OT: Your daily groaner



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Topic: Religions > Atheism
User: "Uncle Vic"
Date: 29 Aug 2006 07:04:53 PM
Object: OT: Your daily groaner
Two Muslim mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a pint of goat's
milk. The older of the mothers pulls her bag out and starts flipping
through photos and they start reminiscing.
"This is my oldest son Mohammed. He's 24 years old now."
"Yes, I remember him as a baby," says the other mother cheerfully.
"He's a martyr now, though," mum confides.
"Oh, so sad dear," says the other.
"And this is my second son, Kalid. He's 21."
"Oh, I remember him," says the other happily. "He had such curly hair
when he was born."
"He's a martyr, too," says mum quietly.
"Oh gracious me," says the other.
"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He's 18," she
whispers.
"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically, "I remember when he first
started school."
"He is a martyr, also," says mum, with tears in her eyes.
After a pause, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully
at the photographs, and sighs, "They blow up so fast, don't they?"
<seeya>-------------------------------------->
--
Uncle Vic
aa Atheist #2011
Supervisor, EAC Department of little adhesive-backed "L" shaped
chrome-plastic doo-dads to add feet to Jesus fish department.
Member: Intensional misspellingg club.
.

User: "Robibnikoff"

Title: Re: Your daily groaner 30 Aug 2006 04:17:44 AM
"Uncle Vic" <address@withheld.com> wrote in message
news:Xns982EADC2C4100vicman@216.196.97.136...

Two Muslim mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a pint of goat's
milk. The older of the mothers pulls her bag out and starts flipping
through photos and they start reminiscing.


"This is my oldest son Mohammed. He's 24 years old now."
"Yes, I remember him as a baby," says the other mother cheerfully.
"He's a martyr now, though," mum confides.
"Oh, so sad dear," says the other.
"And this is my second son, Kalid. He's 21."
"Oh, I remember him," says the other happily. "He had such curly hair
when he was born."
"He's a martyr, too," says mum quietly.
"Oh gracious me," says the other.
"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He's 18," she
whispers.
"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically, "I remember when he first
started school."
"He is a martyr, also," says mum, with tears in her eyes.


After a pause, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully
at the photographs, and sighs, "They blow up so fast, don't they?"

<seeya>-------------------------------------->

Aaaaaaarrrrrrrgh!!!
--
Robyn
Resident Witchypoo
Atheist ***** Extraordinaire
#1557
.

User: "Rune"

Title: Re: OT: Your daily groaner 29 Aug 2006 08:50:37 PM
On Tue, 29 Aug 2006 19:04:53 -0500, Uncle Vic <address@withheld.com>
wrote:

After a pause, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully
at the photographs, and sighs, "They blow up so fast, don't they?"

<seeya>-------------------------------------->

Snooooooooort... lol, shoulda seen that one coming...
.

User: ""

Title: Re: OT: Your daily groaner 30 Aug 2006 05:39:29 PM
On Tue, 29 Aug 2006 19:04:53 -0500, Uncle Vic <address@withheld.com>
wrote:

Two Muslim mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a pint of goat's
milk. The older of the mothers pulls her bag out and starts flipping
through photos and they start reminiscing.


"This is my oldest son Mohammed. He's 24 years old now."
"Yes, I remember him as a baby," says the other mother cheerfully.
"He's a martyr now, though," mum confides.
"Oh, so sad dear," says the other.
"And this is my second son, Kalid. He's 21."
"Oh, I remember him," says the other happily. "He had such curly hair
when he was born."
"He's a martyr, too," says mum quietly.
"Oh gracious me," says the other.
"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He's 18," she
whispers.
"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically, "I remember when he first
started school."
"He is a martyr, also," says mum, with tears in her eyes.


After a pause, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully
at the photographs, and sighs, "They blow up so fast, don't they?"

<seeya>-------------------------------------->

oooff! :)
Sunyata
.


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