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Related:  Holidays (+1418)      

* Al Gore’s PRESIDENTIAL costume
* Al Gore Disco Fever costume
* Positive Home Pregnancy Test
* Jacko-Lantern
* Marge Schott’s Less Attractive, Slightly More Racist Sister
* Evil British Nanny
* Janet Reno Little French Maid Outfit
* Male Pattern Baldness
* Guy Who Ate Too Much Olestra
* Flaming Tofu Burrito from Hell on a Stick
* President Jesse Helms
* Marv Albert, Warrior Princess
* Mighty Menstruatin’ Power Ranger
* Monica Lewinsky’s butt
* A USED cigar
* 93-year-old Senator Strom Thurmond “dressed” as Tarzan wearing a Medicare badge
* Attorney General Janet Reno dressed as Charles Manson
* Hillary Clinton dressed as Madonna dressed as Evita
* Pat Buchanan dressed as Detective Mark Fuhrman
* Positive Home Pregnancy Test
* Representative Newt Gingrich dressed as Dr. Kevorkian
* Senator Ted “Chappaquiddick” Kennedy dressed as a taxi driver
* Vice President Al Gore dressed as Tipper Gore

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Related:  Unsorted Jokes (+32429)      

The Perfect Day – Her

8:45 Wake up to hugs and kisses
9:00 5 lbs lighter on the scale
9:30 Light Breakfast
11:00 Sunbathe
12:30 Lunch with best friend at outdoor cafe
1:45 Shopping
2:30 Run into boyfriend’s/husband’s ex and notice she’s gained 30 lbs
3:00 Facial, massage, nap
7:30 Candlelight dinner for two and dancing
10:00 Make love
11:30 Pillow talk in his big strong arms

The Perfect Day – Him

6:45 Alarm.
7:00 Shower and massage.
7:30 Blowjob.
7:45 Massive dump while reading USA Today sports section.
8:15 Limo arrives, Stoli Bloody Marys.
8:30 Butler Aviation, O’Hare Field, Lear Jet to Augusta, Georgia.
9:30 Front nine holes, Augusta National Golf Club.
11:30 Lunch – 2 dozen oysters, 3 Heinekens.
12:30 Blowjob.
12:45 Back nine holes, Augusta National Golf Club.
2:30 Limo to Augusta Airport, Bombay Sapphire Martini.
3:30 Nassau, Bahamas, Afternoon fishing with all female crew
(topless). Sex for each fish caught. Catch 1249 lb. Blue
Marlin. Grilled tuna and steamed lobster appetizers, six
Heinekens, nap.
6:15 Blowjob.
6:30 Lear Jet return flight, total body massage in transit.
7:30 Shit, shower, shave.
8:00 Watch CNN Live coverage of Bill Clinton’s resignation. Hillary
and Al Gore are indicted in the same scandal (which involves
graphic pictures and large farm animals).
9:00 Dinner at Ritz Carlton, Oysters Casino, 20 oz. Filet mignons (rare),
Gorgonzola salad, Fettucini Alfredo, Chateau Lafite Rothschild 1963
(magnum) creme brute, Louis XII Cognac, Cohiba Lancero
10:30 Sex with 3 women, all from different countries
11:30 Whirlpool, steam and massage. Women quietly get dressed, hail cab
and leave.
Midnight Blowjob
Sleep

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Related:  Medical (+1839)      

I am one of those people for whom the mention of a disease is the same as a diagnosis. This is particularly true when those public service messages come on the radio, listing the 14 signs of edema–invariably, I have all 14 symptoms. Like this:

Public Service Announcer: “Do you have skull apathy? Skull apathy afflicts one out of ten men who were present during atomic bomb tests and then later fell into the Love Canal. Listen closely to these symptoms:

“Has there recently been an obvious change in a wart or mole, such as pulsating colors or bird whistles?”

(Ohmygosh, yes! I have a mole I’ve been calling Bullwinkle, because that is sort of who it looks like, and lately he seems to have developed a funny bend in one of his legs.)

“Do you sometimes believe you can see Al Gore talking without moving his lips?”

(Yes!)

“Do you think you are like everyone else?”

(Doesn’t everybody?)

“Do you have trouble booting Windows 95?”

(Yes!)

“Do flames shoot out of your eyes when you are driving at night?”

(Yes! Well, sort of.)

“Are you troubled by cold sheets, swooping bats, percussion grenades?”

(Yes Yes Yes!)

“Did you cry at the movie Titanic, even though there were other guys in the theater?”

(Yes! Hey wait, I didn’t say that.)

“If you answered yes to any of these questions, it is probably too late to see a doctor. In fact, you probably lapsed into a coma somewhere after the third question. Have a nice day.”

Just great, now I’ve got skull apathy and I’m about to go coma. I zoom home and breathlessly dial my doctor’s telephone number, assuring the receptionist that this is a life and death emergency and yes, I have insurance.

“This is Doctor Spleensplitter.”

