The test features an unlikely, completely fictional situation in which you will have to make a decision. Remember that your answer needs to be honest, yet spontaneous. Please scroll down slowly and give due consideration to each line.

You are in New Orleans, There is chaos all around you caused by a hurricane with severe flooding. This is a flood of biblical proportions. You are a photojournalist working for a major newspaper, and you're caught in the middle of this epic disaster.

The situation is nearly hopeless. You're trying to shoot career-making photos There are houses and people swirling around you, some disappearing under the water. Nature is unleashing all of its destructive fury.

Suddenly you see a man floundering in the water. He is fighting for his life, trying not to be taken down with the debris. You move closer .... somehow the man looks familiar. You suddenly realize who it is. It's George W.Bush!

At the same time you notice that the raging waters are about to take him under, forever.

You have two options--you can save the life of G.W.Bush or you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize winning photo, documenting the death of one of the world's most powerful men.

So here's the question, and please give an honest answer: Would you select high contrast colour film, or would you go with the classic simplicity of black and white?

Wed 21 Sep 2005 | /Jokes | permalink

Truths to accept for a happier working life in the office

Don't work for short people.
Never apply for a job that has exclamation marks in the advert!!!
Left over food from meetings will provide you with the greatest thrill per dollar value in your entire working life.
If you are male and get your haircut, however respectable, you will be the subject of ridicule for the following day.
Asking for leave, even if you are entitled to it, will provide you with the greatest pain in your entire working life.
Don't listen to anyone who tells you different, it is true that the higher up the chain you get, the less actual work you do.
A couple of lagers after work is a far more effective way of teambuilding and bonding than any expedition to climb mountains, any shooting people with little balls of paint or any 'game' involving teams in coloured clothing. Unless you are allowed some beers afterwards.
Don't work anywhere that doesn't have a pub within walking distance
Sometimes the purpose of meetings is just to remind everybody what it is everyone else does.
Of all the meetings you attend, at least 98% will be utterly pointless.
The number of people in a meeting is inversely proportionate to the worth and effectiveness of that meeting.
Anyone who doesn't drink, however nice they are, should not be trusted.
The more someone uses phrases like 'out of the box', 'imagineer' and 'blue sky thinking', the less they actually know what they are talking about
Anyone who says their job is 'based on relationships', does little of consequence
If someone has worked in a company for more than 10 years they should not be trusted
Always carry your CV on a diskette in your pocket
Beware; 'over performance' is a phrase that always matches with 'rod for own back'
Pay peanuts, get monkeys.
The Accounts department will have the most over-inflated view of their importance and sense of humour in the office
The Sales department will have the most over-inflated view of their individual worth in the office
Managers will have the most over-inflated view of their popularity in the office
HR will have the hardest job making up stuff to look busy
Marketing won't even pretend to be busy, but will hide behind a veneer of 'science' ('that looks quite nice, but maybe a little to the left?') that 'you wouldn't understand' (we can't explain in a convincing manner) and are always in 'brainstorms' (forwarding emails to agencies to do the work for them). That is until a recession hits and they go 'travelling' (go to Ko Samui to get pissed).
Over the last 15 yrs the role of the "secretary" has gone from 'those who type' to "PA's" 'those who manage the entire business when the boss is absent'. The same thing happened when Stalin took over the Politburo. Beware the PA.
The greatest use for email is to facilitate office banter without the hushing.
Google images. Brilliant.
You'll always get a little thrill out of coming back from the loo to find you have that little envelope symbol in the bottom right of the screen
Photocopiers will keep getting bigger as everything else gets smaller. Soon the office will be placed inside the photocopier.
Accept it, it's like the tides or the setting of the sun, there is always someone in the office who gets away with 25 sick days a year, but if you have one Monday off you WILL be taken to task
After you have resigned and left a company you will be blamed for everything that goes wrong for the next 30 days.

Wed 18 May 2005 | /Jokes | permalink

Most Gratuitous Use of the Word Fuck in a Serious Screenplay

My good friend Warren sent me a pearler MP3. Enjoy.

Tue 05 Apr 2005 | /Jokes | permalink

Crazy Frog

The british television comercial that everyone is raving about, love it or hate it, it made me laugh.

Wed 30 Mar 2005 | /Jokes | permalink

Rollerblading Joke

Q: What is the most difficult part of rollerblading?

A: Telling your parents you're gay

Sat 26 Mar 2005 | /Jokes | permalink

Lotion

"It rubs the lotion on its skin" is a favourite quip around the office - usually when given a command or told to do something you have little input into...

