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More and more funnies.. vol: something...

No offense is meant in this, this is post is purely for humour.  8)

In light of the recent events in Korea the French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralysing the country's military capability.

The English are also feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Korea and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorised from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "****** Off" to "Let's get the *******s." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbour" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels .

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "Crikey! I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is cancelled." So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final escalation level.
 
Russian civi takes offense to another civi giving a soldier a hard time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQnRUdoAFR0&feature=player_embedded
 
KimJongUnandObama.jpg
 
http://www.amazon.com/BIC-Cristal-1-0mm-Black-MSLP16-Blk/dp/B004F9QBE6

The product description is funny.

The reviews: ABSOLUTELYFNHILARIOUS!
 
The worst part fo this story is that it is true.....

http://pjmedia.com/tatler/2013/04/14/too-weird-to-be-true-green-sex/?singlepage=true

Too Weird To Be True: ‘Green Sex’

by
RICK MORAN
Bio
April 14, 2013 - 9:32 am
     
I found this on Anthony Watts‘ site and couldn’t stop laughing.

A group that calls itself “F*ck For Forest” makes porno tapes and sells them to raise money for rainforest projects in South America.

And, of course, only the Guardian would be far left enough to actually cover it:

Few people would imagine any overlap exists between pornography and environmentalism, but FFF smash the two concepts together right there in their brutally blunt name. It’s a concise signifier of what they do and how little they care about what you think of it. The live displays are a sideline; funds are primarily raised via their website, which has images and videos of its core staff members and whatever volunteers they pick up on the street in myriad sexual permutations, from naked people up trees to chaotic orgies. Subscribers pay about £10 a month, and the proceeds go towards rainforest conservation projects in South America.

It’s difficult to know how to categorise such an enterprise. Is it kinky eco-activism? Porn for foliage fetishists? Exhibitionism with the fig-leaf of a good cause? FFF have a better question: What is more obscene, they ask, the depiction of people enjoying their sexuality or the destruction of our natural environment?

“Sex is often shown to attract us to buy all kinds of bullsh*t products and ideas, so why not for a good cause?,” says Tommy Hol Ellingsen, FFF’s Norwegian co-founder. “The human body is considered more offensive and threatening than most things in the industrial world around us, like cars, but I don’t see the naked body in itself as a threat to the morals or values of modern society. I think it’s more a mass psychosis people have. Why we are destroying the planet may be somehow connected to the values modern humans have created for themselves.”

Tommy and his Swedish partner Leona Johansson can talk at great length about the ills of western society, freedom of expression, the sanctity of nature and nobility of indigenous tribal life, but in the documentary their philosophy is put to the test. The first half details their eco-hippy existence, wandering the streets of Berlin, propositioning strangers to contribute to the website, getting stoned, having sex, and subjecting audiences to their performance art (if the “blood and sperm” part sounds shocking, wait for their terrible folk songs). But then FFF’s dreams are confronted with reality, in the form of a journey to their much-idolised Amazon rainforest, at the request of a threatened Peruvian tribe. It would spoil things to reveal what happens when they get there, but let’s just say it’s not quite the tribal connection they hoped for.

You have to read that article to get a sense of how truly bizarre — and stupid — FFF really is. When they went to Peru to film with the tribe of indigenous people, they were amazed that “…they live in a little fairytale wonderland, according to their own rules. They never plan anything, even what they’re going to do the next day. There are no rules. That’s what intrigued me about them.”

The FFF people thought that the tribes would be just as gung ho about saving the rainforest as they were. Alas, the indigenous folk had far less important things on their minds, like eating and trying to stay alive in the jungle.

F*ck For Forest actually got started with a grant from the Norwegian government — something the bureaucrats instantly regretted when they realized what the founders were up to. Their first public act was the founders of the group having sex on stage while a band called “Cumshots” played.

No, seriously. They’ve spent about $85,000 on rainforest projects like buying up land and promoting “indigenous lifestyles” in various South and Central American countries. They also live what is referred to as a “frugal” lifestyle, “wearing clothes and eating food they find in rubbish bins, rather than spending the charity’s money.” And rather than using a middleman or go-between to manage their projects, they do so directly so that most of the cash goes where it was intended.

Of course, the major reason for this is that none of the big time NGOs will have anything to do with them. Both the Rainforest Foundation and the Norwegian World Wildlife Fund  “turned down their donations once they discovered what they did, claiming that other donors would disapprove of their fundraising methods.”

What’s not to like about these guys? Sounds like fun, right?

Not according to the co-founder:

We have so much responsibility. We have so much to do with these projects. It’s a really heavy subject to work with sexual repression and ecology. With the website, all the uploading and emailing, we’re a small group keeping it together and it’s an incredible amount of work. But we’re subject to so much suspicion, and we have to answer for so much of what we’re doing. We’re giving so much of ourselves to this.

Above and beyond, man. Above and beyond.

Rick Moran is PJ Media's Chicago editor and Blog editor at The American Thinker. He is also host of the"RINO Hour of Power" on Blog Talk Radio. His own blog is Right Wing Nut House.
 
Thucydides said:
The worst part fo this story is that it is true.....

http://pjmedia.com/tatler/2013/04/14/too-weird-to-be-true-green-sex/?singlepage=true

Define "worst". 

I kid, I kid.  ;)

On the subject of "news that sounds like a joke", I present this: 

http://www.news.com.au/travel/news/men-deported-for-being-too-handsome/story-e6frfq80-1226623331045

 
The very same thing happened to me a couple of years ago.

