Perfect

Bob

IgNobel prize winners 2020

https://www.improbable.com/ig-about/winners/#ig2020

Bob

No worries

Bob

Strange Texts

 

Once upon a time, there was a server on the web that randomly generated weird text.

I don't remember the site (probably gone by now) but I did find a text file I made that captured some of the strangeness...

I must demand your pleasing chin! How it passes there and back again like a leopard searching for its misplaced frontal lobes.

ENGINEER YOUR AUNT! Do it!  You will be grateful for having done so. Yolutsky promises to cease his diddling with your ears.

Your pendulous thorax makes cellists envious of the rotund sounds emanating from your nose in D minor.

Your nose hair is pleasingly twisted with the roots of a bristlecone pine that is so precariously perched on the side of a cliff it may easily uproot and fall upon the Republican lobbyists below.

May you always have stables of horses to service your needs.

In your presence even a battalion of body builders could pass the New York State driving exam.

Softly seething, surreal breathing. Ignite the cannon with sphagnum lanthum.

Laud the armies of diphthongs with your superannuating Diphtheria, and I will ever be your combustive tablature of igneous geometries.

An ocean-going tin of crosseyed mussels could never match the melodious burblings of your sister's husband.

Your nasal hair speaks volumes concerning the Isle of Wright.

Hermaphrodites around the galaxy desire that you turn your rock and crochet bowl to its loudest setting.

.

Whew. That was a close call.

Bob

Trek groaner

Bob

Latkes or Hamentashen?

Since 1946, students and staff at the University of Chicago have gathered annually to watch a formal debate over the two foods. Three debaters and a moderator—all plucked from the university's hallowed academic staff—dispute the merits of these two Jewish foods. No one ever really wins, and certain rules apply: The three speakers must hold PhDs or equivalent qualifications, at least one must be a woman, and, to introduce a note of "gentility," one non-Jew must speak.

Are hamantashen the feminist choice (a pastry womb cradling a sacred prune filling)? Should any psychoanalyst pick latkes (are you sure it's Freud, and not Fryed)? These arguments, and others, are the product of 71 years of over-analysis by some of the most eminent thinkers of the University of Chicago.

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/latke-hamantash-debate-chicago-hanukkah

How do you know you're middle aged?

This email is from Bob. Collect 'em all. Void where prohibited, taxed or otherwise restricted. Your mileage may vary. Some settling of contents may have occurred during shipment. Professional driver on closed course. Warning! May contain nuts. Artist's rendition. Not shown to scale. A dramatization by professional actors. Disney ending may differ from the book.

Breaking the bad news

. Karen Emoji

A perfect match

S3

THE WAR OF 1812 AT WAL-MART

 IDK if this is true, but the sad part is that it's believable.

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Seen on FB

THE WAR OF 1812 AT WAL-MART

Yesterday, I wore my Vietnam Veteran cap to Wal-Mart. There was nothing in particular that I needed at the world's largest retailer; but, since I retired, trips to "Wally World" to look at the Walmartians is always good for some comic relief.  Besides, I always feel pretty normal after seeing some of the people that frequent the establishment. But, I digress, enough of my psychological fixations.

While standing in line to check out, the guy in front of me, probably in his early thirties, asked, "Are you a Viet Nam Vet?"
"No," I replied.
"Then why are you wearing that cap?"
"Because I couldn't find the one from the War of 1812 . .
I thought it was a snappy retort.

"The War of 1812, huh?" the Walmartian queried, "When was that?"
God forgive me, but I couldn't pass up such an opportunity.
"1946", I answered, as straight-faced as possible.

He pondered my response for a moment and responded, "Why do they call it the War of 1812 if it was in 1946?"
"It was a Black Op Mission. No one is supposed to know about it."

This was beginning to become fun!

"Dude! Really?" He exclaimed. "How did you get to do something that COOOOL?"
I glanced furtively around me for effect, leaned toward the guy and in a low voice said, "I'm not sure. I was the only Caucasian on the mission."

"Dude," he was really getting excited about what he was hearing, "that is seriously awesome! But, didn't you kind of stand out?"
"Not really. The other guys were wearing white camouflage."
The moron nodded knowingly.

"Listen man," I said in a very serious tone, "You can't tell anyone about this. It's still classified 'Top Secret' and I shouldn't have said anything."
"Oh yeah?" he gave me the 'don't threaten me look. "Like, what's gonna' happen if I do?"

With a really hard look I said, "You have a family, don't you? We wouldn't want anything to happen to them, would we?"

The guy gulped, left his basket where it was and fled through the door.
The lady behind me started laughing so hard I thought she was about to have a heart attack. I just grinned at her. After checking out and going to the parking lot, I saw dimwit leaning in a car window talking to a young woman.

Upon catching sight of me, he started pointing excitedly in my direction. Giving him another 'deadly' serious look, I made the 'I see you' gesture. He turned kind of pale, jumped in the car and sped out of the parking lot.

And these people VOTE!

What a great time! Tomorrow I'm going back, wearing my Homeland Security cap. Then the next day I will go to the driver's license bureau wearing my Border Patrol hat, and see how long it takes to empty the place.

Whoever said retirement is boring? You just need to wear the right kind of cap!

 

South Park does reenacting

There was a South Park episode in which terrorists took over a Colorado frontier re-enactment site.

The terrorists, seeking an escape route, demanded the combination to a lock on the exit door. The frontier reenactors pretended to puzzled by the strange term "com-bee-nation lock" and claimed to not understand the request.

In retaliation, the terrorists shot one of the reenactors.

Suddenly, one of the reenactors, fearing for his life, started to give away the combination.

He, too, was shot... by a fellow re-enactor ... for breaking character.

.