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THIS IS FOR ALL THOSE PEOPLE THAT SEND THESE TYPE OF EMAILS.

I was on my way to the post office to pick up my case of free M&M’s (sent to me because I forwarded an e-mail to five other people, celebrating the fact that the year 2000 is “MM” in Roman numerals), when I ran into a friend whose neighbor, a young man, was home recovering from having been served a rat in his bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken (which is predictable, since as everyone knows, there’s no actual chicken in Kentucky Fried Chicken, which is why the government made them change their name to KFC).

Anyway, one day this guy went to sleep and when he awoke he was in his bathtub and it was full of ice and he was sore all over and when he got out of the tub he realized that HIS KIDNEY HAD BEEN STOLEN. He saw a note on his mirror that said “Call 911!” but he was afraid to use his phone because it was connected to his computer, and there was a virus on his computer that would destroy his hard drive if he opened an e-mail entitled “Join the Crew!”.

He knew it wasn’t a hoax because he himself was a computer programmer who was working on software to prevent a global disaster in which all the computers get together and distribute the $250.00 Neiman-Marcus cookie recipe under the leadership of Bill Gates. (It’s true – I read it all last week in a mass e-mail from BILL GATES HIMSELF, who was also promising me a free Disney World vacation and $5,000 if I would forward the e-mail to everyone I know.)

The poor man then tried to call 911 from a pay phone to report his missing kidneys, but a voice on the line first asked him to press #90, which unwittingly gave the bandit full access to the phone line at the guy’s expense. Then reaching into the coin-return slot he got jabbed with an HIV-infected needle around which was wrapped a note that said, “Welcome to the world of AIDS.”

Luckily he was only a few blocks from the hospital – the one where that little boy who is dying of cancer is, the one whose last wish is for everyone in the world to send him an e-mail and the American Cancer Society and an anonymous billionaire have agreed to pay him a nickel for every e-mail he receives. I sent him two e-mails and one of them was a bunch of x’s and o’s in the shape of an angel (if you get it and forward it to more than 10 people, you will have good luck but for 10 people only you will only have OK luck and if you send it to fewer than 10 people you will have BAD LUCK FOR SEVEN YEARS).

So anyway the poor guy tried to drive himself to the hospital but he was running low on gas because it was Tuesday and he was punishing his local service station as part of the GREAT GAS OUT by waiting till Thursday to fill his tank. On the way he noticed another car driving without its lights on. To be helpful, he flashed his lights at him and was promptly shot as part of a gang initiation.

Send THIS to all the friends who send you their junk mail and you will receive 4 green M&Ms and a little man will dance the Macarena on your computer screen – if you don’t, you will get sick from the Sodium Laureth Sulfate in your shampoo, your spouse/mate will develop a skin rash from using the antiperspirant which clogs the pores under your arms, and the U.S. Government will put a tax on your e-mails forever.

I know this is all true ’cause I read it on the Internet.

“Do you have a sledgehammer or a brick handy?”

“That’s right, not even McGyver could fix it.”

“So — what are you wearing?”

“Duuuuuude! Bummer!”

“Looks like you’re gonna need some new dilithium crystals, Cap’n.”

“Press 1 for Support. Press 2 if you’re with 60 Minutes. Press 3 if you’re with the FTC.”

“We can fix this, but you’re gonna need a butter knife, a roll of duct tape, and a car battery.”

“In layman’s terms, we call that the Hindenburg Effect.”

“Hold on a second… Mom! Timmy’s hitting me!”

“Okay, turn to page 523 in your copy of Dianetics.”

“Please hold for Mr. Gates’ attorney.”

The answer to the eternal question “Is it better to be a jock or a nerd?”

Michael Jordan makes over $300,000 a game. That’s $10,000 a minute, at an average 30 minutes per game. With $40 million in endorsements, he makes $178,100 a day, working or not.

* If he sleeps 7 hours a night, he makes $52,000 every night while visions of sugarplums dance in his head.
* If he goes to see a movie, it’ll cost him $7.00, but he’ll make $18,550 while he’s there.
* If he decides to have a 5 minute egg, he’ll make $618 while boiling it.
* He makes $7,415/hr more than minimum wage.
* He’ll make $3,710 while watching each episode of Friends.
* If he wanted to save up for a new Acura NSX ($90,000) it would take him a whole 12 hours.
* If someone were to hand him his salary and endorsement money, they would have to do it at the rate of $2.00 every second.
* He’ll probably pay around $200 for a nice round of golf, but will be reimbursed $33,390 for that round.
* Assuming he puts the federal maximum of 15% of his income into a tax deferred account (401k), he will hit the federal cap of $9500 at 8:30 a.m. on January 1st.
* If you were given a penny for every 10 dollars he made, you’d be living comfortably at $65,000 a year.
* He’ll make about $19.60 while watching the 100 meter dash in the Olympics.
* He’ll make about $15,600 during the Boston Marathon.
* While the common person is spending about $20 for a meal in his trendy Chicago restaurant, he’ll pull in about $5600.
* This year, he’ll make more than twice as much as all U.S. past presidents for all of their terms combined.

Amazing isn’t it?

However, if Jordan saves 100% of his income for the next 250 years, he’ll still have less than Bill Gates has today.

Game over. Nerd wins.

I had run across the term cyber sex a few times lately, so I decided to try to figure out what it meant. I figured it had something to do with the computer, so I started trying to find the sex drive on mine. I looked everywhere, in all the folders on the My Computer section, the add/uninstall software, install hardware part of the control panel, then I got out all the manuals and went through them. I finally came to the conclusion that my computer is not equipped with one.
So, I decided to go to the computer store and see if I could buy one. I wanted to look intelligent and scholarly, so I wore my math hat. Well, the salesperson in the first store was a rather stern looking woman. I gave her the make and model of my computer and asked her if she had any sex drives in stock. She kinda scowled at me and asked me if I was trying to get smart with her. Figuring she had been impressed with my math hat, I replied that I tried to be smart with everyone. She said, rather rudely I thought, that she couldn’t help me and walked away……huh, must not have had any in stock.
In the second store, I gave the salesperson the make and model of my computer and asked it they had any sex drives in stock. He kind of snickered and asked if I meant a hard drive. I thought about it for a minute and told him yeah, maybe that, but I think I should already have one installed. He started laughing at me – said something about me trying to kill him. You’re killing me! something like that, and walked away. Hmmmm, must be out here too. Must be hard to keep in stock. I wasn’t trying to kill him. I wasn’t even hurting him.
The guy in the third store laughed and asked me if I’d just fallen off the turnip truck. I assured him I’d never been on a turnip truck, but I’d fallen off the manure wagon a few times. He mumbled something about that explaining it. She’s fallen off the wagon, that explains it…. like that and walked away laughing.
The guy in the fourth store said something like boob under his breath and walked away. Wonder why he only noticed one? Anyway I figured they must not carry them in stores….maybe have to order from a catalog or something.
So that’s where I am now. If any of you have some computer skills and could help me locate my sex drive, I would appreciate it, then all I’d have to do is figure out what to do with it.

A friend was on duty in the main computer lab on a quiet afternoon when he noticed a blonde sitting in front of one of the workstations with her arms crossed across her chest, staring at the screen.
After about 15 minutes he noticed that she was still in the same position, only now she was impatiently tapping her foot.
Finally, he approached her and asked if she needed help. She snapped, “It’s about time! I pressed the F1 button over twenty minutes ago!”



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