A Scottish woman goes to the local newspaper office to see that the obituary for her recently deceased husband is published.

The obit editor informs her that there is a charge of 50 cents per word.

She pauses, reflects and then she says. Well then, let it read “Angus MacPherson died.”

Amused at the woman’s thrift, the editor tells her that there is a seven-word minimum for all obituaries.

She thinks it over and in a few seconds says, In that case, let it read…………… “Angus MacPherson died. Golf clubs for sale.”

The Dreaded Phone Call from the Boss

Boss: Is everything OK at the office?

Me: It’s all under control. It’s been a very busy day. I haven’t stopped to take a break all day.

Boss: Can you do me a favor?

Me: Of course, What is it?

Boss: Pick up the pace a little, I’m in the foursome behind you!

If you can read this whole story without laughing, then there’s no hope for you.  This is an actual account as relayed to paramedics at a chili cook-off in New Mexico.

Note: Please take time to read this slowly.  If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third judge is even better.

For those of you who have lived in New Mexico, you know how true this is.  They actually have a Chili Cook-off about the time Halloween comes around.  It takes up a major portion of a parking lot at the  Santa Fe Plaza.  Judge #3 was an inexperienced Chile taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield, IL.

Frank:  “Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off.  The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge’s table, asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in.  I was assured by the other two judges (Native New Mexicans) that the chili wouldn’t be all that spicy; and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted and became Judge #3.”

  Here are the scorecard notes from the event:

CHILI # 1 – MIKE’S MANIAC MONSTER CHILI
Judge # 1 — A little too heavy on the tomato.  Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 — Nice, smooth tomato flavor.  Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) — Holy crap, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway.  Took me two beers to put the flames out.  I hope that’s the worst one.  These New Mexicans are crazy.

CHILI # 2 – EL RANCHO’S AFTERBURNER CHILI
Judge # 1 — Smoky, with a hint of pork.  Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge # 2 — Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge # 3 — Keep this out of the reach of children.  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to taste besides pain.  I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver.  They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.

CHILI # 3 – ALFREDO’S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI
Judge # 1 — Excellent firehouse chili.  Great kick.
Judge # 2 — A bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3 — Call the EPA.  I’ve located a uranium spill.  My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano.  Everyone knows the routine by now.  Get me more beer before I ignite.  Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest.  I’m getting sh*t-faced from all of the beer.

CHILI # 4=2 0- BUBBA’S BLACK MAGIC
Judge # 1 — Black bean chili with almost no spice.  Disappointing.
Judge # 2 — Hint of lime in the black beans.  Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge # 3 — I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it.  Is it possible to burn out taste buds?  Sally, the beer maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills.  This 300 lb.  Woman is starting to look HOT …  Just like this nuclear waste I’m eating!  Is chili an aphrodisiac?

CHILI # 5 – LISA’S LEGAL LIP REMOVER
Judge # 1 — Meaty, strong chili.  Jalapeno peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick.  Very impressive.
Judge # 2 — Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato.  Must admit the jalapeno peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3 — My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes.  I farted, and four people behind me needed paramedics.  The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage.  Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher.  I wonder if I’m burning my lips off..  It really ticks me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming.  Screw them.

CHILI # 6 – VARGA’S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY
Judge # 1 — Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili.  Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge # 2 — The best yet.  Aggressive use of peppers, onions, garlic.  Superb.
Judge # 3 — My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames.  I crapped on myself when I farted, and I’m worried it will eat through the chair.  No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that Sally.  Can’t feel my lips anymore.  I need to wipe my butt with a snow cone.

CHILI # 7 – SUSAN’S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI
Judge # 1 — A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge # 2 — Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment.  **I should take note that I am worried about Judge #3.  He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
Judge # 3 — You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn’t feel a thing.  I’ve lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water.  My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth.  My pants are full of lava to match my shirt.  At least during the autopsy, they’ll know what killed me.  I’ve decided to stop breathing.  It’s too painful.  Screw it; I’m not getting any oxygen anyway.  If I need air, I’ll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.

CHILI # 8 – BIG TOM’S TOENAIL CURLING CHILI
Judge # 1 — The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili.  Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2 — This final entry is a good, balanced chili.  Neither mild nor hot.  Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself.  Not sure if he’s going to make it.  Poor fella, wonder how he’d have reacted to really hot chili?
Judge # 3 — No report.

