We still cannot get Tisha energized enough to post her posterior here.  So once again, here is Old Horsetail Snake filling in.

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Most people don’t know that back in 1912, Hellman’s mayonnaise was manufactured in England.  In fact, the Titanic was carrying 12,000 jars of the condiment scheduled for delivery to Vera Cruz, Mexico, which was to be the next port of call for the great ship after its stop in New York City.

This would have been the largest single shipment of mayonnaise ever delivered to Mexico.  But as we know, the great ship did not make it to New York.  The ship hit an iceberg and sank, and the cargo was lost.

The people of Mexico, who were crazy about mayonnaise and were eagerly awaiting its delivery, were disconsolate.  Their anguish was so great that they declared a National Day of Mourning, which they still observe to this day.

The National Day of Mourning occurs each year on May 5 and is known, of course, as Sinko de Mayo.

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Three nuns were attending a hockey game.  Three men were sitting directly behind them.

Because their habits were partially blocking the view, the men decided to badger the nuns, hoping that they’d be annoyed enough to move to another area.

In a very loud voice, the first guy said, “I think I’m going to move to Utah.  There are only about 100 nuns living there.”

Then the second guy spoke up and said, “I want to go to Montana.  There are only 50 nuns living there.”

The third guy said, “We should go to Idaho.  There are only 25 nuns living there.”

One of the nuns turned around, looked at the men, and in a very sweet voice said, “Why don’t you go to hell?  There aren’t any nuns there.”

Missy Tisha’s site has been missing for several days, and not even I, Old Horsetail Snake, could get into here to post.  One of them hackers, you suppose?  They shouldn’t do that to a sick lady.  No siree!!

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A man brought a limp dog into the Veterinary Clinic.  As he lay the dog on the table, the doctor pulled out her stethoscope, placing it on the dog’s chest.  After a moment or two, the Vet shook her head sadly and said, “I’m sorry, sir, but your dog has passed away.”

“What?!!” screamed the man.  “How can you tell?  You haven’t done any testing on him or anything.  I want another opinion!”

With that,  the Vet turned and left the room.  In a few moments, she returned with a Labrador Retriever.  The retriever went right to work, checking the poor dead dog out thoroughly.  After a considerable amount of sniffing, the retriever sadly shook his head and and barked, “Woof, woof!”

The Veterinarian then took the Labrador out and returned in a few moments with a cat, who also checked out the poor dog on the table.  As had his predecessor, the cat sadly shook his head and went, “Meow, meow.”  He then jumped off the table and ran out of the roof.  The Vet handed the man a bill for $600.

The dog’s owner went ballistic.  “$600!  Just to tell me my dog is dead?  This is outrageous!”

Again, the Vet shook her head sadly and explained, “If you had taken my word for it, the bill would have been only $50.  But, no, you wanted testing.  So with the Lab Test and the Cat Scan….”

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The couple is picnicking at Table Rock near Medford, Oregon.  For the fun of it, she asked him if he knew any quotes about tables.

“Well,” he said, “someone once wrote ‘The Cantonese will eat anything with four legs but a table.’”

“That’s rude,” she said.  “You must know something better.”

He leaned back and thought, and said, “Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky, like a patient etherized upon a table.”

And she threw a radish at him.  When it comes to poetry about tables, he thought, there’s just no accounting for taste.

This is Old Hoss again, fouling up Tisha’s works.  Today I have for thee some undecipherables posing as Q’s for the Hoss.

Dear Hoss,

A couple of women moved in across the hall from me.  One is a middle-aged gym teacher and the other is a social worker in her twenties.  These two women go everywhere together and I’ve never seen a man go into or leave their apartment.  Do you think they could be Lebanese?

Mystified in Mississippi

Dear Mystified,

Go to their room sometime along about midnight and see if you hear anybody saying things like “where’s the vibrator?”  That will indeed mean they are Lebanese.  If you hear anything like, “You take such good care of me.  Am I a burden with my cancer?”, they will be an ailing Briton and her caregiver.

Dear Hoss

What can I do about all the sex, nudity, foul language and violence on my VCR?

Hoping to Get Wised Up

Dear Wise in Her Ways,

I wouldn’t get a Tivo if I were you.

Dear Hoss:

I was married to Bill for three months and I didn’t know he drank until one night he came home sober.

Tenting Tonight on the Old Campground

Dear Camper,

Better lay in a supply of Jim Beam.

Dear Hoss,

I’ve suspected that my husband has been fooling around, and when confronted with the evidence he denied everything and said it would never happen again.

Losing Ground in Gainesville

Dear Groundless,

I think what he meant to say was “it would happen again.”  Some men are not good with the Mother Language.

