A Scottish bouncer walks into his local pub… …and the bartender says: We could have used you in here last night, we had that Spanish actor from that Coen brothers film in, smashing the place up. Oh, Javier Bardem? No. We just kicked him out.
Thanks in part to the Walt Disney Corporation . most of you are familiar with the stories of Alice in Wonderland and Beauty and the Beast. What most of you don’t know is that these two stories are connected by White Rabbit, who visited Beast’s castle on the way to the hole near Alice’s house. In fact, right outside the castle, the rabbit was running and, rather embarrassingly, fell headlong into the mud. Keep in mind that White Rabbit was a high officer of a rather powerful monarch and a standing Court. He thought nothing of approaching Beast’s large castle and asking for help. If you’ve seen the curiosities and wonders of the Red Queen’s lands, you’ll anticipate that White Rabbit wasn’t fazed when a dancing duster answered the door. With haste and flourish, he recounted his trouble and asked that the castle’s distinguished ruler take mercy on him and provide him with a bath and a change of clothing. The duster brought him to Lumière who reminded his master of a standing treaty. Beast, too dejected and detached to allow his anger to rise, didn’t even look at White Rabbit and gave a quiet approval. The White Rabbit took a great, long bath and had never felt so clean. It turned out that none of Lumière’s clothing fit White Rabbit so the walking candlestick brought the rabbit to Cogsworth. Cogworth brought the rabbit to his room and said, hushed, that he was more than willing to lend him clothing but that it would require White Rabbit keep his darkest secret. Being high officer of a rather powerful monarch and a standing Court, White Rabbit was used to secrets and was able to quell the poor clock’s worry. Cogsworth’s secret, it turned out, was that he preferred ladies’ undergarments to men’s. This was hardly a secret in White Rabbit’s mind. Cogsworth should only hear some of the card guard’s secrets the Red Queen would have their heads! But, familiar with bunny trails and not wanting to go down this particular one, White Rabbit donned the clock’s underthings as a gesture of good faith. Cogsworth blushed but his fears were assuaged: his secret remained safe and he was able to aid a fellow agent in need. While White Rabbit was changing, Cogsworth (as an additional favour) had the rabbit’s pocket watch cleaned thoroughly, wound properly, and reset to the proper time. But in a moment of brain lapse he set the watch to local time and not to Wonderland time and completely forgot to inform the rabbit! So they kept each other company to the large banquet room that we know from the film where White Rabbit was treated to a more-than-adequate meal and performance. The cabaret would have given any show in France a run for its money. And White Rabbit, partly out of respect for his hosts and partly out of sheer amusement lost track of time. But then, catching a glimpse of his pocket watch, stood up straight on his back paws, announced that he was late for a very important date, and sprang out the door while still wearing Cogsworth clothing! He ran and bounced. This is where he caught up with Alice and if you’re interested, I highly recommend L. Carroll’s thorough account of this part of the story. White Rabbit didn’t have a chance to check a proper clock until long after his return to Wonderland. So it turned out that he had arrived to his destination after all, just in the knickers of time.
My biggest complaint about Batman v Superman is how the movie always just assumes you know which one is which.
A traffic cop and some penguins So a traffic cop is sitting in his car on the side of the road. The cars go past, nobody is speeding. However, as police officer is watching, a car with a dozen penguins drives past. The cop pulls the man over and says, Sir! Why do you have all these penguins in your car? The man shrugs and says. I dunno. The officer tells him, You gotta take these penguins to the zoo! The man says Okay. and drives off. A couple of hours later, the traffic cop is about to end his shift when he see the same car drive past… and it STILL has all the penguins in it. Furious, the officer pull the man over again and says, I thought I told you to take these penguins to the zoo! The man replies, I did! Now we’re going to the movies!
A man asks a Russian A man asks a Russian what his favorite movie was. The Russian replies: Jaws. Why? , the man responds. Because it is ocean horror show.
Batgirl They were looking to cast a female to play Batgirl in the next Batman movie. I suggested Mary Kate Olsen… She already took out the Joker…
I can’t stand up. It wasn’t that great of a movie.
What the robotic fingers say to the face? A man buys a lie detector robot that slaps people who lie. He decides to test it at dinner. He asks his son, Son, where were you today during school hours? At school. The robot slaps the son. Okay, I went to the movies! The father asks, Which one? Harry Potter. The robot slaps the son again. Okay, I was watching porn! The father replies, What? When I was your age I didn’t even know what porn was! The robot slaps the father. The mom chimes in, Haha! After all, he is your son! The robot slaps the mother.
Robot For Sale A father buys a lie detector robot that slaps people when they lie. He decides to test it out at dinner one night. The father asks his son what he did that afternoon. The son says, I did some homework. The robot slaps the son. The son says, Ok, Ok, I was at a friend’s house watching movies. Dad asks, What movie did you watch? Son says, Toy Story. The robot slaps the son. Son says, Ok, Ok, we were watching p*rn. Dad says, What? At your age I didn’t even know what p*rn was. The robot slaps the father. Mom laughs and says, Well, he certainly is your son. The robot slaps the mother. Robot for sale.
