An argument at a golf tournament turned into a fight as several golfers and their caddies began throwing punches at each other. Fans rushed onto the green and joined in. Security was overwhelmed and deserted the green for their own safety. Eventually police arrived to break up the near-riot.
One of the commissioners was heard lamenting to others, “Damn it, now we’re going to get a reputation for being interesting.”
A pessimist says the glass is half empty.
An optimist says the glass is half full.
The marketing wonk says it’s new and improved, and 75% more, free, and gets a six figure salary.
Two scientists are eating at a restaurant. After they both order they are asked if they would like anything to drink. The first says he’ll have some H2O. The second says he’ll have some H2O too. The second one died.
H202
From my Penguin-brand biscuit:
Why did the penguin join the theatre?
He wanted to get into snow-business
Why I eat these things I’ll never know… they’re just Oreos but slightly less horrible.
A country boy was in a big-city store when he called a salesman over.
“Don’t you have any new socks?” he asked, gesturing to the rack in front of him.
“Those are new socks,” the salesman insisted.
“Naw,” the country boy said. “These is used! Look, somebody’s done worn the holes right off of 'em!”
A big guy I know runs a restaurant, and has a 6-year-old mentality about jokes. He tells me a couple every time I go in.
Q: What’s the difference between Dubai and Abu Dhabi?
A: Those from Dubai don’t watch the Flintstones, but those from Abu Dhabi do.
This post is entitled BEING BRITISH
It’s the first genuinely accurate one of these that I have ever read:
• Worrying you’ve accidentally packed 3 kilos of cocaine and a dead goat as you stroll through “Nothing to declare”
• Being unable to stand and leave without first saying “right”
• Not hearing someone for the third time, so just laughing and hoping for the best
• Saying “anywhere here’s fine” when the taxi’s directly outside your front door
• Being sure to start touching your bag 15 minutes before your station, so the person in the aisle seat is fully prepared for your exit
• Repeatedly pressing the door button on the train before it’s illuminated, to assure your fellow commuters you have the situation in hand
• Having someone sit next to you on the train, meaning you’ll have to eat your crisps at home
• The huge sense of relief after your perfectly valid train ticket is accepted by the inspector
• The horror of someone you only half know saying: “Oh I’m getting that train too”
• “Sorry, is anyone sitting here?” – Translation: Unless this is a person who looks remarkably like a bag, I suggest you move it
• Loudly tapping your fingers at the cashpoint, to assure the queue that you’ve asked for money and the wait is out of your hands
• Looking away so violently as someone nearby enters their PIN that you accidentally dislocate your neck
• Waiting for permission to leave after paying for something with the exact change
• Saying hello to a friend in the supermarket, then creeping around like a burglar to avoid seeing them again
• Watching with quiet sorrow as you receive a different haircut to the one you requested
• Being unable to pay for something with the exact change without saying “I think that’s right”
• Overtaking someone on foot and having to keep up the uncomfortably fast pace until safely over the horizon
• Being unable to turn and walk in the opposite direction without first taking out your phone and frowning at it
• Deeming it necessary to do a little jog over zebra crossings, while throwing in an apologetic mini wave
• Punishing people who don’t say thank you by saying “you’re welcome” as quietly as possible
• The overwhelming sorrow of finding a cup of tea you forgot about
• Turning down a cup of tea for no reason and instantly knowing you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake
• Suddenly remembering your tea and necking it like a massive, lukewarm shot
• Realising you’ve got about fifty grand’s worth of plastic bags under your kitchen sink
• “You’ll have to excuse the mess” – Translation: I’ve spent seven hours tidying in preparation for your visit
• Indicating that you want the last roast potato by trying to force everyone else to take it
• “I’m off to bed” – Translation: “I’m off to stare at my phone in another part of the house”
• Mishearing somebody’s name on the second time of asking, meaning you must now avoid them forever
• Leaving it too late to correct someone, meaning you must live with your new name forever
• Running out of ways to say thanks when a succession of doors are held for you, having already deployed ‘cheers’, ‘ta’ and ‘nice one’
• Changing from ‘kind regards’ to just ‘regards’, to indicate that you’re rapidly reaching the end of your tether
• Staring at your phone in silent horror until the unknown number stops ringing
• Hearing a recording of your own voice and deciding it’s perhaps best never to speak again
• The relief when someone doesn’t answer their phone within three rings and you can hang up
• Filming an entire fireworks display on your phone, knowing full well you’ll never, ever watch it again
I regret that I have but one like to give… 
As opposed to American pedestrians (at least in California) who will walk across as slow as possible while looking you in the eye the entire time as if daring you to hit them.
