This is the talent zone!
Here's where anyone can get a crack at the millennium in a literary fashion. The stuff2000 family invites all you creative types out there to show off your abilities on this page. Write a story (two page double-space max) or poem dealing with any aspect of the year 2000 and beyond. It could be humorous, deadly serious, science-fiction, fantasy, horror, Y2K, speculative, ad infinitum.
Simply e-mail your masterpiece to sooper_dooper2000@yahoo.com. Works may be edited for grammar, syntax and punctuation, so if you're gonna do something artistic with the language, indicate as such at the bottom of the page.
There are no prizes given except the satisfaction of seeing your work on the screen. And yes, simultaneous submissions to other sites, including Yahoo!, are O.K. Just let us know if the work was previously posted or published elsewhere.
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A group of liberal/socialist protesters was gathered outside of the Republican National Convention in Philadelphia, screaming about how unfair it is that some people have money and own stock in companies while others are poor and homeless. The crowd continued to grow and get more rowdy as each protester shouted out a new slogan for the mob to chant: "Tax the rich until they're poor!" and "Free health care for everyone!", and other typical liberal/socialist rantings.
Finally, people started climbing up on cars, yelling jeers and obsceneties about George W. and any other "rich Republican" they could think of. Suddenly, a ragged, dirty old homeless man climbed up onto an overturned mailbox. The crowd hushed as this "true representative of the oppressed" cleared his throat to speak:
"I've lived on the streets for 30 years, eating out of garbage cans, sleeping on steam grates, and getting spit on and kicked by all the rich and self-centered people. And I think it's time for this country to change! There should be a limit of how much money one person can make, with everything over $1 million a year taxed at 100%, and the money used to help the poor!"
The crowd roared its unanimous approval, and he went on:
"We need to let the Republicans know that it's unfair for some people to have 2,3, or even 4 houses, while poor families have to live on the street, in their cars, or in small, rented apartments! All 'second homes' and 'vacation properties' should be confiscated, and used as publicly-owned shelters for the poor!"
Again the crowd cheered wildly, although some of the liberal doctors, lawyers, and media people in the crowd could be seen shifting their feet and laughing nervously. The homeless man continued:
"And why is it that some people have 2 or more cars when there is no free public transportation for the working poor? The government should confiscate all second or third cars and use them as free taxis for the poor!"
This time only about half the crowd cheered nervously, as the others looked down at their feet or began quickly walking away while thinking about the brand-new Ford Explorers and Honda Accords parked in their two-car garages. The old man spoke again:
"And how can these fat-cat Republicans sleep at night when they know that there are people who have more than one shirt, when thousands of homeless men, women, and children have only the dirty clothes on their backs? The government should outlaw owning more than one shirt until all homeless people are given a $500 voucher for new clothing!"
This time, only a small number of protesters cheered, as the rest looked around at their fellow yuppie-liberal-Democrat "activists" all decked out in their J. Crew and Gap brand clothing. Most of the crowd silently dispersed as they thought about their full closets and designer clothes. Finally, the poor man said:
"And why should those rich people get to eat clean, new food three or four times a day when so many of us homeless have to dig through garbage cans looking for scraps? The government should take over all grocery stores and restaraunts, and ration the food out to people on an even basis!"
By now only a few protesters remained, and they all just looked at each other, unsure of what to say. As they shuffled off, the homeless man asked one young liberal why they weren't cheering for him anymore.
"Well, when you were talking about taking from millionaires and rich people it was okay" said the liberal, who was obviously more honest and forthright than the average Democrat. "But then you started proposing things that would actually affect us! Most liberal Democrats like the idea of taking other people's money away, but we don't like to think about actually taxing ourselves."
So, with the crowd gone, the poor old man stepped down from his pedestal and silently walked into a dark alley to look for a place to sleep. As he did, most of the protesters were on their way to nice restaraunts or their warm, comfortable houses, feeling good about their liberal selves, and thinking about how politically correct they were for protesting against "those evil rich Republicans".
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From "Mickey Spillguts":
"Allan Ginsberg in Hell"
"Holy, holy, holy shit!" screams the bugitty butt one
As Belial of the spiked rod sends a flaming hot shot
Down the brown walls of unnatural pleasure.
I watched with pleasure as a new generation of perverts
Wrecked the symbol of their parents' de-evolution
While the neverending rage stood the test of time
Under the throbbing hollows of the echoing bridge.
"They brought this upon themselves," I pondered,
And witnessed the turning to a desire for control and restraint
Which is most natural in an era lost in the haze
Of paternal smoke.
