<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:27:19.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jokes</title><subtitle type='html'>Please don't  send these to me for the 100th time....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-112458187748490466</id><published>2005-08-20T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-20T16:51:17.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Many of you have heard Dr. Laura, Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, and others speak of the 'Homosexual Agenda,' but no one has ever seen a copy of it. Since they are all so concerned about the 'Homosexual Agenda,' I thought it might be helpful to have a copy so I asked a friend of mine who recently obtained a hard copy of it if he would send it to me.He did, and now I am sharing it with all of you</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/112458187748490466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/112458187748490466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112458187748490466' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-112060067597794144</id><published>2005-07-05T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T14:57:56.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mostly Cajun, All American and Opinionated  : "A priest was being honored at his retirement dinner after 25 years in the parish. A leading local politician and member of the congregation was chosen to make the presentation and give a little speech at the dinner. He was delayed so the priest decided to say his own few words while they waited.” I got my first impression of the parish from the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/112060067597794144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/112060067597794144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112060067597794144' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-111548366108258054</id><published>2005-05-07T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-07T09:34:21.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Read My Lips - the blog: "A cowboy in Texas got pulled over by a State Trooper for speeding.The trooper started to lecture the cowboy about his speeding, and in general began to throw his weight around to try to make the cowboy feel uncomfortable. Finally, the trooper got around to writing out the ticket. As he was doing that, he kept swatting at some flies that were buzzing around his head.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111548366108258054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111548366108258054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111548366108258054' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-111336576729819717</id><published>2005-04-12T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T21:16:07.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mostly Cajun, All American and Opinionated: "One day a farmer’s donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn’t worth it to retrieve the donkey.He invited all his neighbours to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111336576729819717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111336576729819717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111336576729819717' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-111135211776845887</id><published>2005-03-20T12:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-20T12:55:17.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[IP] so true! so true! :-)An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun in one hand pulling a male buffalo with the other. He says to the waiter, 'Me want coffee.'The waiter says, 'Sure chief, coming right up.' He gets the Indian a tall mug of coffee.The Indian drinks the coffee down in one gulp, turns and blasts the buffalo with the shotgun, causing parts of animal to splatter everywhere, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111135211776845887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111135211776845887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111135211776845887' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-111066307539456556</id><published>2005-03-12T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T13:31:15.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Fat Steve's Blatherings: Passing Around the Net: THE PRINCIPLES OF JEWISH BUDDHISM1. Let your mind be as a floating cloud.  Let your stillness be as the wooded glen.  And sit up straight.  You'll never meet the Buddha with such round shoulders.2. There is no escaping karma.  In a previous life, you never called, you never wrote, you never visited.  And whose fault was that?3. Wherever you</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111066307539456556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/111066307539456556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111066307539456556' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110896623763770461</id><published>2005-02-20T22:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T22:10:37.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOG ON ICE: As for getting along with women...this is impossible. We know this because they get really angry at us all the time and then admit later that they were totally wrong and have no idea why they went off on us. I think the key is to turn the TV way up and nod a lot until it blows over. And get a PDA that reminds you to buy flowers and so forth on the correct days. If you give a woman a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110896623763770461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110896623763770461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_archive.html#110896623763770461' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110895260954586709</id><published>2005-02-20T18:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T18:23:29.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mostly Cajun, All American and Opinionated: "Boudreaux and his wife they out fishing in the lake one day. She stood up and fell over the side of the boat, and sank like a stone. Ol’ Boudreaux he dive in the water and look, but de water wuz plenny muddy, so he can’t fin’ her. After a while he goes back to the landing and tells de authorities. They mount a search. All night, they don’ find nuthin’</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110895260954586709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110895260954586709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_archive.html#110895260954586709' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110793580545271346</id><published>2005-02-08T23:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-08T23:56:45.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Spanish teacher was explaining to her class that in Spanish, unlike English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine.' 'House'' for instance, is feminine: ''la casa.'' ''Pencil,'' however, is masculine: 'el lapiz.''A student asked, ''What gender is 'computer'?'' Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into two groups, male and female, and asked them to decide </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110793580545271346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110793580545271346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_archive.html#110793580545271346' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110722832651043714</id><published>2005-01-31T19:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-31T19:25:26.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>COWSIs it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that our government can track a cow born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she sleeps in the state of Washington. And they tracked her calves to their stalls.  But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country.  Maybe we should give them each a cow.CONSTITUTIONThey keep talking </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110722832651043714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110722832651043714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110722832651043714' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110430009781603455</id><published>2004-12-28T22:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-28T22:01:37.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>&gt;bt: Evan's JournalDan Rather and Peter Jennings, along with a U.S. Marine assigned to protect them, were hiking through the Iraqi desert one day when they were captured by terrorists. They were tied up, led to a village, and brought before the Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the al Qaeda leader in Iraq.Zarqawi said, "I am familiar with your western custom of granting the condemned a last wish; so, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110430009781603455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110430009781603455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110430009781603455' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110369387494622035</id><published>2004-12-21T21:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T21:37:54.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Feet First: "Christmas Carols for the Psychiatrically ChallengedIt's a cheap laugh, but I'm not proud.Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented AreAmnesia --- I Don't Know if I'll be Home for ChristmasNarcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About MeManic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110369387494622035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110369387494622035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110369387494622035' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110219557114464240</id><published>2004-12-04T13:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-04T13:26:11.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ursulav: Nimrod was a mighty hunter before the Lord...: "I also had a cat that went insane with motherhood One day we left out all the kittens (three litters worth) into the front yard for some fun and exercise. Well one of the mothers Shinjuko who had taken over nearly all the mother duties by that point was not happy at all where as the other moms were happy to have the little ones off them </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110219557114464240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110219557114464240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110219557114464240' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110219555055500560</id><published>2004-12-04T13:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-04T13:25:50.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Overheard On LiveJournal's Journal: "When I was a kid, we had two cats: Dakota and Vermont. Vermont was the natural hunter while Dakota liked to get petted. After Vermont made her first kill and brought the dead bird to thes creen door, asking Mom to pan-fry it, we praised her, called her a mighty hunter, and disposed of the bird. Dakota was jealous of this attention, it seems, so a few days </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110219555055500560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110219555055500560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110219555055500560' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-110219488423777454</id><published>2004-12-04T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-04T13:14:44.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Overheard On LiveJournal's Journal: "When I was a kid, we had two cats: Dakota and Vermont. Vermont was the natural hunter while Dakota liked to get petted. After Vermont made her first kill and brought the dead bird to thes creen door, asking Mom to pan-fry it, we praised her, called her a mighty hunter, and disposed of the bird. Dakota was jealous of this attention, it seems, so a few days </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110219488423777454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/110219488423777454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110219488423777454' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-109802506396909807</id><published>2004-10-17T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-17T07:57:43.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How many members of the Bush Administration are needed to replace a light bulb?    The Answer is TEN:    1. One to deny that a light bulb needs to be changed,    2. One to attack the patriotism of anyone who says the light bulb needs to be changed,    3. One to blame Clinton for burning out the light bulb,    4. One to tell the nations of the world that they are either for changing the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109802506396909807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109802506396909807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_10_01_archive.html#109802506396909807' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-109796992224547050</id><published>2004-10-16T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-16T16:38:42.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Postcards from the Bleeding Edge: "   Favorite joke of the night...As we setup tables and banners until the wee hours of the morning - improvising fasteners and the like to hold everything together - 'We're launching the world's most advanced spaceship in 7 hours... and we're running out of velcro and duct tape!'"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109796992224547050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109796992224547050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_10_01_archive.html#109796992224547050' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-109409803017603505</id><published>2004-09-01T21:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T21:07:10.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>customers_suck: Tales from the telemarketing trenches.Also? "Bunni Nibblebit".Heard on the floor today:Rep: "Now I'll ask you to get a piece of paper and a pen, so you can take down the following information. "[pause]"Yes, a pencil will be fine."[pause]"Do you have /anything/ you can write on?"[pause]"Ok, sir, I'd like you to take down the following, on your paper plate..."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109409803017603505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109409803017603505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_09_01_archive.html#109409803017603505' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-109381708163647495</id><published>2004-08-29T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-29T15:04:41.