Official Friday Silliness Thread Salutes Business, Advertising, and The Boss

Intriguing.com ^ | August 4, 2006 | Sully777

[sully777]

Adrian Wapcaplet (W): Aah, come in, come in, Mr....Simpson. Aaah, welcome to Mousebat, Follicle, Goosecreature, Ampersand, Spong, Wapcaplet, Looseliver, Vendetta and Prang!
Mr. Simpson (S): Thank you.
Mr. Wapcaplet: Do sit down--my name's Wapcaplet, Adrian Wapcaplet...
Simpson: how'd'y'do.
Wapcaplet: Now, Mr. Simpson... Simpson, Simpson... French, is it?
S: No.
W: Aah. Now, I understand you want us to advertise your washing powder.
S: String.
W: String, washing powder, what's the difference. We can sell *anything*.
S: Good. Well I have this large quantity of string, a hundred and twenty-two thousand *miles* of it to be exact, which I inherited, and I thought if I advertised it...
W: Of course! A national campaign. Useful stuff, string, no trouble there.
S: Ah, but there's a snag, you see. Due to bad planning, the hundred and twenty-two thousand miles is in three inch lengths. So it's not very useful.
W: Well, that's our selling point! "SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL STRINGETTES!"
S: What?
W: "THE NOW STRING! READY CUT, EASY TO HANDLE, SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR STRINGETTES - JUST THE RIGHT LENGTH!"
S: For what?
W: "A MILLION HOUSEHOLD USES!"
S: Such as?
W: Uhmm...Tying up very small parcels, attatching notes to pigeons' legs, uh, destroying household pests...
S: Destroying household pests?! How?
W: Well, if they're bigger than a mouse, you can strangle them with it, and if they're smaller than, you flog them to death with it!
S: Well *surely*!....
W: "DESTROY NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF KNOWN HOUSEHOLD PESTS WITH PRE-SLICED, RUSTPROOF, EASY-TO-HANDLE, LOW CALORIE SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR STRINGETTES, FREE FROM ARTIFICIAL COLORING, AS USED IN HOSPITALS!" (Click Source-link for conclusion )

[nuke rocketeer]

I Own This Page

[ArGee]

Hey, did you hear what happened down at the barn?

Three pigs hung themselves!!!

Do you know what the doctor called it?



















Sui-cide

Shalom.

[najida]

die Die DIE!

[fredhead]

Sgt. Carter retired from the Marines and started a dairy farm with Gomer Pyle.

In the mornings when the cows are herded into the milking barns, Carter is heard yelling,








Mooooooooove it! Mooooooooove it!

[ArGee]

How can you tell when an elephant is hiding under your bead?

The ceiling is VERY close.

Oh, NO! NOT ELEPHANT JOKES???!!!!

Shalom.

[llevrok]

Two friends were big game hunters. Every once and awhile, they'd get together and admire the other's recent trophy.

One evening, Lou sees that Fred has a small bird's head mounted and hung on his trophy wall.

"You gotta be kidding! A small bird? C'mon, that's a joke, isn't it?", asks Lou.

"Don't put down that bird, Lou. That is the Foo Bird. THE most dangerous animal I have ever hunted. Many have gone crazy trying to hunt one!!", says Fred

Not to be out done, Lou immediately goes to Africa to organize a hunt. In every village he goes looking for porters to carry his gear, the mere mention of the Foo Bird sends the natives into a frenzy. None will sign on to hunt with him. Finally, after many tries and bribes, he does find a tribe who will guide his hunt. And off they go, into the jungle, looking for the Foo Bird.

They come into a clearing and there, as on Fred's wall, is a whole flock of Foo's. The tribal chief grabs Lou and tells him to run for his life. His tribe scatters. But Lou wants his trophy, not to be out done by Fred. He aims his gun but the noise from the tribe scares the Foos. They take flight. One starts to dive bomb Lou. He swats it away but it comes back and poops on his head. Lou takes a shot but misses. He tries to wipe the poop off his forehead and it doesn't come off. He aims again and the poop is getting in his eyes. He tries to wipe it off again and still it does not come off.

Finally, he gives up. But with out the natives, he is lost in the jungle. Wandering around, lost, he continues to wipe the Foo poop with no success. Without food, water and being driven mad with the Foo poop, he staggers into a village finally, but totally insane. Covered in Foo Poop, never to hunt again.

Moral of this story? If the Foo sh*ts, wear it !

[Lucky9teen]

[nuke rocketeer]

[sully777]

[nuke rocketeer]

[fredhead]

How about having a boss like this?

[nuke rocketeer]

[sully777]

They're going to replace us with packing popcorn...I KNOW IT!

[nuke rocketeer]

[fredhead]

Ever heard of the ono bird? The poor ono bird has legs that are three inches long, and his b@!!s hang down 6 inches. Everytime he tries to land he can be heard screaming "OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

[sully777]

Been there done that

[nuke rocketeer]

The Smith's were proud of their family tradition. Their ancestors had come to America on the Mayflower. Their line had included Senators, Pastors, and Wall Street wizards.
Now they decided to compile a family history, a legacy for the children. They hired a fine author. Only one problem arose: how to handle that great-uncle who was executed in the electric chair. But the author said not to worry, he could handle that section of history tactfully.
When the book appeared, the family turned to the section on Uncle George. There, they read "George Smith occupied a chair of applied electronics at an important government institution, was attached to his position by the strongest of ties. His death came as a real shock."

[sully777]

VERSUS

[nuke rocketeer]

David was a chef for a large catering company. He enjoyed his work with the other chefs, but often liked to relax by going to the zoo. He particularly enjoyed the three-toed sloth which absolutely fascinated him. He would stand and watch it for hours, just hanging there, ever so infrequently making just the tiniest movement. He found it incredibly relaxing. So relaxing, in fact, that when a friend from the catering company complained that work was stressing him out he suggested they go to the zoo to watch the sloth and relax. This caught on among the chefs, and soon more and more of them would go to watch the sloth on weekends and days off.
Eventually David organised a day out for the company at the zoo, and all the chefs were standing in front of the sloth's area, watching it and relaxing. Suddenly, with no warning, the sloth lost its grip on the vine from which it had been hanging - it hit the ground heavily and rolled down a shallow slope into the moat at the edge of its pen, and to the surprise and horror of the gathered chefs the water began to bubble and steam furiously, until the sloth was well and truly roasted!
David suddenly realised what had happened.
"Oh, no!" he shouted, "We should have known better! Everyone knows too many cooks boil the sloth!"

[Liberty Valance]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_O_5ef49N5I

My cubicle