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I recently saw a study that says seniors are still having sex well into their 80’s.  They may not remember if they enjoyed it, or who they did it with, but they sure do remember having it.  It said 38% of men and 17% of women in their 80’s were sexually active.  So apparently men, even at that age are going to the bars and exaggerating their sexual conquests, or there are some old ladies who are carrying more than their fair share of the load.  As the saying goes, “a woman’s work is never done”.

Sex takes way too much of most people’s attention.  In fact, for some men the only time they are not thinking about sex is when they are actually having it.  For women it is more talking about men’s desire for sex and laughing at the men, thinking that they have them all figured out…then they eventually sometimes regain their sanity.

You see, women think there is something to figure out about men but there really isn’t.  If you could see inside the typical man’s mind you’d see…SeX…sports…SEx…eat…SEX…sports again…take a dump… and also a lot more SEX.  And that’s about it.  Oh and I did forget beer for some of them too.  It really doesn’t get a whole lot more complicated than that.

But if you looked into a woman’s mind it would be a whole different story…”What is he thinking?”…”What is she thinking?”… “Does my ass look big in these jeans?”…”Why did he look at me like that?”…”Was he just flirting with me?”…”Should I have sex with him?”… “Am I gaining weight?”…”Yes, my ass is definitely too fat for these jeans.”…ad infinitum.

Men enjoy simple things.  For example, we like to hear facts like a male rat will have sex 20 times a day. (John Edwards is a perfect example which proves that one.)  Or that the male lion will often have sex up to 50 times a day.  (Ah, yes.  It is good to be the king.)

A woman is way more likely to complicate those simple facts and ask, ”What is that male lion thinking about when he is making all these conquests.  Is he trying to prove his masculinity? I wonder if that lion would think my ass is too big for these jeans?”  You get the idea.

Again, men are simple beings.  Yes, it is true that some of us are idiots too but that just adds to our charm.  We really aren’t thinking anything at all complex when women are trying to figure out what we are thinking.  Very often we are just staring off into space.  Many times men don’t think of what we are saying before we say it and that often gets us in trouble with women.  The woman then thinks we have some sinister plot going on, that’s why we said that mean thing.  The fact is we were just too stupid to think that thought through to an end and it gets us in trouble.

So, women, you will have to forgive us and please stop thinking we have more on our minds than we do.  We are not actually that complicated.  But while we may not always be as smart as you, we are also not complete morons.  We are never going to give you an honest answer on the question, “Do these jeans make my ass look fat?”  Because we still do want to have sex with you.

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We are into the beginning of tax season once again.  It’s that time of year when we can all feel like a congressman’s mistress after a sexual liaison.  And satisfied is definitely not the word I was thinking of.

Tax season is when we can all feel like we are government employees.  The difference is that some of the employees get a check and the rest of us give our check to them.  So, again we are back to that word I was thinking of in the first paragraph that was definitely not “satisfied”.  Sex was not going to be the theme of this article but it seems to be so far, just not the fun kind, more like the kind you could expect on a blind date with Mike Tyson.

When someone calls the IRS for tax help on their toll-free number there is only a 70% chance that you will actually talk to a live person ( and when you do talk to a live IRS agent “live” becomes a relative term.)  And then when someone is fortunate enough to talk to a person the conversation often goes something like this:

IRS agent: This is the IRS, may I help you?

Joe Q. Public:  …What? Is that a real person or did I actually die during the wait and I’m now in heaven?

IRS Agent:  Well, sir, if you had died and you were talking to the IRS you would certainly not be in heaven.

(Author’s note:  Even an IRS agent can have a sense of humor…at least in my article.)

Joe Q. Public:  Okay, so, I have some questions.  I’m looking at line 13 of my tax form and I’m not sure how to answer it.

IRS Agent:  Technically that is not a question.  You’ll have to ask your question with a question format.

Joe Q. Public:  (impatiently)  Okay, what does line 13 mean?

IRS Agent:  What does anything really mean?  Is there really any meaning in life?

