Hillary Clinton goes to a gifted-student primary school in New York to talk about the world. After her talk she offers question time.
One little boy puts up his hand. Hillary asks him what his name is. “Kenneth,” he says.
“And what is your question, Kenneth?” she asks.
“I have three questions,” he says. “First — whatever happened in Benghazi?” Second — why would you run for president if you are not capable of handling two e-mail accounts? “And, third — whatever happened to the missing six-billion-dollars while you were Secretary of State?”
Just then the bell rings for recess. Hillary informs the kiddies that they will continue after recess. When they resume Hillary says, “Okay, where were we? Oh, that’s right, question time. Who has a question?
A different boy — little Johnny — puts his hand up.
Hillary points to him and asks him what his name is. “Johnny,” he says. “And what is your question, Johnny?” she asks. “I have five questions,” he says. “First — whatever happened in Benghazi? ”Second — why would you run for president if you are not capable of handling two e-mail accounts? ”Third — whatever happened to the missing six-billion dollars while you were Secretary of State? “Fourth — why did the recess bell go off 20 minutes early?” And, fifth — where’s Kenneth?”
Hunter was 4 years old and was staying with his grandfather for a few days.
He’d been playing outside with the other kids, when he came into the house and asked, ‘Grandpa, what’s that called when two people sleep in the same bedroom and one is on top of the other?’
His Grandpa was a little taken aback, but he decided to tell him the truth.
‘Well, Hunter, it’s called sexual intercourse.’
Oh,’ Little Hunter said, ‘OK,’ and went back outside to play with the other kids.
A few minutes later he came back in and said angrily, ‘Grandpa, it isn’t called sexual intercourse,. It’s called Bunk Beds, And Jimmy’s mom wants to talk to you.’
A preacher had a teenage son, and it was getting time the boy should give some thought to choosing a profession.
Like many young men his age, the boy didn’t really know what he wanted to do, and he didn’t seem too concerned about it.
One day, while the boy was away at school, his father decided to try an experiment. He went into the boy’s room and placed on his study table four objects…
1. A Bible…
2. A silver dollar….
3. A bottle of whiskey…
4. And a Playboy magazine…
‘I’ll just hide behind the door,’ the old preacher said to himself. When he comes home from school today, I’ll see which object he picks up. If it’s the Bible, he’s going to be a preacher like me, and what a blessing that would be!
If he picks up the dollar, he’s going to be a business man, and that would be okay, too.
But if he picks up the bottle, he’s going to be a no-good drunken bum, and Lord, what a shame that would be.
And worst of all if he picks up that magazine, he’s going to be a skirt-chasing womaniser.’
The old man waited anxiously, and soon heard his son’s foot-steps as he entered the house whistling and headed for his room.
The boy tossed his books on the bed, and as he turned to leave the room he spotted the objects on the table. With curiosity in his eye, he walked over to inspect them. Finally, he picked up the Bible and placed it under his arm. He picked up the silver dollar and dropped into his pocket. He uncorked the bottle and took a big drink, while he admired this month’s centrefold.
‘Lord have mercy,’ the old preacher disgustedly whispered. He’s going to be a politician
The Ant & The Grasshopper – OLD VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed. The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.
MORAL OF THE OLD STORY: Be responsible for yourself!
MODERN VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat and the rain all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while he is cold and starving.
CBS, NBC, PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.
How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?
Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybody cries when they sing, ‘It’s Not Easy Being Green’.
“Occupy the Anthill” stages a demonstration in front of the ant’s house, where the news stations film the SEIU group singing, “We shall overcome”.
Then Rev. Jeremiah Wright has the group kneel down to pray for the
Grasshopper’s’ sake, while he damns the ant.
President Obama condemns the ant and blames President Bush 43, President Bush 41, President Reagan, Christopher Columbus, and the Pope for the grasshopper’s plight..
Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.
Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.
The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the Government Green Czar and given to the grasshopper.
The story ends as we see the grasshopper and his free-loading friends finishing up the last bits of the ant’s food while the government house he is in, which, as you recall, just happens to be the ant’s old house, crumbles around them because the grasshopper doesn’t maintain it.
The ant has disappeared in the snow, never to be seen again.
The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related shooting. The house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the ramshackle, once prosperous and peaceful neighborhood.
The entire Nation collapses bringing the rest of the free world with it.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote in 2016. Make sure that you pass this on to other ants. Don’t bother sending it on to other grasshoppers because they wouldn’t understand it anyway.
A farmer drove to a neighbor’s farmhouse and knocked at the door. A boy, about 9, opened the door.
“Is your dad or mom home?” said the farmer.
“No, they went to town.”
“How about your brother, Howard? Is he here?”
“No, he went with Mom and Dad.”
The farmer stood there for a few seconds, shifting from one foot to the other, mumbling to himself.
The young boy says, “I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one, or I can give Dad a message.”
“Well,” said the farmer uncomfortably. “No, I really want to talk to your Dad, about your brother Howard getting my daughter Suzy pregnant”.
The boy thought for a moment, then says, “You’ll have to talk to my Dad about that. I know he charges $200 for the bull and $50 for the pig, but I have no idea how much he charges for Howard.”
I took down my Rebel flag (which you can’t buy on EBAY any more) and peeled the NRA sticker off my front window.
I disconnected my home alarm system and quit the candy-ass Neighborhood Watch.
I bought two Pakistani flags and put one at each corner of the front yard. Then I purchased the black flag of ISIS (which you CAN buy on EBAY) and ran it up the flag pole.
Now the local police, sheriff, FBI, CIA, NSA, Homeland Security, Secret Service and other agencies are all watching my house 24/7.
I’ve NEVER felt safer and I’m saving $69.95 a month that ADT used to charge me.
Plus, I bought burkas for my wife and me to wear when we shop or travel. Everyone moves out of the way and security can’t pat us down. If they say I’m a male wearing a burka, I just say I’m feeling like a woman today.
(Special thanks to Skip, Blessed B, Gil, I.R. Wayright, and Terry)
Have a great Friday and don’t forget to piss of a Lefty.