Consider the following:
You never actually see Santa, only his "assistants".
Santa keeps his job until he decides to retire.
Santa doesn't really do the work; he directs a bunch of helpers to do all his work for him, but he's the one who everybody credits with the work.
Santa doesn't work anywhere near a 40 hour week.
Santa travels a lot.
Yup, Santa is obviously a senior faculty member with tenure.
WASHINGTON, D.C. – Senior U.S. officials are literally calling “fowl” after the Thanksgiving turkey pardoned by President Obama publicly defected to the Middle Eastern terrorist group ISIS.
Popcorn the Turkey, now calling himself Babakurn al-Turki, was pardoned from the dinner table by President Obama in a public ceremony at the White House. Normally the pardoned bird is sent along with its competitor to live out its remaining days at Morven Park’s Turkey Hill in Leesburg, Virginia.
However, U.S. officials have now admitted that al-Turki instead hijacked an Osprey out of Andrews Air Force Base in nearby Maryland and flew like a bat out of hell to Syria.
A group of senior intelligence officials and ornithologists with birds-eye surveillance of the war-torn country have suggested he is nesting in Raqqah or across the northern border in another neighboring country.
Al-Turki, who was originally raised as an animist before converting to Islam, has already appeared in several propaganda clips and tweets for ISIS, gobbling anti-American rhetoric and leaving furious American officials grousing.
Trey Nahas, a counter-terrorism expert at the Rand Corporation, explained that al-Turki’s defection violated the cardinal rule for anyone receiving a presidential pardon, namely not to commit any further crimes.
Nahas said it was unclear if al-Turki, raised in a bubble of protected affluence in Oakwood, Ohio, became radicalized on internet forums like countless other disaffected foreigners who have flocked to ISIS, or later during his detention in the controversial poultry farm at Guantanamo Bay.
In either case, according to Nahas, the end result was the same: “the U.S. not only released a dangerous terrorist back into the wild, but it has also given ISIS something to crow about on social media.”
Calling it the classic case of the chickens come home to roast, FBI Director James Comey has admitted that al-Turki was already a known flight risk when he received his pardon. He had several suspected handlers known to support radical Islam and ISIS, although al-Turki managed to duck any formal charges.
Comey added that the FBI has launched its own investigation into the government’s handling of al-Turki prior to his release, saying it may be the canary in the coal mine for future detainee defections. However, several investigators privately told Duffel Blog that the findings would be delayed until after Black Friday to avoid ruffling the feathers of any major retailers.
While Comey said U.S. intelligence was still unsure where exactly al-Turki now stood in the ISIS pecking order, he insisted that the turkey would ultimately be more of a burden than an asset to the group.
“He’s too high profile now to operate anywhere clandestinely, he’s always going to be an albatross around their neck,” Comey explained. “I’m not exaggerating when I say his goose is cooked.”
Some critics find that hard to swallow.
Rep. Tammy Duckworth (D-IL) of the House Armed Services Committee has already demanded to know “which birdbrain in the Secret Service” allowed such a dangerous avian to be that close to the president, and said that image “should give all of us goosebumps.”
The Wall Street Journal published its own editorial complaining that Al-Turki’s defection is “just one more feather in the cap of ISIS. Not only did this bird strut around the White House like he was cock of the walk, but as soon as he’s pardoned he flies the coop to join ISIS of all groups. What was our lame duck president thinking?”
Ironically, some news reports are circulating that, after being accused by ISIS of being a double-agent for the Mossad or CIA, al-Turki may end up getting beheaded anyway.
TRUTHS OF LIFE
Triangular sandwiches taste better than square ones.
One of the most awkward things that can happen in a pub is when your pint-to-toilet cycle gets synchronized with a complete stranger.
Reading when you’re drunk is horrible.
Sharpening a pencil with a knife makes you feel really manly.
It’s impossible to describe the smell of a wet cat.
The smaller the monkey the more it looks like it would kill you at the first given opportunity.
Every bloke has at some stage while taking a pee flushed half way through and then raced against the flush.
Old women with mobile phones look wrong.
I have always questioned if Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton were really preachers since they have no church.
When I heard Al Sharpton was guest preacher at a black Las Vegas Church, I decided to check him out in person and see what it was all about. I sat down and Sharpton came up to me . . . I don't know why, maybe it was because I was the only white person in the Church. He laid his hands on my hand and said: "By the will of Jesus the Lord All Mighty, and the will of God, you will walk today."
I told him I was not paralyzed. He came back and laid his hands on me again, and repeated the same thing. Again I told him there is nothing wrong with me. After the sermon I stepped outside and lo and behold, my car had been stolen.
If you love something, set it on fire.
If it still comes back to you, then it really loves you, and deserves whatever it gets.
