What do you call a dragon who's just been thrown in a pond?

Dunkie

~J

A face dies and meets St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. His arrival puts St. Peter a bit off-balance: "You see, we don't really know what to do with you. Some of us think you've done some really good work cutting Aztechnology and the Tir Council down to size. On the other hand ..." and St. Peter pulls out a list ... a very, very long list. ("But the chief security officer needed that tattoo ...")

"Well," offers the face after a moment, sizing up the Pearly Gates and temporarily writing them off as physically infiltratable, "since you guys can't make up your minds, why don't you give me a short preview of both places and let me make the choice?" (Negotiating TN of about 30, but he makes it!)

So St. Peter gives the face the grand tour of Heaven: angels, harps, that kind of thing - all very nice and all, but a bit boring after Seattle. And then St. Peter takes the face down to see Hell ... which was not at all what he had expected: excellent restaurants, clean beaches, hot babes, sparkling water, tropical climate. His fixer asks him to describe the kind of run he wants - it will be ready for him next Tuesday. All kinds of places just set up as a perfect challenge to his skills ... and with a "save" and "restore" option for whenever things started to go badly. His gunrunner friend-for-life contact grins and tells him that the piece he'd been looking for had just come in, and that it would only be half the price originally quoted.

The face looks at the harps, and then at the beach. (His gaze lingers on the beach.) And he decides: "I'm choosing Hell."

St. Peter vanishes, and the face finds himself chained to a flaming wall in front of a very good-humoured Devil. "Wait a second, hold on!" protests the face, "this isn't what I saw before!"

"Of course not," smiles the Devil (who has shifted into the appearance of that Johnson). "That was before you agreed to take the run."

A rigger is comes back from test-driving his latest whiz-bang SOTA Euro Westwind. As he opens the door to step out, a large truck roars past him and takes off the door completely. After a moment of stupefied silence, he screams at the top of his voice and rails against the heavens against this injustice.

A couple of Lone Star cops, having witnessed the entire accident from across the road, come over.
"Sir, calm down!" says the first cop.
"Calm down??!!" the rigger retorts. "Are you nuts?!! Do you know how many runs I had to make before I put together enough to buy this baby??!! This is a special edition '63 Westwind Turbo Elite - there are only four others like it in the world!"
The second cop sneers, "Gawd, I heard you shadowrunners were a materialistic lot but I never imagined just how much! You're so besotted with the damage to your car that you've not even noticed that the truck took your left arm off with the door!"
The rigger looks down at his missing left arm, "F**k me! Where's my Rolex?!!"

*takes hat off to Dim Sum*

Heard a variation before, but I'd completely forgotten about it. Very apt. Very apt.

*wipes tear*

Captain Chaos' letter of resignation from his last job before becoming the sysop of Shadowland:

Mr Baker,

As an employee of an institution of higher education, I have a few very basic expectations. Chief among these is that my direct superiors have an intellect that ranges above the common ground squirrel.

After your consistent and annoying harassment of myself and my co-workers during the commission of our duties, I can only surmise that you are one of
the few true genetic wastes of our time. Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every little nuance of everything I do each time you happen to stroll into my office is not only a waste of time, but also a waste of precious oxygen. I was hired because I know about the Matrix, and you were apparently hired to provide amusement to myself and other employees, who watch you vainly attempt to understand the concept of "cut and paste" for the hundredth time.

You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly simple as Matrix iconography still gives you too many options. You will also never understand why
people hate you, but I am going to try and explain it to you, even though I
am sure this will be just as effective as telling you what an Access Node is.

Your shiny new Fuchi Excalibur has more personality than you ever will. You walk
around the building all day, shiftlessly looking for fault in others. You have a sharp dressed useless look about you that may have worked for your interview, but now that you actually have responsibility, you pawn it off on overworked staff, hoping their talent will cover for your glaring ineptitude. In a world of managerial evolution, you are the blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at.

Managers like you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle. Seeing as this situation is unlikely to change without you getting a full frontal lobotomy reversal, I am forced to tender my resignation, however I have a few parting thoughts.

1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it is illegal to give me a bad recommendation. The most you can say to hurt me is "I prefer not to comment." I will have friends randomly call you over the next couple of years to keep you honest, because I know you would be unable to do it on your own.

