KFC is running out of chicken across the U.K.

Honorable Ms. May, Prime Minister,

Greetings from Central Asia. Please hear our plea.

We are a small and poor country who only wish to work hard and not starve and not freeze in winter. Our idea of growing chickens came because we have many spaces that you cannot see the far end of, with grasses and bugs that a chicken would eat, and small stones if chickens have craws.

I have never killed and opened a chicken to see about the craw but I do eat chickens that my wife prepares. I eat too much chickens.

Honorable Ms. May. Please come and take chickens. No need to pay. We just want to be rid of. They are too many. They eat everything. Even they eat the locusts.

Send your army. We will not fight. Send your army with bags and boxes and cages and… let me look up this word… rotisseries.

Do not forget the roosters, may God curse them.

Also the army men may have a few eggs.

Yours in hope,

Abdurahmon Sultanbekov

Senator apologizes to ex-aide’s ex-wives

I’m sorry for the things I’ve done. I know that I’m the guilty one. But what more can I do, than say to you… I’m sorry.

And thank you to the Platters.

Actually, I’m now an ex-Senator. I’ve joined the ex club.

Look, yes, maybe I knew he was beating you all regularly, but he was beating me regularly too. It started out as a fun thing, but it turned ugly early on. Were your marriages like that? Thank goodness my marriage wasn’t. I would come home from the Senatorial office Friday night and my spouse would throw a blanket and saddle over my back and ride me till Monday morning.

How am I supposed to look after my aide’s wives? I never met any of you. How was I to know the guy had more than one or two of you? Sure we’re from Utah, but this is the twenty-first century. Big Love was a hit and that guy (RIP) only had three.

So put your ex in the rear-view mirror, ex-wives, unless a civil suit might extract a few more dollars from him. Get on with your lives. I know he has, with a whole new lineup.

 

 

Musk’s Tesla to stay in space for millions of years

That’s what you think. I’m going up to get it. I’ve always wanted one of those things.

Have you seen The Astronaut Farmer (2006)? Billy Bob Thornton? Based on the true story of a farmer who built a dad-gummed rocket in his barn and then (spoiler alert) flew it up into space.

Well get this. I’m a farmer, I live nearish to Houston where all the space stuff is, and I own the Astronaut Farmer dvd. Done deal.

Maybe Musk will want his car back, you say. Tough ti… tough patootie. You can’t park a car in space for a million years and expect it to just sit there. Your insurance isn’t going to pay off if it’s stolen. It’s reckless driving or something. The insurance companies will always get you on some technicality or other. When I bring the car back, I’m not even going to insure it. I’ll just drive it around on the farm.

This rumor about there being a body in the trunk, one of Musk’s enemies? I doubt it’s true but if it is and I find it, I’m going to leave it up there. Not bringing it back. It’s dead weight.

I assume that Musk left the keys in the car.

I was also reading that there is a ton of “space junk” up there, but get this. It’s not junk. It’s all kinds of equipment and satellites and stuff that they can’t or won’t go up and retrieve, so they call it junk to avoid embarrassment. I might snag a thing or two in addition to the car.

I saw a picture of an astronaut sitting in the car, waving. If I find anybody in it when I get there, I’ll just politely tell them to get out. Everybody at church tells me I’m a real diplomat but I will not compromise where the car is concerned.

Delta cracks down on service animals allowed on board

Full disclosure: I have not been a customer of Delta, whether it be on a train, bus, or taxi. I do not have an axe or ax to grind with Delta. I do not have an axe or ax at all, except one old ax.

I have brought my service animals on trains, buses, and taxis, and have not yet been denied. The snake was denied but not as a snake qua snake but because its rattles violated a rule.

The porcupine was not denied but later accused of intimidation.

Do you own and utilize and live with and love support animals? Then you understand my perdicament. I must go to the wall against Delta; I must go to the wall for support animals.  I do not care about Mrs. Jones per say, but literally, allow her service animals on board! Store Mrs. Jones with the suitcases and trunks instead if you must.

Full disclosure: Germs are animals. All of them. Viruses I’m not so sure about.

Full disclosure: I ate broccoli this morning. I am not proud of that, but it’s not a damned animal!

Lemming Example Goes Horribly Wrong

Jesus, you hate to see a headline like this. You know you shouldn’t read the article. It could haunt you for the rest of the day.

Most kindergarten kids don’t know what a lemming is in the first place. Outside of Norway, anyhow. And since when is mass suicide meant to provide a teaching moment?

Sure, the teacher paid for her stupidity in the worst way, but now, where is the first grade going to find students for next year, what with zero matriculation about to eventuate?

As for the reporter and his “When Nature gives you lemons” crack, fire him immediately! Sue him for libel, or slander, or both. [Ed. note: In fairness to the reporter, several families actually did include his “lemons” quote on their student’s gravestone.]

