Elton and David had their sperm mixed together and a carefully selected (human) surrogate mother was artificially inseminated.
When the baby was born, the proud new parents were ushered into the post-natal ward where a dozen babies were lying in their cots, eleven of them crying and screaming.
In the corner, however, one baby was lying quietly in total serenity.
A nurse approached the enthralled new parents and indicated that the one happy child was theirs.
"Isn't it wonderful?" Elton asked David. "All these crying babies...and yet our baby is perfectly content. This just proves the superiority of gay love!"
"Oh sure, he's happy now," said the nurse. "But just wait 'till I pull the pacifier out of his ass."
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Havin' My Baby
I Left My Sphincter in SF
At one time, San Francisco de Assisi was the most ethnically mongrel, beautiful, laissez-faire, jazz-ridden, hard-drinking city in the former USSA. It is now under occupation by a mere three tribes who have outlawed breathing.
After experiencing the discomfort and embarrassment of a prostate exam by the National Health Service, a guy decided to have his next test carried out while visiting friends in San Francisco, where the nurses are allegedly much more gentle and accommodating.
So there he was lying naked on the examination table and the nurse began to probe.
"Don't worry. At this stage of the procedure, it's quite normal to get an erection," said the nurse.
"I haven't got an erection," said the patient.
"No," replied the nurse, "but I do."
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When Will We Stop Coddling These Criminals?
From our own Far East Senior Inappropriate Animal Appreciation Bureau Chief, who recently finished his own sentence for first degree canine penetration at the Phnom Penh Institute for Corrective Liquidation (which failed to make an impression in his case) comes this fascinating anecdote he heard later from another ex-con at the bestial-aluminical section of The Log Cabin Buffet in the Men's Shitter at the Bumfuck Holiday Inn.
A man escapes from a prison where he's been locked up for fifteen years.
He breaks into an as-yet unforeclosed suburban house searching for money and guns.
In the bedroom, however, he is surprised to find a young couple in bed.
He orders the guy out of bed and ties him to a chair.
While tying the home owner's wife to the bed, the convict gets on top of her, kisses her neck, then gets up and disappears into the bathroom.
While he's in the bog, the husband whispers over to his wife: "Listen, this guy is obviously an escaped convict--just look at his clothes! He's probably spent a lot of time in jail and hasn't seen a woman in years. I saw how he kissed your neck. If he wants sex, don't resist, don't complain, it's not worth it, he might kill you. Do whatever he tells you to do! Satisfy him no matter how much he nauseates you. This guy is visibly violent--if he gets angry, he'll kill us both! Be strong, honey. I love you, no matter what!'"
His wife considers this a few seconds and then turns to the husband: "He wasn't kissing my neck. He was whispering In my ear. He told me that he's brutally gay, thinks you're cute, and asked if we had any vaseline in the toilet. I told him it was in the medicine chest somewhere behind the vaginal deodorant. So be strong! I love you, too, darling!!"
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I Slam, You Slam, We All Slam For Islam
Five Hamas strategists are in the jacuzzi having a won- derful time and also discussing the presidential campaign, new fall colours, future suicide bombing targets, the subprime mortgage meltdown, timing of the next intifada, etc. when suddenly they notice a glob of sperm float to the surface.
The senior jihadi stands suddenly, points at the wad and shrieks.
"Alright, which one of you bitches farted?!"
Desire Under The Elm
In connection with his recent indictment for Crimes Against Humor™, The Journal's Left Coast Bureau Chief, Hugh Jorgen, has been placed on suspension [of the foreskin. --Ed.] by order of the Editorial Waterboard.
The Board will release its final finding together with sentencing next Wednesday.
While walking through Golden Gate Park in Baghdad-by-the-Bay, a dromomanic itinerant of the touristic persuasion chances upon another man hugging a tree with his ear firmly placed against the trunk.
"Just out of curiosity," inquires the pedestro- vagabondarian, "may I inquire what you are doing?"
"I'm listening to the music of the tree," the other man replies in classic high-church NoCa.
"Are you really."
"Yes. Would you like to give it a try?"
"Well, alright, why not," replies the ambulatorio, understandably curious and wanting to get into the spirit of the famously liberated city.
So he wraps his arms around the tree and presses his ear up against it.
Whereupon the original tree hugger immediately slaps a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, takes his wallet, all his jewelry, his car keys, the $500 inflatable walking shoes, then strips him naked and with no further ado, takes his leave.
Two hours later another nature lover strolls by, sees the victim handcuffed to the tree stark naked, and asks, "What in heaven's name happened to you?"
The victim quickly relates the whole terrible saga about how he came to be in this revolting predicament.
When he finishes telling his story, the nature lover shakes his head in sympathy.
Then he walks around behind the victim, slips his tongue into the man's ear and murmurs: "First, Welcome to San Francisco. Second, I don't think this is gonna be your day."
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