2. I have all the passwords to every account on the host, and I know every password you have used for the last five years. If you decide to get cute, I am going to publish your "favourites list", which I conveniently saved when you made me "back up" your useless files. I do believe that terms like "Lolita" are not usually viewed favourably by the administration.

3. When you borrowed my camera to "take pictures of your mother's b-day", you neglected to mention that you were going to take pictures of yourself in the mirror nude. Then you forgot to erase them like the techno-moron you really are. Suffice it to say I have never seen such odd acts with a ketchup bottle, but I assure you that those have been copied and kept in safe places pending the authoring of a glowing letter of recommendation. (Try to use a spell check please, I hate having to correct your mistakes.)

Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow. One word of this to anybody, and all of your little twisted repugnant obsessions will be open to the public.

Never f*** with your systems administrators, because they know what you do
with all your free time.


Sincerely,

<<<Deleted 0.2 MP>>>

Autowerkz Enterprises, in association with Federated Boeing, recently divulged they had covertly funded a project with the aircraft makers for the past five years, whereby black boxes were installed in four wheel drive pickup trucks, in an effort to determine, in fatal accidents, the circumstances in the last 15 seconds before the crash.

They were surprised to find in the UCAS, NAN and Cal Free State, the last words of the drivers in 61.2 percent of fatal crashes were, "OH S**T!"

Only in the CAS was there any difference, where over 89.3 percent of the final words were, "Hold my beer and watch this."

Doc Wagon's latest fully automated customer relations phone service:

"Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline.

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are codependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the
line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the
mother ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you
which number to press.

If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the pound key until a
representative comes on the line.

If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, telephone
number, date of birth, social security number, and your mother's maiden
name.

If you have post-traumatic stress disorder, s-l-o-w-l-y and
c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y press 0 0 0.

If you have bi-polar disorder, please leave a message after the beep or
before the beep or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory
loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have
short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All operators are too busy to
talk to you.

If you are blonde don't press any buttons, you'll just mess it up.

Have a nice day and thank you for choosing Doc Wagon. We care."

Here are the current Top 25 Country & Western songs in the CAS in my current campaign:


25. Get Your Tongue Outta My Mouth 'Cause I'm Kissing You Goodbye

24. Her Teeth Was Stained, But Her Heart Was Pure

23. How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?

22. I Don't Know Whether To Kill Myself Or Go Bowling

21. I Bought A Car From A Guy Who Stole My Girl, But It Don't Run So We're Even

20. I Keep Forgettin' I Forgot About You

19. I Liked You Better Before I Knew You So Well

18. I Still Miss You, Baby, But My Aim's Gettin' Better

17. I Wouldn't Take Her To A Dog Fight, Cause I'm Afraid She'd Win

16. I'll Marry You Tomorrow But Let's Honeymoon Tonight

15. I'm So Miserable Without You, It's Like Having You Here

14. I've Got Tears In My Ears From Lyin' On My Back And Cryin' Over You

13. If I Can't Be Number One In Your Life, Then Number Two On You

12. If I Had Shot You When I Wanted To, I'd Be Out By Now

11. Mama Get A Hammer (There's A Fly On Papa's Head)

10. My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, And I Don't Love You

9. My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend, And I Sure Do Miss Him

8. Please Bypass This Heart

7. She Got The Ring And I Got The Finger

6. You Done Tore Out My Heart And Stomped That Sucker Flat

5. You're The Reason Our Kids Are So Ugly

4. If The Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know It's Me

3. She's Actin' Single and I'm Drinkin' Doubles

2. She's Looking Better After Every Beer

Number 1.

I Haven't Gone To Bed With Any Ugly Women, But I've Sure Woke Up With A Few

Warning: non-politically correct joke ahead:

Two troll gangers are hired for extra muscle by a female Cat shaman for a run, but she tells them that since this is a stealth run they need to put silencers on their nice shiny Ares Predators so they won't get caught. The run goes off without a hitch, they get paid, and they never see the shaman again.
Several years later, they're shooting beer bottles off of a wall when one of them turns to the other.

"Do you care if that lady we worked for a few years back gets caught?"
"Um... no, why?"
"Me neither. Let's take these things off."

