Funny thread

[88_Eddie]

man, she was a HPOA

 

[RangerSport92]

The story of Uncle Bob

The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment: get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

Kathy said, "My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the pickup when we hit a bump in the road and all the eggs went flying and broke and made a mess"

"And what's the moral of the story?" asked the teacher.

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket!"

"Very good," said the teacher. "Now, Lucy?"

"Our family are farmers too. But we raise chickens for the meat market. We had a dozen eggs one time, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks. And the moral to this story is, don't count your chickens until they're hatched."

"That was a fine story Lucy. Johnny do you have a story to share?"

"Yes, ma'am, my daddy told me this story about my uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was a Green Beret in Vietnam and his helicopter got hit. He had to crash land in enemy territory and all he had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. He drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then he landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. He killed seventy of them with the machine gun until he ran out of bullets, then he killed twenty more with the machete till the blade broke and then he killed the last ten with his bare hands."

"Good heavens," said the horrified teacher, " What kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?"

"Don't **** with Uncle Bob when he's been drinking."

 

[crbnunit]

 

[crbnunit]

Neighborhood Hazard
(or: Why the Cops Won’t Patrol Brice Street)
I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!

Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.

Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being “behind the power curve”. It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.

Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle…at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.

I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!

Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness…all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.

I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that “edge” so frequently required when riding.

Little did I suspect…

As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it—it was that close.

I hate to run over animals…and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.

Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, “Banzai!” or maybe, “Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!” as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.

Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street…and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.

I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.

But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.

This was an evil attack squirrel of death!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!

The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.

I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.

The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in…well…I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street…on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle…my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.

The rpm’s on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.

Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand…I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked…sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.

Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.

Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.

I heard screams. They weren't mine...

I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.

I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.

So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to “let the professionals handle it” anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger…

That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car…

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.

As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I’ll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.

And I’ll buy myself a new pair of gloves.

 

[Ranger Sport Honduras]

 

[Grenth89Ranger]

A man is out shopping and discovers a new brand of condoms—Olympic condoms. Clearly impressed, he buys a pack. Upon getting home, the man informs his wife of his new purchase.

"Olympic condoms?" she asks. "What makes them so special?"

"There are three colors," he replies. "Gold, Silver and Bronze."

"What color are you going to wear tonight?" she asks cheekily.

"Gold, of course," says the man proudly.

The wife responds, "Really, why don't you wear Silver?"

"Why silver?" asks the man. "Well, it would be nice if you came second for a change."

 

[dp88]

Was that squirrel story true? Because if it was that is absolutely epic. I could totally see that in a movie one day.

 

[Hopman]

This sounds oddly like driving in Boston.

BTW, what are "jungle rules?"

 

[RangerSport92]

This sounds oddly like driving in Boston.

BTW, what are "jungle rules?"

Basic Rules For Driving In Boston:

When on a one way street, stay to the right to allow oncoming traffic to pass.

Never, ever, stop for a pedestrian unless he flings himself under the wheels of your car.

The first parking space you see will be the last parking space you see. Grab it.

Double park in the North End of Boston, unless triple parking is available.

Learn to swerve abruptly. Boston is the home of slalom driving, thanks to the Registry of Motor Vehicles, which puts potholes in key locations to test drivers' reflexes and keep them on their toes.

Never get in the way of a car that needs extensive bodywork.

Always look both ways when running a red light.

Honk your horn the instant the light changes.

Breakdown lanes are not for breaking down, but for speeding, especially during rush hour. Breakdown lanes may also end without warning causing traffic jams as people merge back in.

Never use directional signals when changing lanes. They only warn other drivers to speed up and not let you in.

Making eye contact revokes your right of way.

Never pass on the left when you can pass on the right.

Whenever possible, stop in the middle of a crosswalk to ensure inconveniencing as many pedestrians as possible. And if a pedestrian ahead of you steps in the road, speed up loudly and chase him back up on the curb. Peds have no rights.

 

[Hopman]

^^^^ Very true. A truck with an air horn can be VERY FUN in Boston. I've found that out first hand.

Also another TRUE rule for Boston driving: If you're driving a truck taller than 10 ft tall, avoid Starrow & Memorial.

 

[97RangerXLT]

This is an Incredible story!








In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from the University of Toronto .
On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.
The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully.
He got down on one knee, inspected the elephants foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it.
As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his knife,
after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.
The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments.
Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled.
Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.
Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.
Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Toronto Zoo with his teenage son.
As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing.
The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down.
The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.
Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter could not help wondering if this was the same elephant.
Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing, and made his way into the enclosure.
He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.
The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs
and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.






























Probably wasn't the same elephant.