(Author’s note again:  A real IRS agent is not intelligent enough to even feign a philosophical attitude but I am using artistic license.)

Joe Q. Public:  Huh? Oh, never mind. Let’s go to the next question.  I am raising chickens in my back yard so I can afford to give my family eggs for breakfast each morning.  Can I get a deduction out of that?

IRS Agent:  No, you should be going out for breakfast to help the economy.  That is two strikes against you.  Three strikes and you get an automatic audit.

Joe Q. Public:  Two strikes?  What was my first strike?

IRS Agent:  The line 13 question.

Joe Q. Public:  (exasperated) But you never told me anything about line 13…Oh, never mind.

He hangs up the phone.  The IRS Agent looks to her superior who was listening in on the conversation.  He gives her a wink and a pat on the back and says, “Good job, if we start giving the public answers they’ll think we actually have an idea of what we’re doing.”

And there you have it, government efficiency at its best.  Now you understand why GM has a plan to save itself by producing a new model of car called the Chevy Clunker.  They’ll be able to sell them all to the government for cash.

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Once upon a time there was a young boy named Obama.  He lived on a farm and even though he was just a boy he was in charge of the farm.  No one really knew how he got there or why he was in charge but he was, to be sure.  Some say it was due to the magic of the barnyard that got him there and that young Obama learned his trade by shoveling out the barnyard.  But others felt that he was just a natural at shoveling and that it is how he somehow convinced all the people at the farm to let him be in charge (but that is the story of another fairy tale.)

One day young Obama found these magic beans.  A voice from the sky told him that if he planted these beans it would grow jobs for all the people who lived around the great big farm.  He wasn’t sure how this could work but if the voice told him it was true he knew it must be.

So young Obama knew he had to rely greatly on his shoveling skills to plant these beans.  He would also need the help of the 535 farmhands that worked on the farm to plant these beans.  Fortunately, a prerequisite for being a farmhand was to be extra good at shoveling, in many cases that was their only skill.  Young Obama also thought of another farmhand named Joe and maybe Joe could help.  He ran out to find Joe but when he saw him he was just sitting on a pile of hay with a piece of grass between his teeth and staring off into space.  Young Obama thought Joe was daydreaming about how one day he would be in charge and young Obama knew that Joe was not going to be of much help.  As a side note, young Obama heard a noise on the other side of the stack of hay that sounded like grunting.  He went to check it out but it was just the guy who used to run the farm, Bill, with a young woman from town rolling around together.  Young Obama smiled but he knew he had no time to watch this, he had to get these magic beans planted or he wouldn’t be running the farm for very much longer.

Young Obama went to find old Harry.  He was in charge of the farmhands and he was very good at shoveling and getting others to shovel.  The only problem was that there were farmhands that worked only on the left side of the farm and others that worked only on the right side of the farm and they would always argue with each other.  They never wanted to work together.  This was a problem for young Obama.

Young Obama also called upon another of the main farmhands, a lady named Nancy.  She was excellent at shoveling but it seemed that sometimes she shoveled the holes so deeply that they were too difficult to get out of.  Not only that, young Obama had a hard time looking at Nancy because her face seemed plastic and she never was able to smile except through great effort.  This problem of getting the beans planted was getting more and more difficult and time was becoming a factor.  If these beans didn’t get planted soon young Obama’s friends on the left side of the farm were going to be replaced by new farmhands.  (What young Obama didn’t realize was that it would be just a new set of shovelers shoveling the same old stuff, but he was still mighty concerned.)

Suddenly a bright idea came to young Obama.  It didn’t matter how well the beans would grow into jobs if he hired bean counters who used calculators with a held down seven.  In that way no matter what number was punched into the calculator it would always be multiplied by seven and he would look good no matter what.  Problem solved.