Savvy Sheikh comes to America Mohammed Bashir, an oil-rich sheikh decided to move to America and start a new enterprise with his fortune. Mohammed wanted to assimilate himself into American culture right away, and decided to start a housing development in his newly adopted city. He immersed himself in learning the culture, capitalism, and marketing and soon came up with the concept that the best way to promote his new development would be a contest, where he gave away a house. Americans love contests, and they love winning things, so he surmised that not only would he give away one house, he’d give away two! Being the newly savvy marketing person he was, Mohammed contacted all the local news media that began a frenzy of news activity eliciting contest entries from far and wide. The entry forms stacked up in his office until the day of the contest deadline arrived. He of course masterfully invited the news media to attend the drawing, and had huge fanfare as he placed all the entries in a huge drum and began to draw the names. Photographers’ cameras flashed, TV crews filmed, and newspaper writers took notes as the first name was drawn. Out came the first name: Rhonda Mauwten, a local mother of three. Applause from the crowd erupted as anticipation for the final name to be drawn grew. With great fanfare, Mohammed drew the second name and announced that Shelby Colm, a local business woman, was the final winner. The contest was a huge success and the media coverage Mohammed received far out-valued the cost of the homes he gave away. News headlines the next day announced the ecstatic winners: Shelby Colm and Rhonda Mouwten win sheikh homes.
So what movie do you want to watch? Snakes on a plane — And whats the movie about? — A horse who wants to be a singer
A man in Japan A man was on holiday in Japan. As a huge anime fan, he went to visit with Miyazaki and was lucky enough to join a group of tourists and be shown around the studios. During the tour he noticed a room marked ‘life size mock ups’ (in Japanese, of course, a language that the gentleman was fluent in). Hanging back a little, he waited until the rest of the group had turned a corner and slipped inside. His eyes widened as he saw full size sets of nearly the entire back catalogue of Studio Ghibli movies. He wandered around, absolutely giddy with reverence. After a couple of hours of looking, he was about to go and rejoin the tour group, when he noticed a young woman sitting on the steps of a castle with her head lowered on her knees. He decided to go and ask if she was lost, but as he got closer he noticed that she was crying. Slowing his approach to a cautious sidle, he inquired in perfect Japanese why she was crying. As she lifted her head, she removed what looked like a pair of headphones, but as they came free of her head, he saw there was only one driver. As he moved round in front of her, he saw that she was missing an ear. Trying not to make it obvious that he’d spotted her disfigurement, he asked if she was crying because her headphones were broken. No! , she sobbed back at him, I’m locked out of my castle, with no way to unlock the door! . Ah! , said the man, Pleased to meet you, Princess Mononoke!
There were two guys in a lunatic asylum (LONG). This joke is in honor of the Batman comic The Killing Joke getting a movie release (no matter how lukewarmly it was received). So there were these two guys in a lunatic asylum, and one night, they decide they don’t like living in an asylum anymore. They decide they are going to escape. So, they get up onto the roof, and there, just across this narrow gap, they see the rooftops of the town, stretching away in the moon light stretching away to freedom. Now, the first guy, he jumps right across with no problem. But his friend, his friend didn’t dare make the leap. He’s afraid of falling. The first guy has an idea He says, Hey! I have my flashlight with me! I’ll shine it across the gap between the buildings. You can walk along the beam and join me! The second guy just shakes his head. What do you think I am? Crazy? You’d turn it off when I was half way across!
How many snowboarders does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Only 3: One to screw it in, another to film it, and a last one to say sick turns brah!
