Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career…

“Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a big fucking television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disk players and electrical tin openers… choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on the couch, watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life. But why would I want to do a thing lke that?” - Renton

“I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs resons when you’ve got heroin?”

“Now I’ve justified this to myself in all sorts of ways. it wasn’t a big deal, just a minor betrayal. Or we’d outgrown each other, you know, that sort of thing. But let’s face it, I ripped them off- my so-called mates. But Begbie, I couldn’t give a shit about him. And Sick Boy, well he’d have done the same to me if he’d only thought of it first. And Spud, well, okay, I felt sorry for Spud- he’s never hurt anybody. So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I’m a bad person. But that’s going to change- I’m going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. Now I’m cleaning up, moving on, going straight and choosing life. I’m looking forward to it already. I’m going to be just like you. The job, the family, the big fucking television. The washing machine, the compact disk player and electrical can opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die.”

Twas the night before finals,
And all through the college,
The students were praying
For last minute knowledge.

Most were quite sleepy,
But none touched their beds,
While visions of essays
Danced in their heads

Out in the taverns,
A few were still drinking,
And hoping that liquor
Would free up their thinking.

In my own room,
I had been pacing,
And dreading exams
I soon would be facing.

My roommate was speechless,
Her nose in her books,
And my comments to her
Drew unfriendly looks.

I drained all the coffee,
And brewed a new pot,
No longer caring that
My nerves were shot.

I stared at my notes,
But my thoughts were muddy,
My eyes went ablur,
I just couldn’t study.

“Some pizza might help,”
I said with a shiver,
But each place I called
Refused to deliver.

I’d nearly concluded
That life was too cruel,
With futures depending
On grades had in school.

When all of a sudden,
Our door opened wide,
And Patron Saint Put It Off
Ambled inside.

His spirit was careless,
His manner was mellow,
All of a sudden,
He started to bellow.

“On Cliff Notes, on Crib Notes
On Last Year Exams.
On Wingit and Slingit
And Last Minute Crams.”

His message delivered
He vanished from sight.
But we heard him laughing
Outside in the night.

Your teachers have pegged you
So just do your best.
Happy Finals to All
And to all a Good Test.

European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.
 
As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5-year phase-in plan that would become known as “Euro-English”.
 
In the first year, “s” will replace the soft “c”. Sertainly, this willmake the sivil servants jump with joy.
 
The hard “c” will be dropped in favour of “k”. This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.
 
There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome “ph” will be replaced with “f”. This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter. In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.
 
Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.
 
Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent “e” in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.
 
By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing “th” with “z” and “w” with “v”.

During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary “o” kan be dropd from vords kontaining “ou” and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensibl riten styl.
 
Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.
 
Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

Men Are Just Happier People

Your last name stays put.
Your garage is all yours.
Wedding plans take care of themselves.
Chocolate is just another snack.

You can be President.
You can never be pregnant.
You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park.
You can wear NO shirt to a water park.
Car mechanics tell you the truth.

The world is your urinal.
You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky.
You don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
Same work, more pay.
Wrinkles add character.
Wedding dress $5000:Tux rental-$100.
People never stare at your chest when you’re talking to them.

The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.
New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle your feet.
One mood all the time.
Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.
You know stuff about tanks.
A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.
You can open all your own jars.
You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.
If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.

Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack.
Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.
You almost never have strap problems in public.
You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.
Everything on your face stays its original color.
The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.
You only have to shave your face and neck.

You can play with toys all your life.
Your belly usually hides your big hips.
One wallet and one pair of shoes one color for all seasons.
You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look.
You can “do” your nails with a pocket knife.
You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.

You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.

Just in case you ever get these two environments mixed up, this should make things a little bit clearer.

IN PRISON……….you spend the majority of your time in an 10X10 cell.
AT WORK…………you spend the majority of your time in an 8X8 cubicle.

IN PRISON………you get three meals a day.
AT WORK………..you get a break for one meal and you have to pay for it.

IN PRISON……….you get time off for good behavior.
AT WORK…………you get more work for good behavior.

IN PRISON……….the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you.
AT WORK…………you must often carry a security card and open all the doors for yourself.

IN PRISON……….you can watch TV and play games.
AT WORK………..you could get fired for watching TV and playing games.

IN PRISON………you get your own toilet.
AT WORK……….you have to share the toilet with some people who pee on the seat.

IN PRISON……….they allow your family and friends to visit.
AT WORK…………you aren’t even supposed to speak to your family.

IN PRISON………all expenses are paid by the taxpayers with no work required.
AT WORK…………you get to pay all your expenses to go to work, and they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners.

IN PRISON……….you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out.
AT WORK ………..you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars.

IN PRISON ………you must deal with sadistic wardens.
AT WORK………..they are called managers.

One day, God created the dog and said, “Sit all day by the door of your >>house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give >>you a life span of twenty years.

The dog said, “That’s a long time to be barking. How about only ten years >>and I’ll give you back the other ten?”

So God agreed.

On the next day, God created the monkey and said, “Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I’ll give you a twenty-year life span.”

The monkey said, “Monkey tricks for twenty years? That’s a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?”

And God agreed.

On the next day, God created the cow and said, “You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer’s family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.”

The cow said, “That’s kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I’ll give back the other forty?”

God agreed again.

Then on the next day, God created man and said, “Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I’ll give you twenty years.”

But man said, “Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?”

“Okay,” said God, “You asked for it.”

So that is why the first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. The last ten years, we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.

Life has now been explained to you. Have a long and happy one!

Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn’t seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy whips out his cellphone and calls the emergency services.

He gasps: “My friend is dead! What can I do?”

The operator says: “Calm down, I can help. First, let’s make sure he’s dead.”

There is a silence, then a shot is heard.

Back on the phone, the guy says: “OK, now what?”

- This from Ktha