Tue 01 Mar 2005 | /Jokes | permalink

The Doubler (by Ray Abruzzi)

I'm no prudish freak. I've lived with a many as nine other Rugby players at a time, in college, and have two house-mates now. If you have any grasp at all of the social graces of a rugby player, you can get an idea of what manner of behavior I have witnessed, and unfortunately participated in.

So, I don't really mind the stink of my friends, or hearing their bathroom tales of "foot-longs" or torrential squirts. There is a very distinguishable camaraderie associated with rest rooms, locker rooms and other areas designated as males-only. But something about the work environment, the air of formality and etiquette, lends a sense that there should be a higher standard regarding poopy politeness.

The Doubler is a specific person, but anyone can double. In the office where I work there are two men's rest located on my floor. The nearer consists of two urinals, two stalls and two sinks.

Another 50 yards down the hall is the other john, with two sinks two urinals and one super-sized stall, built to accommodate handicapped employees. This is referred to rather unimaginatively as the Throne Room.

Now, when the unfortunate need to go number two arises during working hours, as it often does due to the ungodly amount of overtime my department works, I will hasten to the rest room. I bypass the nearer in favor of the more private room at the end of the hall. Simple enough. My body, being wise in the ways of such matters, calculates the distance and time to this rest room, and begins sending increasingly urgent signals to my bowels as I get closer to the door, so that by the time I get through the door it is seconds to show time.

Preperation for show time requires two paper towels, one wet and one dry. I nervously dance from one foot to the other as I wipe the seat with the wet, then dry it with the other before placing the little ring thingie over the seat. This extra wiping, sadly, is necessary as several of my co-workers somehow have missed the raise-the-seat portion of their up-bringings entirely. That completed, it's bombs away and business as usual. Should someone happen to come into the rest room I am occupying to use a urinal, wash-up, or use the Throne (indicated by the door opening and then closing without someone entering) I bide my time, sitting patiently until they leave, before I exit the stall.

I will often refrain from wiping or squeezing as I realize these sounds are unappealing until after the coast is clear. I also do not like to exit the stall in someone else's company, because I cannot escape the feeling of "I did a BAD thing," and don't want to meet their eyes and exchange bathroom pleasantries with anyone when I am feeling so dirty and disgusting about what I have done. Seems like pretty common courtesy to me.

However, apparently these simple courtesies allude many of my co-workers and one in particular: the Doubler. An unlucky chain of events usually precedes the arrival of the Doubler. In order to be doubled, one must be using a stall in the dual bathroom. This occurs when: a) You had something extremely disagreeable for lunch and have to make bad potty. Though your mind may say "Let's go to the bathroom down the hall and be alone," your body says, "No, you get into that near bathroom this second or we're going live right here in the hall."

So, you listen to your body. I have attempted to override its dictatorship on more than one occasion, which almost resulted in my demise each time (and the pre-poop-bowl-wipe job was certainly very shabbily done). And: b) A worse fate, which can also occur, is that when I reach the Throne room, court is already being held, and I must about-face and beat feet back to the People's Stalls. Those are some tense moments. The tensest. I have a 100% success rate, though, where inter-pants accidents are concerned.

So you enter the near john, and pray that it is unoccupied. If both are, it's probably over, Johnny. If one is, well, there you have it, you're about to double someone. It does happen, but at least you made an effort.

My special rules and tactics for doubling, or being doubled are simple, if only marginally effective.

Number one: Never at any time do you address the occupant of the next stall. It doesn't matter if it is your buddy from production or the guy from next cubicle over. Nobody is anybody in the stalls, they are just shoes to you.

Number two: Keep it quiet. Be aware of the sounds emanating from your ass, your mouth, and your wipe. Keep it to a minimum, and that includes relief sighing. Nobody needs or wants to know you had a happy little movement. Keep it special by keeping it to your self.

Exiting has it's own set of rules. Not only must you try to avoid urinal and sink users (you dirty, filthy boy) but you must be extremely careful to avoid the other stall guy. The guilt would be unbearable. I have known myself to wait as long as five extra minutes, sitting silently in the stall, done with my business, simply to avoid contact with others. It's the rule. I have even been caught once in a waiting game with another, equally polite player, that ended only because I had to get back to my desk to take a call I was expecting. My unknown friend had the courtesy to wait until I left. Good player.