I see this hasn’t been posted in a while, and it’s too good not to repost. Plus it kills some time.(Loooooong) part 1 up top. rest is in comments. So, there’s a man crawling through the desert. He’d decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn’t get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he’d paid attention to the sun and thought he’d figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he’d be back to the small town he’d gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he’s afraid that he’ll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he’d had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he’s really thirsty. He’s been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He’s reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it’s mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he’s been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn’t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn’t remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he’s close, and that after dark he’ll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that’ll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they’re full of sand. He so thirsty that he can’t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He’d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn’t noticed it the night before because he’d been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes – three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food – then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn’t the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He’s not sure. He’ll go a little farther, and if he still doesn’t find water, he’ll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question – which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that – when you stop sweating he knows that means you’re in trouble – usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it’s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can’t wait any longer – if he passes out, he’s dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn’t even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he’s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. He’s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him – if he didn’t drink it, he’d die anyway. Besides, he’s pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick – their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he’ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He’s careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. He’s not sure if it’s fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV – he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it – he’s getting woozy enough and tired enough that he’s not sure what he remembers any more or if he’s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasn’t he? He thinks he was. He isn’t sure any more. He’s not even sure how long he’s been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon – it seems like it’s been too long since he started out. He walks through the sand. After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn’t remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesn’t think he remembers any. This is bad. But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he’ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesn’t feel like getting back up – he’ll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat weren’t so dry, he’d laugh. He’s finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert – crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape – shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they’d be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he’s at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn’t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough. Again, he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It’s a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it’s dark – darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can’t tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. He’s going to have to go down there and look. He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he’s in trouble – he’s not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he’s caught fire on the way down – like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling. He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn’t just imagined it. So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. He’d get up and walk towards it, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn’t have water, he’ll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance. He gets closer and closer, but still can’t see what’s in the middle of the dark area. His eyes won’t quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling. Finally, he reaches the area he’d seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he’s no longer on sand – he’s now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it – a pattern cut into the stone. He’s too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is – so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area. His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn’t seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface. Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He’s probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he’ll know he’s gone. He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he’s going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what’s in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling. It’s the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he’s hearing. He would swear that someone just said, Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me? He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it’s too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different – he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time. Yep. He can see. He’s sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle. And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him. He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn’t have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn’t even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, he’s not going to be able to move from this spot. Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He’ll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snake’s direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes. Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn’t rattled yet – that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t going to die of snake bite after all. He then remembers that he’d looked up when he’d reached the center here because he thought he’d heard a voice. He was still very woozy – he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didn’t have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didn’t look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and that’s why it wasn’t biting. He tries to clear his throat to say, Hello, but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he’s going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn’t good. He doesn’t have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out. He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now. He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, Hello? Is there anyone here? He hears, from his side, Greetings. What is it that you want? He turns his head, back towards the snake. That’s where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help. Please, he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, I’d love to not be thirsty any more. I’ve been a long time without water. Can you help me? Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, Very well. Coming up. A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He’s momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers – the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him. He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them – blood. He feels his shoulder again – his shirt has what feels like two holes in it – two puncture holes – they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake. It’ll feel better in a minute. He looks up – it’s the snake talking. He hadn’t dreamed it. Suddenly he notices – he’s not dizzy any more. And more importantly, he’s not thirsty any more – at all! Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife? Sorry about that, but I had to bite you, says the snake. That’s the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine. You bit me to help me? Why aren’t I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I haven’t had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid… hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation? No, says the snake, I’m real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn’t give you a drink. I bit you. That’s how it works – it’s what I do. I bite. I don’t have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here. The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn’t, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great – he was still starving and exhausted, but much better – he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst. I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request, continued the snake. I can guess why you drank it, but I’m not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It’ll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it. Ummm, n-next request? said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little. That’s the way it works. If you like, that is, explained the snake. You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish. The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs. But there are rules, the snake continued. The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility. The snake looks at the man seriously. By the way, the snake says suddenly, my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me ‘Snake’. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn’t stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish. Again, the snake grinned. Sorry if I don’t offer to shake, but I think you can understand – my shake sounds somewhat threatening. The snake give his rattle a little shake. Umm, my name is Jack, said the man, trying to absorb all of this. Jack Samson. Can I ask you a question? Jack says suddenly. What happened to the poison…umm, in your bite. Why aren’t I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that’s how you work? That’s more than one question, grins Nate. But I’ll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question. The snake’s grin gets wider. Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That’s what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more – but ‘any more’ is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent – now, as long as you live, you shouldn’t need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat – much like a creature of the desert. You’ve been changed. For the third question, Nate continues, you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you’re a man – and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is. Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin. As for the fourth question, Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can’t tell you. Wait, joked Jack, isn’t this where you say you could tell me, but you’d have to kill me? I thought that was implied. Nate continued to look serious. Ummm…yeah. Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. So, what is this ‘Bound by Secrecy’ stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol? Jack thought for a second. And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it? They may, I don’t really know, said Nate. I haven’t gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue? Yeah, they do, said Jack. I figured, replied Nate. As for being bound by secrecy – with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won’t be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You’ll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I’ll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I’m guessing that you’re a man of your word, you’ll never test the binding anyway, so you won’t notice. Nate said the last part with utter confidence. Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something? Well, Jack, said Nate sadly, I can’t tell you that, unless you make the second request. Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back. Umm, well, ok, said Jack, what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that? Sure! said Nate, brightening. You’re allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They’re like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can’t give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be – you still wouldn’t be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion. Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him. Well, anyway, continued Nate, I’d probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you’d be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you’d tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you’ll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me. Cure the methanol poisoning, huh? said Jack. And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn’t sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can’t ask to be rich, right? Because that’s not really a change to me? Right, nodded Nate. Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy? Jack asked, hopefully. That takes two requests, Jack. Yeah, I figured so, said Jack. But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete? Well, I could make you very smart, admitted Nate, but that wouldn’t necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn’t necessarily make you the best athlete either. You’ve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there’s some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can’t make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it. Hmmm, said Jack. Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one? Maybe, said Nate, it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes. Nate looked like he’d shrug, if he had shoulders. Ok, well, since I’d rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn’t sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something? No, said Nate. Just hold out your hand. Or heel. Nate grinned. Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that’s how it works – the poison, you know, Nate said apologetically. Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn’t hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it’s fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. Hey, Jack, Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, is that someone else coming up over there? Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food? Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate… Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans… Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn’t have to hoodwink me like that. I’ve been doing this a long time, Jack, said Nate, confidently. You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you – especially one my size. And besides, admit it – it’s only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn’t hurt any more, does it? That’s because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you’d heal quickly now. Yeah, well, still, said Jack, it’s the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn’t you have gotten my calf or something instead? More meat in the typical human butt, replied Nate. And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second.
