It was George’s last day on the job as a postman after 35 years of delivering the mail through all kinds of weather to the same neighborhood.

When he arrived at the first house on his route George was greeted by the whole family there, who roundly and soundly congratulated him and sent him on his way with a tidy gift envelope with a hundred dollar bill.

At the second house the owners presented him with a box of fine Cuban cigars.

The folks at the third house, knowing he was an avid fisherman, handed him a selection of terrific fishing lures.

At the fourth house George was met at the door by a strikingly beautiful woman in a revealing negligee. She took him by the hand, beckoning him in, closing the door behind them, leading him up the stairs to the bedroom where she blew his mind with the most passionate love he had ever experienced.

When he had enough, they went downstairs, where she then fixed him a giant breakfast: eggs, potatoes, ham, sausage, blueberry waffles, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. When he was truly satisfied she poured him a cup of steaming coffee.

As she was pouring, he noticed a dollar bill sticking out from under the cup’s bottom edge. "All this was just too wonderful for words," he said, "but what’s the dollar for?"

"Well," she said, "last night, I told my husband that today would be your last day, and that we should do something special for you. I asked him what to give you. He said, ’Fuck him. Give him a dollar.’ -- The breakfast was my idea."

Ode To A Mammogram

For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts,
Don’t ever squeeze or bruise them,
And give them monthly tests.

So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.

After 30 years of astute care,
My Doctor found a lump.
She ordered up a mammogram,
To look inside that bump.

"Stand up very close," she said,
As she got my boob in line.
"And, tell me when it hurts," she said.
"Ah yes! There, that’s fine."

She stepped upon a peddle.
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate pressed down and down,
My boob was in a vice!

My skin was stretched and stretched,
From way up under my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish pancake thin.

Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it’s vice-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tits!

"Take a deep breath," she said to me,
Who does she think she’s kidding?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.

"There, that was good," I heard her say
As the room was slowly swaying.
"Now let’s have a go at the other one."
"Lord have mercy," I was praying.

It squeezed me from up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides,
I’ll bet she’s never had this done,
Not to her tender little hide!

If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have popped, Ker-pow!

This machine was designed by man,
Of this I have no doubt,
I’d like to stick his balls in there.
And see how they come out!

WHY IS EMAIL LIKE A PENIS?

Some folks have it, some don’t. Those who have it would be devastated if it were ever cut off. They think that those who don’t have it are somehow inferior. They think it gives them power. They are wrong.

Those who don’t have it may agree that it’s an nifty toy, but think it’s not worth the fuss that those who do have it make about it. Still, many of those who don’t have it would like to try it.

It can be up or down. It’s more fun when it’s up, but it makes it hard to get any real work done.

In the long-distant past, its only purpose was to transmit information considered vital to the survival of the species. Some people still think that’s the only thing it should be used for, but most folks today use it for fun most of the time.

Once you’ve started playing with it, it’s hard to stop. Some people would just play with it all day if they didn’t have work to do.

It provides a way to interact with other people. Some people take this interaction seriously, others treat it as a lark. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what kind of person you’re dealing with until it’s too late.

If you don’t apply the appropriate protective measures, it can spread viruses.

It has no brain of its own. Instead, it uses yours. If you use it too much, you’ll find it becomes more and more difficult to think coherently.

We attach an importance to it that is far greater than its actual size and influence warrant.

If you’re not careful what you do with it, it can get you in big trouble.

It has its own agenda. Somehow, no matter how good your intentions, it will warp you behavior. Later you may ask yourself "why on earth did I do that?"

It has no conscience and no memory. Left to its own devices, it will just do the same things it did before.

A woman in her late forties went to a plastic surgeon for a face-lift.

The surgeon told her about a new procedure called "The Knob", where a small knob is placed on the back of a woman’s head and can be turned to tighten up her skin to produce the effect of a brand new face lift.

Of course, the woman wanted "The Knob." Fifteen years later, the woman returned to the surgeon with two problems. "All these years, everything has been working just fine. I’ve had to turn the knob many times and I’ve always loved the results. But now I’ve developed two annoying problems. First, I have these terrible bags under my eyes and the knob won’t get rid of them."

The doctor looked at her closely and said, "Those aren’t bags, those are your breasts."

She said, "Well, I guess that explains the goatee."

John O’Riley was a member of an Irish Toast Masters Club and one evening at the local Irish Toast Masters meeting, a contest was held to see who could deliver the best toast.

Well, John O’Riley won the contest for the best toast of the evening, "Here’s To The Best Years o’ Me Life, Spent Between The Legs o’ Me Wife."

When John O’Riley arrived home his beautiful wife asked him how the Toast Masters meeting went and he said, "I won the contest for the best toast of the evening."

His wife then asked him what his toast was, and he said, "Here’s To The Best Years o’ me Life, Spent in Church wi’ me Wife."

His wife then said, "Why John, that’s so nice of you to include me in your Toast."

The next morning, Mrs. O’Riley was downtown shopping and ran into the local policeman on the beat who was also at the Toast Masters meeting with John O’Riley. He said, "Hello Mrs. O’Riley, that was some great toast that your husband John gave at the Toast Masters meeting last evening. He won first prize."

"Yes, that’s right," said Mrs. O’Riley, "but he wasn’t quite honest with the facts: he’s only been there twice, the first time he fell asleep and the second time I had to pull him out by the ears."

"Is it better to be a jock or a nerd?"

Consider Michael Jordan, having "retired," with $40 million in endorsements, he makes $178,100 a day, working or not. If he sleeps 7 hours a night, he makes $52,000 every night while visions of sugarplums dance in his head. If he goes to see a movie, it’ll cost him $7.00, but he’ll make $18,550 while he’s there. If he decides to have a 5 minute egg, he’ll make $618 while boiling it. He makes $7,415/hour more than minimum wage.

He’ll make $3,710 while watching each episode of Friends. If he wanted to save up for a new Acura NSX ($90,000) it would take him a whole 12 hours. If someone were to hand him his salary and endorsement money, they would have to do it at the rate of $2.00 every second.

He’ll probably pay around $200 for a nice round of golf, but will be reimbursed $33,390 for that round. Assuming he puts the federal maximum of 15% of his income into a tax deferred account (401k), his contributions will hit the federal cap of $10,500 at 845am on January 1st. If you were given a penny for every 10 dollars he made, you’d be living comfortably at $65,000 a year.

He’ll make about $19.60 while watching the 100 meter dash in the Olympics, and about $15,600 during the Boston Marathon. While the common person is spending about $20 for a meal in his trendy Chicago restaurant, he’ll pull in about $5600. This year, he’ll make more than twice as much as all U.S. past presidents for all of their terms combined. Amazing isn’t it? However... If Jordan saves 100% of his income for the next 500 years, he’ll still have less than Bill Gates has at this very moment.

Game over. Nerd wins.