King5lay3r's blog: "Jokes, good bad and indiffernt, what your call?"

After getting all of Pope Benedict's luggage loaded into the limo, (and he doesn't travel light), the driver notices the Pope still standing on the curb. "Excuse me, Your Holiness," says the driver," Would you please take your seat so we can leave?" "Well, to tell you the truth," says the Pope, "they never let me drive at the Vatican when I was a cardinal, and now that I'm Pope, I'd really like to drive today." "I'm sorry, Your Holiness, but I cannot let you do that. I'd lose my job! And what if something should happen?" protests the driver, wishing he'd never gone to work that morning. "Who's going to tell? Besides, there might be something extra in it for you," says the Pope with a smile. Reluctantly, the driver gets in the back as the Pope climbs in behind the wheel. The driver quickly regrets his decision when, after exiting the airport, the Pontiff floors it, accelerating the limo to 105 mph. (Remember, he's German.) "Please slow down, Your Holiness!" pleads the worried driver, but the Pope keeps the pedal to the metal until they hear sirens. "Oh, Dear God, I'm gonna lose my license -- and my job!" moans the driver. The Pope pulls over and rolls down the window as the cop approaches, but the cop takes one look at him, goes back to his motorcycle, and gets on the radio. "I need to talk to the Chief," he says to the dispatcher. The Chief gets on the radio and the cop tells him that he's stopped a limo going a hundred and five. "So bust him," says the Chief. "I don't think we want to do that, he's really big," said the cop. The Chief exclaimed," All the more reason!" "No, I mean really important," said the cop with a bit of persistence. The Chief then asked, "Who ya got there, the Mayor?" Cop: "Bigger." Chief: " The Governor?" Cop: "Bigger." Chief: "The President?" Cop: "Bigger." "Well," said the Chief, "Who is it?" Cop: "I think it's God!" The Chief is stumped, " You been drinking, John? " Cop: " No Sir." Chief : " Then what makes you think it's God?" Cop: "He's got the Pope as a chauffeur."

For all of you who are having a bad day, here is something to cheer you up...it's a crack up! Next time you have a bad day at work... Think of this guy. Rob is a commercial saturation Diver for xxxxxxx xxxxx in Western Australia. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to a radio station in Perth, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won! Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wetsuit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial 'water heater'. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a hose, which is taped to the side of the suit. I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wetsuit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi. Everything was going well until, all of a sudden, my arse started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my arse started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was already done. In agony, I realised what had happened. The machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my arse was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my arse. I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all in fits of hysterical laughter. I was then instructed to make three agonising in-water decompression stops totalling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the Medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my arse as soon as I got into the chamber. Yes the cream put the fire out, but I couldn't shit for two days because my arse was swollen shut. So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your bum. Now repeat to yourself 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job'.

Standardising the language. Having chosen English as the preferred language in the EEC, the European Parliament has commissioned a feasibility study to look at ways of improving efficiency in communications between Government departments. European officials have often pointed out that English spelling is unnecessarily difficult, for example, cough, plough, rough, through, and thorough. What is clearly needed is a phased programme of changes to iron out these anomalies. The programme would, of course, be administered by a committee staff at top level by articipating nations. In the first year, for example, the committee would suggest using 's' instead of the soft 'c'. Sertainly sivil servants in all sities would resieve this news with joy. Then the hard 'c' could be replaced by 'k' sinse both letters are pronounsed alike. Not only would this klear up konfusion in the minds of klerikal workers, but typewriters kould be made with one less letter. There would be growing enthusiasm when in the sekond year, it kould be announsed that the troublesome 'ph' would henseforth be written 'f'. This would make words like 'fotograf' twenty per sent shorter in print. In the third year publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reash the stage where more komplikated shanges are possible. Governments would enkourage the removal of double letters which have always been a deterent to akurate speling. We would al agre that the horible mes of silent 'e's in the languag is disgrasful. Therefor we kould drop thes and kotinu to read and writ as though nothing had hapend. By this tim it would be four uears sins the skem began and peopl would be reseptive to steps sutsh as replasing 'th' by 'z'. Perhaps zen ze funktion of 'w' kould be taken on by 'v', vish is, after al, half a 'w'. Shortly after zis, ze unesesary 'o' kould be dropd from words kontaining 'ou'. Similar arguments vud of kors be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters. Kontinuing zis proses yer after yer, ve vud eventuli hav a reli sensibl riten styl. After tventi yers zer vud be no mor trubls, difikultis, and evrivun vud find it ezi tu understand ech ozer. Ze drems of ze Guvermnt vud finali hav kum.