From R.S Stelter:
"Hemingway's in Hell"
I know well: "there be poets in hell."
And I know as well,
it was all self-inflicted.
and Hemingway was there
the wound gaping large--even still,
swallowing every conversation.
E. E. Cummings, forever capitalized,
a "cock-sucker"
is what Ernest calls him.
Whitman can't keep his hands off the boys long enough
to consider his own damnation,
and Dickinson is screwing
like a whore.
Plath has gone on "holiday" with Hughes yet secretly fears she's left the oven on.
______________________________________
self absorption, man; self absorption,
R. S. Stelter
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This comes from Yahoo! Daily Life, 7/10/99:
Clearly a lawyer came up with this news about suing God. (Blasphemy courtesy of Thunder the e-mailer.) Send more funny forwards, please, to knopps@suba.com.
Suing God
The Association of Trial Lawyers of America today announced that its members were collectively filing suit against God.
The suit names God as a defendant in a class-action brought on behalf of the human race. Filed in New York District Court, the suit includes the following allegations:
-- That God did, knowingly and willfully, create an imperfect world, thus subjecting the defendants to virtually unlimited pain and suffering.
-- That, despite incessant complaints and orders to desist from plaintiffs and their duly authorized representatives, God allowed human suffering to continue up to the time the suit was filed.
Plaintiffs also allege that they have exhausted various potential remedies prior to filing the suit. Attempted remedies have included, but not been limited, to:
-- Worship of multiple Gods, also known as pantheism. Regardless of the Gods selected, results were inadequate.
-- Sacrifice of both humans and animals. Fun, but only slight amelioration of pain and suffering.
-- Trying to replace God with society, also known as Communism. Despite being tried in numerous forms by different countries all over the globe, results were uniformly dismal.
-- Ignoring God. In its broadest form this included not only the idea of a deity, but also the idea of any moral standards; any distinction between right and wrong. Tested most vigorously in New York, Los Angeles, and Berlin. Plaintiffs found this route very profitable, and generally rewarding. Only resistance came from plaintiffs on verge of death.
-- Suing each other. Again, fun and profitable, but essentially a zero-sum game. Once trial lawyers had taken control of most assets the zero-sum nature of litigation became alarming. In the end they realized that God was playing divide and conquer.
As very few suits have previously been filed on behalf of the entire human race, a number of technical difficulties have surfaced. First of all, there was the pronoun question. Having depositioned a number of priests, ministers, rabbis, and other God functionaries, the attorneys concluded that God was most often referred to with a masculine pronoun (e.g., In "his" name). However, in a friend-of-the-court brief, Janet Reno argued strongly that, regardless of whether God had properly fulfilled its societal obligations, it would be very wrong to think of God as a male.
The lead attorneys debated at length as to whom should adjudicate such an unusual and precedent-setting case; no courts clearly have jurisdiction to try the Supreme Being. The United Nations was considered, as was the U.S. Supreme Court. The U.N. was ruled out on the grounds that so many of its reigning authorities do not believe that such a thing as God exists, and frown on the idea of suing a nonexistent entity. The US Supreme Court was approached, but couldn't tolerate the idea that some entity, a God for instance, might have powers equal to their own.
After much debate, the attorneys have agreed to have the case tried before a special panel of celebrities, the idea being that God is entitled to a jury of his peers, and, in the age of Oprah, celebrities are as close to deities as human beings get.
Bill Clinton will serve as God's defense counsel. Having gotten away with every conceivable offense known to man, he thought he might be able to give God a few tips.
Some of the defending attorney's jury choices:
-- Basketball star Michael Jordan. Having obtained demigod status himself, he's believed to be sympathetic to the problems of godhood.
-- Bill Gates and Warren Buffet, included in case God needs to borrow money from a juror to help with its defense.
-- Madonna; still a God fan, despite a few deviations from her Catholic school upbringing. Also hoping to get one of the key parts in the upcoming major motion picture.
-- John Travolta, who believes that anyone who could make a comeback from "Moment to Moment" owes God a big favor.
-- Richard Branson, entrepreneur and adventurer extraordinaire. Branson says he doesn't believe in God, but given his history of narrowly escaping death, he really should. An eternal optimist unlikely to convict anyone of anything.
-- Ted Kennedy. Political history aside, he's keen to be on the good side of God, what with his brothers all falling by the wayside.
Al Gore will serve as prosecuting attorney. He's rumored to be especially anxious to question God regarding the six days thing, and whether that rate of production is connected to environmental degradation.
A few of his jury picks:
-- Ralph Nader, who knows that God is just the tool of big business.