~J, humorless since 1985.

"Well, slit my wrists and call me Shedim."

"Tell the Fat Lady she's on in five."

"Can't."

"Why the frag not?"

"She saw the script and started running ten minutes ago."

-Siege

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OWNED BY CLEAN BACHELOR WHO SELDOM WASHED

Sneaky dog? Psychotic dog, I think.

I've heard of a hot romance before, but damn...

-Siege

A beautiful blonde corp secretary and a young up-and-coming corp hitman are paired up at firing range at an Ares convention where guests can try their hand at shooting Ares' new line of weapons. At the first range, the blonde looks at the young man and tries to start a conversation saying, "T. G. I. F."

The young man replies, "S. H. I. T."

Taken aback a little, the blonde thinks that the man might not have heard her properly above the noise of gunfire and replies a little louder, "T. G. I. F."

The young man replies louder still, "S. H. I. T."

The blonde replies a even louder, "T. G. I. F."

The young man shakes his head and replies louder, "S. H. I. T."

Rather miffed, the blonde shouts, "Thank God It's Friday."

The young man leans over and whispers in her ear, "Sorry Honey It's Thursday."

You hear about the troll who got fired at the M&M factory for throwing away all the W's?

Not Sphynx, it was definitely Not Sphynx who posted this unbelievably stupid joke and then put more effort into not-his signature.

Dishy Dan the Daredevil Shadowrunner goes out with the team after a successful run but promises his wife that he'll be back by midnight. Before he knows it, hours have passed and he reluctantly drags himself back home, drunk as a skunk.

As he slinks his way through his apartment door around 3.00 AM, the cuckoo clock starts up and cuckoos three times. Inebriated as he is, the quick-witted runner realises that his wife might have been woken up by the clock and the door opening so he cuckoos another nine times. When there is no sign of his wife having been disturbed by his entry, Dishy Dan congratulates himself on his quick thinking despite being completely smashed.

The next morning, his wife asks him what time he got back home. Dishy Dan tells her 12 o'clock and his wife seems to accept it - got away with that one! As Dan breathes a sigh of relief and gives himself another mental pat on the shoulder, his wife tells him that they need a new cuckoo clock.

When Dan asks her why, she replies, "Well, last night, our clock cuckooed three times, then said, 'Oh, shit!', cuckooed another four times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then farted."

A hotshot corp exec comes out of Dante's Inferno, pissed out of his brains and with his dick hanging out of his open fly. He staggers to a Saab Dynamite and fishes out his remote key but the car doesn't respond to his repeated signals to unlock the doors. He then tries to use the keys manually and sets of the alarm.

A bouncer from the club recognises the exec as a regular and walks over.
"Hey, Mr. Johnson, what are you trying to do?" asks the bouncer.
"Whaasshit loog like I'mmma doin'? Ged indoo my gar isshwhuh!"
"Mr. Johnson, this ain't your car."
"Then whheressh my car?" The corp exec looks around. "The basshdards sshtole it!! No good sshhadowrunners!"
"Look, Mr. Johnson, why I don't get you a cab? And why don't you zip your dick back in while I get that cab."
The corp exec looks down and gasps, "Basshdaards got Julia, too!"

The All-American Poetry Contest between the UCAS and CAS had come down to two finalists, a Yale graduate and a redneck rigger from Wyoming. They were given a word, then allowed two minutes to study that word and come up with a poem that contained it, and the word they were given was "Timbuktu."

The first to recite his poem was the Yale graduate. He stepped up to the microphone and said,

"Slowly 'cross the desert sand
Trekked a lonely caravan
Men on camels, two by two
Destination: Timbuktu."

The crowd went crazy! No way could anyone top the Yale graduate, but the rigger calmly made his way to the microphone and began his poem:

"Me and Tim a-huntin' went
Met three whores in a pop-up tent
They was three, and we was two
So I bucked one, and Timbuktu."

*Sigh* Yes, I have too much time on my hands ....

A street samurai walks into a runner bar which he's never patronised before and sees a big jar crammed full of credsticks, at least 25,000 nuyen worth.

