Is Sex Work?

Here is the "military version" of the old question ... Is Sex Work.

A U.S. Marine Colonel was about to start the morning briefing to his Staff. While waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing, the colonel decided to pose a question to all assembled.

He explained that his wife had been a bit frisky the night before and he failed to get his usual amount of sound sleep. He posed the question of just how much of sex was "work" and how much of it was "pleasure?"

A Major chimed in with 75-25% in favor of work.

A Captain said it was 50-50%.

A lieutenant responded with 25-75% in favor of pleasure, depending upon his state of inebriation at the time.

There being no consensus, the colonel turned to the PFC who was in charge of making the coffee and asked for HIS opinion?

Without any hesitation the young PFC responded, "Sir, it has to be 100% pleasure."

The colonel was surprised and as you might guess, asked why?

"Well, sir, if there was any work involved, the officers would have me doing it for them."

The room fell silent.

Classified Section

Ad in a British newspaper …

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Wonderful Afterlife

Gwen was one of those UGLY women, so she never had a boyfriend. So she went to a psychic for help.

“Honey!” said the psychic. “You will not have luck in love in this life. But after death, you will be a much desired woman and all men will fall at your feet.”

Gwen left very happy and excited. As she went over a bridge she thought, "The sooner I die the sooner my next life begins."

She decided to jump off the bridge right away. But, incredibly, Gwen didn't die.

She fell on the back of a truck full of bananas; she lost her senses and fainted.

As soon as she recovered, still drowsy and not being able to see very well and not knowing where she was, she started touching her surroundings.

Feeling all the bananas she mumbled with a huge smile on her face and said, "GENTLEMEN, PLEASE! ONE AT A TIME!”

Coincidence?

This next year, both Groundhog Day and the State of the Union address occur on the same day. It is an ironic juxtaposition of events; one involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little intelligence for prognostication while the other involves a groundhog.

Secret ...

"If we want to keep our nation's secrets 'SECRET,' store them where President Obama stores his college transcripts and birth certificate."

Homeland Security Update

As we look back on the 2010 results of the Department of Homeland Security we view the year’s statistics on discoveries achieved by airport screening:

Terrorist Plots Discovered: 0
Transvestites: 133
Hernias: 1,485
Hemorrhoid Cases: 3,172
Enlarged Prostates: 8,249
Breast Implants: 459,350
Natural Blonds: 3

New Romance Novel ...

He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice, close to my ear, "Just relax."

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing and moving upward along my calves, slowly, but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure. When his hands moved up onto my thighs I gave a slight shudder and I partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage and I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking "no" for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say . . . . .

"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."

My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse.

"You can board your flight now."