A good tactic to use in the event that you have fallen into a doubling experience is the "thumbs in the ears, pinkies in pushing the nasal passages closed method." I invite you to try this at your desk right now. While not entirely effective, it goes a long way in blocking out unpleasant sounds and odors. (Note: Be careful to avoid loud mouth breathing while employing this technique, and be aware that your own, other sounds are muted to you, so be extra quiet.)

As you can see, a lot of issues revolve around crapping at work, and into this delicate world comes the Doubler. He has a name. Most know it. But he is better known as the Doubler to all. He's middle-aged, kind of short and balding. He's generally affable, though somewhat long-winded and given to tangents. The Doubler rarely changes from his sneakers to his shoes upon arriving at the office (unless there is a meeting or something), and it lends personality to his under-the-stall persona.

His first mistake is that he has never been seen to make even an attempt at using the private stall. He is always in the two-staller. Those Nikes seem to leap out at you when you walk in the john. They add an element of surprise. He doesn't hesitate to plop down next to you, if you happen to be stuck using the community chamber pot.

He also breaks rule number one, whether he is there to use a urinal or a stall. "Hey, Ray, How's it goin'?" And I think, "Well, ***, there's a big log of smelly shit hanging out of my ass right this second, how's it going with you?"

If he does sit next to you, assume an extremely defensive position. I mean, JAM the thumbs in there and PUSH on the nostrils, cause when he goes he really goes: "Great weather today, huh, Ray?" Kerrrr-splash! FART FART Splash FART! Kersplashhh! "Oh, Boy, that's better!, So you believe this fucking deadline or what? These assholes!" Ka-blammm! Fart Fart Splash Fart! Wipe Wipe Wipe! Grunt! Sigh!

And so on. He leaves at exactly the moment you do (actually, fleeing is more like what you are doing at that point), looking to make eye contact and everything else short of shaking hands. Attempts to wait him out aren't worth it, due to the torrent of sound, smell and small-talk pouring out of the booth adjacent to yours. So you make a break for it, and I swear, he senses it and is out after you in a zip and a flush. It's almost as if he wants to high five and say "Good Game!"

I fear the Doubler. And I accept the Doubler, because I have, by necessity, assumed the role of a Doubler on occasion. But my performance pales in comparison to the all-senses-encompassing experience that is The Doubler's way. He is the scourge of etiquette, a Mecca for foul odor and the conductor of a butt-symphony that has no known equal. And he has no concept of his fame. A true Hero.

Thu 01 Jan 2004 | /Jokes | permalink

Internet is for Porn

We all know what the Internet is used for, right?

Thu 01 Jan 2004 | /Jokes | permalink

Support Joke

This is a true story from the WordPerfect helpline. Needless to say the helpdesk employee was fired, however, they are currently suing the WordPerfect organization for "Termination without Cause."

"Yes, well, I'm having trouble with WordPerfect."
"What sort of trouble?"

"Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away."
"Went away??"

"They disappeared."
"Hummm. So what does your screen look like now?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"It's blank, it won't accept anything when I type."
"Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?"
"How do I tell?"
"Can you see the C: prompt on the screen?"
"What's a sea-prompt?"
"Never mind. Can you move the cursor around on the screen?"
"There isn't any cursor: I told you, it won't accept anything I type."

"Does your monitor have a power indicator?"
"What's a monitor?"
"It's the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it's on?"
"I don't know."
"Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it's plugged into the wall."
"Yes, it is."
"When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one?"
"No."
"Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable."
"..........Okay, here it is."
"Follow it for me, and tell me if it's plugged securely into the back of your computer."
"I can't reach."
"Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is?"
"No."
"Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?"
"Oh, it's not because I don't have the right angle-it's because it's dark."
"Dark???"
"Yes, the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window."
"Well, turn on the office light then."
"I can't."
"No? Why not?"
"Because there's a power outage."
"A power.....A power outage? Aha. Okay, we've got it licked now.
Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?"
"Well, yes, I keep them in the closet."
"Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from."
"Really? Is it that bad?"
"Yes, I'm afraid it is."
"Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?"
"Tell them you're too fucking stupid to own a computer."

Tue 02 Jul 2002 | /Jokes | permalink

Tosser

For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day when you just need to take it out on someone!!! Don't take that bad day out on someone you know, take it out on someone you DON'T know!!!

Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialled it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?"

I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and could I please speak to Robin Carter?"

Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits incorrectly.

After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again.

When the same person once more answered, I yelled "You're a tosser!" and hung up.

Next to his phone number I wrote the word "tosser," and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I'd call him up. He'd answer, and I'd yell, "You're a tosser!" It would always cheer me up.

Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the tosser.

Then one day I had an idea. I dialled his number, then heard his voice, "Hello."