So, somehow young Obama got the farmhands to plant the beans but it was done sloppily and without much forethought and the beans grew a little but they were not healthy, robust beans and they didn’t make many jobs as the voice from the sky had promised.  But young Obama always did have a backup plan in case the magic beans failed him.  He could always blame that big bush that was in the middle of the field, saying that it had poisoned his beans.  And so he did.  And young Obama lived happily ever after (at least for the next 3 years.)

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Last weekend the east coast experienced one of the worst blizzards in recorded history, which must have Al Gore scratching his head and saying, “At least that Internet thingee I invented worked out.”

I always like to look for the positive in things and since Washington D. C. was one of the worst areas hit with the blizzard at least it prevented Congress from doing anything stupid for a few days and that is an exceptionally good thing.

Congress, or more broadly politicians in general, don’t have the best reputation.  But to be fair they have helped a lot of people.  For example, there are many stand-up comics who would have nothing to say if it wasn’t for Congress and other politicians.  And think of all the hookers who would be out on the street if it weren’t for politicians (to clarify, the politicians keep them off the streets by having them in their bedrooms.)  And think of all the women who are the mistresses of these guys, what are they supposed to do go out and get a job?  But the line has to be drawn somewhere, Mark Sanford, the governor of South Carolina, outsourced his adultery  to another country and I don’t think that’s right, unemployment is already too high.  There are plenty of women in this country who could have supplied the same services.

I am comforted, though, that some in Congress are championing the efforts to replace the BCS with a legitimate college football playoff. There could be chaos in the streets if we let sports writers vote on which is the best college football team.   And thank god they are up in arms about the use of steroids in professional sports.  Everyone knows that can lead to more dangerous drugs, and if Americans started taking illegal drugs we’d really have a problem then!

And now the House of Congress has voted to raise the debt limit.  I’m sure the Senate will follow suit.  In other words every time you reach the limit of money you have to spend all you have to do is raise the limit.  I wonder if there is a congressperson that can even spell the word “economics”.  Currently, the nation owes $40,000 for every person in the country (I’m not sure if that includes the illegal aliens.)  So I thinking I’d like to receive my in gold!

What can congressmen (I’m laying off the congresswomen for now, but I have lots to say about Nancy Pelosi, et. al., perhaps the subject of another article! ) be thinking when they are working.  Here’s my guess:

Congressman #1:  Hey, did you read any of that last bill we voted for?

Congressman #2:  (laughs) Uh, let me ask you this, were they any pictures of naked women in the bill?

Congressman #1:  Not that I know of, I would have looked at it myself if someone told me there were.

Congressman #2:  Exactly, now don’t waste my time with stupid questions.

Congressman #1:  Sorry, here’s a legitimate question for you.  Did you see the new hottie  at the coffee stand out front?

Congressman #2:  Wow!  Did I ever!  I’ll tell you, I’ve got a stimulus plan for that babe.

So, back to that snow storm I mentioned in the beginning, is there anyway we could keep that going over Washington D.C. until… I don’t know, say about June.  Maybe we could get Al Gore to invent  something  that will make it happen!

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For this week’s article we have a guest columnist, who may return periodically, assuming I’m not arrested or burned in effigy as a result of the advice she gives out.  Please welcome Darnfunnyonline’s new advice columnist, “Dear Crabby”.

Now for the questions from our readers:

Dear Crabby,

I was recently on a flight to see an old, dear friend and while going through airport security they had me stand in one of those scanning machines that essentially allows the security people to see my naked body.  I was assured the picture would be deleted immediately after they examined it.  It was an awkward moment and I honestly didn’t know what to think.  What should I have done?

Embarrassed in North Dakota

Dear Embarrassed,

Since you said your “old, dear friend” I’m guessing you are no spring chicken yourself, and add in the fact that you are from North Dakota, where it’s cold enough to make you feel like your life is hell, yet it freezes over all the time, I assume you rarely have been seen naked in recent times.  So, instead of whining about it be glad someone finally wants to see you that way.  If by some chance you are a hottie then your pictures are probably being sold on some porn site as I write this letter.  After all, airport security is a federally funded organization and they gave all their money away to the banks and insurance and auto industries, so they gotta get money somehow.  So next time this happens tell them you at least want a piece of the pie and ask for a royalty.  The other alternative to the body scan is getting a full body pat down, which could be fun too, depending on how you look at things.

