Thank you Jill, I have never laughed so hard and that is not hyperbole. Take a look at Karate Party

This is a list of the 100 worst names for karate films from 1960s onwards. The dry humour of the list compiler just cracks me up. And they keep coming as you scroll down. As a sampler I give you Number 73.

73 – Hard Way to Die
This title is beautiful. It’s not that it’s hard to kill the hero, the hero has just found a really difficult way to go about dying.

There’s also The 100 worst horror movie names

Have you ever wondered about sex change in animals? When there is an overwhelming imbalance of males to females, in some species the issue is resolved by some males turning into females. Now, this in itself is remarkable, but I wonder even more about the process by which the decision is made which of the males undergoes the chop, so to speak. 

If it’s voluntary, then I imagine the discussion goes something like this:-

Chopper:- Ahem, it looks like one of us had better do the right thing.

Choppee:- Well, it’s no secret that I’ve always fancied a bit of rough-and-tumble with the guys. Many’s the night I’ve lain awake hopping to get buggered. If this is what it takes…

If it’s involuntary, then the person who gets the chop is perhaps the one with the least to lose. (There had to be a joke about penis size. I had another one about the shortest straw drawing the shortest straw)

My site was down for a while and I panicked. I can’t find any of my regular blogbuddies through Google except for Boudica. The rest of you are so ornery that you don’t show up, whereas I’m top of the pile for “nazmania”.

I was thinking last night (I know, I apologise and will not be making a habit of it) and realised, the year 2007 is on its way!! What this means is that God hasn’t got his leg over in about Two Thousand Years, if you believe the news. How people are going to respect a God who doesn’t even get a bit of action every now and then, only God knows. But He seems to be quite busy interfering with reptiles and amphibians, producing “virgin birth” after “virgin birth” with no end in sight, nor indeed any talk of child support.

I then imagined what the conversation would go like today:-

Cuckolded Husband:- You what?? But we didn’t even….

“Virgin” Wife:- It was God’s act.

Cuckolded Husband:- Not again?!

God:- Sorry, you know, it’s actually been quite a while…

Cuckolded Husband:- You could’ve been more careful God! This is the 20th century you know. There are things you can use to prevent…

God (mumbling):- Sorry..

And now for the Educational part of the post———–

As for virgin births, they are brought about by a process known as parthenogenesis. This is obviously from the Greek “Parthenos” meaning “milkman, or any other such door-to-door tradesman” because in those Early Greek Days of Aristotle and Democracy and Nana Moskouri all such people came from a region called Parthena. I think the “Genesis” part we all understand. If not, I can recommend a couple of top-notch movies.

Yesterday Homer Simpson was the muse for Bart’s comic creation “Angry Dad”. Apparently Homer has an anger management problem. He says:-

I’m a rage-oholic. I need my rage-ohol!!

Haha!

I must say, this is a sub-type of the human race that I wasn’t aware existed. I haven’t really noticed their heaving breaths, their bouncing breasts, and as for those lycra pants…. 

But this article in the BBC says that jogging can lead to sagging breasts in women (presumably in men too; I’m reminded of Homer Simpson discovering the joys of sports bras). Apparently, as a woman runs a mile, her breasts bounce 135 metres. Presumably they take a taxi the rest of the way to catch up with her later. With the average breast weighing 200-300 grams (figures that match independent reseach on my part) this puts a lot of stress on the connecting tissue, leading inevitably to sagging breasts. The solution is to wear a sports bra, preferably made by the company that sponsored this research (do I see a self-interest angle here?).

I have dreamed up a new Superhero!! Forget Batman, Spiderman (and especially forget crappy Hellboy), this marks a new era in Superheroicalitism…onomy…whatever. I call him Womanman, and I presume he was once minding his own nerdy business in a very alter-ego kind of way when he was caught by a radioactive blast of womanly pheromones from someone on a bus (I was similarly attacked recently; it smelt of hairspray). This transferred to him the powers of a woman; namely he can get into a terrible berserker rage thanks to the power of PMT. Of course, he wouldn’t have a superhero car or boat or plane or anything; you know what women are like, it’d take him ages to park in Womanman mode, and the rearview mirrors would all be used to check out his make-up. (I pretty quickly realised this brief piece could play host to all kinds of woman jokes 🙂 ). Of course he’d need some symbol, some shortcut to memory like Batman’s bat logo, so I suggest
/ WO
| 2x |
MAN/
be emblazoned across his ample chest (did I mention it grows and fills up?)

Does anyone have any more suggestions for this character? Like superpowers and whatnot?

Sue Townsend’s fake diaries are something. I’m reading “The Wilderness Years” where the hero turns 24. Here is an excerpt from his diary.

Norman Schwarzkopf was on television tonight, pointing a stick at an incomprehensible map. Why he was dressed in army camouflage is a mystery to me:
a) there are no trees in the desert
b) there were no trees in the briefing room
c) he is obviously too important to go anywhere near the enemy; he could go around dressed like Coco the Clown and still not be shot at

Anally retentive persons are so funny.