Whack Report

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

March 8, 2001


Today's true story was sent in by Dawson Rambo...

Back in the early 90's, when I was living in Las Vegas, I'd purchased a brand new 25" television. My roommate and I had set it up and were playing around with the fancy remote control when my roommate's girlfriend Kate came over. I was seated at the end of the couch, with my arm hanging over the edge, my hand clutching the remote control completely out of Kate's sight.

My roommate decided to play with her mind, and promptly announced that the TV was "voice-activated." Kate, obviously, didn't believe him. He said, "TV: Volume up." Without missing a beat, I hit the volume up button on the remote, and it went up a few notches. My roommate then proceeded to "issue" the TV a series of commands. This lasted for about five minutes, and Kate was getting more and more amazed at this "incredible invention!"

They left for dinner, and I forgot about the whole thing until the next afternoon. I came home from work and found Kate standing in front of the TV, visibly angry, shouting at the TV: "ON! ON! TV! ON!"

Taking pity on her, I said, "Kate? Here..." and handed her the remote. She took it, glared at it, and promptly shouted "ON!" directly into the remote as if it were a microphone.

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

February 27, 2001


Today's true story was sent in by Mike...

I go to school at a small community college. This event took place at the end of the term with only two class days left. My English class was held in a small room with about 30 seats. The seating was just chairs with a little desk piece attached by a metal bar arranged in rows that ran from the front of the room to the back.

Directly to my right sat a friend of mine, Jennifer. She is tall, blond, and very pretty. One day she was wearing a pair of very tight jeans with no belt and a T-shirt. The class was getting into groups, so people were moving around. We sit towards the back of the class, so instead of going to the front, Jennifer decided to climb over the desk directly in front of mine.

As she swung her first leg over the little bar, her butt came within about six inches of my face. When she lifted up the other leg to bring it over the desk, her tight jeans were pulled about halfway down her butt, exposing the rear of her pink thong underwear. Before I had time to react to this, she lost her balance, falling backwards, butt-first into my face.

She was so embarrassed that she went tearing out of the room and didn't come back to that class for the remaining two days. Turns out the instructor saw the whole thing and told her that she could take the final exam separately, away from the class.

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

January 23, 2001


Today's true story was sent in by Tom Wideman of Grapevine, TX...

My name is Tom (which becomes relevant later), and my wife Kathy and I just celebrated our 14th anniversary. I remember something that happened three weeks after we got married.

She was working at a restaurant called "Tom's Place" and usually answered the phone and took orders there. She dragged home from work very late one night, very tired, and crawled into bed. A short time later, about midnight, a friend called on the phone.

Without hesitating, she grabbed the phone and answered "Tom's Place, can I help you?" then groggily handed the phone to me.

My friend's first comment was "Dang, Tom, only three weeks! You sure got her trained fast!"

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

I used to work for a company in Cleveland (now defunct) that went by the acronym LDI. Most companies in our line of business knew us, so I didn't always enunciate "LDI" as clearly as I could have. I was on the phone once with someone at another firm who was supposed to send me something. I had already given him my name, but he didn't understand my first pass at the company name, so I slowed down.

Me: L... D... I

Him: LBA?

Me: No, L... D... I...

Him: LBI?

Me (exasperated): No, LDI... Larry. Dog. Isaac.

Him: Okay, got it.

About 10 days later, I got his package. It had probably shown up earlier, but was languishing in our mailroom because my name wasn't on it, and they didn't know who to deliver it to. There was no company name on the envelope, either -- but it was addressed to "Larry Dog Isaac."

For weeks afterward, my whole department referred to me as "Larry Dog."

Joke stolen from: Whack Report

January 16, 2001


Today's true story was sent in anonymously...

In the early '80s I was a Theatre major in an undergraduate program at a Northeastern university. At the time, our department had just hired a wild, unconventional but very experienced and respected professor/director. His plan, as far as we could tell, was to turn the department around on many different levels. During one show in which I took part, there was even some nudity involved, something not typically undertaken at the college level at that point in time.

The first show he directed was an ensemble piece regarding society's decline as it was perceived in the late 'Sixties. In that play there was a scene involving an encounter group. The scene was scripted to play as follows: The group leader, in an attempt to get one of the members to relax, gives her a massage while everyone watches. After a time the massages become more sexual. The husband of the woman who's getting the massage becomes angry and starts a fight with the group leader. It turns into a brawl.

The actress playing the group leader was uncomfortable doing the scene. Over and over, the director would explain to her exactly why it was so important to include the sexuality aspect. If it wasn't there, the husband's angry reaction made no sense. Specifically, the director wanted her to put her hands on the other woman's breasts. These discussions were repeated after every rehearsal, with successively increasing impact. What began as an intellectual discussion was beginning to boil over into the same kind of battle it depicted.

During one of the last rehearsals before the show was to begin, the director gave an interview with a local newspaper reporter. One moment, he was sitting with the reporter, calmly discussing the play's themes and his plans for the future direction of the department. Suddenly, he was on his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs: "GODDAMMIT! WHEN I SAY I WANT YOU TO GRAB HER TITS, I MEAN I WANT YOU TO GRAB HER TITS!"