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"ONLY AT WAL-MARTOne day, in line at the company cafeteria.  Joe says to Mike behindhim, 'My elbow hurts like hell.'  I guess I better see a Doctor.''Listen,you don't have to spend that kind of money,' Mike replies. 'There's a Diagnostic Computer down at Wal-Mart.  Just give it a Urine Sample and the Computer will tell you what's wrong, and what to do about it.  It takes ten seconds and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109381708163647495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109381708163647495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109381708163647495' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-109060331948693098</id><published>2004-07-23T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-23T10:21:59.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"My Beef With Big Media" by Ted Turner</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109060331948693098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109060331948693098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109060331948693098' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-109008507105093794</id><published>2004-07-17T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-17T10:24:31.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ah, Computers!: "A computer is like an Old Testament god, with a lot of rules and no mercy. --Joseph CampbellA computer lets you make more mistakes faster than any invention in human history--with the possible exceptions of handguns and tequila. --Mitch RatliffeA human being is a computer's way of making another computer. Yes, we are their sex organs. --Solomon ShortAll parts should go </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109008507105093794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/109008507105093794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109008507105093794' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-108586298590207362</id><published>2004-05-29T13:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T13:36:25.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yes, Virginia, there is a Cthulhu [rec.humor.funny]:[Ed: originally written by Steven Harris (kayven@aol.com) and posted to alt.horror.cthulhu in April. Reprinted with his permission]************************************************************************Dear Editor- I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Great Cthulhu. Papa says, "If you see it on Alt.Horror.Cthulhu, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/108586298590207362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/108586298590207362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108586298590207362' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-108192471718547856</id><published>2004-04-13T23:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-13T23:42:32.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>customers_suck: TFTC2: Just the right amount of suck: "Declan, a fellow checkouts peon, due to a momentary lapse in customers was given the task of doing customer reviews. This is basically where you ask a customer who has just been served on a checkout to 'Answer a few short questions.' And its usually stuff like 'Was your cashier polite, did they offer help, did they say goodbye, have you any </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/108192471718547856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/108192471718547856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108192471718547856' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-108067759219240669</id><published>2004-03-30T12:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-30T12:16:48.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Lesson:Then Jesus took his disciples up the mountain and gathering them around him, he taught them saying:Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.Blessed are the meek. Blessed are they that mourn. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are they who thirst justice. Blessed are you when persecuted. Blessed are you when you suffer. Be glad and rejoice for your reward </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/108067759219240669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/108067759219240669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108067759219240669' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107912197155808714</id><published>2004-03-12T12:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-12T12:09:23.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Rocket Jones: "Rene Descartes is finishing dinner in a small cafe when the waiter asks 'would you like desert?'He answers ' I think not,' and disappears."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107912197155808714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107912197155808714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107912197155808714' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107860725545448545</id><published>2004-03-06T13:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-06T13:10:38.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Philip Greenspun's Weblog:: "A man goes to see Mel Gibson's new movie, The Passion, and is inspired to take his family to Israel to see the places where Jesus lived and died.  While on vacation his mother-in-law dies.An undertaker in Tel Aviv explains that they can ship the body home to Wisconsin at a cost of $10,000 or the mother-in-law could be buried in Israel for US$500.The man says, '</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107860725545448545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107860725545448545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107860725545448545' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-10781477056840677</id><published>2004-03-01T05:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-01T05:31:21.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Slashdot | Mounting Evidence for Water on Mars:     jayrtfm Preferences Subscribe Journal Logout Sections Main Apache Apple  2 more Askslashdot  4 more Books BSD  1 more Developers Games  7 more Interviews Science YRO  Help FAQ Bugs Stories Old Stories Old Polls Topics Hall of Fame Submit Story About Supporters Code Awards Services Personals Tech Jobs </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/10781477056840677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/10781477056840677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#10781477056840677' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107785777378546640</id><published>2004-02-26T20:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-26T20:59:05.403-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Current Chaos Manor mail: "Attention, end-user vermin. Here's some software. It might work. It might not. No guarantees. In fact, we take no responsibility whatsoever even if it fries your motherboard, scrambles your hard drive, blows up your monitor, messes up your files, and gets you in trouble with the IRS. You have no rights at all, peasant. You will use the software EXACTLY as we graciously </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107785777378546640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107785777378546640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107785777378546640' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107766482364011270</id><published>2004-02-24T15:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-24T15:23:11.