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Posted

So there's this horse, livin' on a nice little farm in Texas. One day he's eating hay next to the open window and he hears the farmer inside playing some Jimi Hendrix. Now the horse had never heard Jimi before and he's totally enamored. He used to play guitar in college and thinks "ya know what I could probably play a little like that"

So he gets a job on a draft team and saves up enough for a ratty old strat, and after a little practice he's got a pretty nice sound. But, he needs a band. So he goes to his friend the pig, and tells him he wants to start a band. Turns out pig played some funky bass in college, and he's got a little nest egg from a favor he did for a spider. So he gets himself a bass and damn he got flow.

So they jam, and their friend the cow hears and she's like "hey boys, y'all need a drummer? I don't mean to boast but I can play mean cowbell" and oh, oh can she. So they jam around, start playin' gigs as and saving money to get Bessie a proper drum kit. In the mean time they talk to a bunch of farm folk and settle on the ol' hound dog and his baleful howl as their singer. Suddenly, this isn't just a bunch of animals messing around-with a serious kit and some gear underwritten by farmer brown they take their act on tour.

A few YouTube videos, some hype, their talent and human-to-animal controversy and all of a sudden they're a sensation. They go on a late night show and properly blow up. They get a deal to start doing new tunes. They get an albums worth of music for Columbia and a contract that would make them the richest livestock in the world (except the dog, he's still second to Pitbull) Everyone's ecstatic.

Except horse, cause' all this music is poppy garbage and he's not having it. He wants it better, but the record company knows they're a flash in the pan and wants them touring now. Horse decides he's rich enough to not sacrifice his principles and leaves the band.

Unfortunately when he tries to write his own stuff and become a breakout success he's held up by his horse brains. He realizes the band was all he had, but they've already got a randy snow-white stallion ripping it up. He turns where all drop-out musicians do-the sweet embrace of drugs and alcohol. But he keeps his chops up, hoping one day they'll call him back for a reunion tour.

A few months later he's stumbling out of his south beach condo and sees a headline. "Terrible alps crash ends promising career of farm animal music act." Shock. Disgust. Self loathing, all washing over him like a waterfall. It's over, his dreams in tatters. What's left? Every friend he ever had was scattered over an impassible slope. And the worst part? They never knew how he really felt about them.

He made the choice in his greasy bathrobe standing on his stoop. Walked to a drugstore barefoot, refilled his Xylazine prescription. Stumbled into an all-day liquor store and bought a pint of Glengolye black label. Sitting on a bench near the water, he swallows the whole bottle and washes it down with the whisky. He stumbles in a haze to his favorite haunt, 24 hour bar called Mike's place. He's fading as he walks in, stoping at the jukebox to put on "little wing" before collapsing at the bar.

The bartender looks at the bedraggled guitarist before him and says "hey, why the long face?"

Posted
2 minutes ago, posty said:

So there's this horse, livin' on a nice little farm in Texas. One day he's eating hay next to the open window and he hears the farmer inside playing some Jimi Hendrix. Now the horse had never heard Jimi before and he's totally enamored. He used to play guitar in college and thinks "ya know what I could probably play a little like that"

So he gets a job on a draft team and saves up enough for a ratty old strat, and after a little practice he's got a pretty nice sound. But, he needs a band. So he goes to his friend the pig, and tells him he wants to start a band. Turns out pig played some funky bass in college, and he's got a little nest egg from a favor he did for a spider. So he gets himself a bass and damn he got flow.

So they jam, and their friend the cow hears and she's like "hey boys, y'all need a drummer? I don't mean to boast but I can play mean cowbell" and oh, oh can she. So they jam around, start playin' gigs as and saving money to get Bessie a proper drum kit. In the mean time they talk to a bunch of farm folk and settle on the ol' hound dog and his baleful howl as their singer. Suddenly, this isn't just a bunch of animals messing around-with a serious kit and some gear underwritten by farmer brown they take their act on tour.

A few YouTube videos, some hype, their talent and human-to-animal controversy and all of a sudden they're a sensation. They go on a late night show and properly blow up. They get a deal to start doing new tunes. They get an albums worth of music for Columbia and a contract that would make them the richest livestock in the world (except the dog, he's still second to Pitbull) Everyone's ecstatic.

Except horse, cause' all this music is poppy garbage and he's not having it. He wants it better, but the record company knows they're a flash in the pan and wants them touring now. Horse decides he's rich enough to not sacrifice his principles and leaves the band.

Unfortunately when he tries to write his own stuff and become a breakout success he's held up by his horse brains. He realizes the band was all he had, but they've already got a randy snow-white stallion ripping it up. He turns where all drop-out musicians do-the sweet embrace of drugs and alcohol. But he keeps his chops up, hoping one day they'll call him back for a reunion tour.

A few months later he's stumbling out of his south beach condo and sees a headline. "Terrible alps crash ends promising career of farm animal music act." Shock. Disgust. Self loathing, all washing over him like a waterfall. It's over, his dreams in tatters. What's left? Every friend he ever had was scattered over an impassible slope. And the worst part? They never knew how he really felt about them.

He made the choice in his greasy bathrobe standing on his stoop. Walked to a drugstore barefoot, refilled his Xylazine prescription. Stumbled into an all-day liquor store and bought a pint of Glengolye black label. Sitting on a bench near the water, he swallows the whole bottle and washes it down with the whisky. He stumbles in a haze to his favorite haunt, 24 hour bar called Mike's place. He's fading as he walks in, stoping at the jukebox to put on "little wing" before collapsing at the bar.

