Archive for April, 2009

(Submitted by Officer “I want to keep my job thank you very much”)

1) I am not the one and only.

2) Not allowed to plunder the office stationary for things to repair my motorbike with.

3) Not allowed to eye-up women while working.

4) Not allowed to use the radios to organise a run up to Chicken Cottage.

5) Don’t say shit about shit to Robocop (K37).

6) If Chickenman (K14) is asleep in the breakroom he does not require the attention of a coroner.

7) I am allowed to penalise an errant vehicle which also happens to be blocking my bike in, but I’m not allowed to spend the rest of the day giggling about it.

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So the Wolverine movie that’s set to come out next month got leaked somehow.

The studio is very upset, and feels that this may wind up costing them at the box office.

I, of course, have a theory.

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So last week I showed my readers that the zombie apocalypse had begun.  And this week Michael demonstrated that the problem has evidently been spreading.

Well I have recently realized that the problem is bigger and worse than originally suspected.

You see if you read the article I referenced, you will notice that the zombie in question yelled in Spanish at his victim.  Now we all know that zombies can’t talk.  But sometimes, when a victim has first been infected, they get a bit chompy, while still retaining a few shreds of their intellect.  This was clearly the case in New Orleans last week.

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Here’s stuff that manages to be funny, despite not having been created by me.
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The headline on CNN says, “Woody Harrelson claims he mistook photographer for zombie.”

The government doesn’t want you to know that it actually was a zombie. I think we are witnessing a disturbing trend. As Skippy reported last week, a man was attacked in his yard, and had a piece of his arm bitten off and eaten. But the one thing these two stories have in common is that the attacker/zombie is able to speak.

So, forget what you think you know about zombies from movies and books and video games. The real zombies, just like Cylons, look and feel and act just like us… and this one had a day job as a photographer.

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1. Do not blaspheme the Lord in front of the Children.

2. Do not blaspheme the Lord in front of the Church Staff.

3. Do not blaspheme the Lord in front of anyone, period.

4. Not allowed to send Jehovah’s Witnesses to the Church for “inter-religious relations and cooperation”.

5. Please don’t wear that shirt with the devil chick on it.

6. Not allowed to wear that other shirt with the devil chick on it.

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Note from skippy

I actually had a pretty decent post prepared for this week, but I felt that the following needed to take priority.

You see, last week one of my readers expressed some opinions about condoms and AIDS in the comments section.  And I had some doubts as to the accuracy of these ideas.

And even though I feel that most people are smart enough to not take medical advice from the comments section of a humor blog, I decided that I would feel bad if even one person did.

Heck, I would feel bad if the person who posted the questionable comment suffered due to a misunderstanding.  And so I let my friend EC, who is a RN, issue some corrections.

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It is called NBC – nuclear, biological, chemical – warfare. First line of defense: gas masks. In boot camp, to drive home the lesson that a ill-fitting gas mask is a Bad Idea and that it’s a Good Idea to get that sucker in place Real Quick, this is what they make you do:

Strap on a gas mask carrier with gas mask inside.
Enter a building chock full of billowing clouds of tear gas.
Stand around for a few seconds while the instructor savors the moment.
Order you to don and clear.

If you get it right, the tear gas is on the outside of the mask.

If you get it wrong you have tear gas inside the mask with you and it fills up your lungs when you breathe. Or if you manage to clear but not seat the seal around your face it seeps inside when you breath and then fills up your lungs.

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When I was stationed at Ft. Hood, Texas, it was a dark depressing time for me.  If I were a painter it would have been my “black period,” for I would have painted the red door black time and again.  On the advice of one of the sergeants, one of the Vietnam vets, I volunteered for service in Turkey.  This sergeant constantly sang the praises of being stationed in Turkey and was on orders to return himself.

I arrived in Turkey in late February 1981.  I was stationed on the Black Sea.  Even though it is on the north coast of Turkey, the climate is much like the coastal Carolinas with hot summers and very mild winters.

In spite of the mildness, there was a lot of rain in the winter and a lot of fog. The short winter still got everyone down, mostly because of the constant rain and fog.  It was like working in the commcenter of the living dead.

Things started to change in late March: we actually began seeing the sun from time to time.  All of the little finches and bright green birds, whatever they were, started coming back from the south.

One Sunday morning (it just happened to be my day off that week) I was awakened by a loud banging on my room door.  My roommate had PCS’ed, so I had to get up and open it.  As I was rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, one of the guys was all excited and blurted out, “Kelly’s hiding the beers!”

He then ran off to the next door and started banging furiously on it too.

What?  Kelly’s hiding the what?  What beer?

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I’m withdrawing my life savings and investing it all in canned goods and shotgun shells.

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