I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?"

He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a tosser!"

The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 823-4863.

An old lady at the shopping centre really took her time pulling out of the parking pace. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the slot.

I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. Great, I thought, she's finally leaving. All of a sudden this black BMW come flying up the parking isle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space.

I hit the horn and started yelling, "You can't do that. I was here first!"

The guy climbed out of his BMW completely ignoring me. He walked toward the shopping centre as if he didn't even hear me.

I thought to myself, this guy's a tosser, there sure are a lot of tossers in this world. I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.

A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling, "You're tosser!" (It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.)

I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black BMW lying on my desk and thought I'd better call this guy, too.

After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, "Hello." I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"

"Yes, it is."

"Can you tell me where I can see it?"

"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It's a yellow house and the car's parked right out front."

I said, "What's your name?"

"My name is Don Hansen."

"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"

"I'm home in the evenings."

"Listen Don, can I tell you something?"

"Yes,"

"Don, you're a tosser!" And I slammed the phone down.

After I hung up I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialer. For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two tossers to call. Then, after several months of calling the tossers and hanging up on them, it just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be.

I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution: First, I had my phone dial tosser #1. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello."

I yelled "You're a tosser!", but I didn't hang up.

The tosser said, "Are you still there?"

I said, "Yeah."

He said, "Stop calling me."

I said, "No."

He said, "What's your name, Pal?"

I said, "Don Hansen."

He said "Where do you live?"

"1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black BMW's parked out front."

" I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers."

"Yeah, like I'm really scared, tosser!" and I hung up.

Then I called tosser #2.

He answered, "Hello."

I said, "Hello, tosser!"

He said, "If I ever find out who you are..."

"You'll what?"

" I'll kick your arse."

"Well, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now, tosser!" And I hung up.

Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as I got home.

Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on down W.34th Street.

After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing.

Glorious!

Watching two tossers kicking the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars and a police helicopter was one of the greatest experiences of my life!

Name withheld to protect the guilty.

Tue 02 Jul 2002 | /Jokes | permalink

Bank Manager

Dear Bank Manager,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing the check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations some three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check, and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has only been in place for eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account with $50 by way of penalty for the inconvenience I caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to re-think my errant financial ways. You have set me on the path of fiscal righteousness.

No more will our relationship be blighted by these unpleasant incidents, for I am restructuring my affairs in 2002, taking as my model the procedures, attitudes and conduct of your very bank. I can think of no greater compliment, and I know you will be excited and proud to hear it.

To this end, please be advised about the following changes:

First, I have noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you I am confronted by the impersonal, ever-changing, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become. From now on I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh and blood person.

My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by cheque, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee of your branch, whom you must nominate. You will be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require our chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Justice of the Peace, and that the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in all dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further by introducing you to my new telephone system, which you will notice, is very much like yours. My authorized contact at your bank, the only person with whom I will have any dealings, may call me at any time and will be answered by an automated voice. By pressing Buttons on the phone, he/she will be guided thorough an extensive set of menus:

1. To make an appointment to see me

2. To query a missing repayment

3. To make a general complaint or inquiry

4. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there; Extension of living room to be communicated at the time the call is received;

5. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am still sleeping. Extension of bedroom to be communicated at the time the call is received;

6. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature. Extension of toilet to be communicated at the time the call is received.

7. To transfer the call to my mobile phone in case I am not at home.

8. To leave a message on my computer. To leave a message a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated at a later date to the contact.

9. To return to the main menu and listen carefully to options 1 through 8.

The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may on occasion involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration. This month I've chosen a refrain from The Best Of Woody Guthrie:

"Oh, the banks are made of marble With a guard at every door And the vaults are filled with silver That the miners sweated for"

After twenty minutes of that, our mutual contact will probably know it by heart. On a more serious note, we come to the matter of cost.

As your bank has often pointed out, the ongoing drive for greater efficiency comes at a cost. A cost which you have always been quick to pass on to me. Let me repay your kindness by passing some costs back.

First, there is the matter of advertising material you send me. This I will read for a fee of $20 per page. Inquiries from your nominated contact will be billed at $5 per minute of my time spent in response. Any debits to my account, as, for example, in the matter of the penalty for the dishonored cheque, will be passed back to you.

My new phone service runs at 75 cents a minute (even Woody Guthrie doesn't come for free), so you would be well advised to keep your inquiries brief and to the point. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever-so-slightly less prosperous, 2002

Your humble client.

Sun 16 Jun 2002 | /Jokes | permalink

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