Crabby

Dear Crabby,

I’m a college student and I think I might be pregnant.  What should I do?

Oops! In Oregon

Dear Oops,

First of all I’m assuming you’re blonde.  Since you think you might be pregnant, do you also think you may have had sex without a condom?  As to what you should do, since you are a college girl I’m guessing there is a library on the campus somewhere (It’s probably the building you walk by and wonder what they do in there.)  Go to that building and look up birth control.  Next, stop getting drunk on dates.  And last of all, plan on taking off at least one semester from college.

Crabby

Dear Crabby,

My boyfriend likes to spend a lot of time at Hooters but he insists it’s because they have good food at reasonable prices.  I’m not sure what to think about that.  Any advice?

Worried in Wisconsin

Dear Worried,

I was wrong.  I thought I couldn’t getter any letters that were more stupid that the pregnant girl’s above, but you have humbled me.  I’m gonna make a wild guess and say he says he likes to read Playboy for the articles and he goes to strip clubs for the free chicken fried steak.  My advice to you is dump Hooters boy and then get a life (and possibly a brain transplant.)

Crabby

Thank you for reading “Dear Crabby” and if you think she is mean you should have read some the advice given out by her sisters “Dear Pre-Menstrual Stress Lady” and “Dear Menopausal Woman”.

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We’ve all heard, by now, about the terrorist’s attempted suicide bombing on a plane on Christmas day.  Fortunately, he did not succeed.  You’ll all be happy to know, as a result, airport security tightened and the next day they were able to swiftly and safely confiscate a highly dangerous jar of almond butter that my daughter tried to take on board a plane – whew!

Who knows what she or someone who might steal the almond butter from her could have done.  It could have been spread over the windshield of the plane, thereby blocking the pilot’s vision and preventing a safe landing.  Or, it could have been spread in the aisle so as the flight attendant steps in it, it slows her down enough that she wouldn’t be able to serve the pilot his in-flight alcohol in a timely fashion to get him drunk, which upsets his rhythm and crashes the plane.  The possibilities here are endless.  (SPECIAL NOTE: If you are a potential terrorist please stop reading now because I don’t want you to get any terrorism ideas from this article.)

It was comforting to have her tell me, though, that her almond butter would not have been taken away if the container had been 3 ounces or less.  I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that airport security is using logic and good common sense.  If you had no more than 3 ounces of the stuff, for example, you couldn’t possibly cover the entire windshield, another disaster averted!

Earlier this year I had forgotten myself and put my, greater than 3 ounce container of toothpaste, in my carry-on bag and I was happy to know that it was confiscated before I got onto the plane.  If some terrorist had found that stuff in my bag and stolen it he could have taken it into the bathroom and brushed his teeth until the 5 ounce of toothpaste was all used up.  Then his teeth would be so white so that he could go into the plane, get everyone’s attention, and smile widely while flashing a light on his teeth and blinding everyone, thereby, taking over the plane.  We are safe in the hands of airport security!!!

Laying off airport security for the moment, lest they never let me fly anywhere again, that terrorist on Christmas day was not a particularly bright guy.  He had the bomb hidden in his underwear.  If a bomb blew up in his underwear what did the idiot think he was going to do when he got his reward of “70 virgins in heaven”.  He would have gotten a glimpse of the virgins, started salivating, and upon feeling no urges down below, actually having nothing down below, he would be screaming, “I WANT A DO OVER!”

If terrorists are willing to blow up their nether regions I’m sure they wouldn’t mind putting a bomb inside their mouths either.  I’ll bet airport security will come up with an effective plan to combat that strategy, like giving random noogies to the flyers as they come through the line so that when they scream, “I’m telling my mom,” the bomb in their mouth will fall out.

Until the noogie strategy is adapted they can at least start catching the guys with bombs in their underwear by adopting the strategy of random atomic wedgies!