The bartender looks at the bedraggled guitarist before him and says "hey, why the long face?"

What's that phrase always used in this case.....? Oh, RENT FREE!!

🤣

Posty is so hot and bothered he can't get me off of his sick mind.  :banana:

Posted
22 minutes ago, Mike Honcho said:

+1 and I hate myself more for laughing.  

stop peeking in your pants ☺️ 

Posted
1 hour ago, posty said:

So there's this horse, livin' on a nice little farm in Texas. One day he's eating hay next to the open window and he hears the farmer inside playing some Jimi Hendrix. Now the horse had never heard Jimi before and he's totally enamored. He used to play guitar in college and thinks "ya know what I could probably play a little like that"

So he gets a job on a draft team and saves up enough for a ratty old strat, and after a little practice he's got a pretty nice sound. But, he needs a band. So he goes to his friend the pig, and tells him he wants to start a band. Turns out pig played some funky bass in college, and he's got a little nest egg from a favor he did for a spider. So he gets himself a bass and damn he got flow.

So they jam, and their friend the cow hears and she's like "hey boys, y'all need a drummer? I don't mean to boast but I can play mean cowbell" and oh, oh can she. So they jam around, start playin' gigs as and saving money to get Bessie a proper drum kit. In the mean time they talk to a bunch of farm folk and settle on the ol' hound dog and his baleful howl as their singer. Suddenly, this isn't just a bunch of animals messing around-with a serious kit and some gear underwritten by farmer brown they take their act on tour.

A few YouTube videos, some hype, their talent and human-to-animal controversy and all of a sudden they're a sensation. They go on a late night show and properly blow up. They get a deal to start doing new tunes. They get an albums worth of music for Columbia and a contract that would make them the richest livestock in the world (except the dog, he's still second to Pitbull) Everyone's ecstatic.

Except horse, cause' all this music is poppy garbage and he's not having it. He wants it better, but the record company knows they're a flash in the pan and wants them touring now. Horse decides he's rich enough to not sacrifice his principles and leaves the band.

Unfortunately when he tries to write his own stuff and become a breakout success he's held up by his horse brains. He realizes the band was all he had, but they've already got a randy snow-white stallion ripping it up. He turns where all drop-out musicians do-the sweet embrace of drugs and alcohol. But he keeps his chops up, hoping one day they'll call him back for a reunion tour.

A few months later he's stumbling out of his south beach condo and sees a headline. "Terrible alps crash ends promising career of farm animal music act." Shock. Disgust. Self loathing, all washing over him like a waterfall. It's over, his dreams in tatters. What's left? Every friend he ever had was scattered over an impassible slope. And the worst part? They never knew how he really felt about them.

He made the choice in his greasy bathrobe standing on his stoop. Walked to a drugstore barefoot, refilled his Xylazine prescription. Stumbled into an all-day liquor store and bought a pint of Glengolye black label. Sitting on a bench near the water, he swallows the whole bottle and washes it down with the whisky. He stumbles in a haze to his favorite haunt, 24 hour bar called Mike's place. He's fading as he walks in, stoping at the jukebox to put on "little wing" before collapsing at the bar.

The bartender looks at the bedraggled guitarist before him and says "hey, why the long face?"

 

Posted
2 hours ago, posty said:

and settle on the ol' hound dog and his baleful howl as their singer.

i thought you said peefoam couldn't play. I figure that covered his girlfriend too 

Posted

Oh I have a good one

 

So there's this guy called TimHack. He calls himself a moderate.

 

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Why the long face?

Posted
15 minutes ago, WhiteWonder said:

i thought you said peefoam couldn't play. I figure that covered his girlfriend too 

Peeboywonder. How's it going peenut? 🤣

Posted
1 hour ago, Kopy said:

I saw how long it was before I started.

me too but figured there was a payoff.

Posted
14 hours ago, WhiteWonder said:

Oh I have a good one

 

So there's this guy called TimHack. He calls himself a moderate.

 

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Why the long face?

You think about me a lot.  I’m flattered 

Posted

This story needed more cowbell.

Posted
2 hours ago, BiffTannen said:

If a special needs kid is late to class, is it okay to call him tardy?

On the short bus they tease him by calling him Posty. 

  • 2 weeks later...
Posted

Johnny was a very quiet/reserved/shy boy. This is why his mother was surprised to see him smiling ear to ear when he got home from school. He was in 10th grade.

She asked him why he was so happy ?

"I had sex with my English teacher today mom" luckily she was standing next to the kitchen counter because she needed it to steady herself after she heard his answer. 

This is wrong Johnny, and the teacher should've known better. Go up to your room and wait for your father to get home. About a half an hour later he heard his father's car pulling into the driveway. Shortly after, he heard his mother yelling. A couple minutes later he heard his father's footsteps coming up the stairway. He was terrified.

His father opened the door & walked towards his son with a very stern look on his face. At that point, he stopped in front of Johnny, stared at him for 10 seconds or so, and to Johnny's relief, the stern face was replaced by a huge smile. I'm proud of you son, you're a man today. You let me worry about mom, I'll try to calm her down.

Now get cleaned up for dinner, & when we're done, I'll take you over to Walmart and buy you that mountain bike you've wanted it for a while.

To say Johnny was relieved would be a huge understatement. As his dad was leaving the room he stated "I really appreciate your offering to buy me the mountain bike Dad, but could I get the Tom Brady autographed football helmet instead, my ass is killing me

  • Haha 1
Posted

What is the difference between a black woman from the 1800s and a black woman today?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The type of lashes they get  :lol:

  • Haha 1

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