Joke of the day | Page 7 | GTAMotorcycle.com

Joke of the day

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Hahaha. Nice one mate
 
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A Chinese army captain told his soldiers that they weren't allowed to wear Apple-watches due to security concerns. "But sir" complained one soldier, "My daughter made it for me."
 
if-you-ever-feel-useless-remember-that-somebodys-job-is-to-install-turn-signal-systems-at-bmw-indicators.jpg
 
Why is it when you give Lebron James $1 dollar, he only gives you .75 cents back?



Lebron never gives you the 4th quarter :D
Not anymore :)
 
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THIS IS VERY SERIOUS AND WARRANTS YOUR ATTENTION!!

Women often receive warnings about protecting themselvesat the mall and in dark parking lots, etc. This is the first warning I haveseen for men. I wanted to pass it on in case you haven't heard about it. A'heads up' for those men who maybe regular customers at Lowe's, Home Depot,Costco, Publix, B.J.'s, or even Wal-Mart.

This one caught me totally by surprise. Over the lastmonth I became a victim of a clever scam while out shopping.
Simply going out to get supplies has turned out to bequite traumatic. Don't be naïve enough to think it couldn't happen to you oryour friends.

Here's how the scam works;
Two nice looking, college-age girls will come over toyour car or truck as you are packing your purchases into your vehicle. Theyboth start wiping your windshield with a rag and Windex, with their breastsalmost falling out of their skimpy T-shirts. (It's impossible not to look).When you thank them and offer them a tip, they say 'No' but instead ask for aride to McDonald's. You agree and they climb into the vehicle.
On the way, they start undressing. Then one of themstarts crawling all over you, while the other one steals your wallet.

I had my wallet stolen Aug. 4th, 9th, 10th, twice on the15th, again on the 17th, 20th, 24th, and the 29th. Also Sept. 1st, 4th, 8th,twice on the 16th & 17th, and very likely again this upcoming weekend.

So tell your friends to be careful. What a horrible wayto take advantage of us older men. Warn your friends to be vigilant. FYI -Wal-Mart has wallets on sale for $2.99 each. I found even cheaper ones for $.99at the Dollar Store and bought all they had in three of their stores. Also, younever get to eat at McDonald's. I've already lost 11 pounds just running backand forth from Lowe's, to Home Depot, to Wal-Mart. So please, send this on toall the retired men that you know and warn them to be on the lookout for thisscam.

PS:The best times are just before lunch and around 4:30in the afternoon.


 
Saw a bumper sticker:

I was going to tell you to go to hell but I work there and don't want to see you every day
 
WARNING FOR ALL MALES FROM ME
Last weekend I saw something at The Army Disposal Shop that sparked my interest. I was looking for a little something different for my wife Suzann. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer.
The effects of the Tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety...??
WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.
AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Suzann what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Nigella looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.
I must admit I thought about zapping Nigella (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.
Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a singlet with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and Tazer in another.
The directions said that:
a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant;
a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and
a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.
Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.
I'm sitting there alone, the cat looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say, 'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it.
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and...
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. WHAT THE... !!!
I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs! The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the lounge, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
Note:
If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a Tazer,
one note of caution:
There is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor!
A three second burst would be considered conservative!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.
· My bent reading glasses were on the top of the TV.
· The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was.
· My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.
· My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
· I had no control over the drooling.
· Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone.
· I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair.
I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
PS: My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!
 
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 ******-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.
CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

http://lifeisaroad.com/stories/2004/10/29/neighborhoodHazardorWhyTheCopsWontPatrolBriceStreet.html
 
My wife asked me to pass her her lip balm. I accidentally passed her that new super glue. She's still not talking to me. :(
 
Had to post this. Racist, really. Can`t i tell a joke?
So here it is, so there.

We had a new apprentice at work. Chinese fellow. Put him in charge of supplies. Couldn't find him for long time. Just before coffee break he jumped out from behind a stack of oil drums......SUPPLIES!!!!!!
 
How do you keep a moron in suspense????
 
Golf Joke:

Man and his wife are playing golf. The man hits his ball behind a barn. His wife says, "hit it through the barn and be back in the fair way in one." She holds the door open and gets hit in the head and killed. The man stops playing the course. Years later he was talked into playing there. As luck would have it, he put his ball in the same spot. His partner not knowing the story says, "hit through the barn and be back on the fairway in one." The man looks down and says, "no the last time I hit this shot I got a ten on this hole."

*Submitted by Rock Head Charlie Lee on Rock Head Golf FB page

sent from my Purple LGG4 on the GTAM app
 
It was another busy night at all the British henge sites as staff worked all night to move the stones back by an hour.
 
Penguins

Did you ever wonder why there are no dead penguins on the Antartic ice?
Where do they go?
It is a know fact the penguin is a very ritualistic bird that lives a complex and extremely ordered life.
The penguin is very committed to its family and will mate for life, as well as maintaining a compassionate form of contact with its offspring throughout its life.
If a penguin is found dead on the ice, other members of the family and the social circle have been know to dig holes in the ice using their vestigial wings and beaks, until the hole is deep enough for the dead penguin to be rolled into and buried.
The male penguins then gather around the fresh grave and sing:

"Freeze a jolly good fellow."
"Freeze a jolly good fellow."
 

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