John and the Wendy Tattoo A guy named John has been in a relationship with a girl named Wendy for 2 years. He’s convinced that she’s the one, and to prove it, he tattoos her name on his penis. When he’s erect, the tattoo reads WENDY very clearly, but when he’s flaccid you can only see WY . Needless to say, Wendy is turned off by his act of commitment and the relationship falls apart. A few years pass and John is struggling to get over Wendy. He starts to go out more, see shows, movies, and concerts to take his mind off of her. One day he enters the bathroom of a concert venue to take a piss. He glances over at a tall black fellow peeing next to him, and spots that he has WY tattooed on his penis. John sees this and immediately thinks of his lost love. He asks the man: I have the same tattoo! Did you date a girl named Wendy? . The black man turns around and responds: No mon I’m a tour guide! Mine says ‘Welcome to Jamaica, have a nice day’ .
Yesterday night I watched the new Ghostbuster That’s it. This movie is a real joke. 2/10 for the effort.
Guy gets on a city bus… and sits down next to a really hot girl. The bus bumps and her glass eyes falls out of its socket and the guy catches it. To repay him for catching her eye and due to the awkwardness she invites him to dinner and a movie and after that they went back to the guys house and had great sex! In the morning the guy looks at the girl and asks: Do you usually hang out and have sex with random strangers ? She replies: No, You just happened to catch my eye !
What’s the difference between Me and the new Justice League movie? The movie finally got a date.
A dad buys a lie detector robot that slaps you if you lie. A dad buys a lie detector robot that slaps you if you lie. Dad: Son, where were you at school hours? Son: At school. The robot slaps the son. Son: Okay I was watching KungFu Panda! The robot slaps his son again. Son: Okay I was watching porn! Dad: What?! When I was your age I never watched those kinds of movies! The robot slaps the dad. Mom: Haha, after all, he is your son. The robot slaps the mom…
The Killing Joke There were two guys locked in a lunatic asylum and one night, one night they decided they didn’t like that anymore. They decided to escape. So, they made it up to the roof and there, just across this narrow gap, they see rooftops, stretching across town, stretching to freedom. Now, the first guy, he jumps right across, no problem. But his friend, no way, he’s afraid of falling. So, the first guy, he has an idea. He says, Hey, I got this flashlight with me. I’ll shine it across the gap between the buildings and you can walk across the beam and join me. But the second guy says, What do you think I am, crazy? You’ll just turn it off when I’m halfway across. P/S: From The Killing Joke comic/animated movie
[Dark] The Killing Joke movie spoilers. Not comic spoilers, movie. I realised today after seeing the movie, and doubled over laughing for at least a minute. At the start of the movie, Batgirl has sex with Batman. And by the end, she can’t feel her legs.
I don’t get why people are angry about Dr.Strange… It looks like an alwhite movie.
Just saw The Human Centipede for the first time. That movie sucks ass
Taxi driver and the tourist One day, A taxi driver picked up a tourist in a airport and the tourist told the driver to drive him to the hotel. While on the way to the hotel the tourist started bragging about his stuff he owns. Tourist: you see this camera? It can take 120 frames per second video, very fast! The driver just nodded and continued driving. Tourist: i have a sport car that goes from 0-100 in 3 seconds, very fast! The driver just nodded and kept silent Tourist: i also have a phone that can download a full length movie under 3 minutes, very fast! The driver just nodded and stayed quiet. Soon the driver finally arrived at the hotel and the tourist pulls out his wallet and to his surprise the taximeter showed that it cost nearly 1000 dollars in total. Tourist: why is it very expensive?! The taxi driver slowly turns around and looks at him with a big smile and said Driver: Taximeter, very fast!
Just seen a Disney trailer. I’ve just seen a Disney trailer It said, A new movie from the people that brought you Up. Flipping Heck! I never knew Mum and Dad made films.
A man goes to a movie theater As he is walking up to buy his ticket, he notices that security is going through peoples bags. At the sight of this, he begins to sweat a little. He buys his ticket, and tries to walk inside without being seen. Right when he thought he had made it through, a security guard caught him and asked to check his belongings. The man reluctantly hands over his bag to the security guard. Security: Alright what do we have here… a Colt 1911, an AK-47, some frag grenades… everything seems to be in order. Enjoy your movie sir. Man: Alright, thank you. Have a nice day. The security guard begins to turn back to his post when he notices a slight bulge in the man’s duffel bag that he had not seen before. He calls out to the man, telling him to stop. The man breaks into a sprint, hoping to out maneuver the guard and get to his movie. He ran as fast as he could, but was unable to outrun the security guard. He’s tackled to the ground, and the guard calls for back up. As more guards arrive to restrain the man, the guard looks into the duffel bag once more. He ends up pulling out a bag of cocaine. Security: This is why you ran? What was the point? There’s no harm done having this on you, it’s just some illegal drugs. Man: Well, you see… I was planning on taking the drugs and using them to get super high. Once I was high, I would take the weapons in my bag and kill everyone in the movie theater. Security: Why though? Man: An old prom date of mine is there. She left me super depressed the last time I saw her and I almost committed suicide because of what she did. Security: Well what exactly did she do? Man: She sent me to get her some punch and there was no punch line.