It's strangely comforting to know that I was not the only one so treated.
 
Loachman said:
The very same thing happened to me a couple of years ago.

It's strangely comforting to know that I was not the only one so treated.
The thermometer in the bum, or being deported?
 
Beware answering that 2:00 am booty call in the middle of a terrorist alert.

The Problem with One-Night Stands in Locked-Down Boston

http://www.esquire.com/blogs/culture/lust-during-wartime

I’m sitting in a strange kitchen right now, in a posh two-bedroom condo in Charlestown, Mass., with sprawling views of the Boston skyline and the upper deck of I-93. My head is pounding. I’ve already maxed out on the recommended daily intake of Advil, hung over from a long night of upending pint after pint of Guinness at the Warren Tavern down the road—a legendary pub located in the former home of Revolutionary War hero Dr. Joseph Warren, where my dad has been bartending for the better part of 20 years.

My memory is a bit strained on the details, but I think it went something like this: As news broke of the an MIT police officer being gunned down, followed by a hot-pursuit car chase between the two suspects in Monday’s bombing, I was bellied up to the Tavern’s rustic, centuries-old bar. I remember saying something like “blarphgmchp” out loud, which in my head sounded like “Good lord friends, this week has really been a doozie, what?” And that’s when I got a text by a girl I know who lives up a cruelly steep hill from the bar. At 2 a.m. To come over.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain, the little guy driving my core motor skills gave me just enough digital dexterity to reply with a “sure”. Shit’s hitting the fan, I thought. May as well.

I woke up this morning with the standard one-night-stand accouterments (booze sweats, eyes and brain feeling like they’ve just come out of the microwave, an embarrassing case of gastrointestinal unrest). I put my bare feet down on the floor while trying to find my cell phone and my dignity (both proved elusive), and in doing so I stepped on a giant shard of a broken wine glass. It apparently fell to its end and shattered into a galaxy of twinkling shrapnel from atop the nightstand, which itself had nearly been toppled somehow. Then I hopped over to the TV and turned on CNN.

And it was then when I realized I had a problem. The whole city was locked down. Taxis were suspended. Public transit shuttered. Cops were going house to house. Armored vehicles were roaming the streets. No one could go out. You weren’t even supposed to open the door unless it was for a cop.

With a deadline to hit and a cell phone running on 8% battery, it quickly became clear that my plan to quietly slip out and return home to fulfill my work obligations would be a near impossible feat. I was trapped. And what was meant to be a discreet exit was now an agonizingly gratuitous small-scale walk of shame across the apartment from the bedroom to the bathroom. I paused in the living room to offer up an uncomfortable morning salutation to the roommate, who sat on the couch wearing a robe and a distinct “who the hell is this guy?” look on her face. Yup.

At that point, I really had no option but to just pull up my socks (literally and figuratively) and deal with the moment. One of the great joys (or at least essential requirements) of the boozy one-night-stand is the ability to throw on whatever clothes of yours found strewn across an alien bedroom, and saunter out the door on your own volition. Without it, you face the very real and comically awkward situation of hanging around, reeking of stout and sex, until the city resumes its regularly scheduled programming.

And so the long day began. First, work. I filed the story. Next, some half-awake hanky-panky. While rolling around we almost fell off the side again, knocking into the nightstand, which tipped over again. “Well shit,” I said, “that must've been how that happened last night.”

"I'll have to take your word for it," she said.

Then time elapsed and cabin fever began to take hold. We slipped out the door, contravening the governor's orders, and hustled down the deserted Boston streets, hoping not to get shot by a SWAT team, to go to Dunkin Donuts (if Dunkies closes, the terrorists win) and get some smokes. Provisions secured, we hiked back up the hill to her place, whereupon she reminded me that last night I had apparently forgotten where her apartment was and attempted to locate her by literally yelling her name in the street. A full block from where she lives, as it turns out.

So here I am. Six o'clock. Still in her apartment, the lockdown still in effect, the suspect yet to be apprehended, public transit still shut down. And I’m sitting at her kitchen table writing this on her computer. Her roommate is on one side, slightly baffled, and she’s standing behind me, reading this over my shoulder and absolutely laughing her ass off.
 
Ahhh...the geographically challenged on Twitter...  ::)

Geographicallychallenged2.png


link

The Definitive “People Who Thought Chechnya was the Czech Republic” Collection

Posted 18 hours ago
 
Two brothers from Chechnya. That was the official word early morning on Friday April 19th, 2013 as to who were behind the Boston marathon bombings. “Chechens.”

So, naturally, who do some brilliant citizens of the United States of America blame? The CZECH REPUBLIC, of course!

 
These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while the exchanges were taking place.

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, 'Where am I, Cathy?'
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!
_______________________________
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: What is your date of birth?
WITNESS: July 18th.
ATTORNEY: What year?
WITNESS: Every year.
_____________________________________
ATTORNEY: How old is your son, the one living with you?
WITNESS: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
ATTORNEY: How long has he lived with you?
WITNESS: Forty-five years.
_________________________________
ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget..
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
____________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He's 20, much like your IQ.
___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitting me?
_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Getting laid
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children , right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death..
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the Circus was in town I'm going with male.
_____________________________________
ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Doctor , how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.
_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral...
_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 PM
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?

______________________________________
And last:

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No..
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.
 
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