To all my very good friends in the USA I would like to bring some fun into Thanksgiving!!
Have a wonderful time folks....
Arthur Davidson died and went to heaven.
At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur, "Since you've been such a good man
and your motorcycles have changed the world, your reward is, you can
hang out with anyone you want in Heaven."
Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, "I want to hang out
with God."
St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room and introduced him to God.
God recognized Arthur and commented, "Okay, so you were the one who
invented The Harley Davidson motorcycle ?"
Arthur said, "Yep, that's me."
God said, "Well, what's the big deal in inventing something that's
Pretty unstable, makes noise and pollution and can't run without a road ?"
Arthur was apparently embarrassed, but finally he said, "Excuse me, but
aren't you the inventor of woman ?"
God said, "Yes."
"Well," said Arthur, "professional to professional, you have some major
design flaws in your invention:
1. There's too much inconsistency in the front-end protrusions;
2. It chatters constantly at high speeds;
3. Most of the rear ends are too soft and wobble too much;
4. The intake is placed way too close to the exhaust;
5. And the maintenance costs are enormous !"
"Hmmmmm, you have some good points there," replied God, "hold on." God
went to His Celestial super computer, typed in a few words and waited
for the results.
The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it. "Well, it may
Be true that my invention is flawed," God said to Arthur, "but according to
these numbers, more men are riding my invention than yours."
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A family is at the dinner table. The son asks his father, "Dad, how many kinds of boobies are there?
The father, surprised, answers, "Well, son, there's three kinds of breasts. In her twenties, a women's breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her thirties to forties, they are like pears, still nice but hanging a bit. After fifty, they are like onions."
"Onions?"
"Yes, you see them and they make you cry."
This infuriated his wife and daughter so the daughter said, "Mum, how many kinds of 'willies' are there?"
The mother, surprised, smiles and answers, "Well dear, a man goes through three phases. In his twenties, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his thirties and forties, it is a birch, flexible but reliable. After his fifties, it is like a Christmas
tree."
"A Christmas tree?"
"Yes, dead from the root up and the balls are for decoration
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There is more to follow folks so stand by.................
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