Unfortunately, here the supermarkets are far too well-lighted, so we just have to suffer.
Many of these apply to Australians too.
In honor of tomorrow (March 15):
Any salad can be a Caesar salad if you stab it enough.
Et tu, Brute
I’m starting to wonder if I’m secretly British and I must now avoid appearing as such so I can slip back into my sleeper British-ness.
Q: How does one think the unthinkable?
A: With an itheberg.
That’s Brut 82. Sheesh, kids these days.
Stolen from my Twitter feed
"Tell us a scary Story!"
Puts Flashlight to Face
"There once was an opinion that differed from yours!**
Emory Students Gasp
"Iiinnnnnn Chaaaaaaalk"
Screams
Quite an old one but I laugh my arse off every time I come across it.
The story behind the letter below is that there is this nutball in
Newport, RI named Scott Williams who digs things out of his backyard
and sends the stuff he finds to the Smithsonian Institute, labeling
them with scientific names, insisting that they are actual
archaeological finds. This guy really exists and does this in his spare
time!
Anyway … here’s the actual response from the Smithsonian Institution.
Bear this in mind next time you think you are challenged in your duty to
respond to a difficult situation in writing.
Smithsonian Institute
207 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20078
Dear Mr. Williams
Thank you for your latest submission to the Institute, labeled
“1193211-D, layer seven, next to the clothesline post … Hominid skull.” We
have given this specimen a careful and detailed examination, and regret
to inform you that we disagree with your theory that it represents
conclusive proof of the presence of Early Man in Charleston County two
million years ago.
Rather, it appears that what you have found is the head of a Barbie
doll, of the variety that one of our staff, who has small children,
believes to be “Malibu Barbie.” It is evident that you have given a
great deal of thought to the analysis of this specimen, and you may be
quite certain that those of us who are familiar with your prior work in
the field were loathe to come to contradiction with your findings.
However, we do feel that there are a number of physical attributes of
the specimen which might have tipped you off to its modern origin:
- The material is molded plastic. Ancient hominid remains are
typically fossilized bone.
- The cranial capacity of the specimen is approximately 9 cubic
centimeters, well below the threshold of even the earliest identified
proto-homonids.
- The dentition pattern evident on the skull is more consistent
with the common domesticated dog than it is with the ravenous man-eating
Pliocene clams you speculate roamed the wetlands during that time. This
latter finding is certainly one of the most intriguing hypotheses you
have submitted in your history with this institution, but the evidence
seems to weigh rather heavily against it. Without going into too much
detail, let us say that:
A. The specimen looks like the head of a Barbie doll that a
dog has chewed on.
B. Clams don’t have teeth.
It is with feelings tinged with melancholy that we must deny your
request to have the specimen carbon-dated. This is partially due to the
heavy load our lab must bear in its normal operation, and partly due to
carbon-dating’s notorious inaccuracy in fossils of recent geologic
record. To the best of our knowledge, no Barbie dolls were produced
prior to 1956AD, and carbon-dating is likely to produce wildly
inaccurate results.
Sadly, we must also deny your request that we approach the National
Science Foundation Phylogeny Department with the concept of assigning
your specimen the scientific name Australopithecus Back-yardicus.
Speaking personally, I, for one, fought tenaciously for the acceptance
of your proposed taxonomy, but was ultimately voted down because the
species name you selected was hyphenated, and didn’t really sound like
it might be Latin.
However, we gladly accept your generous donation of this fascinating
specimen to the museum. While it is undoubtedly not a Hominid fossil, it
is, nonetheless, yet another riveting example of the great body of work
you seem to accumulate here so effortlessly. You should know that our
Director has reserved a special shelf in his own office for the display
of the specimens you have previously submitted to the Institution, and
the entire staff speculates daily on what you will happen upon next in
your digs at the site you have discovered in your Newport back yard.
We eagerly anticipate your trip to our nation’s capital that you
proposed in your last letter, and several of us are pressing the
Director to pay for it. We are particularly interested in hearing you
expand on your theories surrounding the trans-positating fillifitation
of ferrous metal in a structural matrix that makes the excellent
juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex femur you recently discovered take on the
deceptive appearance of a rusty 9-mm Sears Craftsman automotive crescent
wrench.
Yours in Science,
Harvey Rowe
Chief Curator-Antiquities
Oh man, I’m dying here. That’s comedy gold.
Obviously they are unacquainted with our CIO.