Re: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

2008-02-15 Thread Stan Feinstein
Rick,

These are great.

Stan
  - Original Message - 
  From: Rick Cook 
  Newsgroups: public.remedy.arsystem.general
  To: arslist@ARSLIST.ORG 
  Sent: Friday, February 15, 2008 9:02: AM
  Subject: OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever


  ** Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their 
collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays.  These 
excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the 
country. Here are last year's winners.


  Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently 
compressed by a Thigh Master.

  His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like 
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

  He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who 
went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with 
a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about 
the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a 
pinhole in it. 

  She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was  
room-temperature Canadian beef.

  She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just 
before it throws up.

  Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

  He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

  The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his 
wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly 
surcharge-free ATM machine.

  The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball 
wouldn't.

  McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with 
vegetable soup.

  From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal 
quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 
7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

  Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

  The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them 
in hot grease.

  Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy 
field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 
6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 
35 mph.

  They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that 
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

  John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also 
never met.

  He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East 
River.


  Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that 
had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

  Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

  The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan 
just might work.

  The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a 
while.

  He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real 
duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

  The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind 
her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

  It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power 
tools.

  He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she 
were a garbage truck backing up.


  Rick

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Re: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

2008-02-15 Thread Rick Cook
I remember seeing an annual bad poetry and bad writing
contesthttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulwer-Lytton_Fiction_Contest,
sponsored by San Jose St. U.  They are totally hilarious.

Worst writing I've ever seen?  My 8th grade Social Studies class, where a
student turned in 1 1/2 pages of an essay on Anne Frank.  The second of two
sentences was only half the length of the first, though no less tediously
read.

Rick

On Fri, Feb 15, 2008 at 11:10 AM, Ben Chernys 
[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:

 ** I must concur with Stan!  I laughed so loud and hard my daughter
 couldn't do her homework!.  I'd love to see more of the essay from some
 these authors.
 Ben

  --
 *From:* Action Request System discussion list(ARSList) [mailto:
 [EMAIL PROTECTED] *On Behalf Of *Rick Cook
 *Sent:* February 15, 2008 6:03 PM
 *To:* arslist@ARSLIST.ORG

 *Subject:* OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

 ** Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their
 collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays.
 These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across
 the country. Here are last year's winners.

 Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently
 compressed by a Thigh Master.

 His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
 underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

 He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy
 who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those
 boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
 schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those
 boxes with a pinhole in it.

 She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was
 room-temperature Canadian beef.

 She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
 before it throws up.

 Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

 He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

 The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of
 his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly
 surcharge-free ATM machine.

 The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
 ball wouldn't.

 McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with
 vegetable soup.

 From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
 surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy
 comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

 Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

 The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry
 them in hot grease.

 Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
 grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
 Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

 They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
 resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

 John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
 never met.

 He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East
 River.

 Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one
 that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

 Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

 The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this
 plan just might work.

 The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for
 a while.

 He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a
 real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or
 something.

 The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg
 behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

 It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power
 tools.

 He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
 she were a garbage truck backing up.

 Rick
 __Platinum Sponsor: www.rmsportal.com ARSlist: Where the Answers Are
 html___
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 html___


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Re: OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

2008-02-15 Thread Rick Cook
Hey, fact checking stories should be de rigeur, but I don't have time to
factcheck a joke list.  Yer lucky I took the forwarding arrows and extra
line feeds out.  :)

Rick

On Fri, Feb 15, 2008 at 11:25 AM, Easter, David [EMAIL PROTECTED]
wrote:

 ** (Gentle) FYI, these aren't from English teachers and they're not from
 last year.  It's a contest run by the Washington Post in their Style
 Invitational column.  Some of these are from 1999 - some from 1995.


 http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/03/16/AR2007031600738_pf.html

 http://monster-island.org/tinashumor/humor/analogy.html

 Still very funny, of course.

   -David J. Easter
 Sr. Product Manager, Service Management Business Unit
 BMC Software, Inc.

 The opinions, statements, and/or suggested courses of action expressed in
 this E-mail do not necessarily reflect those of BMC Software, Inc.  My
 voluntary participation in this forum is not intended to convey a role as a
 spokesperson, liaison or public relations representative for BMC Software,
 Inc.

