I mowed the lawn today, and after doing so I sat down and had a cold beer. The day was really quite beautiful, and the drink facilitated some deep thinking. My wife walked by and asked me what I was doing, and I said, "Nothing." The reason I said "nothing" instead of saying "just thinking" is because she then would have asked, "About what?" At that point I would have had to explain that men are deep thinkers about various topics, which would lead to other questions. Finally I pondered an age old question: Is giving birth more painful than getting kicked in the nuts? Women always maintain that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts, but how could they know? Well, after another beer, and some more heavy deductive thinking, I have come up with an answer to that question. Getting kicked in the nuts is more painful than having a baby, and even though I obviously couldn't really know, here is the reason for my conclusion: A year or so after giving birth, a woman will often say, "It might be nice to have another child." But you never hear a guy say, "You know, I think I would like another kick in the nuts." I rest my case. Time for another beer. Then maybe a nap.
Little Barry came into the kitchen where his mother was making dinner.. His birthday was coming up and he t hought this was a good time to tell his mother what he wanted: "Mom, I want a bike for my birthday." Now little Barry was a bit of a troublemaker. He had gotten into trouble at school and at home. Barry's mother asked him if he thought he deserved to get a bike for his birthday. Little Barry, of course, thought he did. Barry's mother, being a Christian woman, wanted him to reflect on his behavior over the last year, and write a letter to God, and tell him why he deserved a bike for his birthday ? Little Barry stomped up the steps to his room and sat down to write God a letter. LETTER 1: Dear God, I have been a very good boy this year and I would like a bike for my birthday. I want a red one. Your friend, Barry. Barry knew this wasn't true. He had not been a very good boy this year, so he tore up he letter and started over. LETTER 2: Dear God, This is your friend Barry.. I have been a pretty good boy this year, and I would like a red bike for my birthday.. Thank you, Barry. Barry knew this wasn't true either. He tore up the letter and started again. LETTER 3: Dear God, I have been an OK boy this year and I would really like a red bike for my birthday. Your friend, Barry. Barry knew he could not send this letter to God either. Barry was very frustrated & upset. He went downstairs and told his mother he wanted to go to church. Barry's mother thought her plan had worked because Barry looked very sad. "Just be home in time for dinner," his mother said. Barry walked down the street to the church and up to the altar. He looked around to see if anyone was there. He picked up a statue of the Virgin Mary. He slipped it under his shirt and ran out of the church, down the street, into his house, and up to his room. He shut the door to his room and sat down with a piece of paper and a pen. Barry began to write his letter to God. LETTER 4: I 'VE GOT YOUR MUM. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN, SEND THE BIKE.
A pair of city-slicker counterfeiters had the bright idea to print bills that looked authentic but weren't a regular denomination so they couldn't be charged with actual counterfeiting. Trouble was, after
printing a pile of $18 bills they realized they could never pass them in the city, so they drove up north where they figured people might be a little more lax. They stopped at a little filling station and bait shop, walked in, and asked the man at the register if he could give them smaller bills for their money. Looking carefully at the $18 bill, then at the
customers, and finally into his cash drawer the proprietor responded, "Ayep; would you like three sixes or two nines?"
The IRS decides to audit Grandpa, and summons him to the IRS office. The auditor was not surprised when Grandpa showed up with his attorney. The auditor said, 'Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I'm not sure the IRS finds that believable.' I'm a great gambler, and I can prove it,' says Grandpa. 'How about a demonstration?'
The auditor thinks for a moment and said, 'Okay. Go ahead.'Grandpa says, 'I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye.' The auditor thinks a moment and says, 'It's a bet.'Grandpa removes his glass eye and bites it. The auditor's jaw drops. Grandpa says, 'Now, I'll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye..' Now the auditor can tell Grandpa isn't blind, so he takes the bet. Grandpa removes his dentures and bites his good eye.The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Grandpa's attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.
'Want to go double or nothing?' Grandpa asks. 'I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between.'
The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there's no way this old guy could possibly manage that stunt, so he agrees again. Grandpa stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, but although he strains mightily, he can't make the stream reach the wastebasket on the other side, so he pretty much urinates all over the auditor's desk.
The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win. But Grandpa's own attorney moans and puts his head in his hands.
'Are you okay?' the auditor asks.
'Not really,' says the attorney. 'This morning, when Grandpa told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty-five thousand dollars that he could come in here and urinate all over your desk and that you'd be happy about it!'
The government has no source of revenue, except the taxes paid by the producers. To free itself—for a while—from the limits set by reality, the government initiates a credit con game on a scale which the private manipulator could not dream of. It borrows money from you today, which is to be repaid with money it will borrow from you tomorrow, which is to be repaid with money it will borrow from you day after tomorrow, and so on. This is known as “deficit financing.” It is made possible by the fact that the government cuts the connection between goods and money. It issues paper money, which is used as a claim check on actually existing goods—but that money is not backed by any goods, it is not backed by gold, it is backed by nothing. It is a promissory note issued to you in exchange for your goods, to be paid by you (in the form of taxes) out of your future production.
online today!Conrad73 Forum Posts (59,466)
RE: Utopia