Puer: "Ecce illa mammeata." (Boy: Check out the hooters on that one!)
Puella: "Podex perfectus es." (Girl: You are a total asshole.)
(Henry Beard's "Latin for All Occasions")



Two signs from a Majorcan shop entrance:

- English well talking.
- Here speeching American.

In a Tokyo Hotel:

Is forbidden to steal hotel towels please. If you are not a person to do such thing is please not to read notis.

In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers:

Not to perambulate the corridors in the hours of repose in the boots of ascension.

On the door of a Moscow hotel room:

If this is your first visit to the USSR, you are welcome to it.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery:

You are welcome to visit the cemetery where famous Russian and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday.

From a Japanese information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner:

Cooles and Heates: If you want just condition of warm in your room, please control yourself.

In a Budapest zoo:

Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable food, give it to the guard on duty.



Three explorers, an Englishman, a Frenchman, and a resident of New York City, are captured by a tribe of cannibals. The chief of the tribe walks over to inspect his prize. He tells the explorers that he has some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that they are to be killed and eaten, and their skins will be used to make canoes. The good news is that each can choose the method of his own death.

The Englishman says, "Give me my pistol!" He puts it to his head, cries out, "I die for Queen and Country!" and pulls the trigger.

The Frenchman says, "Give me my sword!" He places it hilt-first on the ground, yells "Vive la France!", and impales himself.

The New Yorker asks for a fork. The cannibal chieftan looks at him incredulously and gives him a fork. The New Yorker proceeds to stab himself all over with the fork until he falls to the ground, bleeding to death. With his final breath he screams, "Fuck your canoe!" (This version from Marc K. Myers)



President Clinton's troubles with Ms Paula Jones, his counsel, Bob Bennett said in a rather unfortunate choice of words, "There's a lot of cockiness out there..."

Then there's this note r-e-ceived by the fearless editor of the Firezine, Fred "That Sleazy" Wiebel: "Hi Fred, I have seen your web site and I feel your Thanks, Bill Clinton." What is reality?

And also, Katie Couric said "I'm not a lawyer, and I don't play one on TV." on NBC's Today Show, June 4, 1997, interviewing legal experts on the McVeigh trial.




In an Acapulco hotel:

The manager has personally passed all the water served here.

On the menu of a Polish hotel:

Salad a firm's own make;limpid red beet soup with cheesy dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let loose; beef rashers beaten up in the country people's fashion.

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:

Our wines leave you nothing to hope for.

In a Swiss mountain inn:

Special today -- no ice cream.




Frank Bland explains that this came from Edwina Harvey through Kathy Biehl because the parenthetical bit is an editorial comment on Edwina's part and not, strictly speaking, part of the story…

A woman is diagnosed with having a weak heart. The doctor advises she should not do any strenuous work, and must immediately give up sexual relations with her husband. This isn't easy, but the husband is devoted to his wife (it's a work of fiction this, obviously!) and agrees to the conditions. Lest he forget himself in the middle of the night he decides it's best if they sleep in separate rooms from now on. The wife can have the bedroom upstairs, and he opts for sleeping in the lounge room downstairs to keep from harm.

One night, overcome by the need for some loving, he decides he can't stand this enforced celibacy any more. Stealthily he climbs the stairs intending to make love to his wife, no matter what. Half way up the stairs he encounters his wife creeping down the stairs.

"Where are you off to?" he asks.

"I was coming down stairs to commit suicide" she replied. "And you?"

"I was going upstairs to murder you."



(From Hugh Heinsohn, "Harper's Magazine's FunFacts about Americans"):



First, it was The Condom Thief in Santa Fe, now, special thanks to writer, journalist and all-round neat person Kathleen Newroe of Santa Fe for forwarding these special police blotter reports to Craig A. Smith and M. Harris:





From a May 22 AP release by John Pacenti -- As the starting catcher for the Boca Raton Youth League Dodgers, 12-year-old Melissa Raglin is used to dealing with bad calls from umpires, but "when the ump asked me if I was wearing a cup... I took my helmet off and said, 'I'm a girl.' I thought he was nuts." He was serious. Babe Ruth League rules are that all catchers must wear cups, the plastic piece that protects players from groin injuries, so two athletic equipment companies sent the family a new cup designed for women -- essentially panties with a small foam cup in the crotch.

"The cup has nothing to do with a female anatomy. Why are they forcing girls to wear it?" said Linda Bliden, president of the South Palm Beach County chapter of NOW (I hope they also tore out all the uniform tags printed with the "Kill all girls" logo). Latest news says that girls won't be required to wear a crotch cup, only a protective helmet, because "girls don't have their brains there..." (from Ryan "Hoosier" Miller)




(Bra, humbug! -- PP 6 - 8 - 97)


 Published 6/08/97

© 1996/2002 by Phil Proctor