Greetings from your TGIF editor-in-chief reporting in on this last day of the work week (“Thank God” you say!) from my little TGIF corner in Springfield, Vermont, USA. It has been a sobering week following the horrific terrorist attacks in Paris last Friday night.
All the media news and coverage of the current early months of our next presidential election have taken a back seat to the coverage of the Paris attacks and aftermath. What a senseless tragedy that has effected individuals and families and now also many countries, and will have policy repurcussions. It’s depressing to ponder. So, my job is not to do that in these pages. It is to try and provide a little humor. So, let’s go!
Here is a good quote from Bette Midler:
I haven’t left my house in days.
I watch the news channels incessantly. All the news stories are about the election. All the commercials are Viagra and Cialis. Election, erection, election, erection!
Either way we’re screwed!
I watch the news channels incessantly. All the news stories are about the election. All the commercials are Viagra and Cialis. Election, erection, election, erection!
Either way we’re screwed!
– Bette Midler
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A MESSAGE FROM THE QUEEN
To the citizens of the United States of America from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II:
Quote
In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. (You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.)
Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
1. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour,' 'favour,' 'labour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise.' Generally, you will be expected
to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').
2. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as ''like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as U.S. English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter 'u'' and the elimination of '-ize.'
3. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.
4. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not ready to shoot grouse.
5. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. Although a permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.
6. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.
7. The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon, a little under $2/litre. Get used to it.
8. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.
9. The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. South African beer is also acceptable, as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion
10. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie Macdowell attempt English dialect in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.
11. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).
12. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.
13. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.
14. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).
15. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 p.m. with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.
Unquote
God Save the Queen!
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An Italian lover, a virile middle aged Italian gentlemen named Guido, was relaxing at his favourite bar in Rome when he managed to attract a spectacular young blond woman. Things progressed to the point where he led her back to his apartment and, after some small talk, they retired to his bedroom where he rattled her senseless.
After a pleasant interlude, he asked with a smile, "So, you finish?" She paused for a second, frowned, and replied. "No."
Surprised, Guido reached for her and the rattling resumed. This time she thrashed about wildly and there were screams of passion. The sex finally ended and, again, Guido smiled and asked, "You finish?"
Again, after a short pause, she returned his smile, cuddled closer to him and softly said,"No."
Stunned, but damned if he was going to leave this woman unsatisfied, Guido reached for the woman yet again. Using the last of his strength, he barely managed it, but they ended together screaming, bucking, clawing and ripping the bed sheets. Exhausted, Guido fell onto his back, gasping.
Barely able to turn his head, he looked into her eyes, smiled proudly and asked again, "You finish??
Barely able to speak, the beautiful blonde whispered in his ear... "No, I Norwegian."
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E-MAIL LEGAL DISCLAIMER
How’s the strength of the legal disclaimer on your email signature? Writing at the New Yorker, Tim Hickey has some suggested improvements:
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTE: If you are the intended recipient of this electronic missive, then consider yourself fortunate. If you are not the intended recipient, then God help you, because there are hard times headed your way, my friend. If you have received this message in error, the error is likely yours, but should the error be mine, just try and prove it, mother-effer. Every member of my legal team attended a top-tier law school and scored well above the national average on the LSAT. They can’t wait to sue you into oblivion and consequently enrich themselves through your divestiture. If you’ve slipped and fallen or were working around asbestos during the late nineties, however, then go ahead and reply with a concise summary of the event that caused the onset of your pain and the nature of