing pets to share the bed chamber. The findings conclude that pet influences can be divided equally between cat and dog owners that allow their pets access to sleeping with their human caretakers, with slight variations in animal behaviors. The following pet activities, realized or not by their owners, are significant contributors to poor rest.

Contributing Factors from Cats:
1. Pouncing in the dark on genitals.
2. Growling at other cats prowling outside the bedroom window.
3. Licking and grooming themselves next to a sleeper’s head.
4. Pillow stomping back and forth during shifts in human positioning.
5. Foot attacks ten minutes before the alarm clock goes off.
6. Leaps onto the bed from raised positions like a nearby chest of drawers.
7. Standing on the solar plexus with weight shifted to one paw.
8. Late night breath sniffing to see if the person is awake.
9. Chasing lights from passing automobiles, reflected through closed blinds.
10. Snoring and loud purring.
11. Batting at metal blinds.
12. Cat box digging.
13. Hocking up hairballs.

Contributing Factors from Dogs:

1. Hopping across genitals in the dark.
2. Chouncing and licking their own genitals next to a sleeper’s head.
3. Growling and barking at strange noises.
4. Crowding and lip smacking.
5. Dreaming and flinching.
6. Nuzzling feet and hands.
7. Circling and flopping down across sleeper’s feet and legs.
8. Snoring.
9. Door scratching and wining.
10. Scratching themselves behind the ears.
11. Drooling.
12. Blanket digging.

Most people who can sleep through a tornado insist they cannot rest without the presence of a pet, while light sleepers tend to compromise by doing most of their sleeping at work. For sleep study workers who are baffled by light sleepers who seem able to fall asleep quickly and deeply in the laboratory, I say you just forgot to throw in the cat.

Director of Software Concepts
BHO Technologists - LittleTek Center
Teaching computers to work with people.
HTTP://home.earthlink.net/~jdir

You have got to love soap operas. From the intricate plots and finely woven webs of deceit, to the depths of schemes, they were, are and always will be classics. They are timeless. I wrote this article as my take on them back in 1970 when filling white space for our high school paper. Watch a few soap operas for the next few days and see for yourself how closely they resemble the soap operas of 36 years ago…

And now for that thought provoking question that plagues men’s souls unceasingly through the bright shining of the day and through the untold dark depths of the night:

Why did Peter, who in reality is actually Superman, fake that he stubbed his toe on the 17th stone on the sidewalk starting at 4th and Grand instead of the 16th stone, which was bigger and more logically the victim of that invulnerable toe and why did Marlys take Sam’s advice to buy the yellow tulip instead of the red and green carnation, while all the time Rodregus knew that the curvaceous young Pandora was at the moment buying the last purple, double-breasted, duck-billed, warbling giraffe in the world for her dear departed Phillip disguised as a lowly second mate on the Queen Mary, which was under attack by the tyrant Cedric because of the terrible beating he had suffered at the hands of Radcliff whose ex-wife Natalie was actually Percival’s long lost great-great-uncle Maximillian in disguise who knew that Zigmond was fond of un-pitted olives stuffed into green grapefruit filled graciously with Granny and Gretchen’s goulash, which was gradually getting gooey and who also knew of Jennifer’s contact Louella in the deep Congo, seized at the time by the dread Gardenia, the 7th cousin of Guenivere, in hopes of receiving the eight-ounce bottle of Elmer’s Glue stored in the vast files in the cortex of Courtney’s colossal computer complex carefully compiled to correct the current curling, commonly crusading as the contagious, communicable, crystalline, cucumber crud, carried on cue sticks by crying cuckoo clock birds continuously to conform with the cunning Cornelius’ cumbersome plot to corrupt the currency and continue the crisis of the Cormandel Coast Cult, complicated by the coroner Cort’s corny connotation to conceal his consecutive coronary contractions constantly crippling his conscious efforts to contradict congenial counterparts’ careful counterfeit correspondence with Corwyn, the cosmic cosmetician?

Was it because Bill had green eyes or was it because Melissa meddled menacingly and meticulously in Maude’s plans to read the calendar to see what year she had been sent to by her superiors in the future?

Tune in tomorrow for the exciting climax created by another deep question.

We see California Wildfires today? Where is FEMA, they should have known there might be fires in California in the future. Obviously FEMA has no crystal ball and the Bush Administration did not put in a requisition for a crystal ball or put together a team of psychics, as per Jesse Jackson’s plan; who might have used their magical powers and averaged out the results to pin-point which states might have a wild fire.

Additionally President Bush is Personally responsible for the Solar Flares as the Sun is now off cycle from its solar minimum, which has heated up the atmosphere. Even the plate tectonics and continental drifts is out a little compared with scientific theories of cycles. This of course is obviously George Walker Bush’s Fault in fact he is personally responsible for all of this. Should we demand a public apology, some one must be blamed, George Bush is President and so he should be blamed for the Sun’s activity and the rest of the Universe too.

The Volcanic activity recently in Mexico and the Earthquake in Peru are causing seismic activity and this is causing volcanic activity which makes smoke in the atmosphere and this is Bush’s Fault too.

The 2005 Hurricane Season and the Typhoons recently in Asia, yep, Bush’s fault. Many are now calling for a Special Independent Impartial Federal Investigation chaired by The Honorable and Noble Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton as to why Bush allowed these natural disasters to happen and why he is allowing these fires and volcanoes to spew smoke and ask into the atmosphere, which hurt wildlife; including but not limited to Elk, deer, spotted owls, desert turtles, endangered rats and Panda Bears in China.

I saw a bumper sticker yesterday that said; “Don’t blame me, I voted for Kerry!” How right he is; we all know that had JF Kerry been elected that he would have put an end to this wastefulness of Continental Drift once and for all.

John Kerry the bright star of the Democratic Party in all his granger would have dimmed the Sun for us and calmed it down so it would not be so hot causing these California Wildfires. If John Kerry and Edwards were elected; John 1; would have demanded that Hurricane Katrina Stop and John 2 would have filed a cease and desist on Hurricane Rita in a Court of Law. John Edwards would have followed it up that with a Whopper of a lawsuit if Rita had persisted and then filed Mold lawsuits against homeowners trying to rebuild their homes, for the greater good.

It is Bush’s fault, we want him to admit it on National TV and we want him to apologize for letting these Volcanoes, Earthquakes, wildfires, Hurricanes, Typhoons, Tsunamis, Continental Drift, Ice Age, Solar Flares and Tornadoes right now. Think on it, after all it is all George Walker Bush’s fault. Next time vote for Democrats, as they promise to stop all these things by raising taxes.

“Lance Winslow” - Online Think Tank forum board. If you have innovative thoughts and unique perspectives, come think with Lance; www.WorldThinkTank.net/wttbbs/