He asks the bartender, "What's up with the jar?"
The bartender replies, "It's the prize for the contest we're having."
"Contest? What contest?"
"First," the bartender says, pointing to the biggest troll in the place, "you have to go over there and lay him out with one punch. Then, down in the storeroom, there's a giant hellhound with a gold molar and you have to extract it. Finally, across the street is an 80-year-old lady who hasn't had an orgasm for 65 years ... you need to give her one. Do all that and the money is yours!"
"Okay," the sammie says, "I can do that."

He takes a deep breath and summons up all his strength. He goes over to the big troll who the bartender pointed out, takes a mighty swing and lays him out with just one punch.

Feeling good, the guy then proceeds down to the storeroom. For the next half hour, all that can be heard is barking, screaming, growling, and intense shrieks of pain. At last, the guy returns, though somewhat bloodied and with his clothes torn to pieces.

"Okay, now," says the samurai, "where's that lady with the gold tooth?"

Oh my...

I'm accepting donations to start "SHA" or "Stop Hellhound Abuse".

-Siege

A Humanis razorboy whose headware wires were crossed in many places is sitting in a bar with the usual rabble when he suddenly proclaims, "I'm going to be the next Hitler! I'm going to slaughter every one of those metahuman freaks and a clown!!" A guy down the bar asks, "Why the clown?" The Humanis guy says "See? No one cares about the metas!"

--
"Newsfax Nov 10, 2063

Lone Star today arrested a man for decking into the MCT computer system last week. Among the data on his deck were photographs of him with a desk lamp inserted in his anus, a vidphone handset inserted in his anus, and a wine bottle inserted in his anus.

Unfortunately for the Lone Star inspectors, before discovering the photographs, they had already turned on the lights, used the phone, and drank the wine."

--
"Newsfax Nov 10, 2063

A protest was held outside the Novetech building in Seattle when several back-to-nature activists protested against the new ebook distributed by Novatech's subsidiary, Random Bit Publishing. Their protest was over the fact that the book contained no less than 8 blank pages, which they felt was a horrible waste of electronic trees."

--
Commercial as seen as KSAF:

"Hi, my name is Captain Chaos. As you may know, I'm an expert at decking through even the most glacier systems on the 'trix, so I know a thing or two about computer security. The safest system is the one not connected to the Matrix. That's why I recommend UOL's new Broadband service..."


The Abstruse One

A troll walks into a bar and breaks it.

...

@ Siege

Hehehe, I'm going to use the SHA campaign in my game - it's going to be funny if the PCs ever stop to ask the lone volunteer manning the office why he's campaigning for an end to hellhound abuse.

@ Abstruse

"Nobody cares about the metas!" I'll have to work THAT one into one of my NPCs' lines!

Siege is going to start a Stop Rigger Abuse campaign soon ....

Ricky Roadkill the Rigger is flying down the road in his new Acura 500 and he flashes over a bridge. Sure enough, a Lone Star officer with a radar gun is sitting on the other side of the bridge.

The cop pulls him over. He walks up to the guy's car and asks, "What's the hurry?"
Ricky Roadkill says, "I'm late for work."
"What do you do?" the cop asks.
Ricky responds, "Well, I'm a rectum stretcher."
Baffled, the cop says, "What? A rectum stretcher?"
Ricky shrugs and says, "Yeah. I start with a finger, then work my way up to two fingers ... eventually I get a hand in, then both hands, and I slowly stretch it until it's about six feet wide."
The cop asks, "What do you do with a six-foot asshole?"
Ricky answers, "Well, you give him a radar gun and park him at the end of a bridge ...."

Bah, riggers are expendable. A good hellhound is harder to find.

On that note:

In the lounge, someone posted a link to an online comic.

One of the story lines involved a power munchkin being violated by a tree during a LARP.

If anyone knows what the hell I'm rambling about, would you kindly post the link?

Thanks.

-Siege

www.somethingpositive.net

~J

Hah! Fantastic, thanks.

-Siege

Waha! That's hilarious!

err, he was suppose to take the gold tooth from the hellhound...

Oh, I get it now. He got it mixed up...haha....

an adaptation of one of my favourites:

A woman comes home from the hospital with her newborn baby girl. On her way into her apartment complex, the troll who runs the soydog stand outside exclaims "Drek! That's the ugliest baby I've ever seen!"
The woman bursts into tears and runs inside her building. A man comes up to her in the lobby and asks her what's wrong.
The woman says "That horrible trog outside just insulted me!"
To which the man replies "You don't have to take that kind of abuse from anybody. You go outside and give him whatfor. Go on, I'll hold your monkey for you."