WATCH: Man Appears To Kick Squirrel Into The Grand Canyon

(CNN)

My cameraman set up wrong. One more mistake like that and he’s gone, even if he is my dad.

He’s got one job. Document the kick. Film it clearly. If the word “appears” appears in the headline, you have failed.

What am I supposed to do? Kick a second squirrel? “Man Appears To Kick Squirrel Into The Grand Canyon And Then Definitely Kicks A Second Squirrel Into The Canyon”? Makes me look like some kind of nut.

Get with it, Dad.

But credit where credit is due. When I kicked an alligator into the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, Dad got it perfectly. My blood spurting into the water from the critter’s bite on my calf: red poetry.

I punted a opossum into the Old Faithful hole and Dad caught the animal on film going into the hole and then shooting back out again when the geyser went off. That one made the front page of Animal Rights Journal.

The Grand Canyon, though… You don’t want to mess that one up. I’ve got to go back. Not with a squirrel. I’m thinking a giraffe.

Then I’ll be ready for my magnum opus: a Cub Scout Pack, into Niagara Falls.

Sheriff: Victim’s Head Still Missing

(CNN)

We found a foot first. I think it was a right foot. I remember we found the foot and then found another right foot later and the coroner insisted that the second foot did not belong to the same body as the first foot. I remember I asked him if some individuals might not have two right feet or two left feet and he told me that no, they wouldn’t. I didn’t want to let it go, even when he pointed out that the second right foot was from a female, whereas the first one was from a male. Don’t they say guys all have a little female in them, which explains why when you’re in the shower, you can’t help checking out another guy’s equipment?

Then we found a left foot that the coroner said, due to its DNA, matched up with the first right foot. He also told me when I asked, that an individual with two male feet and one female foot would defy the laws of nature and would be ungodly. As a good Christian, I let the extra foot go at that point. We filed it away as Unidentified Body #2, Part #1.

Next we found the male individual’s coccyx. It wasn’t what it sounds like. At this point the coroner told me that this individual had experienced a grievous injury of some sort. You can lose both feet in a variety of ways. A train can run over them and chop them off. But then you go get some artificial feet and some crutches and life goes on. But if you lose your coccyx, it’s not like getting your boxer’s tail docked. You will be in a world of hurt. Hemorrhoids don’t compare.

This is the point at which we put that running checklist into the evening paper. This is the point at which Betty’s Doughnuts started offering $5 worth of crullers for each new body part found. And when the head became the only part left missing and unchecked in the list, Betty upped her award to $10 worth of glazed and House of Bamboo threw in an end table.

Lester Branchette the first-grade teacher contributed an artist’s sketch of the missing head – as seen from a rear view, hair color and curl based upon the found torso’s back hair.

Everyone in the community seems to agree that this thing – this search for the body parts and so on – has brought us all a little bit closer together and taught us all a little something about what the coroner likes to call “anatomy.”

 

 

This Cheeto Looks Suspiciously Like A Masturbating Man

[Headline, Huffington Post]

This Cheeto doesn’t look anything like me when I masturbate. Should I be worried? Huffington Post male masturbators are among the premier writers and news correspondents in the world, right? If this Cheeto looks like a Huffington Post writer when he masturbates, am I doing it wrong? Am I some kind of deviant or pervert? Or is that purvert? Or purvurt? Or, if you own a cat, purrvurt?

I never compared masturbation notes with, like, my priest. How does he do it? I have no idea. Masturbating makes me want to snack. Does that tell us anything? How many individuals masturbate and snack at the same time? Is that weird or normal? If normal, does it matter whether the snack is healthy or sort of junky? What about binging?

I did see a… what would you call it… a sex tape? Three hundred different amateur, or “amateur,” women masturbating (one at a time). I think… I think they were doing it sort of like me! Except that I’m a little more liberal with the lipstick and nail polish. I need a group! Do they still do groups? I looked into self-pleasuring groups and all I found was something called a “circle jerk.” Eww!

The Huffing Post is liberal, right? Left wing? Maybe I’m just a Republican masturbator. I am right-handed. This would assume that Republican men masturbate. In a dress.

Who makes Cheetos, anyway? What the hell is wrong with them? Cheetos make your fingers totally orange, especially if you suck on them (the cheetos) and get them wet. You eat a bag or two whilst masturbating and what have you got? Soiled briefs. And a wife who wonders why your underwear is stained with the orange residue of… what?

I remember my fifth-grade teacher grabbing me by the shoulders and shouting at me, begging me, pleading with me, ordering me, commanding me to only masturbate in the nude, ever. Take off your pants and your underpants, for the love of God! she would shout. I can hear her now. What was that all about?