This is for everyone who sends me those heart-warming bull**** stories.

 

[mp3deviant721]

This is an Incredible story!








In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from the University of Toronto .
On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.
The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully.
He got down on one knee, inspected the elephants foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it.
As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his knife,
after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.
The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments.
Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled.
Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.
Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.
Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Toronto Zoo with his teenage son.
As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing.
The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down.
The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.
Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter could not help wondering if this was the same elephant.
Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing, and made his way into the enclosure.
He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.
The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs
and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.






























Probably wasn't the same elephant.


This is for everyone who sends me those heart-warming bull**** stories.

I've heard this one before.

 

[K.Strong]

Most of you probably wont get this, but it's a Maritimer thing.

1. Your idea of a traffic jam is ten cars waiting to
pass a tractor on the highway.

2."Vacation" means going to Moncton for the weekend.

3. You measure distance in hours.

4.You know several people who have hit a deer.

5. You often switch from "Heat" to "A/C" in the same day.

6. You use a down filled comforter in the summer.

7. Your Grandparents drive 100 km through 13 feet of snow during raging blizzard without flinching.

8. You see people wearing hunting clothes at social events.

9.You install security lights on both your house and garage and goand leave both unlocked.

10. You think of the major food groups as: Meat, Fish and Tim Hortons.

11. You carry jumper cables in your car and your wife knows how to use them.

12. There are seven empty cars running in the parking lot of the Canadian Tirestore at any given time.

13. You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.

14. Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

15. Your lingerie consists of tube socks and flannel pajamas.

16. You know all 4 seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Construction.

17. It takes three hours to go to the store for one item, even when you're in a hurry because you have to stop and
talk to everybody in town.

And Finally: You know you live in the Maritimes when...

18. You actually understand these jokes and
forward them to all your friends from the Maritimes.

 

[RangerSport92]

A man calls a company and orders their 5-day, 10 lb. weight loss program.

The next day, there's a knock on the door and there stands before him a voluptuous, athletic, 19 year old babe dressed in nothing but a pair of Nike running shoes and a sign around her neck.

She introduces herself as a representative of the weight loss company.

The sign reads, "If you can catch me, you can have me."

Without a second thought, he takes off after her.

A few miles later huffing and puffing, he finally gives up.

The same girl shows up for the next four days and the same thing happens.

On the fifth day, he weighs himself and is delighted to find he has lost 10 lbs. as promised.

He calls the company and orders their 5-day/20 pound program.

The next day there's a knock at the door and there stands the most stunning and beautiful woman he has ever seen in his life.

She is wearing nothing but Reebok running shoes and a sign around her neck that reads, "If you catch me you can have me."

Well, he's out the door after her like a shot.

This girl is in excellent shape and he does his best, but no such luck.

So for the next four days, the same routine happens with him gradually getting in better and better shape.

Much to his delight on the fifth day when he weighs himself, he discovers that he has lost another 20 lbs. as promised.

He decides to go for broke and calls the company to order the 7-day/50 pound program.

"Are you sure?" asks the representative on the phone. "This is our most rigorous program."

"Absolutely," he replies, "I haven't felt this good in years."

The next day there's a knock at the door; and when he opens it he finds a huge muscular guy standing there wearing nothing but pink running shoes and a sign around his neck that reads,"If I catch you, you are mine!!!"

He lost 63 pounds that week.

 

[rangerrookie429]

Most of you probably wont get this, but it's a Maritimer thing.

1. Your idea of a traffic jam is ten cars waiting to
pass a tractor on the highway.

2."Vacation" means going to Moncton for the weekend.

3. You measure distance in hours.

4.You know several people who have hit a deer.

5. You often switch from "Heat" to "A/C" in the same day.

6. You use a down filled comforter in the summer.

7. Your Grandparents drive 100 km through 13 feet of snow during raging blizzard without flinching.

8. You see people wearing hunting clothes at social events.

9.You install security lights on both your house and garage and goand leave both unlocked.

10. You think of the major food groups as: Meat, Fish and Tim Hortons.

11. You carry jumper cables in your car and your wife knows how to use them.

12. There are seven empty cars running in the parking lot of the Canadian Tirestore at any given time.

13. You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.

14. Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

15. Your lingerie consists of tube socks and flannel pajamas.

16. You know all 4 seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Construction.

17. It takes three hours to go to the store for one item, even when you're in a hurry because you have to stop and
talk to everybody in town.

And Finally: You know you live in the Maritimes when...

18. You actually understand these jokes and
forward them to all your friends from the Maritimes.

YES!!! LOVE IT HAHA. Especially about going to Moncton for vacation!!! Nice post bud.