Whips 1 + monowhip + incompetance, whips = 2 cyberarms + 2 cyberlegs + severe phobia, monowhips

and they said I'd probably cut off my own head.

While strolling through the sex-toy section of Lacy's latest flagship store in the DeeCee sprawl, one corp secretary asks another:

"Hey, Dina, is there a difference between kinky and perverted?"
"Sure," her friend replies. "Kinky is when you use a feather to tantalize your lover. Perverted is when you use the whole chicken."

A decker is having a drink in a bar. A lot of drinks. A very dark bar. He leans over to the big woman next to him and says, "Do you wanna hear a funny blonde joke?"

The big woman replies, "Well, before you tell that joke, you should know something. I'm blonde, and six feet tall, 210 lb. I'm a professional bodyguard and ex-Renraku Red. The blonde woman sitting next to me is 6'2" and 220; she's an ex-Firewatch heavy machinegunner and is now a pro wrestler. Next to her is a blonde who's 6'5", weighs 250 lb., and she's an unarmed combat instructor with the UCAS SEALs. Now ... do you still want to tell that blonde joke?"

The decker blinks and swallows, thinks about it a second and says, "No, not if I'm going to have to explain it three times."

Someone kill me, please....

Okay, three berlin dwarfes come into the Hofbräuhaus

"Three halfs" the first calls to the orc barkeeper
"I see that. And what do you want for a drink?"


Michael

(I spiked these off some advertisements that actually appeared.)

The Auburn Humane Society offers a free spay/neutering to senior citizens if they adopt an animal out of the animal shelter.

Remember, you get what you pay for. And at Timmy Troll's Furniture Store, you pay less.

Why not have the the kids shot for Easter, or have a family portrait taken? What have you got to lose?

FOR SALE: Instant coffee table.

MUST SELL: 3 grave spaces in Redmond, very reasonable. Plus air-conditioner.

PART-TIME HELP WANTED. Must have creative skills, riggers licence and car with outgoing personality

SECRETARIAL/CLERICAL - Excellent word processing & typing skills. Conscious, creative and detail oriented

FOR SALE: Recently liberated Braille dictionary. Must see to appreciate! call Jerry

(On the menu of a Chinese restaurant): We serve dead shrimp on warm vegetables with a smile

Channel 16 temporarily off the air due to technical improvements

Artie's Restaurant and Yogurt Parlor: "An Alternative to Good Eating"

CLASSIFIED: An unexpected vacancy for a knife-thrower's assistant. Rehearsals start immediately.

(From a request for a magazine subscription renewal): Dear recently-expired subscriber ...

10 FREE McHugh's Soyshake Certificates for only 1

how many times does a troll laugh at a joke?= three, once when everyone laughs, once when it's explained and once when he gets it.

how many trolls can you fit in mitsahama civic? four towo in the front two in the back

how do you know if four trolls a on a run?= the civic's parked out side

why do troll paint their soles yellow?= so they can hide upside down in custard

ever seen a troll hid upside down in custard? see it works

what do you call twenty Corp exec's going of a cliff in a van? a waste you can get forty in there if you stack 'em right

what is the one thing you never want to say to a group of a dozen orks?

ya momma!

An adept is taking a walk in Central park in New York. Suddenly he sees a little girl being attacked by a hellhound. He runs over and starts fighting with the hellhound. He succeeds in killing the hellhound and saving the girl's life.

A policeman who witnesses the scene runs over and says, "You are a hero! I can see the headlines in all the newspapers tomorrow: 'Brave New Yorker saves the life of little girl!'"

Still breathing hard, the adept says, "But I am not a New Yorker."

"Oh, then the papers will say: 'Brave UCASian saves life of little girl!'"

"But I am not from the UCAS." says the adept.

"Oh, where are you from, then?" asks the cop.

The adept replies, "I am Pakistani - I'm here on vacation."

Next day, all the newswires carry the story: "Islamic extremist kills American
pet dog. Connections to terrorist networks are being explored."