Through intense scientific research (meaning I saw an article in the newspaper that was located next to the comics) I have discovered information that is likely to make women feel superior to men.  There may be a multitude of reasons for them to feel that way, but this is scientific fact.

It turns out that in the first ten weeks of fetal development all brains are female.  Then, in boys, a huge surge of testosterone hits the brain, killing cells in the communication center and growing them in the sex and aggression center.  This explains why men don’t like to talk about their feelings unless those feelings are penis related and also why we leave the toilet seat up when we go to the bathroom as it allows us to be more aggressive in our return trips as we no longer have to bend over to lift the seat.

Because of the testosterone, the male fetus typically lags three weeks behind the female neurologically at birth.  And according to what I’ve heard many females say the gap widens from there.

On the plus side for us men though, the testosterone poisoning does come in handy later because it helps some coordination neurons develop better which allows us to catch footballs, basketballs, and baseballs more easily.  This is vital to society because if not for those skills there would be no sports on television and then there would be no place for the beer companies to show their commercials.

Testosterone is the thing that makes men and women different.  Women with their greater communication skills like to talk about intimacy, and men, because they have more testosterone, like to be intimate (to be clear here, the male definition of intimacy is having sex.)  Women, when the car breaks down, will say they think they heard the doohickey rattling before it broke.  Men due to their greater testosterone levels, will open the hood of the car and nod knowingly and pretend to fix it before they take the car to a professional to get it fixed.  And lastly, when a woman passes gas it will be a great source of embarrassment, but to a man, again, thanks to testosterone, will turn such an event into uncontrollable laughter and entertainment.

Nature, in its infinite wisdom, develops the female brain very precisely with less variation in how girl’s brains develop, which is why women universally think the dress they are wearing makes their ass look fat.  On the other hand the male brain has many more variables which is why sometimes you get Einstein and sometimes Larry the Cable Guy.

I can almost hear two of these fetal brain cells having a conversation prior to the testosterone attack that turns them male:

First female brain cell:  Let go to lunch and have a nice talk about our feelings.

Second Female brain cell:  That sounds great but I’m not really hungry I just had a testosterone snack.

First cell: Oh, what’s that like?

Second cell:  Well I heard it was good for when you’re feeling bloated, so I thought what harm could it do .

First cell: I heard it make you stupid though.

Second cell:  Really, I never heard….WHOA!  I think it just kicked in, talk about a stimulus act.  I’ll bet Obama didn’t have this kind of stimulus in mind when he came up with economic stimulus.   Bill Clinton and Kennedy were probably thinking this way though.

First cell:  Oh my goodness, what’s happening?

Second cell:  I don’t know, but you suddenly look awful darn hot to me.  How about we skip lunch and go to my place and see what we can cook up there? If you get my meaning.

And there you have it women, we were just like you until the testosterone hit us. So it’s not really our fault at all.

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I just saw a headline that said Nevada is the fattest western state in the United States.  That doesn’t mean, for example, that the streets are wider in Nevada, it means that the asses of the people walking down those streets are wider than the asses of the people in other western states.

Being a resident of the fattest state I guess I should be honored since we are number one at something.   But I just haven’t felt the impact.  It just means it is a lot easier to find a McDonalds here than it is to find a store that sells skinny pants.

It kind of gives new meaning to the Las Vegas catch phrase of “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”  Instead of the sexy connotation it tries to imply, it’s more like, “Naw, I don’t want to go anywhere.  Let’s just sit here and eat some chips and watch TV.”

Nevada has a 31% obesity rate.  Maybe Las Vegas can come up a new marketing slogan like “Hey, fat ass, come to Vegas and make yourself feel thin.”  I did notice a casino marketing to locals had the slogan, “Lose some weight, your pockets will definitely feel lighter when you leave here.”  Just kidding, we are the fattest, not stupidest.

The Las Vegas Marathon was held recently.  There was a shorter version of the race for the more obese citizens where they “power waddled” to the nearest Dunkin Donuts store.

