Posted on 12/31/2006 7:08:41 PM PST by Mo1
Kids are not so dumb.
A man and his wife were on the couch in a Madrid apartment and he was feeling very frisky while the kid was playing on the floor behind them. The wife stopped him fooling around because of the kid being there.
Luis, you have been playing all afternoon with that erector set --- get some fresh air, go out on the balcony and tell us what is going on outside. The boy is not happy, but goes to the balcony leaving them to engage in passionate love making. The father calls to the boy from time to time and asks him what is going on out there, to make sure he is still outside.
A car is badly parked and the are towing it away, calls the boy --- Oh! the Mendoza´s have just got back from their week-end trip with their daughter – I see a bunch of motorcyclists coming down the road on Harleys… and on an on he gave a commentary as to what he was seeing.
There was a long silence and he father asked what’s happening now… The kid said the Rodriguez are making passionate love in their salon. The couple were shocked and stopped what they were doing.
"How do you know that," called the father?
I can see their kid on the balcony just like me.
Good post.
Is it just me or was that 100% Democrat platform points?
Pippin is off line. She is locked out of FR at work, and her home 'puter is screeching.
From her description, it sounds like a hard drive problem.
She extends her regards to all her FRiends, and will be back as soon as she can. She asked that I post this so y'all wouldn't worry if you didn't see her for a while.
Best,
nully
William Boetcker Quote
"You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.
You cannot help small men by tearing down big men.
You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.
You cannot lift the wage-earner by pulling down the wage-payer.
You cannot help the poor man by destroying the rich.
You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than your income.
You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred.
You cannot establish security on borrowed money.
You cannot build character and courage by taking away men's initiative
and independence.
You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could
and should do for themselves."
by: William Boetcker
(1873-1962) German-born Presbyterian clergyman
Date: 1916
Source: often falsely attributed to Abraham Lincoln:
http://quotes.liberty-tree.ca/quote_blog/William.Boetcker.Quote.C3F9
Excellent, thanks!
Too long for a tagline, though...
Morning everyone, photo-realistic picture there Gran.
We went out to the lake last evening, where the wind was blowing on the ice and the ice had formed into ice flows, and we got to see the ice mountains form. The sheet is probably 18 inches thick, due to the sub-zero weather, and the gigantic pieces form where the flows collide, and they lift up into the air like whale tails and crash, forming piles that go down to the bottom of the lake. It was like a slow motion train wreck. These huge teeth or fins, depending on how you want to see them, suddenly rise from the lake, 18 to 20 feet high, then slice or crash or shatter the pieces around them. This process has devastated the point of land, moving car sized rocks across it. I'll try to get some pics of the mountain later today, it was blowing snow when we were there and you could only be out for a few minutes at a time.
Sorry about the lock out, but there is always the lieberry...........and remember your hints of how to look like a liberal when you go there........
:-)
*Waving*
SQUIRREL GRENADE
I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.
Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being "behind the power curve". It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.
Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle.at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.
I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!
Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness.all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway. I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that "edge" so frequently required when riding. Little did I suspect.
As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it-it was that close.
I hate to run over animals.and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.
Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Banzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.
Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street.and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.
I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel. This was an evil attack squirrel of death!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in.well.I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street.on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle.my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however. The rpm's on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop. Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand.I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked.sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.
Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.
Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.
I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger. That is one dangerous squirrel.
And now he has a patrol car.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood. As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I'll take my chances with the freeway. Every time. And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves.
Thank you, Nully! Annoying you for years to come is a great reason to go on. You saved me! :P
You're lucky, sweets. You escaped the torment of brothers. Of course I love them all to pieces now, but I sure wish I had an Arnold look-alike for a bodyguard back then. All boys should be kept in a cage until they're 12 if you ask me.
G.R.O.S.S.
AKA:
Get
Rid
Of
Slimey
girlS
:-)
I remember Rocky well, Lame. He wore that helmet and nothing else. That little rat had no shame! I imagine that you have more of a bullwinkle personality, am I righ?. :)
Those fractured fairy tales were always my favorite part.
ROTFLMAO!!!!!
Great rules to live by, Resty. Can't argue with that!
Actually I have been accused often of being more like Rocket J.
You're an exception to the rule, Lame. You should be locked up forever! :P
Like they said in Animal Farm, some rodents are better than others........
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