God: ok so I created adults. And I created how they are supposed to look like from being born to preteen. Satan:(slides in) I’ll take over for you pops. God: I dunno....this is very delicate work. Just one wrong thing can ruin the system. Satan: don’t worry your beard off! (Pats his back) I’ll just do the ages from 12 to 18! God: Hmm...I’m still not-(Gets a call on his phone) shoot I got to take this. (Answers call) don’t touch anything Lucifer! (Walks away) Satan:.......(just touches lightly and alarms start blaring. He squeaks and runs away) God:(rushes in) WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!?! God:(tries fixing problems. Only gets alarms off) fuck me........ God:....(sighs) fine it’ll stay. We’ll just call it....puberty
What do you call indian dhal that is delicous?
Well that is DHALicous!
How does a well-educated graduate approach a delicate situation? I don't know, how does a well-graduated education approach a? With a degree!
Madden Whiffen, a curious soul, With an appetite beyond control, A bottomless pit, never satisfied, Ingesting all that's placed beside.
From dawn till dusk, he feasts his way, Devouring meals without delay, With gusto he consumes, without restrain, Every morsel, every crumb, he'll obtain.
No dish too large, no portion too small, His hunger insatiable, devouring it all, From succulent meats to delicate greens, He relishes the flavors, savoring each scene.
A culinary adventure, forever he embarks, Sampling cuisines from all walks and arcs, From street food to gourmet, he seeks it all, His palate an explorer, on a constant sprawl.
He savors the spices, the textures, the taste, In a gastronomic journey, no time to waste, For Madden Whiffen, the food is his muse, A symphony of flavors, he'll never refuse.
But caution, dear friends, in this feeding spree, For gluttony can lead to a troublesome plea, Madden Whiffen, beware the consequences, For overindulgence brings no recompenses.
In the realm of cuisine, he reigns supreme, A legend of eating, a man of extreme, Madden Whiffen, the one who eats it all, In his gastronomic pursuit, he stands tall.
So let us marvel at his voracious might, As he devours dishes, day and night, For in Madden Whiffen, we witness the feat, A man who eats everything, a culinary elite.
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.
A politician dies So a politician dies and ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.
"So, you're a politician..." "Well, yes, is that a problem?" "Oh no, no problem. But we've recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately, you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that, however, you're free to choose where you want to spend eternity!"
"Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??" says the politician. "Them's the rules," Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy disappears...
And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he's in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds... Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can't be, right?
"Open your eyes!" says a voice. "C'mon, wakey, we've only got 24 hours!". Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he's in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite... And there's a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. "Who are you??" The politician asks. "Well, I'm Satan!" says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. "Welcome to Hell!" "Wait, this is Hell? But... Where are all the pain and suffering?" he asks. Satan throws him a wink. "Oh, we've been a bit misrepresented over the years, it's a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is, of course, free, as is the room service, there are extra towels next to the hot tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It's a beautiful day, and if you'd care to look outside..." Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. "It's one of 5 pro-level courses on-site, and there's another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbor!" says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift and walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cheerily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course is made up of every one of his old friends, people he's admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he's admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2-foot-tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying on important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Gandhi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear... And they return to their penthouse suite and spend the rest of the night making love as they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows and falls into a deep and happy sleep...
And is woken up by St Peter. "So, that was Hell. Wasn't what you were expecting, I bet?" "No sir!" says the man. "So then," says St Peter "you can make your choice. It's Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on". "Well... I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I'd prefer Hell," says the politician. "Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!" Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again.
The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulfurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor wire in the other. "What's this??" He cries. "Where's the hotel?? Where's my wife??? Where's the minibar, the golf courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks, and the sunshine???"
"Ah", says Satan. "You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted..."