Seriously Funny 7 17 16 Congrats to Dennis Leary. His new show Sex Drugs & Rock ‘N Roll somehow managed to make all three boring! They’re making a movie about both upcoming conventions; ‘Citizen Vane’. The National Weather Service says there’s a dangerous heat dome hovering over the U.S. What else is new…it’s an election year! There’s a dangerous heat dome hovering over the U S It’s going to be so hot & sticky it’ll be like being in Christine Aguilera’s dressing room. The first time I got undressed in front of a woman was confusing. She got really excited, but then screamed & got off the elevator! On this day in 1955 Disneyland opened. Oddly enough, several of the the original patrons are still waiting in line there! Tim Tebow will speak at the Republican convention. It’ll be great to see someone there who knows the commandments who hasn’t yet broken them all! A study claims Hilary Clinton’s polling really low with evangelical voters. Really, religious people don’t trust her…go figure! I’m writing a sex manual. It’s called, Quit complaining the neighbors keep laughing ! Today’s Inspirational Thought; Marriage is the act of disguising your most disgusting faults as charming idiosyncrasies! The first persons to do drugs are said to be the Mayan’s. No wonder they screwed up the calendar! IRS agents are like pit-bulls. They smell fear and won’t let go until all the life’s been drained from you…also don’t try to pet them.
What kind of movies do scurvy circles enjoy? πrated movies.
An Irishman catches his son doing blow. He said, If I catch you doing that again, I’ll rub your fucking nose in it. Just a joke from one of my favorite movies: Layer Cake.
If you ever feel lonely… just dim down the lights and put on a couple horror movies. After a while, you won’t feel like you are alone anymore.
I yelled ‘fire!’ in a crowded movie theater… and a lot of panic was created. I felt so bad, I jumped into the fire and yelled ‘crowded movie theater!’
I just saw a The Flash porn parody… …the movie lasted one second.
Nate So, there’s a man crawling through the desert. He’d decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn’t get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he’d paid attention to the sun and thought he’d figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he’d be back to the small town he’d gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he’s afraid that he’ll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he’d had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he’s really thirsty. He’s been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He’s reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it’s mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he’s been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn’t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn’t remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he’s close, and that after dark he’ll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that’ll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they’re full of sand. He so thirsty that he can’t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He’d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn’t noticed it the night before because he’d been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes – three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food – then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn’t the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He’s not sure. He’ll go a little farther, and if he still doesn’t find water, he’ll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question – which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that – when you stop sweating he knows that means you’re in trouble – usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it’s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can’t wait any longer – if he passes out, he’s dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn’t even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he’s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. He’s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him – if he didn’t drink it, he’d die anyway. Besides, he’s pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick – their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he’ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He’s careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. He’s not sure if it’s fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV – he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it – he’s getting woozy enough and tired enough that he’s not sure what he remembers any more or if he’s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasn’t he? He thinks he was. He isn’t sure any more. He’s not even sure how long he’s been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon – it seems like it’s been too long since he started out. He walks through the sand. After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn’t remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesn’t think he remembers any. This is bad. But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he’ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesn’t feel like getting back up – he’ll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat weren’t so dry, he’d laugh. He’s finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert – crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape – shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they’d be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he’s at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn’t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough. Again, he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It’s a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it’s dark – darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can’t tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. He’s going to have to go down there and look. He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he’s in trouble – he’s not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he’s caught fire on the way down – like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling. He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn’t just imagined it. So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. He’d get up and walk towards it, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn’t have water, he’ll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance. He gets closer and closer, but still can’t see what’s in the middle of the dark area. His eyes won’t quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling. Finally, he reaches the area he’d seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he’s no longer on sand – he’s now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it – a pattern cut into the stone. He’s too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is – so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area. His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn’t seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface. Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He’s probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he’ll know he’s gone. He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he’s going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what’s in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling. It’s the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he’s hearing. He would swear that someone just said, Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me? He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it’s too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different – he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time. Yep. He can see. He’s sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle. And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him. He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn’t have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn’t even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, he’s not going to be able to move from this spot. Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He’ll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snake’s direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes. Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn’t rattled yet – that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t going to die of snake bite after all. He then remembers that he’d looked up when he’d reached the center here because he thought he’d heard a voice. He was still very woozy – he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didn’t have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didn’t look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and that’s why it wasn’t biting. He tries to clear his throat to say, Hello, but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he’s going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn’t good. He doesn’t have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out. He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now. He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, Hello? Is there anyone here? He hears, from his side, Greetings. What is it that you want? He turns his head, back towards the snake. That’s where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help. Please, he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, I’d love to not be thirsty any more. I’ve been a long time without water. Can you help me? Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, Very well. Coming up. A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He’s momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers – the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him. He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them – blood. He feels his shoulder again – his shirt has what feels like two holes in it – two puncture holes – they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake. It’ll feel better in a minute. He looks up – it’s the snake talking. He hadn’t dreamed it. Suddenly he notices – he’s not dizzy any more. And more importantly, he’s not thirsty any more – at all! Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife? Sorry about that, but I had to bite you, says the snake. That’s the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine. You bit me to help me? Why aren’t I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I haven’t had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid… hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation? No, says the snake, I’m real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn’t give you a drink. I bit you. That’s how it works – it’s what I do. I bite. I don’t have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here. The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn’t, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great – he was still starving and exhausted, but much better – he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst. I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request, continued the snake. I can guess why you drank it, but I’m not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It’ll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it. Ummm, n-next request? said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little. That’s the way it works. If you like, that is, explained the snake. You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish. The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs. But there are rules, the snake continued. The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility. The snake looks at the man seriously. By the way, the snake says suddenly, my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me ‘Snake’. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn’t stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish. Again, the snake grinned. Sorry if I don’t offer to shake, but I think you can understand – my shake sounds somewhat threatening. The snake give his rattle a little shake. Umm, my name is Jack, said the man, trying to absorb all of this. Jack Samson. Can I ask you a question? Jack says suddenly. What happened to the poison…umm, in your bite. Why aren’t I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that’s how you work? That’s more than one question, grins Nate. But I’ll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question. The snake’s grin gets wider. Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That’s what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more – but ‘any more’ is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent – now, as long as you live, you shouldn’t need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat – much like a creature of the desert. You’ve been changed. For the third question, Nate continues, you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you’re a man – and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is. Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin. As for the fourth question, Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can’t tell you. Wait, joked Jack, isn’t this where you say you could tell me, but you’d have to kill me? I thought that was implied. Nate continued to look serious. Ummm…yeah. Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. So, what is this ‘Bound by Secrecy’ stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol? Jack thought for a second. And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it? They may, I don’t really know, said Nate. I haven’t gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue? Yeah, they do, said Jack. I figured, replied Nate. As for being bound by secrecy – with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won’t be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You’ll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I’ll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I’m guessing that you’re a man of your word, you’ll never test the binding anyway, so you won’t notice. Nate said the last part with utter confidence. Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something? Well, Jack, said Nate sadly, I can’t tell you that, unless you make the second request. Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back. Umm, well, ok, said Jack, what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that? Sure! said Nate, brightening. You’re allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They’re like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can’t give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be – you still wouldn’t be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion. Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him. Well, anyway, continued Nate, I’d probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you’d be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you’d tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you’ll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me. Cure the methanol poisoning, huh? said Jack. And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn’t sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can’t ask to be rich, right? Because that’s not really a change to me? Right, nodded Nate. Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy? Jack asked, hopefully. That takes two requests, Jack. Yeah, I figured so, said Jack. But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete? Well, I could make you very smart, admitted Nate, but that wouldn’t necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn’t necessarily make you the best athlete either. You’ve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there’s some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can’t make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it. Hmmm, said Jack. Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one? Maybe, said Nate, it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes. Nate looked like he’d shrug, if he had shoulders. Ok, well, since I’d rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn’t sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something? No, said Nate. Just hold out your hand. Or heel. Nate grinned. Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that’s how it works – the poison, you know, Nate said apologetically. Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn’t hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it’s fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. Hey, Jack, Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, is that someone else coming up over there? Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food? Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate… Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans… Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn’t have to hoodwink me like that. I’ve been doing this a long time, Jack, said Nate, confidently. You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you – especially one my size. And besides, admit it – it’s only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn’t hurt any more, does it? That’s because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you’d heal quickly now. Yeah, well, still, said Jack, it’s the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn’t you have gotten my calf or something instead? More meat in the typical human butt, replied Nate. And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second. Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear, answered Jack. Ok, said Nate. Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking? Just talk, said Jack. I’ll sit here and try to not think about food. We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like, answered Nate. Hey! You didn’t tell me you had food around here, Nate! Jack jumped up. What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers? Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours. I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is, replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to. Ugh, said Jack, sitting back down. I think I’ll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there’s nothing to burn – I’d have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk. Ok, replied Nate, still grinning. But I’d better hurry, before you start looking at me as food. Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden. Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate skeptically. Well, that’s the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack, said Nate. Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here. Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose. Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done – it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving. Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he’d looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky. Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh! Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate, said Jack. Which way is it back to town? And how far? I’m eventually going to have to head back – I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I’m not sure I’ll want to. It’s about 30 miles that way. Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he’d been going when he was crawling here. But that’s 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It’s about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack. Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it? Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway, said Nate. He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a ‘tree’, offering ‘temptations’, making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while. Garden of Eden, hunh? said Jack. How long have you been here, Nate? No idea, really, replied Nate. A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it’s been thousands of years, at least. So, are you the snake that tempted Eve? said Jack. Beats me, said Nate. Maybe. I can’t remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a ‘temptation’, though I’ve rarely had refusals. Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there? asked Jack. Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake – much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don’t remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I’ve been here ever since. What is this place?
