Fortune: 125 - 134 of 208 from Linux Drugs
|Linux Drugs: 125 of 208|
Once ... in the wilds of Afghanistan, I lost my corkscrew, and we were
forced to live on nothing but food and water for days.
-- W. C. Fields, "My Little Chickadee"
|Linux Drugs: 126 of 208|
One difference between a man and a machine is that a machine is quiet
when well oiled.
|Linux Drugs: 127 of 208|
One dusty July afternoon, somewhere around the turn of the century, Patrick
Malone was in Mulcahey's Bar, bending an elbow with the other street car
conductors from the Brooklyn Traction Company. While they were discussing the
merits of a local ring hero, the bar goes silent. Malone turns around to see
his wife, with a face grim as death, stalking to the bar.
Slapping a four-bit piece down on the bar, she draws herself up to her
full five feet five inches and says to Mulcahey, "Give me what himself has
been havin' all these years."
Mulcahey looks at Malone, who shrugs, and then back at Margaret Mary
Malone. He sets out a glass and pours her a triple shot of Rye. The bar is
totally silent as they watch the woman pick up the glass and knock back the
drink. She slams the glass down on the bar, gasps, shudders slightly, and
passes out; falling straight back, stiff as a board, saved from sudden contact
with the barroom floor by the ample belly of Seamus Fogerty.
Sometime later, she comes to on the pool table, a jacket under her
head. Her bloodshot eyes fell upon her husband, who says, "And all these
years you've been thinkin' I've been enjoying meself."
|Linux Drugs: 128 of 208|
Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups --
alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and fat.
-- Alex Levine
|Linux Drugs: 129 of 208|
PLEASE DON'T SMOKE HERE!
Penalty: An early, lingering death from cancer,
emphysema, or other smoking-caused ailment.
|Linux Drugs: 130 of 208|
Police: Good evening, are you the host?
Police: We've been getting complaints about this party.
Host: About the drugs?
Host: About the guns, then? Is somebody complaining about the guns?
Police: No, the noise.
Host: Oh, the noise. Well that makes sense because there are no guns
or drugs here. (An enormous explosion is heard in the
background.) Or fireworks. Who's complaining about the noise?
Police: No, the neighbors fled inland hours ago. Most of the recent
complaints have come from Pittsburgh. Do you think you could
ask the host to quiet things down?
Host: No Problem. (At this point, a Volkswagon bug with primitive
religious symbols drawn on the doors emerges from the living
room and roars down the hall, past the police and onto the
lawn, where it smashes into a tree. Eight guests tumble out
onto the grass, moaning.) See? Things are starting to wind
|Linux Drugs: 131 of 208|
Preserve Wildlife! Throw a party today!
|Linux Drugs: 132 of 208|
Recipe for a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster:
(1) Take the juice from one bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit
(2) Pour into it one measure of water from the seas of
Santraginus V (Oh, those Santraginean fish!)
(3) Allow 3 cubes of Arcturan Mega-gin to melt into the
mixture (properly iced or the benzine is lost.)
(4) Allow four liters of Fallian marsh gas to bubble through it.
(5) Over the back of a silver spoon, float a measure of
Qualactin Hypermint extract.
(6) Drop in the tooth of an Algolian Suntiger. Watch it dissolve.
(7) Sprinkle Zamphuor.
(8) Add an olive.
(9) Drink... but... very carefully...
|Linux Drugs: 133 of 208|
Riffle West Virginia is so small that the Boy Scout had to double as the
|Linux Drugs: 134 of 208|
Romance, like alcohol, should be enjoyed, but should not be allowed to
-- Edgar Friedenberg