That same newspaper article said that at the current rate that Americans are becoming obese by the year 2018 nearly 50% of the country will be obese.  So, apparently, if Obama was really serious about health care he should be planning to turn the hospitals into diet centers.  When we go to war in the future we’ll just have our military sit on the enemies military and that will be that.

I guess I have a greater understanding now why when they are marketing the “Gentlemen’s clubs” in Las Vegas they almost always have more than one girl on the pictures.  Considering how fat the Las Vegas men are the marketers are thinking with the concept, “I bet you can’t eat just one.”

Let’s not just blame ourselves for being overweight.  Let’s take a look at this whole thing from the viewpoint of fat cells themselves, since they are the real culprits in this scenario:

Fat cell #1 (a male fat cell) – Hey sweetcakes, you are looking nice and plump these days, not like some of those skinny fat cell that I’ve seen lately.

Fat cell #2 (a female fat cell) – (blushing) Thanks, I do try to keep my figure expanding.

Fat cell #1 – Why don’t we hunker down together with a fine meal of hydrogenated vegetable oils and high fructose corn syrup.

Fat cell #2 – Wow! You do know how to get a girl’s attention.

So you see, it is not our fault as Americans that we are getting fatter by the day.  It is the fault of the pesky fat cells that are making us that way.  Besides that, if we weren’t getting fatter there would be no need for quality television shows like The Biggest Loser.  It could also affect us emotionally if too many of us got thin because right now we as Americans are confident in the fact that we are “too big to fail”.

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I just read an article about how some psychologist said you can relieve pain or upset by swearing.  My first thought was “What an a_ _hole!”   Then I realized, what do you know, he was right, I do feel better!

It made me wonder, can we just skip the whole Obamacare thing and just swear our way to good health?  It would save a lot of money if that would work.  But then, of course, those stupid, rotten *^%$^$#&##$%& %@!$^&  congressmen (whew! Excuse me for that, but it did feel good.) would try to tax swearing.  Naturally, just as Congress is trying to make themselves exempt from the healthcare that the rest of the nation would have, they would also be exempt from the tax on swearing.  (Which  makes me wish that swearing in congress was a legit thing, if only momentarily, like if, Joe Wilson, the “you lie guy” could have said what he was really thinking when he yelled that infamous, yet totally true, statement at Obama on the floor of congress.  Okay, okay, I know I’m getting off the track here, but it was a fun thought.) Anyway, the whole swearing tax probably wouldn’t work, it would just create a lot of black market swearing and groups going underground to swear.

Swearing could be the reason that professional athletes don’t have more injuries than they do.  If you can at all read lips when you watch them on TV you know they aren’t spewing out nursery rhymes, or if they were they would go like this:

Jack and Jill went up the f$%^#!$  hill,

To fetch a pail of go#%^$&@#$*!;! water.

“Hey, my knee does feel better.”

But then again this swearing to heal could have a totally undesirable effect too.  What if the uncle you always hated was laying in a coma waiting to die and in a weak moment you decided to vent at him.  The intention of the cussing directed at him could have the undesired effect of bringing him back to life.  He’d wake up and smile at you and you’d have to go into the other room and cuss up a storm at yourself to make you feel better.

Or, what if one day you went into an uncontrollable cussing rage with your boss who you had secretly wanted a whole array of bad, evil things to happen to and he suddenly became the healthiest person on earth.  And that could only make you want to swear more, making him even healthier.

Here’s another unworkable idea, what if your child was sick and with totally good intentions you started swearing at the little b_ _ _ _ _ _ to make him well.  Even if he got well he would resent you for the rest of his life.

After careful examination of this idea this psychologist has of relieving pain and upset by swearing, I think it’s safe to say that he has his head way up his a_ _! (Again, that felt good.)  What’s next?  Are the shrinks going to start prescribing drugs for depression, instead of just eating right and being busy and productive… Wait a minute!!  OH S_ _ T!

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