your injuries, along with the name of the chiropractor you’re using and a rundown of his/her fees, because some pockets are deep, especially among major retailers and manufacturers, and could stand to be made shallower, and we all deserve to be compensated for misfortunes brought upon us by others’ negligence. If you do—against the advice of any attorney who passed the bar with a score of 120 or higher—decide to use the above information for personal gain, in all fairness I ought to let you know that there’s a better than average chance that what’s above is a pack of lies. For every e-mail I send, I send a decoy e-mail full of disinformation. Most of my e-mails also contain a truly nasty virus of my own creation that I’m calling the Compensator™, and if you are not the intended recipient but open the e-mail, then your identity will be compromised, your personal information disseminated, your bank accounts diminished, and I’m working on a feature whereby you, as in your physical self, will host the Compensator™, which will remain dormant until you think everything’s cool, and then—Bam! You’re sleepless, coughing, eyes watering, and your spouse is asking if you ought to head to the emergency room. If you are Sara from the eighth grade, then how do you like me now? See that S-Class Mercedes parked over by the dumpsters there? Mine. Paid for. Cash. See that dude with aviator sunglasses, hair slicked back, snapping his fingers to some awesome tune on the Norwegian sound system? He’s wearing a shirt with a spread collar, housing a Windsor knot in a Jermyn Street tie, and considering a run for Congress? It’s me. How-do! Should you regret your decision to blow me off outside third-period chemistry in front of half the class, reply to the above address and attach a current photo. It doesn’t have to be sexy or anything, just, like, yourself on vacation with some inspiring vista in the background. If your name is Keith, there’s a pretty decent chance that we won’t get along, based on my past experience with people named Keith. If you are at the craps table at the Tropicana, place the six and eight, but stay the hell off the field bet, which is really for suckers, and, if the dice get hot, let’s split the winnings. If your measurements are 36-26-34, give or take, then don’t hesitate to reply, but don’t “reply all,” for security reasons. If you grew up and went to law school yet find yourself in a windowless room in midtown eating a tuna-salad sandwich, wondering if it’s still good, given all the mayo, and thinking that this is not what was promised, then let’s grab a beer and see where it goes.
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Here is an old joke, but with a new twist:
A young Arkie goes off to college. Half way through the semester, having foolishly squandered all of his money on his girlfriend, he calls home.
"Dad," he says, "You won't believe what modern education is developing! They actually have a program here at Hendrix that will teach our dog, Ole' Blue how to talk!"
"That's amazing," his Dad says. "How do I get Ol' Blue in that program?"
"Just send him over here with $1,000" the young Arkie says "and I'll get him in the course."
So, his Father sends the dog and $1,000.
About two-thirds of the way through the semester, the money again runs out. The boy calls home.
"So how's Ol' Blue doing son?" his Father asks.
"Awesome, Dad, he's talking up a storm," he says, "but you just won't believe this -- they've had such good results they have started to teach the animals how to read!"
"Read!?" says his Father, "No kidding! How do we get Blue in that program?"
"Just send $2,500, I'll get him in the class."
The money promptly arrives. The Arkie and his girlfriend are able to buy enough marijuana to last the whole semester. But our hero has a problem. At the end of the year, his Father will find out the dog can neither talk, nor read. Even though he was always pretty much able to lie his way out of trouble, the Arkie asked his girlfriend to help him think of a really good lie to tell his Dad. She very quickly came up with a plan for him.
So she has him shoot the dog.
When he arrives home at the end of the year, his Father is all excited.
"Where's Ol' Blue? I just can't wait to see him read something and talk!"
"Dad," the boy says, "I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Ole' Blue was in the living room, kicked back in the recliner, reading the Wall Street Journal, like he usually does".
"Then Ol' Blue turned to me and asked, so, is your Daddy still messing around with that little redhead who lives down the street?"
The Father went white and exclaimed, "I hope you shot that lying mutt before he talks to your Mother!"
"I sure did, Dad!"
"That's my boy!"
The kid married his girlfriend; then, they both went on to law school in Fayetteville. He became Governor of Arkansas and President of the United States. After serving as a senator for many years, she then was appointed Secretary of State and is now running for President.
TGIF editor’s note: Sounds to me like this clever lady might make a good president.
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I guess that depends on the outcome of the erection! I mean, election!
Sorry about that – but I couldn’t resist!
I also now cannot resist wishing you all a peaceful Friday and weekend!
And for my friends who celebrate Thanksgiving next Thursday, I wish you a happy one with family and friends and full of gratitude!
TGI-Jeff