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>To realize the value of one year, ask the student who has failed a class.To realize the value of one month, ask the mother who has given birth to a premature baby. To realize the value of one week, ask the editor of a weekly. To realize the value of one day, ask a daily wage laborer. To realize the value of one hour, ask the man waiting for his girlfriend. To realize the value of one minute,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107766482364011270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107766482364011270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107766482364011270' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107646581656350384</id><published>2004-02-10T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-10T18:19:25.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Slashdot | Russian Rovers on the Moon: "When the Soviet Union wad ruled by Leonid Brezhnev [rcn.com], an extremely elderly person not capable of any mental activity furing his late years, there was a joke about Lunokhod and Brezhnev.Airport in Germany. Soviet and German leaders meet. As the Germans come to the Soviet airplane, Brezhnev comes out, sniffs everyone from the German delegation, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107646581656350384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107646581656350384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107646581656350384' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107629812437181427</id><published>2004-02-08T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-08T19:44:30.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The man code   1.  If a buddy is already singing along to a song in the car, you may not join him.   2. Under no circumstances may two guys share an umbrella.   3. Any man who brings a camera to a bachelor party may be legally killed and eaten by his fellow attendees.   4. When you are queried by a buddy's wife, girlfriend, mother, father, priest, shrink, dentist, accountant, or dog walker,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107629812437181427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107629812437181427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107629812437181427' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107551458169681528</id><published>2004-01-30T18:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-30T18:05:15.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Urban Legends Reference Pages: Humor (Two Bits): "BULLETIN WASHINGTON, D.C. — Hang on to any of the new State of Arkansas quarters. If you have them, they may be worth much more than 25 cents. The U.S. Treasury announced today that it is recalling all of the Arkansas quarters that are part of its program featuring quarters from each state."We are recalling all the new Arkansas quarters that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107551458169681528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107551458169681528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107551458169681528' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107516573202546334</id><published>2004-01-26T17:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-26T17:11:00.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>In a famous SR-71 story, Los Angeles Center reported receiving arequest  for clearance to FL 60 (60,000ft). The incredulouscontroller, with some disdain in his voice, asked, "How do you planto get up to 60,000 feet?  The pilot (obviously a sled driver)responded, "We don't plan to go up to it, we plan to go down to it."He was cleared.  -------------------------------------  The pilot was </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107516573202546334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107516573202546334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107516573202546334' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107483108870896492</id><published>2004-01-22T20:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T20:13:31.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I got a new car radio yesterday. Its has voice recognition. You shout 'soul' and it plays soul. You shout 'rock' and it plays rock. 'Jazz' and it plays jazz. Some kids ran in front of my car. I screamed 'f**king kids' and the radio played Michael Jackson.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107483108870896492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107483108870896492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107483108870896492' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107422741073181439</id><published>2004-01-15T20:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-15T20:32:04.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>FW: Never Underestimate The Old Guys [rec.humor.funny]: "A middle-aged woman decides to have a face-lift for her birthday. She spends $5000 and feels pretty good about the results. On her way home she stops at a newsstand to buy a newspaper. Before leaving she says to the clerk, 'I hope you don't mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?''About 32,' was the reply.'I'm exactly 47, ' the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107422741073181439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107422741073181439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107422741073181439' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107405038641675727</id><published>2004-01-13T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-13T19:21:37.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>1. Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day; teach that person to use the Internet and they won't bother you for weeks. 2. Some people are like Slinkies .. . . not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you see one tumble down the stairs. 3. Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing. 4. Have you noticed since </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107405038641675727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107405038641675727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107405038641675727' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107285133891365271</id><published>2003-12-30T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-30T22:15:56.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Slashdot | Earth Travel On Time, Again: "there wansn't any mention of dooms dayWe here at HaulmarkCards.com think about Dooms Day a lot. An awful lot. We've been trying to come up with some catchy verses and clever phrases for a new line of Dooms Day greeting/sympathy cards. We have three problems:1. We're not sure exactly when Dooms Day will fall, so getting cards to retailers will be a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107285133891365271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107285133891365271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107285133891365271' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107237419611713811</id><published>2003-12-25T09:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-25T09:43:31.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Current Chaos Manor mail: "Subject: Expanding the hunt for terrorists!At New York's Kennedy Airport today, an individual, later discovered to be a public school teacher, was arrested trying to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a set square, and a calculator. Attorney General John Ashcroft believes the man is a member of the notorious al-gebra movement. He is being </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107237419611713811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107237419611713811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107237419611713811' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107222899975380905</id><published>2003-12-23T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-23T17:23:35.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yahoo! Mail - jayrtfm4@yahoo.com: "Ariel Sharon comes to Washington for meetings with George W. and for astate dinner. Laura Bush decides to bring in a special Kosher chef and havea truly Jewish meal.At the dinner that night, the first course served is matzoh ball soup. George W.looks at this and after learning what it is called, he tells an aide that he can'teat such a gross and strange </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107222899975380905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107222899975380905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107222899975380905' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107100893916802831</id><published>2003-12-09T14:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-09T14:29:11.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cruel: Very wrong &amp; disturbing: "A little rabbit is happily running through the forest when he stumbles upon a giraffe rolling a joint.The rabbit looks at her and says, 'Giraffe, my friend, Think about what you're doing to yourself! Come with me running through the forest, you'll see, you'll feel so much better!' The giraffe looks at him, looks at the joint, tosses it and goes off running with</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107100893916802831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107100893916802831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107100893916802831' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017929724062021</id><published>2003-11-30T00:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-30T00:01:47.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A language instructor was explaining to her class that in French, nounsunlike their English counterparts, are grammatically designated as masculineor feminine.House, in French, is feminine-la maison.Pencil, in French, is masculine-le crayon.One puzzled student asked, "What gender is computer?"The teacher did not know, and the word wasn't in her French dictionary.So for fun she split </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017929724062021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017929724062021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017929724062021' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017921398512947</id><published>2003-11-30T00:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-30T00:00:23.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>STRICT, UNBENDING RULES FOR DEALING WITH STRAY CATS1. Stray cats will not be fed.2. Stray cats will not be fed anything except dry cat food.3. Stray cats will not be fed anything except dry cat food moistened with a little milk.4. Stray cats will not be fed anything except dry cat food moistened with warm milk yummy treats and leftover fish scraps.5. Stray cats will not be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017921398512947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017921398512947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017921398512947' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017915613662016</id><published>2003-11-29T23:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:59:26.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A father came in the bedroom to find his 13-year-old daughter smoking a cigarette. "My God! How long have you been smoking?" screams the father."Since I lost my virginity," replies the girl."You lost your VIRGINITY!!! When the hell did this happen?" shrieks the father."I don't remember," says the girl. "I was completely drunk."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017915613662016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017915613662016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017915613662016' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017904028623682</id><published>2003-11-29T23:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:57:30.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Every Friday afternoon, a mathematician goes down tothe bar, sits in the second-to-last seat, turns to thelast seat, which is empty, and asks a girl who isn't there if hecan buy her a drink.The bartender, who is used to weird university types,always shrugs but keeps quiet. But when Valentine's Dayarrives, and the mathematician makes a particularlyheart-wrenching plea into empty space, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017904028623682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017904028623682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017904028623682' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017898841406734</id><published>2003-11-29T23:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:56:38.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Osama bin Laden was kicking around some rubble left over from the latest bombing, and found a copper jug with a wax plug. He pried off the plug and out popped a female genie; "How may I serve you, Master?" she inquired. Osama was not impressed. "Don't need anything from a female!" .he said, churlishly. "But Master, I MUST do SOMETHING for you, or I have to go back into confinement! </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017898841406734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017898841406734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017898841406734' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017894203675277</id><published>2003-11-29T23:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:55:51.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There is a guy who has been having chronic trouble trying to get anerection. After weeks of frustration, he finally breaks down and goes to the doctor. The doctor gives him a thorough examination and finally makes the diagnosis. "Well, there's good news and there's bad news," she says. "The bad news is that the muscles around your penis are deteriorating, and there is no cure."The guy, on</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017894203675277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017894203675277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017894203675277' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017875128293982</id><published>2003-11-29T23:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:52:41.