-- Jesse Jackson, upset that his boss sometimes gets better PR than his humble servant.
-- Hillary Clinton, panting to grill God about the unfairness of men being physically bigger and stronger than women. Also anxious to be on the opposite of any case in which her husband is involved.
-- Shirley MacLaine, who, in a previous life, was God. She's sure the current occupant is not as competent.
-- Steve Jobs, still fuming over Microsoft's triumph over Apple. Convinced that if Gates could win, there couldn't possibly be a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.
-- Fidel Castro. Empowered by his ability to maintain his rule over Cuba, he plans on taunting God.
-- Rupert Murdoch. Anxious to put God away before he has to face judgment.
-- Barbara Walters. Angry with God for his refusal to be interviewed.
The ATLA is seeking unspecified damages on behalf of mankind, including some special compensation for litigators:
-- Acknowledgement that lawyers, not the Jewish race, are the chosen people.
-- Modification of the free speech clause in the Bill of Rights to exclude lawyer jokes.
-- The exclusion from any jury of anyone who believes O.J. is guilty.
-- That sympathy -- especially the mindless, irrational, blubbering kind -- replace faith as organized religion's highest value.
-- That candidates to public office take the "No tort reform" vow.
We'll keep you updated as the case, scheduled to go to trial in September, progresses. The latest development is that God is seeking to have the case thrown out, on the grounds that "The New York Times," the earth's paper of record, declared him "dead" quite some time ago.
============================================================
The following humorous piece with a diabolical twist comes from RJVK69A@prodigy.com:
A Dead Engineer
An engineer dies and reports to the pearly gates. St.. Peter checks his dossier and says, "Ah, you're an engineer--you're in the wrong place."
So the engineer reports to the gates of hell and is let in.
Pretty soon, the engineer gets dissatisfied with the level of comfort in hell, and starts designing and building improvements.
After a while, they've got air conditioning and flush toilets and escalators, and the engineer is a pretty popular guy.
One day God calls Satan up on the telephone and says with a sneer, "So, how's it going down there in hell?"
Satan replies, "Hey, things are going great. We've got air conditioning and flush toilets and escalators, and there's no telling what this engineer is going to come up with next."
God replies, "What??? You've got an engineer? That's a mistake! He should never have gotten down there; send him up here."
Satan says, "No way. I like having an engineer on the staff, and I'm keeping him."
God says, "Send him back up here or I'll sue."
Satan laughs uproariously and answers, "Yeah, right. And just where are YOU going to get a lawyer?"
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Reel1210 sent the following amusing, poignant tale with a real O. Henry twist. But you can't make things like this up!
True Story...
On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of quarters at a slot machine.
She took a break from the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her room.
"I'll be right back and we'll go to eat," she told her husband and she carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator. As she was about to walk into the elevator when she noticed two men already aboard. Both were black. One of them was big... very big... and intimidating. The woman froze. Her first thought was: These two are going to rob me. Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice gentlemen. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered, ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind, but knew they surely did; her hesitation about joining them on the elevator was all too obvious. Her face was flushed. She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator. Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another second, and then another. Her fear increased!
The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God, she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed! Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore. Then ...one of the men said, "Hit the floor." Instinct told her: Do what they tell you. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator carpet. A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed. More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, "Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button."
The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. She lifted her head and looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled to her feet. "When I told my man here to hit the floor," said the average-sized one, "I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am." He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.
She thought: My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself. She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do you apologize to twoperfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as though they were going to rob you? She didn't know what to say. The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket.
When the elevator arrived at her floor they insisted on walking her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her a good evening.
As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with laughter while they walked back to the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.
The next morning flowers were delivered to her room-a dozen roses. Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill. The card said: "Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years." It was signed:
Eddie Murphy;
Michael Jordan.
===============================================================
Special thanks to spoogy11@hotmail.com for this one.
"Cleaning Out Our Closets"
There comes a time when we must clean out the closets of our
life so that we may have room for items that will enhance our
life.
Let's search the closets of our lives and make a trip to the
wastebasket.
Throw away any hatred that may be lurking there and be sure
to toss jealousy, bad attitudes, dishonesty, complaints, sin,
and hypocrisy.
Before you finish, throw away that grudge you have been holding
against someone. There's room now to add love, honesty,
forgiveness and kindness-not to mention thankfulness for all of God's
blessings.
Go on and make room for reverence and respect to God from whom all good
and
perfect gifts come.
Stand back and look: Your life's closet is looking better,
isn't it?
Take a moment today to spring clean your heart. Ask God to come
in and if He finds anything else that shouldn't be there, take it
out so that you can live holy and right!