Sometimes it is very important if a sentence was said by a man or a woman. . A good example: I used a whole pack of tissues during that awesome movie yesterday…
Why couldn’t the kid see the pirate movie? Because it was Simbad … that animated atrocity of a film. His mother dissuaded him from seeing the movie altogether.
The World Tour A wealthy man and his wife had been wanting to go on a world tour for a long time, with the only thing preventing them from doing so being the wife’s devotion to their cat, Mittens. She simply could not bear the thought of being away from Mittens for a couple of months while they go and visit all the places in the world that they hadn’t seen before. Being wealthy, the husband came up with a plan. He employed a butler and made sure that the good man was a cat lover and instructed him to spend as much time as possible with Mittens to gain its trust. James the butler soon settled into the household and despite quite obviously not being the most intelligent, he performed his duties very well and did his part to give Mittens lots of attention and treats so that before too long the cat was quite fond of him. Eventually the husband approached his wife and broached the subject of the two of them going on their long awaited world tour. At first the wife wouldn’t hear a word of it, but he kept pointing out to her how fond Mittens had become of James and how attentive he was to the cat and telling her that James could phone them every morning and evening with a report on Mittens’ well-being. Eventually he wore her down and she agreed that they could go on the trip. For weeks before they were due to set off the wife drove James crazy with lists of instructions on how he should take care of Mittens, with daily schedules, when and how she should receive her favourite treats, down to the last detail. Finally the day of their departure arrived. Just before they were about to leave the husband called James aside and said to him: Now remember, James, madam is extremely fond of Mittens, so you must please do your utmost to keep Mittens safe and happy. But please, just in case – heaven forbid – Mittens does pass away while we are away – Mittens is quite an old kitty by now after all – please, please don’t just phone us and tell us that Mittens has died, because it will be the end of our trip and ruin our holiday that I have waited for so long. Rather, what you must do when you phone is to say, Mittens is on the roof, and she won’t come down , then I will know what has happened and I will slowly over the next few days prepare my wife and try and finish off our holiday as quickly as possible without completely ruining it. Do you understand, James? To the husband’s huge relief James confirmed: Yes sir, I understand, if Mittens dies, I must phone and say Mittens is on the roof and she won’t come down , and you will know what’s happened. At long last they set off on their long awaited trip. They visited every place that they had ever only seen in movies and books and travelled from country to country, visiting all the tourist sites, throughout Europe, across the Middle East, throughout Asia; they even went on safari in Africa. They were having a wonderful time. Twice a day James would phone and confirm that all was well with Mittens and the wife found that despite all her fears she was actually enjoying the trip. Until one morning, when the phone rang as usual. As usual the wife rushed to the phone to get the latest news of her beloved Mittens. Sure enough, it was James calling, to tell her, Madam, your mother is on the roof and she won’t come down.
Donald Trump was interviewed for his list of favorite things. Q: What’s your favorite Disney movie? A: Snow White Q: What’s your favorite song? A: White Light, White Heat Q: What’s your favorite Christmas song? A: White Christmas Q: What’s your favorite rock band? A: White Snake Q: What’s your favorite movie in general? A: Black Mass Q: That’s an interesting break from the pattern. What’s it about? A: A guy named Whitey Bulger. Q: (forehead slap)
Sometimes it’s important who says a sentence. Sometimes it is very important if a sentence is said by a man or a woman. A good example: I used a whole pack of tissues during that awesome movie yesterday!
Lie detector robot A father buys a lie detector robot that slaps people when they lie. He decides to test it out at dinner one night. The father asks his 9 year old son what he did that afternoon. The son says, I did some schoolwork. The robot slaps the son. The son says, Ok, Ok. I was at a friend’s house watching movies. Dad asks, What movie did you watch? Son says, Toy Story. The robot slaps the son. Son says, Ok, Ok, we were watching porn. Dad says, What? At your age I didn’t even know what porn was. The robot slaps the father. Mom laughs and says, Well, he certainly is your son. The robot slaps the mother. Robot for sale.
I had to stop watching An Inconvenient Truth after 20 minutes. Can’t stand movies with that much gore.
Really Smooth. I lied told my dad that school was canceled. He said, lets go see a movie. We got in the car and he dropped me off at school.
A father caught his teenage son filming a lewd act on his cell phone with his girlfriend. He was outraged, having thought that he had raised his son to be better than this. In his rage, he shouted, Son! I never, ever want to see you film vertically ever again!
What do you get when you cross a cat and an octopus? A mediocre Bond film.