Issue of the Times;
Storm Shows Americans Are Totally Unprepared: “I have no food, I have no cash, so I’m trying to forage for something” by Tess Pennington
As the biggest storm in five years took aim at California this week cities across the state distributed sandbags, cancelled school and warned residents to prepare for power outages. And though the storm didn’t really live up to the media hype, some people did take the warnings to heart and made last minute trips to the grocery store to stock up on foodstuffs and other supplies just so they wouldn’t have to go out in the rain.
Christmas Gifts for men
Christmas is just around the corner so here are some gift ideas for those special men in your life! Buying gifts for men is not nearly as complicated as it is for women. Follow these rules and you should have no problems.
When in doubt - buy him a cordless drill. It does not matter if he already has one. I have a friend who owns 17 and he has yet to complain. As a man, you can never have too many cordless drills. No one knows why.
If you cannot afford a cordless drill, buy him anything with the word ratchet or socket in it. Men love saying those two words.
"Hey George, can I borrow your ratchet?" "OK. Bye-the-way, are you through with my 3/8-inch socket yet?" Again, no one knows why.
If you are really, really broke, buy him anything for his car.
A 99-cent ice scraper, a small bottle of deicer or something to hang from his rear view mirror. Men love gifts for their cars.
No one knows why.
Do not buy men socks. Do not buy men ties. And never buy men bathrobes. I was told that if God had wanted men to wear bathrobes, he wouldn't have invented Jockey shorts.
You can buy men new remote controls to replace the ones they have worn out. If you have a lot of money buy your man a big- screen TV with the little picture in the corner. Watch him go wild as he flips, and flips, and flips.
Do not buy a man any of those fancy liqueurs. If you do, it will sit in a cupboard for 23 years. Men drink whiskey or beer.
Do not buy any man industrial-sized canisters of after shave or deodorant. Men do not stink - they are earthy.
Never buy a man anything that says "some assembly required" on the box. It will ruin his Special Day and he will always have parts left over.
Men enjoy danger. That's why they never cook - but they will barbecue. Get him a monster barbecue with a 100-pound propane tank. Tell him the gas line leaks. "Oh the thrill! The challenge! Who wants a hamburger?"
Men love chainsaws. Never, ever, buy a man you love a chainsaw.
It's hard to beat a really good wheelbarrow or an aluminum extension ladder. Never buy a real man a step ladder. It must be an extension ladder. No one knows why.
Rope. Men love rope. It takes us back to our cowboy origins, or at least The Boy Scouts. Nothing says love like a hundred feet of 3/8" manilla rope. No one knows why.
KID: "Mother, doesn't God give us our daily bread?"
MOM: "Yes, dear."
KID: "And Santa brings us our toys at Christmas?"
MOM: "Yes, dear."
KID: "And the stork brings babies?"
MOM: "Why certainly, dear."
KID: "Then what's the old man hanging around for?"
Two confirmed bachelors sat talking. Their conversation drifted from politics to cooking. "I got a cookbook for Christmas once," said the first, "but I could never do anything with it."
"Too much work, eh?" asked the second.
"You said it! Every one of the recipes began the same way - 'Take a clean dish.'"
While both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, according to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. Female reindeer retain their antlers until after they give birth in the spring.
Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer, every single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen - had to be a girl.
We should've known.
Only women would be able to drag a fat man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.
A little girl is in line to see Santa. When it's her turn, she climbs up on Santa's lap. Santa asks, "What would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas"?
The little girl replies, "I want a Barbie and G.I. Joe".
Santa looks at the little girl for a moment and says, "I thought Barbie comes with Ken."
"No", says the little girl. "She comes with G.I. Joe, she fakes it with Ken."
Issue of the Times;
A Rolling Stone Gathers No Rape by Jim Goad
Despite what basic common sense would dictate, we are repeatedly spoon-fed the mantra that we live in a “rape culture.” And despite ample evidence to the contrary, we are told that women never lie about rape. Despite the Tawana Brawley rape hoax and the Duke Lacrosse rape hoax and the fact that on any given day you can search the phrase “false rape” on Google News and dredge up countless stories of bitter, scorned, vindictive, psychotic women falsely accusing men of rape, the howling harpies of latter-day feminism and their gelded male worker elves continue to insist that false rape accusations are a patriarchal fiction. That’s why the nuclear-reactor-level meltdown of that mossy old rancidly flatulent hippie rag Rolling Stone over an at least partially—and perhaps entirely—fraudulent gang-rape story at the University of Virginia is so exquisitely delicious. The sprawling (9,000 words or so) Rolling Stone feature, “A Rape on Campus: A Brutal Assault and Struggle for Justice at UVA,” was published in mid-November but only began shattering and falling apart shard by shard before the whole world’s eyes last week. The article is a textbook case of putting the ideological cart before the factual horse. It is a mind-meltingly egregious example of journalistic malfeasance, of activists posing as reporters, facts be damned because by their own admission they didn’t even bother to corroborate the facts because they didn’t want to further traumatize the reputed victim.