The Lil’ General plans to go to battle … eventually … without bullets

Lil General

The Lil General has some big plans … eventually.

The war has become a bogged-down affair, with little movement either good or bad in recent months. As talented and capable as the troops are, their morale has slowly eroded as they sit in the trenches and wait for the Lil’ General to unleash them on the enemy.

As the Army makes final preparations for an upcoming attack the men hope will turn the tide of the war, the Lil’ General calls in one of his captains for a one-on-one meeting:

Captain: General, did you get a chance to look over the attack plans? What did you think?

Lil’ General: *looking at spreadsheets* Hmmm? … Oh yes. It’s a pretty good plan. Did you run this plan past the other officers?

Captain: Yes I did, they’re all on board and ready to go to battle. I’ve also coordinated with  the Air Force. They’ll pound the enemy ahead of our assault and support us during the attack.

LG: What about the Navy?

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Guns don’t kill people, cell phones kill people

gun-cell-phoneThis isn’t a post about texting-and-driving. Everyone knows you shouldn’t do it. Everyone is going to do it anyway.

When someone gets killed, people will stop texting-and-driving for approximately 10 seconds, which is the length of time it takes the urge to Tweet a selfie to become unbearable. Excuse me a second … *click* … ok.

No, this post is about a question that has haunted mankind for generations: When is it OK to kill somebody for using their cell phone inappropriately?

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My co-worker says I have a fat face

Well to be fair, he didn’t really say that. He implied it. Or, actually he implied that I used to have a fat face.

I guess if I had written a more accurate headline, it would have said “My co-worker implied that I used to have a fat face.”

But if I had written that headline, it wouldn’t have been nearly as catchy. In fact, your reaction probably would have been “Who cares?” and you would have moved on to reading a blog about funny kitten photos or something.

So I went with a slightly less accurate headline in the hopes that after you first thought “who cares?” you would pause, and thinking about it, your curiosity would get the better of you. You would ask yourself, “I wonder how fat his face is? Maybe I should click on this headline. I bet this guy has a hilariously fat face.”

Now that I’ve fooled you into clicking, you may as well stick around and find out how the story ends. You can thank me later:

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How Larry Craig ruined my Bon Jovi solo

Richie Sambora, Jon Bon Jovi

Just a couple of cowboys grinding their axes

I went to the gym the other day. I had to get my pump on, get HUGE. It takes a lot of work to attain a studly look like this.

While I was in the shower, I gradually became aware of music playing in the room. This music was not piped in through loudspeakers in the ceiling, nor was it coming from the geriatrics slowly flailing in the water aerobics class next door. It was coming from another shower, perhaps three stalls away. Someone had one of those water-proof radios and, unable to be without his tunes for more than a few minutes, opted to share with everyone else. To a guy who graduated high school in the late 80s, the tune and lyrics were instantly recognizable …

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Researching what beautiful women want (so you don’t have to!)

Getting to the bottom of something important

I would like to make a request of my handful of faithful AB readers out there.

Please spread the word. I am now accepting research money for a special project I have dreamed up. It will be ground-breaking and Earth-shaking. It will challenge every pre-conceived notion you have ever had about life and set the science world on its ear.

With my research, I will strive to answer the question that has been on the minds of men and women for centuries: Do beautiful women prefer men with large bank accounts?

If you decide to invest in my project, I pledge to work tirelessly for hours at a time. I will sacrifice literally days of my life for the sake of this important research. All I need, my dear readers, is the bank account.

That’s where you come in.

With your thoughtful and worthwhile donations to the cause, I will buy nice clothes, and perhaps – if you do your jobs as investors – a nice car. I will go to expensive bars and buy expensive drinks for the most beautiful women I can find. Then I will compare notes on my level of success compared to my earlier, poor, pre-research-grant life.

*There is no time to waste, please send money now.

For those of you requesting more background on my project, I must say that I conceived of my idea after reading this story about another research project by some fine fellows in Ireland. It seems they convinced someone they needed money to research the effect of hangovers on the work of surgeons. For their project, they went out and partied with a bunch of surgeons, then monitored how they performed in virtual reality surgeries the next day.

The result was shocking: Hungover surgeons did not perform as well as those who did not drink the night before.

At 9 AM, hung-over students made about 19 errors on average, while those who hadn’t been drinking made only eight. This difference hadn’t been seen before the night out, and faded over the day.

That’s a huge difference, as you are far more likely to survive a surgery where the person with the knife only makes eight mistakes. Thank goodness for the tireless work of our research friends from the Royal College of Surgeons. It must have been difficult to find subjects for their project.

* Please do not send money. This whole idea is a joke. I think. Well, at least I’m pretty sure. Is it? Yeah, it’s a joke.

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