Text 2297, 134 rader
Skriven 2005-07-07 02:41:50 av Greg Sears (1:153/307)
     Kommentar till en text av Hans Andersson
Ärende: Re: Warning...
======================
Funny

 -=[06-Jul-2005 21:22, Hans Andersson wrote IN a message to All...]=-

 HA> Humor is a very serious thing and nothing to joke about!
   > Bye H.A.

  G-day Hans Andersson, that may be but the both are ~F unny~ eh! '-)

 HA> Whats is the diffrence on an elephant? Very few laugh at this joke,
   > but what is the point?
                 ^^^ ^^^^^
  Hans Andersson,||| ||||| is an elephant doesn't have one! '-)


> OBJoke: for Mr. Hans Andersson

Chad nervously approached his girlfriend's father and said "Excuse me,
Mr. Scott, but there was something I wanted to ask you."

"Well, of course, young man!" the proud father replied. "You have my full
blessing.  My daughter's happiness is all I want."

"Blessing, sir?" Chad stammered.

"Yes, of course.  You want to marry my daughter, right?" Mr. Scott said.

"Uh, no sir, that's not it." said Chad. "Actually, my car payment is due,
and I'm a little short until payday, and I wanted to know if I could
borrow fifty dollars until Friday."

"Heck no!" yelled Mr. Scott. "I hardly know you."


> OBHumor: for Mr. Hans Andersson

Copyright Jim Rosenberg
-----------------------
BOOKSTORES
by Jim Rosenberg, April 12, 1995

I love to browse through bookstores.  This is due chiefly to the fact that I
ama world class phony, as you certainly know by now.  A bookstore is the
CarnegieHall for phonies -- a place where the best of the best can display
theirtalents.  Although my true tastes run to books like "James Worthy:  The
Man CanFlat-Out Dunk!"  I just like the feeling I get rooting through the
snootiersections.  It's almost as if I might be having a ... {brace yourself}
thought.It's liberating to escape the shallowness of my caveman mind into the
world ofpeople who have not only had an idea -- but put it on paper.  On that
rarest of
occasions when I have an idea, I must call everyone I know and disgorge it("For
Pete's sake Mom, I know it's 3 AM, but hear me out -- with a flat tax,everyone
pays the *same* percentage!").  By the time I'm done, I'm so tired Ican't be
bothered to write it down.

Sadly, the pleasure of shopping at bookstores has been ruined for me latelywhen
I began to realize what most people are doing there.  I hate to burst
yourbubble, but the majority of book shoppers aren't looking for "Absalom,
Absalom"-- they have some horrible problem.  It's true. While cruising the
shelvesfingering up unreadable classics to impress my fellow browsers, I began
toexamine what they were reading.  I had hoped to give them a silent "You
TheMan!" to show solidarity with my other buddies in Le Societe de Plus
GrandTete.  Then, I noticed that most people were in the "Metaphysics" or
"PersonalDevelopment" section looking at books with titles like "You're Not
Going ToBelieve This -- But Other People Have Your Pathetic Problem!" or "Women
WhoLove Men Who Love Fabio."  This made me very sad.  I have paid closer
attentionto these self-help books ever since that day.

Those looking to hammer the final nail in the coffin of American culture
needlook no further than the self-help section of the bookstore.  As a
trainedobserver of societal behavior (credentials:  one remote control,
onetelevision, one chair), let me be the first to say, in layman's terms:  we
isone screwed up society.  I had no idea how many isms, syndromes, complexes
andthe like were gumming up the gutter.  On the one hand, it's comforting to
knowthat the ship of fools is fully booked, but on the other hand will the
lastnormal person in the United States please pick up the white courtesy phone?
 Aman right next to me was thumbing through a book about assertiveness,
butquickly shelved it when I gave him a stern look of disapproval.  Next to
him, awoman eyed me hungrily while browsing "Women Who Love Men Who Are
HappilyMarried Mediocre Humor Columnists."  In the back corner, I saw a shifty
lookingguy cram "Overcoming Your Shoplifting Problem" into his already stuffed
trenchcoat.  I stopped looking when I saw Dad at the checkout counter with
"When SonsDisappoint."

As I leafed through the books, I found that they were all essentially the same.
The first few chapters defined the problem.  ("You are single").  The next
fewchapters were free-form commiseration.  ("Single people are unloved"). 
Thefinal chapters told you to stop whatever it was you were doing, without
sayinghow ("Get married").

Soon, my bookstore experience polluted my other shopping.  Moving from
AtticusBooks right down to Phar-Mor, I took notice of what my fellow shoppers
werebuying.  Maybe it was a bad day, but the Saturday morning crowd out with me
gotup early to find cures for ringworm, bad breath, bunions, and matters of
ahighly personal nature.  Suddenly, I felt as if my sniffles could wait. 
I'drather blow my nose to a bloody red pulp than get secondhand ringworm.

After much moping, a thought floated down from the clouds and
accidentallylanded in my head.  I thought of an idea that would end my
gloominess and makeme a millionaire:  *The Grosseteria*! I am going to open the
world's firstSuperstore for Dysfunctional people.  The more I think about it,
the more it'sa can't miss opportunity.  There is safety in numbers. 
Embarrassed suffererswill flock to The Grosseteria safe in the knowledge that
every other shopper isdeficient in some way.  At News & Novels, the guy next to
you might be a civilwar buff, but at The Grosseteria it's more likely he just
enjoys dressing up inpetticoats.

I'm sharing my million dollar idea in print because I trust you.  If I see
aGrosseteria open up before mine, I'm going to be awfully mad, and
considerthis:  statistics show that there are only three regular readers of
thiscolumn.  So don't even think about it, Mom.

> OBF unny: for Mr. Hans Andersson

A tom cat and a tabby cat were courting on a back fence at night.

The tom leaned over to the tabby with pent up passion and purred, "I'll
die for you!"

The tabby gazed at him from under lowered eye lids and asked, "How many
times?"



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