“Doctor Spleensplitter! This is Bruce Cameron! Thank God you answered the phone.”

“Oh, I’m… I believe I picked up the wrong line.”

“Dr. Spleensplitter, I’ve got the top ten reasons to have skull apathy, plus I can feel a coma coming on. You have to help me!”

“Skull apathy?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of symptoms are you experiencing, Mr. Cameron?”

“Well, I have this mole shaped like a moose, only lately it looks like it has developed a limp.”

“Well then. Maybe you should see a veterinarian.”

“Plus, I sometimes see Al Gore using Windows 95 without moving his lips!”

“Mr. Cameron…”

“I need some of those same pills you gave me last time.”

“Mr. Cameron, those were placeboes.”

“Yes, that’s what I need, more placeboes! Only more powerful ones.”

“More powerful placeboes.”

“Yes!”

“Mr. Cameron, may I ask you a very important question?”

“Yes, I have insurance.”

“No, not that. I was reviewing your file the other day…”

“You were? Why, do you suspect I’ve got something even more serious than skull apathy?”

“No, actually, it’s because our staff requested a whole new filing cabinet to put it in, and I wanted to see if there was anything in there we could throw out. Mr. Cameron, do you realize you’ve complained of nearly every malady known to man?”

“I have?”

“Plus some I’d never heard of before. Wake Apnea. Sudden Shower Syndrome. Reverse Appendicitis. And now this new one…”

“Skull apathy?”

“Precisely. Mr. Cameron, has anyone ever suggested to you that you might be suffering a bit of hypochondria?”

“Hypochondria? Is it serious? What are the symptoms? Tell me straight, doc, how much time have I got?”

“No, it isn’t serious at all. In fact, a lot of people have it, in some form or another.”

“So I caught it from somebody else?”

“Mr. Cameron, hypochondria is merely a term for people who worry obsessively that they may have some disease or affliction.”

“Well, I am worried! I’m worried I might have hypochondria! Are there any placeboes that can be used to cure it?”

“You’re not understanding me, Mr. Cameron. It isn’t a real disease.”

“You mean I’m sick with something FAKE?” This opens up a whole new realm of doom that I hadn’t even contemplated before. I swallow, feeling the first trickle of a whole host of phony symptoms. “What’s next, a CAT scan? An MRI? Should I have my internal organs removed? Doc, I’m too young to have hypochondria. I was just beginning to live life to the fullest!” Well, maybe not to the fullest, but I had just purchased fresh batteries for the TV remote and was looking forward to a night of crisp channel

changes. Now it seems pointless, somehow.

“Mr. Cameron, I’m afraid I’m not making myself clear, here. There’s nothing really wrong with you. You just have a morbid obsession.”

He thinks he is fooling me, with his medical jargon, but I know what morbidity is. From the Greek word “Mortimer,” which means death. Mortician. Post Mortem. Today I mort, yesterday I morted, tomorrow I will have mortalized. Tomorrow.

“24 hours.” I whisper.

“Mr. Cameron?”

“I appreciate you calling me, Doc.”

“Well, I didn’t call you.”

“Whatever. I just… having one more day to at least put my life in order, maybe catch one last episode of Baywatch…”

“Mr. Cameron.”

“Yes?”

He sighs heavily. “I’ll call in a prescription for some placeboes right away. Treated aggressively, you should be well on your way to recovery by the end of the week.”

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Related:  Animals (+5193)      

* Couldn’t muster up sufficient disdain if all nine lives depended on it!

* You’ve repeatedly found him in the closed garage, hunched over the wheel of your running Buick.

* Sits for hours in fascination while listening to Al Gore.

* Teeth and claw marks all over your now-empty bottles of Prozac.

* No longer licks paws clean, but washes them at the sink again and again and again…

* Continually scratches on the door to get in… the OVEN door.

* Doesn’t get Garfield, but laughs like hell at Marmaduke.

* Rides in your car with its head out the window.

* She’s a dues-paid, card-carrying member of the Reform Party.

* You realize one day that the urine stains on the carpet actually form the letters N-E-E-D T-H-E-R-A-P-Y.

* Has built a shrine to Andrew Lloyd Webber entirely out of empty “9 Lives” cans.

* Spends all day in litterbox separating the green chlorophyll granules from the plain white ones.

* After years of NPR, Tabby is suddenly a Ditto-Puss.

* Sullen and overweight, your sunglasses-wearing cat shoots the TV with a .45 Magnum when it sees cartoon depictions of stupid or lazy felines.

* Your stereo is missing, and in the corner you find a pawn ticket and 2 kilos of catnip.

* Makes an attempt on “First Cat” Sock’s life in a pathetic attempt to impress Jodie Foster.

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Related:  Politics (+3831)      

Documents released by the White House show that the Democratic National Committee asked Al Gore to make 140 calls to campaign donors, but he only connected on 56 of them. The other 84 hung up because he sounds just like a dial tone.

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