  --
 *From:* Action Request System discussion list(ARSList) [mailto:
 [EMAIL PROTECTED] *On Behalf Of *Rick Cook
 *Sent:* Friday, February 15, 2008 9:03 AM
 *To:* arslist@ARSLIST.ORG
 *Subject:* OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

 ** Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their
 collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays.
 These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across
 the country. Here are last year's winners.


 Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently
 compressed by a Thigh Master.

 His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
 underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

 He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy
 who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those
 boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
 schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those
 boxes with a pinhole in it.

 She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was
 room-temperature Canadian beef.

 She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
 before it throws up.

 Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

 He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

 The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of
 his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly
 surcharge-free ATM machine.

 The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
 ball wouldn't.

 McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with
 vegetable soup.

 From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
 surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy
 comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

 Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

 The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry
 them in hot grease.

 Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
 grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
 Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

 They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
 resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

 John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
 never met.

 He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East
 River.

 Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one
 that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

 Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

 The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this
 plan just might work.

 The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for
 a while.

 He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a
 real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or
 something.

 The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg
 behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

 It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power
 tools.

 He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
 she were a garbage truck backing up.

 Rick
 __Platinum Sponsor: www.rmsportal.com ARSlist: Where the Answers Are
 html___
 __Platinum Sponsor: www.rmsportal.com ARSlist: Where the Answers Are
 html___

___
UNSUBSCRIBE or access ARSlist Archives at www.arslist.org
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OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

2008-02-15 Thread Easter, David
(Gentle) FYI, these aren't from English teachers and they're not from
last year.  It's a contest run by the Washington Post in their Style
Invitational column.  Some of these are from 1999 - some from 1995.
 
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/03/16/AR200703
1600738_pf.html
 
http://monster-island.org/tinashumor/humor/analogy.html
 
Still very funny, of course.
 
-David J. Easter
Sr. Product Manager, Service Management Business Unit
BMC Software, Inc.
 
The opinions, statements, and/or suggested courses of action expressed
in this E-mail do not necessarily reflect those of BMC Software, Inc.
My voluntary participation in this forum is not intended to convey a
role as a spokesperson, liaison or public relations representative for
BMC Software, Inc.
 


From: Action Request System discussion list(ARSList)
[mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Rick Cook
Sent: Friday, February 15, 2008 9:03 AM
To: arslist@ARSLIST.ORG
Subject: OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever


** Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their
collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays.
These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers
across the country. Here are last year's winners.


Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently
compressed by a Thigh Master.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.


He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy
who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at
high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one
of those boxes with a pinhole in it. 

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was
room-temperature Canadian beef.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
before it throws up.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because
of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a
formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball wouldn't.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled
with vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and
Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry
them in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at
4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had
also never met.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East
River.


Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one
that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this
plan just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating
for a while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a
real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.

The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg
behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with
power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
she were a garbage truck backing up.


Rick

__Platinum Sponsor: www.rmsportal.com ARSlist: Where the Answers Are
html___ 

___
UNSUBSCRIBE or access ARSlist Archives at www.arslist.org
Platinum Sponsor: www.rmsportal.com ARSlist: Where the Answers Are


Re: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

2008-02-15 Thread Ben Chernys
I must concur with Stan!  I laughed so loud and hard my daughter couldn't do
her homework!.  I'd love to see more of the essay from some these authors.
Ben

  _  

From: Action Request System discussion list(ARSList)
[mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Rick Cook
Sent: February 15, 2008 6:03 PM
To: arslist@ARSLIST.ORG
Subject: OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever


** Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their
collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays.
These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across
the country. Here are last year's winners.


Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently
compressed by a Thigh Master.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.


He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who
went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes
with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it. 

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was
room-temperature Canadian beef.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
before it throws up.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of
his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly
surcharge-free ATM machine.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball wouldn't.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with
vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal
quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on
at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them
in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
never met.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East
River.


Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that
had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan
just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a
while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real
duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.

The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind
her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power
tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she
were a garbage truck backing up.


Rick

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html___ 

___
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OT: Friday Humor: Happy Valentines like, whatever

2008-02-15 Thread Rick Cook
Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their
collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays.
These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across
the country. Here are last year's winners.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently
compressed by a Thigh Master.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who
went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes
with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was
room-temperature Canadian beef.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
before it throws up.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of
his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly
surcharge-free ATM machine.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball wouldn't.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with
vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal
quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on
at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them
in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
never met.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East
River.

Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that
had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan
just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a
while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real
duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.

The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind
her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power
tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she
were a garbage truck backing up.

Rick

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