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Two women go out one weekend without their husbands.As they came back, right before dawn, both of them drunk,they felt the urge to pee. They noticed the only place to stop was a cemetery.Scared and drunk, they stopped and decided to go there anyway.The first one did not have anything to clean herselfwith, so  she took off her panties and used them to cleanherself and discarded them.The</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017875128293982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017875128293982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017875128293982' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017863751330018</id><published>2003-11-29T23:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:50:47.473-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Three old men are discussing their sex lives.  An old Italian man says, "Last week, my wife and I had great sex. I rubbed her body all over with olive oil, we made passionate love, and she screamed for 5 minutes at the end."An old Frenchman boasts, "Last week when my wife and I had sex, I rubbed her body all over with butter. We then made passionate love and she screamed for 15 minutes."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017863751330018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017863751330018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017863751330018' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017858386144223</id><published>2003-11-29T23:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:49:53.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>While waiting for my first appointment in the reception room of a new dentist, I noticed his certificate, which bore his full name.Suddenly, I remembered that a tall, handsome boy with the same name had been in my high school class almost 50 years ago. Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was too old to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017858386144223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017858386144223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017858386144223' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017854106823867</id><published>2003-11-29T23:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:49:10.456-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Teaching Math in 1950: A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit? Teaching Math in 1960: A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit? Teaching Math in 1970: A logger exchanges a set "L" of lumber for a set "M" of money. The cardinality of set "M</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017854106823867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017854106823867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017854106823867' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017823555014090</id><published>2003-11-29T23:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:44:04.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Scientist Burns Penis with Hot LaptopFri Nov 22, 9:53 AM ETAdd Oddly Enough - Reuters to My Yahoo!LONDON (Reuters) - Laptops have always been a hot item but a 50-year-old scientist didn't realize to what extent until he burned his penis.The previously healthy father of two remembered feeling a burning sensation after he had been writing a report at home for about an hour with the computer </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017823555014090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017823555014090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017823555014090' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017814068302864</id><published>2003-11-29T23:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:42:30.133-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>These signs do indeed speak for themselves:On a ski lift in Taos, NM:'No jumping from the lift. Survivors will be prosecuted.'     *******************Official sign near door:  Door Alarmed.Handprinted sign nearby:  Window frightened.     *******************Guys:  No shirt, No serviceGirls: No shirt, No charge     *******************Road sign seen on the island of Cyprus    (</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017814068302864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017814068302864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017814068302864' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017809159689841</id><published>2003-11-29T23:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:41:41.070-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>------- Forwarded message follows -------Date sent:      	Wed, 20 Jun 2001 11:46:34 -0700From:           	jgfisher Subject:        	FW: Wendy Carlos funnyRecording Tips -- For The BeginnerSooo -- you're all excited, about to have your first recording session as an engineer. Great! Wish I were able to be there to help. Since I'm not (kell dough mahj), I thought I'd just jot down a few </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017809159689841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017809159689841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017809159689841' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017800690604184</id><published>2003-11-29T23:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:40:16.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>------- Forwarded message follows -------Date sent:      	Tue, 05 Jun 2001 10:24:22 -0700From:           	jgfisher Subject:        	Fwd: Police Nab Breast-Temptress ThievesTo:             	Skip Black &gt;Police Nab Breast-Temptress Thieves&gt;Updated: Fri, Jun 01 1:24 PM EDT&gt;&gt;BOGOTA, Colombia (Reuters) - Three young Colombian women preyed on men by &gt;smearing their breasts with a powerful </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017800690604184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017800690604184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017800690604184' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6147562.post-107017796328275677</id><published>2003-11-29T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T23:39:32.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>&gt; ------------- Begin Forwarded Message -------------&gt; &gt; Words of Wisdom &gt; &gt; &gt; Nobody is perfect until you fall in love with them. &gt; &gt; The closest I ever got to a 4.0 in college was my blood alcohol content. &gt; &gt; Home is where you can say anything you like, 'cause nobody listens to you &gt; anyway. &gt; &gt; I live in my own little world, but it's ok, they know me here. &gt; &gt; "I saw a woman wearing a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017796328275677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6147562/posts/default/107017796328275677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokes-sophont.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107017796328275677' title=''/><author><name>Sophont</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10195081894706740823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