The big date Johnny’s parents were sitting at the kitchen table when Johnny came rushing in the back door door, whizzing past and said, Hi Mom, hi Dad as he headed upstairs in an apparent rush. The mom looked at the dad and said, Wonder what he’s up to? You’d better check . With that the father headed upstairs to Jonny’s room. What’s going on Johnny? . Johnny obviously excited said, Dad, remember that hot cheerleader I told you about? Well I am having dinner at her parents house and then we’re going to the movies!! Dad said, That’s great Johnny! But you know, we’ve never really discussed the, er birds and the bees thing.. Johnny interrupted , Dad we had this discussion in 9th grade science class. I know ALL about it! …. Well Johnny, you know that we’re a deeply religious family and don’t believe in premarital sex, but I also know how the world is, so even though I DO NOT condone it, please be sure you have a condom…..and DON’T tell your mom I said this. Just be very careful son . Johnny said, Jeez dad, I’m not stupid and with that told his dad he had to get showered and leave because dinner was in an hour! On the way to his date’s house, Johnny heeded his father’s advice and went into the local drugstore. He went to the back counter where they kept the condoms and asked the pharmacist, Excuse me sir, do you have any profolactics? . The old man looked at him and said, how old are you boy? To which Johnny replied, 17 sir . The pharmacist muttered under his breath, what is the world coming to these days…. What kind do you want boy? …. I don’t care sir, just a strong one . The man flicked a pack on the counter. Johnny snatched the pack and rushed to this front register to pay. Glad to be on his way, Johnny quick!y walked the half dozen blocks to his date’s home, excited about the evening’s prospects. Johnny rang the doorbell. His soon-to-be date’s mother answered the door and said, You must be Johnny! Suzy has been talking about you all afternoon come in! We’ll be having dinner soon and Suzy will be down in a few minutes, feel free to watch TV and with what she disappeared into the kitchen. Johnny now was starting to feel a little nervous, wondering when Suzy would appear. Several minutes pass and finally the girl of his dreams is standing in front of him. Hi Johnny! Sorry I made you wait so long, I had trouble figuring out what to wear As if on cue, Suzy’s mom said, I know you guys have a movie to catch so let’s go to the dining room so you can eat and get out of here. Suzy’s father and mother entered the dining room. The father giving Johnny a stern looking review. Johnny was now obviously nervous. His date squeezed his hand and whispered, don’t let him bother you, he must have had a bad day . As they seated, the mother said, Johnny, we’re a deeply religious family and we always give thanks for our meals by saying grace . Johnny said, Can I say the grace? Suzy looked surprised, then a bit proud as Johnny began to pray. Johnny started praying in a very low and indiscernible pattern. Mumbling and unintelligible, nearly under his breath. Mother looked at father thru one open eye, then at her daughter as Johnny continued to go on and on and on, when finally, Suzy leaned over and whispered to Johnny, I didn’t know you were religious? …..Johnny whispered in return, I didn’t know your dad was a pharmacist!
An elderly couple are at the cinema… About halfway through the film, the wife leans over and says to her husband, ‘I just let out a silent fart; what do you think I should do?’ He replies, ‘You should put a new battery in your hearing aid.’
An optometrist asks a woman out on a date I have a couple of ideas: 1: Dinner 2: Movies 1 or 2? 1.. 2..? 1….. or 2?
Going To The Movies I told my wife I wanted to watch a movie about a billionaire playboy with a penchant for darkness, inflicting violence and dressing up in masks. She got excited and asked, Are we really go to see *50 Shades*? I laughed and told her I was talking about *The Lego Batman Movie*.
Norwegians in Minnesota One dark night outside a small town in Minnesota, a fire started inside the local chemical plant and in a blink of an eye it exploded into massive flames. The alarm went out to all the fire departments for miles around. When the volunteer fire fighters appeared on the scene, the chemical company president rushed to the fire chief and said, All our secret formulas are in the vault in the centre of the plant. They must be saved. I will give $50,000 to the fire department that brings them out intact. But the roaring flames held the fire fighters off. Soon more fire departments had to be called in as the situation became desperate. As the firemen arrived, the president shouted out that the offer was now $100,000 to the fire department that could bring out the company’s secret files. From the distance, a lone siren was heard as another fire truck came into sight. It was the nearby Norwegian rural township volunteer fire company composed mainly of Norwegians over the age of 65. To everyone’s amazement, that little run-down fire engine roared right past all the large newer fire trucks that were parked around the plant. Without even slowing down, the old truck drove straight into the middle of the inferno. Outside, the other fire fighters watched as the Norwegian old timers jumped off right in the middle of the fire and fought it back on all sides. It was a performance and effort never seen before. Within a short time, the Norske old timers had the fire well under control and had saved the secret formulas. The grateful chemical company president announced that for such a superhuman feat he was upping the reward to $200,000, and walked over to personally thank each of the brave fire fighters. The local TV news reporter rushed in to capture the event on film, asking their chief, What are you going to do with all that money? Vell, said Ole Larsen, the 70-year-old fire chief, Da first thing ve gonna do is fix da brakes on dat focking truck!
Mr. Trump, did you know Beethoven was deaf? Trump: And how was he able to make all those movies?
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