Pass on .. this could be the day for that new beginning.
====================
A Few Good Ones From paul.bender@cwix.com
Rufus & Beverly
Rufus could play the piano,
And he drove an American car;
He worked nine to sundown
In an office downtown,
To save us from nuclear war
.
Beverly came from Seattle,
Played the mouth harp quite well, so they say;
She used to write songs in an old-timey style
And hoped she would sell them some day.
Rufus and Bev became sweethearts,
And nature could not be denied;
The did the things lovers do under the covers
Just as happy as clams at high tide.
One morning says Rufus to Beverly:
(As they lay in the fondest embrace)
'Dear, I have to confess with some minor distress,
There's an issue I fear we must face.
'This body you see now before you
Was once more like yours than like mine,
But I sought the compliance of medical science
To change to the sex masculine.'
Beverly stared back in silence;
She said, 'Rufus, don't rue what you've done!
For I have surrendered a masculine gender
For this other, more feminine one.'
These lovers went back to their passion,
And their passion so scarcely defused;
And the knot they soon tied, although deep down inside--
They were (ever so slightly) confused.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
S.O.S.I.U. R 9-1-99
After the micro-surgeons conference in New York, the leading surgeons were in the bar and, being quite drunk, began to reminence over their greatest
feats.
The first, an English surgeon explained:
"We had a chap caught in a printing press at a factory last year and all
that was left of him was his little finger. Our team of surgeons
constructed a new hand and built an arm, engineered a new body and
ultimately, when he returned to the workforce, he was so efficient that he
put 5 men out of work."
That's nothing added the American surgeon:
"We had a worker trapped inside a nuclear reactor and all that was left of
him was his hair. We constructed a new skull, a new torso and new limbs and
put him back into the workforce. He is now so efficient, that he has put 50
men out of work."
The Canadian surgeon, not to be outdone:
"I was walking down the street when a fart wafted past. I took it back to
the hospital in a garbage bag, let it loose on the table and we got to
work. First of all, we wrapped an anus* around it, built a bum to it,
attached a body to one end and legs to the other and gradually it turned
into Brian Mulroney. He is now so efficient, that he has put the whole
fucking country out of work!"
(Brian Mulroney is the Prime Minister of Canada, which is the equivalent of
president in the U.S.)
= = = = = = = = = =
The next batter was named Faith, who also got a single
because Faith works with Love.
The next batter up was named Godly wisdom.
Satan wound up and
threw the first pitch; Godly Wisdom looked it over and let it pass,
because Godly Wisdom does not swing at Satan's pitches. Ball one. Three more
pitches and Godly Wisdom walked, because Godly wisdom never swings at Satan's
throws.
The bases were loaded. The Lord then turned to Bob and told him He
was now going to bring in His star player. Up to the plate stepped Grace.
Bob said he sure did not look like much! Satan's whole team relaxed when they
saw Grace. Thinking he had won the game, Satan wound up and fired his first
pitch. To the shock of everyone, Grace
hit the ball harder than anyone had ever seen. But Satan was not worried; his
center fielder, the Prince of the air, let very few get by. He went up for the
ball, but it went right through his glove,hit him on the head and sent him
crashing on the ground; then it continued over the fence for a home run! The
Lord's team won.
The Lord then asked Bob if he knew why Love, Faith, and Godly
Wisdom could get on base but could not win the game. Bob answered that he did
not know why.
The Lord explained, "If
your love, faith and wisdom had won the game you would think you had done it
by yourself. Love, faith and wisdom will get you on base, but only My grace
can get you home. My grace is the one thing Satan cannot stop."
Write On, people! ฉ 1997 bullstuff@yahoo.com
~ทดฏ`ท.ธธ.ทดฏ`~
The Gift Of Sight
There was this little 9 year old blind kid, and one day he said to his
mom, "Mom, All I've ever wanted was to see."
His mom said, "Well son it's your lucky day, today is the last day of
March, and if you pray your hardest, your prayers will be answered."
So the little boy goes to bed 2 hours early and starts praying himself
to
sleep. He wakes up half way through the night and realizes that the
night
isn't over, so he prays another hour before he falls asleep again. He
finally wakes up the next morning and yells, "Mom, Mom, get in here
fast!"
His mom comes running in and says, "What is it son?"
The boy says, "Mom I did just what you said I prayed and prayed harder
than anyone else ever has, but I woke up this morning and I'm still
blind!"
And his mom says.......
"April Fools!!"
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Hey -- we go to PTA, we pay our taxes, we're no different from you just
because we strip for Satan."
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See clowncat_2000's entry HERE!
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