I was standing at the bar one night, minding my own business.  This FAT ugly chick came up behind me, grabbed my ass and said,  “You’re kind of cute you gotta phone number?”  I said, “Yeah, you gotta pen?”  She said, “Yeah, I got a pen”.  I said, “You better get back in it before the farmer misses you”.  Cost me 6 stitches.
When you are over seventy, who gives  a  shit 
***********
Cowboy: “Give me 3 packets of condoms, please.” Cashier: “Do you need a paper bag with that, sir?” Cowboy: “Nah.. She’s purty good lookin’…..”
When you are over seventy, who gives a shit
***********
I was talking to a girl in the bar last night. She said, “If you lost a few pounds, had a shave and got your hair cut, you’d look all right.” I said, “If I did that, I’d be talking to your friends over there instead of you.”
When you are over seventy, who gives a shit
***********
I was telling a girl in the pub about my ability to guess what day a woman was born just by feeling her boobs. “Really” she said, “Go on then…try.” After about thirty seconds of fondling she began to lose patience and said, “Come on, what day was I born?” I said,  “Yesterday.”
When you are over seventy, who gives a shit
***********
I got caught taking a pee in the swimming pool today. The lifeguard shouted at me so loud, I nearly fell in.
When you are over seventy, who gives a shit
***********
I went to the pub last night and saw a FAT chick dancing on a table. I said, “Good legs.” The girl giggled and said, “Do you really think so.” I said, “Definitely! Most tables would have collapsed by now.”
When you are over seventy, who gives a shit

All drugs have at least two names, a trade name and generic name.  Example, the trade name is Tylenol and its generic name is Acetaminophen. Aleve is also called Naproxen. Amoxil is also called Amoxicillin and Advil is also called Ibuprofen.

The FDA has been looking for a generic name for Viagra.  After careful consideration by a team of government experts, it recently announced that it has settled on the generic name of Mycoxafloppin.  Also considered were Mycoxafailin, Mydixadrupin, Mydixarizin, Dixafix, and of course, Ibepokin.

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer.  It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one.  Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of ‘cocktails’, ‘highballs’ and just a good old-fashioned ‘stiff drink’. Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of: MOUNT & DO.

Thought for the day: There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer’s research. This means that by 2020, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

“What lies behind us, and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

Western stagecoach companies were big business in the latter half of the 19th century. In addition to passengers and freight, stages hauled gold and silver bullion as well as mining company payrolls.

Stage robbery was a constant danger and bandits employed many strategies to ambush a stagecoach. Thieves rarely met with much resistance from stage drivers, since they had passenger safety foremost in mind. The gang was usually after the Wells Fargo money box with its valuable contents. Passengers were seldom hurt, but they were certainly relieved of their cash, watches and jewelry. Before the completion of the transcontinental railroad over Donner Pass in 1868, the only transportation through the Sierra was by stage.

Rugged teamsters held rein over six wild-eyed horses as they tore along the precipitous mountain trails. The stagecoaches were driven by skilled and fearless men who pushed themselves and their spirited horses to the limit.

One of the most famous drivers as Charles Darkey Parkhurst, who had come west from New England in 1852 seeking his fortune in the Gold Rush. He spent 15 years running stages, sometimes partnering with Hank Monk, the celebrated driver from Carson City. Over the years, Pankhurst’s reputation as an expert whip grew. 

From 20 feet away he could slice open the end of an envelope or cut a cigar out of a man’s mouth. Parkhurst smoked cigars, chewed wads of tobacco, drank with the best of them, and exuded supreme confidence behind the reins. His judgment was sound and pleasant manners won him many friends.

One afternoon as Charley drove down from Carson Pass the lead horses veered off the road and a wrenching jolt threw him from the rig. He hung on to the reins as the horses dragged him along on his stomach. Amazingly, Parkhurst managed to steer the frightened horses back onto the road and save all his grateful passengers.

NO PATIENCE FOR CROOKS
During the 1850s, bands of surly highwaymen stalked the roads. These outlaws would level their shotguns at stage drivers and shout, “Throw down the gold box!” Charley Parkhurst had no patience for the crooks despite their demands and threatening gestures. The most notorious road agent was nicknamed “Sugarfoot.” When he and his gang accosted Charley’s stage, it was the last robbery the thief ever attempted. Charley cracked his whip defiantly, and when his horses bolted, he turned around and fired his revolver at the crooks. Sugarfoot was later found dead with a fatal bullet wound in his stomach.

In appreciation of his bravery, Wells Fargo presented Parkhurst with a large watch and chain made of solid gold. In 1865, Parkhurst grew tired of the demanding job of driving and he opened his own stage station. He later sold the business and retired to a ranch near Soquel, Calif. The years slipped by and Charley died on Dec. 29, 1879, at the age of 67.

A few days later, the Sacramento Daily Bee published his obituary. It read; “On Sunday last, there died a person known as Charley Parkhurst, aged 67, who was well-known to old residents as a stage driver. He was in early days accounted one of the most expert manipulators of the reins who ever sat on the box of a coach. It was discovered when friendly hands were preparing him for his final rest, that Charley Parkhurst was unmistakably a well-developed woman!”