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An elderly man walks into a confessional.  The following conversation ensues:

Elderly man:  “I am 92 years old, have a wonderful wife of 70 years, many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  Yesterday, I picked up two college girls hitch-hiking.  We went to a motel where I sex with each of them three times.”

Priest:  “Are you sorry for your sins?”

Man:  “What sins?”

Priest:  “What kind of Catholic are you?”

Man:  “I’m Jewish.”

Priest:  “Then why are you telling me all this?”

Man:  “I told you.  I’m 92, so I’m telling everybody.”

During a recent publicity outing, Hillary sneaked off to visit a fortune teller who had a sterling reputation.  In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the mystic delivered grave news.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt:  Prepare yourself to be a widow.  Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year.”

Visibly shaken, Hillary stared at the woman’s lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands.

She took a few deep breaths to compose herself.   She simply had to know.  She met the fortune teller’s gaze, steadied her voice, and asked her question:

“Will I be acquitted?”

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Ol’ Hoss ended up with an older woman at a club last night.  No as old as me, of course, but getting along in years, maybe around 62.  She looked pretty good for her age.  In fact, she wasn’t looking too bad at all, and I found myself thinking that she probably had a really hot daughter.

We drank a big (well more than a bit), we had a snuggle, and she asked me if I had ever had a “Sportsman’s Double”?  “What’s that,” I asked.  “It’s a mother-daughter threesome,” she said.  “Oh,” I said, as my mind began to embrace the idea.  “No I haven’t.”  And I wondered what this daughter of hers might look like.

We drank a bit more.  Then, she says with a wink that tonight was my “lucky night,” we went to her place.  We walked in.  She put the hall light on and shouted upstairs, “Mom, you still awake?”

What do you expect from us men, simple creatures that we are?  The garage is all mine.  Wedding plans take care of themselves.  Chocolate is just another snack.  I can be President.  I can never be pregnant.  I can wear a white T-shirt to a water park.  I can wear NO shirt to a water park.  Car mechanics tell me the truth.

The world is my urinal.  I never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky.  I don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a net on a bolt.  Same work, more pay.

Wrinkles add character.  Wedding dress:  $5,000.  Tux rental:  $150.  People never stare at my chest when I’m talking to them.  New shoes don’t cut, blister or mangle my feet.  One mood all the time.

Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.  I know stuff about tanks.  A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.  I can open all my own jars.  I get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.  If someone forgets to invite me, he or she can still be my friend.

My underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack.  Three pairs of shoes is more than enough, even if you count boots.  I never have strap problems in public.  I am unable to see wrinkles in my clothes.  Everything on my face stays its original color.  The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.  I only have to shave my face and neck.

I can play with toys all my life — they just get bigger as I get older.  One wallet and one pair of shoes — one color for all seasons.  I can wear shorts no matter how my legs look.  I can “do” my nails with a pocket knife.  I have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.

I can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.

Who could be any happier than that?

(I am Old Horsetail Snake, filling in once again for the beauteous Tisha.  I hope you’ll enjoy Mr. Tongue Twisted, the estimable George W. Bush, below.)

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“The most important job is not to be governor, or first lady in my case.”  Jan. 30, 2000

“I think anybody who doesn’t think I’m smart enough to handle the job is misunderestimating.”  April 3, 2000

“Actually, I — this may sound a little West Texan to you, but I like it.  When I’m talking about — when I’m talking about myself, and when he’s talking about myself, all of us are talking about me.”  May 31, 2000

“The California crunch really is the result of not enough power-generating plants and then not enough power to power the power of generating plants.”  Jan. 14, 2001

“Rarely is the question asked…..is our children learning?”  Jan. 11, 2001

“Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we.  They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.”  Aug. 5, 2004

“That makes sense to me, doesn’t it?”  June 6, 2006

“The primary component of gasoline is crude oil.”  April 22, 2006

“You can’t read a newspaper if you can’t read.”  Aug. 6, 2004

“I would still invade Iraq even if Iraq never existed.”  Aug. 21, 2006

“One has a stronger hand when there’s more people playing your same cards.”  Oct. 11, 2006

“Family is where American finds hope, where wings take dream.”  Sept. 26, 2007

“As yesterday’s positive report card shows, childrens do learn when standards are high and results are measured.”  Sept. 26, 2007

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Father O’Malley answers the phone.  “Hello, is this Father O’Malley?”

“It is.”

“This is the IRS.  Can you help us?”

“I can!”

“Do you know a Ted Houlihan?

“I do!”

“Is he a member of your congregation?”

“He is.”