I spoke to Horace Pourous about his famous Cheeto collection. Added my voice to those of others urging him to place his remarkable collection in the hands of a responsible museum. During my visit, I saw the Cheeto That Suspiciously Resembles A Woman Masturbating, the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Man/Woman), the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Gay), the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Lesbos), the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Man/Sheep), as well as the Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Penis, the Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Dildo, the Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Vulva, and the classic Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Cheezit Giving Birth To A Cheeto. Like me, Horace has orange stains on his fingers and his fly.

Man Tries To Throw Wife Off Bridge, Instead Falls Himself: Police

[Headline, Huffington Post]

I wasn’t trying to throw my wife off the bridge. I was trying to strangle her. Then I was going to throw her off.

Our marriage has been troubled.

If I just threw her off, the drop wasn’t going to hurt her and I couldn’t depend on the gators to finish the job. Look at me. They only got one foot, one hand, and half a buttock.

If I had thrown Agnes off alive, I’d have her stumping around the house on one foot now, trying to cook and clean with one hand and unable to sit and rest without pain. She would have been unbearable! Not that she isn’t anyway.

I explained all this to the police. So did Agnes. They understood that the whole affair was an accident. Or a failure, from my perspective. But Huffington’s stringer down here, Audet Duplessis, covers a thousand square miles of swamp and bayou and and you can’t tell her anything. Which is why I arranged to meet her on the bridge later, to give her a blow by blow recreation of the events that had transpired.

I tried to strangle her and took my second trip down into the drink. That’s how I lost another half-buttock, my car keys, my eye glasses, and one ear.

How do you keep your new glasses on without an ear? i haven’t figured that one out yet.

And yet, here comes the next Huffington Post headline.

“Man Tries To Throw Reporter Off Bridge, Instead Falls Himself: Police”

She knew I was trying to strangle her. What else did she mean at the time when she said, “Ggggggggggggggg!”

I’ll give Audet this. She came out there with me again when I promised to behave. And then here comes the next headline.

“Man Tries To Throw Self Off Bridge, Instead Falls Himself: Police”

37 Things In Your Home To Get Rid Of Right Now

[Headline, Huffington Post]

1. Anything dead that you aren’t going to eat.

2. Anything that will incriminate you or other family members in a felony.

3. The thing farthest back in the ice box.

4. The monster under the bed.

5. The dust bunnies (aka “slut’s wool”) under the bed.

6. Uncle Charlie.

7. Great-grandma Myrtle

8. Broken glass on the floor, especially in front of the sink and around the toilet.

9. Any chair that no one has sat on over the past year.

10. Make that the past, oh, six months.

11. The contents of any drawer unopened in the past five years.

12. Glassware from the very back of the top kitchen shelf.

13. Spices you’ve never used, such as epazote, fenugreek, and machalepi.

14. All those wedding gifts stored in the attic.

15. Bottles of alcoholic products with less than a quarter-inch of fluid in the bottom.

16. Hair in the bathroom sink and tub. Once it has fallen out, it’s of no further use to you.

17. Any homeless people living on or about your premises without your knowledge or permission, although you don’t want to be a meany about it. Perhaps sit down with them for a cup of coffee or a cocktail, discuss their situation, see what you can work out. Try to make it win/win. Maybe they can babysit your newborn infant, for example.

18. Speaking of newborn infants, don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater, ha ha.

19. Old hair nets.

20. Unmatched socks. Be ruthless.

21. Solved rebuses.

22. Solved mazes.

23. Solved crossword puzzles.

24. Those annoying unsolved interlocking iron rings.

25. Any toilet brushes with the bristles worn down to nubbins.

26. Engine blocks in the garage, if you’re absolutely sure that you’re not going to go ahead and rebuild them.

27. Used motor oil.

28. Dead batteries.

29. All those spare vacuum tubes in a shoebox in the closet.

30. Anything tangled that you’ll probably never untangle.

31. Anything broken that you’ll probably never fix.

32. Something that you’ve always hated but nobody else in the house does. Take it out in the dead of night, whatever it is, and smash it to flinders. Spend a few minutes gloating over the remains.

33. Whoa. Don’t let #32 get out of hand there.

34. It’s time to start looking at your personal situation. Why are you relying on us to tell you what  to do? We’re not your mother!. You’ll notice that “Take out the trash” isn’t on this list. Did you do it? No? You’re hopeless!

35. That picture on the wall in the living room… No, the other one… Do the world a favor. Burn it.

36. You listen to Rush Limbaugh? Throw out all of your radios.

37. Go out on the front porch, turn around, step back inside, and begin grabbing objects one by one as you encounter them. Carry or push each one to the door and chuck it out onto the porch… Jeez, you’re doing it! I was just kidding. You really are impossible.