The Government Will Catch You Eventually, You Dumbass Terrorist

To slip through the only check against the no-fly list, the terrorist uses a stolen credit card to buy a ticket under a fake name. “Then you print a fake boarding pass with your real name on it and go to the airport. You give your real ID, and the fake boarding pass with your real name on it, to security. They’re checking the documents against each other. They’re not checking your name against the no-fly list—that was done on the airline’s computers. Once you’re through security, you rip up the fake boarding pass, and use the real boarding pass that has the name from the stolen credit card. Then you board the plane, because they’re not checking your name against your ID at boarding.”

What if you don’t know how to steal a credit card?

“Then you’re a stupid terrorist and the government will catch you,” he said.

What if you don’t know how to download a PDF of an actual boarding pass and alter it on a home computer?

“Then you’re a stupid terrorist and the government will catch you.”

Why Not?

I recently got tagged by the wonderful Jules in this post by Jules and Val. I have to list five random facts about myself. Why not?

1) I skipped a grade. I did the first semester of kindergarten, then the last semester of first grade.
2) I have a hatred for alcohol. Not sure why. But it is gross, and smells terrible, and I don't like it.
3) Nonetheless, I crack up when I see drunk people. Not hobo-drunk, just crazy-drunk.
4) I've been to Canada, Mexico, Panama, Belize, Honduras, Jamaica, and the Cayman Islands.
5) Right now, I'm in an airport where indoor smoking isn't allowed. W00T!! :D

Okay, that's enough.

Now I tag: nobody. End of the line here. Meh.

F-ing Hilarious Joke

No, seriously. One of my friends told me. Here it is:

Little Melissa comes home from first grade and tells her father that they learned about the history of Valentine's Day.

"Since Valentine's Day is for a Christian saint, and we're Jewish," she says, "will God get mad at me if I give someone a valentine?"

Her father thinks for a moment, then replies. "No, I don't think he would get mad. Who do you want to give a valentine to?"

"Osama Bin Laden," she says.

"Why him?" Melissa's father says, reeling back in shock.

"Well," Melissa says, "I thought if a little American Jewish girl could have enough love to give Osama a valentine, then he'd love everyone a lot. And then he'd start going all over the place to tell everyone how much he loved him and how he didn't hate anyone any more."

Her father's heart swells as he looks at his daughter with pride. "Melissa, that is the most wonderful thing I've ever heard someone say."

"I know," Melissa says. "And once that gets him out in the open, the Marines can shoot the fucker and really kill him."

Funny Letter from a Housewife to Tide

Found this on the How Not to Act Old blog and, though it says not to, couldn't resist posting it up. Actually, it doesn't say anything about posting it on your blog, just emailing it around ;)

Dear Tide:

I am writing to say what an excellent product you have! I’ve used it all of my married life, as my mom always told me it was the best. Now that I am in my forties I find it even better!

About a month ago, I spilled some red wine on my new white blouse. My inconsiderate and uncaring husband started to belittle me about how clumsy I was, and generally started becoming a pain in the neck. One thing led to another and somehow I ended up with his blood on my new white blouse! I grabbed my bottle of Tide with bleach alternative, and to my surprise and satisfaction, all of the stains came out!

In fact, the stains came out so well the detectives who came by yesterday told me that the DNA tests on my blouse were inconclusive and then my attorney called and said that I was no longer considered a suspect in the disappearance of my husband.

What a relief! Going through menopause is bad enough without being a murder suspect! I thank you, once again, for having such a great product.

Well, gotta go. I have to write a letter to the Hefty bag people.