Roboraptor	FLY Pentop Computer	Fisher-Price Star Station Entertainment System
$99.97	$99.62	$54.88

Now this is an Alligator
This gator was found in New Orleans swimming down the street. 21 FT long, 4,500 lbs, around 80
years old minimum. Specialists said that he was looking to eat humans because he was too old to
catch animals. This crocodile was killed by the army last Sunday at 3:00 pm, currently he is in
the freezer at the Azur hotel. The contents of it's stomach will be analyzed
this Friday at 2:30pm.

Champion Sale

Walking down the street one day, George Dubya Bush is shot by a disgruntled NRA member.

His soul arrives in Heaven and he is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem: We seldom see a Republican around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in; I'm a believer," says Dubya.

"I'd like to, but I have orders from the Man Himself," says St. Peter. "He says you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll l! ive for eternity."

"But, I've already made up my mind; I want to be in Heaven," Dubya answers.

St. Peter shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but we have our rules."

And with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and Dubya goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course; the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature a perfect 72 degrees.

In the distance is a beautiful clubhouse. Standing in front of the clubhouse are his dad and thousands of other Republicans who had helped him out over the years: Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, Jerry Falwell. The whole of the Right is here, everyone laughing, happy; casually but expensively dressed.

They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at expense of the "suckers and peasants." They play a friendly game of golf, then dine on lobster and caviar.

The Devil himself comes up to Dubya with a frosty drink. "Have a margarita and relax, Dub!" he grins.

"Uh, I can't drink no more, I took a pledge," says Dubya dejectedly.

"Aw, this is Hell, son! You can drink and eat all you want and not worry," says the Devil. "It just gets better from here!"

Dubya takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who is a very friendly guy who tells funny jokes and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like a Yale Skull and Bones brother with real horns. They are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it's time to go.

Everyone gives him a big hug ! and waves as Dubya steps on the elevator and heads upward. The elevator door reopens on Heaven and St. Peter is waiting for him.

"Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says, opening the gate. So for 24 hours Dubya has to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money, and treat each other respectfully. Not a nasty prank or frat-boy joke among them, no fancy country clubs, and while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor or middle-class, he doesn't see anybody he knows, and he isn't even treated like someone special!

Worst of all, to Dubya, Jesus turns out to be some kind of Jewish hippie with his endless 'peace' and 'do unto others' jive. "Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself, "Pat Robertson never prepared me for this!"

The day is done and St. Peter returns. "Well, then," he says, "you've s! pent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for eternity."

With the 'Jeopardy' theme playing softly in the background, Dubya reflects for a minute, then answers, "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this -- I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all -- but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends."

So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors of the elevator open, and Dubya finds himself in the middle of barren, scorched earth covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste...kind of like Houston.

He is horrified to see all of his friends dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces! and hands black with grime.

The Devil comes over to Dubya and puts an arm around his shoulder "I don't understand," stammers a shocked Dubya. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and we ate lobster and caviar and drank booze. We screwed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!"

The Devil looks at him and smiles slyly. "Yesterday we were campaigning," he purrs.
"Today you voted for us."

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge Of The Sith (Full Frame)

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge Of The Sith (Widescreen)

No one told me there was a recession going on...no one told me that my fiscal policies were squandering the surpluses...no body told me that the terrorists were planning an attack on the U.S....no body told me that my war on terror would create 100 terrorists for every one we killed...no one told me that the war in Iraq was a stupid idea, that they wouldn't see us as the great liberators...fortunately I'm only guilty of gross incompetance and not some sexual escapade that might get me impeached...

Do you believe in intelligent design...
happy anniversary

To recalibrate your mouse, click and hold on the S. Then drag the S toward the e. If it doesn't work, you might want to clean your mouse. Stop farting around and go do something constructive

they didn't want me to forget...
where I came from...so they used turkey in my
"chicken fettuccinni"...(either that or the chicken
tastes like turkey up here)...and the sauce was too
"soupy"...and

yesterday I was "mauled and groped" on
the bus by some strange women...I knew I should have
taken off the Aneheim Mighty Ducks Hockey shirt...and
I should never have yelled "well the Stanley Cup" is
in Florida where it belongs...

The difference between Democrat and Republican administrations...
a Democrat Blow Job


A Republican Blow Job...

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then -- to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone -- "to relax," I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all the time. That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I had turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's. I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?" One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job." This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking..." "I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!" "But Honey, surely it's not that serious." "It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!" "That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently. She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with the emotional drama. "I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door. I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors... They didn't open. The library was closed. To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night. Leaning on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinker's Anonymous poster. Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed...easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I believe the road to recovery is nearly complete for me. Today, I registered to vote as a Republican.


Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Thank you Jimbozone...

click here to find out how you can
get paid...

Can you hear meow?

June 8
ON THIS DATE

Top court rejects beer prescriptions

In 1924, the San Bemardino Evening
Telegram ran a United Press story in which it
was reported that the SupremeCourt upheld
the act of Congress that expressly forbade the
prescription of beer for medicinal purposes,
stating that, the prohibition of alcohol was in
fact constitutional.
Lawyers for the James Everard's Brew-
eries attempted to determine the authority of
Congress to deny by legislative act the privi-
lege of drinking beer under a physidians's
prescription for its medicinal properties. ?
Lower courts had previously decided
Congress was well within its constitutional
powers when it enforced the ban.
The brewers appealed on the grounds
that the 18th Amendment did not empower
Congress to forbid the use of any sort of li-
quor as medicine. If beer was forbidden under
a doctor's prescription, it was argued, spirti-
eus liquors must also be forbidden under the
same circumstances.
The value of beer as a medicine was not
at issue in the case, only the power of Con-
gress to declare it unlawful to use it for me-
dicinal purposes.
The decision ended a dispute that began
in 1921 when Attorney General A. Mitchell
Palmer rendered an opinion that the 18th
Amendment did not prohibit the manufacture
of liquors under the guise of medicine.
The ruling led to the issuing of permits
for the distillation and distribution of alcohol
using a doctor's prescription..
A month later, Congress passed the
Willis-Campbell Act amending the national
prohibition act to forbid the use of beer for
medical purposes.

cha-ching...

class picture

Happy New Year

Surf's way up

Surf's way up

And on a lighter note?surfer Gary Wolf told Israeli publication Haaretz that he rode the tsunami in Sri Lanka. "Suddenly I saw that the rocks near the shore had simply disappeared," he recounted. "At first, I didn't understand what was happening and I concentrated on surfing. When I finished surfing, I discovered that I was on the highway, about half a mile from the beach where my room was. Fortunately, the waves pulled me and my surfboard into shore instead of out into the ocean."

with the departure of the head of the homeland defense agency we can say that definately Ridge's got ruffeled...