“Did he donate $10,000 to the church?”

“He will!”

Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and well into the evening, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.  Mick, the bartender, says, “You’ll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy.”  Paddy replies, “OK, Mick, I’ll be on my way then.”

Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off.  He falls flat on his face.

“Shite,” he exclaims.  He pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off.  He takes a step toward the door and falls flat on his face.  “Shite, shite!”

He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just to the door and get some fresh air, he’ll be fine.  He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up the door frame.  He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air.  He feels much better so he takes a step onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face.

“B-Jesus.  I’m fokin’ smashed,” he says.

He sees his house, just a few houses down the sidewalk.  So he crawls to his front door, shimmies up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside.  He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says to himself, “I can make it to the bed.”

He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face.  “Fok it,” he says, and climbs into bed.

The next morning, his wife, Jess, comes into the room carrying a big cup of coffee and says, “Get up, Paddy.  Did you have a bit to drink last night?”

Paddy says, “I did, Jess.  I was just fokin’ pissed.  But how’d you know?”

“Mick phoned.  You left your wheelchair at the pub.”

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Want a giggle?  Click on http://www.fwditon.com/view_fwd.php?id=3786 and giggle away.  It’s four commercials — and you don’t have to buy a thing.

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A police officer stops a blonde student for speeding and asks very nicely if he can see her license.

She replies in a huff, “I wish you guys would get your act together.  Just yesterday you take away my license and then today you expect me to show it to you.”

Who says dogs aren’t smart?  Click > http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3sTm_eiJMwQ

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A Biker is riding by the zoo when he sees a little girl leaning into the lion’s cage.  Suddenly, the lion grabs her by the cuff of her jacket and tries to pull her inside to have a tasty meal under the eyes of her screaming parents.

The Biker jumps off his ride, runs to the cage and hits the lion square on the nose with a powerful punch.  Whimpering from the pain, the lion jumps back, releasing the little girl.  The Biker brings her to her terrified parents, who thank him endlessly.

A reporter has seen the whole thing, and tells the Biker that he will be featured on the front page of next day’s newspaper.

“Why, it was nothing,” the Biker said.  “I just acted as I felt was necessary.”

“Well,” says the reporter, I will make sure this won’t go unnoticed.”

The next morning, the Biker buys the newspaper and reads the headline:

BIKER GANG MEMBER ASSAULTS AFRICAN-AMERICAN IMMIGRANT AND STEALS HIS LUNCH

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The Ann Arbor (Mich.) News crime column reported that a man walked into a Burger King and demanded cash.  The clerk turned him down, on grounds that he couldn’t open the cash register without a food order.

So the gunman says, “All right.  Gimme some onion rings.”

The clerk said he was sorry, but “onion rings aren’t available for breakfast.”

Frustrated, the would-be robber walked away.

(Yo, Hoss here again while the Main Lady recovers from being knifed by a surgeon.  She still retains her beauty, though, so all is almost well.)

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Monica Lewinsky was looking at herself, nude, in the mirror after a relaxing bath.  Her frustration over her lack of ability to lose weight was depressing her.

In an act of desperation, she decided to call on Big Ernie for help.  “God, if you take away my love handles, I’ll devote my life to you,” she prayed.

And just like that, her ears fell off.

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Here’s a funny clip, according to me:

http://ldosvyel.multiply.com/video/item/244

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I pulled into the crowded parking lot at the Super Wal-Mart Store and rolled down the car windows to make sure my Labrador Retriever Pup had fresh air.

She was stretched full-out on the back seat and I wanted to impress upon her that she must remain there.  I walked to the curb backward, pointing my finger at the car and saying, emphatically, “Now, you stay.  Do you hear me?  Stay! Stay!

The driver of a nearby car, a pretty blonde young lady, gave me a strange look, and said:  “Why don’t you just put it in park?”

The phone rings and the lady of the house answers.  “Hello.”

“Mrs. Sanders please.”

“Speaking.”

“Mrs. Sanders, this is Dr. Jones at St. Agnes Laboratory.  When your doctor send your husband’s biopsy to the lab yesterday, a biopsy from another Mr. Sanders arrived as well, and now we are uncertain which one is your husband’s.  Frankly, the results are either bad, or terrible.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Sanders asked nervously.

“Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer’s and the other one tested positive for AIDS.  We can’t tell which is your husband’s.”

“That’s dreadful!  Can’t you do the test again?” asked Mrs. Sanders.

“Normally, we can, but Medicare will only pay for these expensive tests one time.”

“Well,” she went on, “what am I supposed to do now?”

“The people at Medicare recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town.  If he finds his way home, don’t sleep with him.”