Seriously folks We need to send money and food and supplies for the Tribs in Central America. They are starving slowly.
You see it seems that a valley near some mountain is this small village of tribs. They live there with a Rabbi. But there isn''t any food in their valley so they must go through this mountain pass to get food.
Well you see, this ogre moved into the pass.
So now, everytime these Tribs would try to go through the pass, the ogre would kick them back down the mountain. This has been going on for quite some time you see.
Well one day, the rabbi had enough and decided to go through the pass and see what has been happening. He gets into the pass, sees the ogre and just walks right by him and goes to the other side.
Thrilled, he gathers food for his tribs and proveeds to bring it back, when he sees the ogre again, and walks right by him. the ogre still does nothing to him.
SO with great curiosty, the Rabbi asks the ogre "Why is it that whenever the Tribs try to come through the pass, you kick them back down the mountain, but whenever I come through, you leave me be?
The ogre looks the Rabbi straight in the eye and says
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Silly Rabbi, kicks are for tribs
Originally posted by KJCavalier😀
Seriously folks We need to send money and food and supplies for the Tribs in Central America. They are starving slowly.
You see it seems that a valley near some mountain is this small village of tribs. They live there with a Rabbi. But there isn''t any food in their valley so they must go through this mountain pass to get food.
Well you see, this ...[text shortened]...
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Silly Rabbi, kicks are for tribs
Originally posted by KJCavalier*the mad scientist*
Sorry, it does work best for Americans based on an American cereal advertising slogan.
Once there was a mad scientist.
He was very lonely, being somewhat of an introvert, and well, crazy and all.
So he, being of above average intelligence, decided to work on his gene splicing program. It wasn't very long before this talented genius happened upon a surefire way to clone a human being. This being the case, he decided what better human specimen to clone but he himself.
The process was arduous, to be sure, but successful. He made a fully functional, walking, talking, sockdologizing replica of himself. There was no better companion for a lonely sophisticate such as this talented genius.... So on they went, developing further the studies of the physical
and biological sciences.
But... One day, the clone, bright and perfect as it was, developed a terrible flaw. It began cursing, swearing with the furor of a syphilitic sailor
high on banana peels... The scientist, mad as he was, couldn't countenance this untoward behavior. So... reflecting deeply, he determined that the value of this clone's life was not worthy of his own efforts. Why, he had made, no, created said clone! He surely could snuff out it's life without any pang of conscience! And so, walking along the cliff-front property of the estate where he resided, he PUSHED THE CLONE OVER THE EDGE... TO HIS DEATH!
Resolved that he had snuffed out this obscenity spewing piece of bad science, the illuminated but slightly mad scientist retired to his estate.
But next morn, he awoke to a knock at the door. Two policeman awaited him there. "What is the problem, officers?" he ignorantly inquired. "You are under arrest!" they replied forcefully. "WHAT! Whatever for?" He asked.
"You are under arrest for making an obscene clone fall!"
Or this one:
Once there was a powerful and popular tribal leader.
Wealthy and well liked, he asserted his authority with skill and tact, and was
remembered as a benevolent ruler.
What gave him the right to rule was not his bloodline, but the hereditary possession of a solid gold throne. This symbol of authority served as his tribal seat and from there he projected his power far and wide.
One day, upon hearing of a neighboring tribe's plans to raid his tribe,
he determined precautions were necessary. Warning all his people was the first step. Secondly, he carefully concealed his heritage, the solid gold throne, in the ceiling of his hut, hiding it carefully with foliage...
The opposing tribe indeed came, furiously tearing apart the village in search of wealth, captives, and above all, the throne. Finding nothing, however, they retreated without harming a soul.
Elated, the tribal ruler returns to his hut. Immediately upon walking in, the throne crashes down from it's hiding place, striking the leader and killing him instantly.
The moral of the story?
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Simply put, people who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
-J