NOT LIKE OTHER MEN, ER, WOMEN?
Once it was discovered that Charley was a woman, there were plenty of people to say they had always thought he wasn’t like other men. Even though he wore leather gloves summer and winter, many noticed that his hands were small and smooth. He slept in the stables with his beloved horses and was never known to have had a girlfriend.

Charley never volunteered clues to her past. Loose fitting clothing hid her femininity and after a horse kicked her, an eye patch over one eye helped conceal her face. She weighed 175 pounds, could handle herself in a fistfight and drank whiskey like one of the boys.

It turns out that Charley’s real name was Charlotte Parkhurst. Abandoned as a child, she was raised in a New Hampshire orphanage unloved and surrounded by poverty. Charlotte ran away when she was 15 years old and soon discovered that life in the working world was easier for men. So she decided to masquerade as one for the rest of her life.

The rest is history. Well, almost. There is one last thing. On November 3, 1868, Charlotte Parkhurst cast her vote in the national election, dressed as a man. She became the first woman to vote in the United States, 52 years before Congress passed the 19th amendment giving American women the right to vote. 

 Charley is buried in the Watsonville, CA Cemetery

An Irishman was drinking in a bar in London when he gets a call on his mobile phone.

He orders drinks for everybody in the bar as he announces his wife has just produced a typical Irish baby boy weighing 25 pounds.

Nobody can believe that any new baby can weigh in at 25 pounds, but the man just shrugs,

“That’s about average up our way, folks…like I said – my boy’s a typical Tipperrary baby boy..”

Two weeks later the man returns to the bar. The bartender says, “Say, you’re the father of that typical Irish baby that weighed 25 pounds at birth, aren’t you?

Everybody’s been makin’ bets about how big he’d be in two weeks … so how much does he weigh now?”

The proud father answers, “Seventeen pounds”.

The bartender is puzzled and concerned. “What happened?  He was 25 pounds the day he was born.”

The father takes a slow swig of his Jameson Irish Whisky, wipes his lips on his shirt sleeve, leans into the bartender and proudly says…Had him circumcised.”

A balding, white haired man walked into a jewelry store this past Friday evening with a beautiful much younger gal at his side. He told the jeweler he was looking for a special ring for his girlfriend. The jeweler looked through his stock and brought out a $5,000 ring.
The man said, ‘No, I’d like to see something more special.’

At that statement, the jeweler went to his special stock and brought another ring over. ‘Here’s a stunning ring at only $40,000the jeweler said. The lady’s eyes sparkled and her whole body trembled with excitement. The old man seeing this said, ‘We’ll take it.’

The jeweler asked how payment would be made and the man stated, ‘By check. I know you need to make sure my check is good, so I’ll write it now and you can call the bank Monday to verify the funds; I’ll pick the ring up Monday afternoon.’

On Monday morning, the jeweler angrily phoned the old man and said ‘Sir…There’s no money in that account.

”I know,’ said the old man…’But let me tell you about my weekend.’

A Mom visits her son for dinner that lives with a girl roommate.

During the course of the meal, his mother couldn’t help but notice how pretty his roommate was. She had long been suspicious of a relationship between the two, and this had only made her more curious….

Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between him and his roommate than met the eye.

Reading his mom’s thoughts, his son volunteered, “I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, we are just roommates.”

About a week later, his roommate came to him saying, “Ever since your mother came to dinner, I’ve been unable to find the silver plate. You don’t suppose she took it, do you?”

He said,”Well, I doubt it, but I’ll email her, just to be sure.” He sat down and wrote:

Dear Mother:

I’m not saying that you ‘did’ take the silver plate from my house, I’m not saying that you ‘did not’ take the silver plate, but the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.

Love, Your Son.

Several days later, he received an email from his Mother, which read:

Dear Son:

I’m not saying that you ‘do’ sleep with your roommate, and I’m not saying that you ‘do not’ sleep with her. But the fact remains that if she were sleeping in her OWN bed, she would have found the silver plate by now, under her pillow…

Love, Mom

THE HEART ATTACK

A blonde gets home from work early & hears strange noises coming from the bedroom. She rushes upstairs only to find her husband naked lying on the bed, sweating and panting.

‘What’s up?’ she asks.

‘I think I’m having a heart attack,’ – cries the husband.

The blonde rushes downstairs to grab the phone, but just as she’s dialing, her four-year-old son comes up And says, “Mummy, Mummy, Aunty Shirley is hiding in the wardrobe, and she has no clothes on”.

The blonde slams the phone down and storms back upstairs into the bedroom right past her husband. Rips open the wardrobe door and sure enough, there is her sister, totally naked and cowering on the floor.

‘You rotten B**ch’, she screams. ‘My husband’s having a heart attack, and you’re running around naked, playing hide and seek with the kids!!’