Here’s a kooky joke from the new-to-me Northern European Sausage Factory:

Ethel was a bit of a demon in her wheelchair, and loved to charge around the nursing home, taking corners on one wheel and getting up to maximum speed on the long corridors. Because the poor woman was one sandwich short of a picnic, the other residents tolerated her, and some of the males actually joined in.

One day, Ethel was speeding up one corridor when a door opened and Kooky Charlie stepped out with his arm outstretched. “STOP!”, he shouted in firm voice. Have you got a license for that thing?” Ethel fished around in her handbag and pulled out a Kit Kat wrapper and held it up to him. “OK” he said, and away Ethel sped down the hall.

As she took the corner near the TV lounge on one wheel, Weird Harold popped out in front of her and shouted, “STOP! Have you got proof of insurance?” Ethel dug into her handbag, pulled out a drink coaster and held it up to him. Harold nodded and said, “Carry on, ma’am.”

As Ethel neared the final corridor before the front door, Crazy Craig stepped out in front of her, stark naked, holding a very sizable erection in his hand. “Oh, Good Grief,” said Ethel, “Not the Breathalyzer again.”

I thought this was a joke when I posted it. But in these trying times, jokes have a way of becoming reality (at least in the tabloids). From the New York Post, based heavily on reportage in London’s Mirror, the following horror:

A she-bomber planned to blow up British Airways Flight 223 over Washington with plastic explosives hidden inside her body, a chilling new report says. U.S. security services told Scotland Yard that the woman – almost certainly linked to al Qaeda – planned to hide 8 to 12 ounces of the material tucked inside her reproductive region, London’s Mirror newspaper reported.

When the flight was over the nation’s capital, the bomber would go to the bathroom, remove the explosives and detonate a blast that would blow the aircraft out of the skies.

A Homeland Security official said he was unaware of a specific threat of a female suicide bomber who would hide explosives in her body.

But he added, “We’ve had concerns about IEDs” – improvised explosives devices.

As a result, airport security screeners check for women wearing loose clothing and other signs the official declined to talk about.

“Smuggling a bomb onto a plane by this method is one of our worst nightmares,” a senior Scotland Yard source told the newspaper. “If you do not have specific information about the suspect, it would be impossible to carry out an intimate body search of every female passenger.”

Indeed.

Ok, people, you all know that the best parts of the Star Wars movies were the parts featuring Princess Leia as Jabba The Hut’s slave girl. In case you had forgotten, check out The Slave Leia Pictures at Leia’s Metal Bikini.

Thanks to Attu for the link.

Time lapse photography of arousal, from “Dick? What Dick?” to “Ready, Ma’am!” in 30 seconds:

If you find the tiny pictures unsatisfying, you know the routine: give the small pic a little stimulation with your mouse and it will grow for you.

There’s something to be said for loud music:

Thanks again to Your Dirty Mind for pointing to this gallery of concert flashers.

On a message board I’m not going to link to because of the sheer weight of dumbassed adolescent misogyny over there, some troll posted the following query:

After you finger a girl what do you do to get the smell off your fingers?

Soap and water doesnt usually work….

I dont like shaking ppls hands knowing my hand smells like tuna lol.

Any suggestions?

Most responses were even stupider than the question. However, one grownup posted an answer that really made me grin:

Find a woman whose pussy you love, and you’ll never want to be without her scent on you… ever. Nothing like sniffing your fingers 3 hours after sex and reliving it all over again.

“If you don’t love pussy THIS MUCH you are not big enough to get on this ride.”

From the most-viewed section of the interesting Mobog phone-cam photoblogging site: