IJMC - Poor Fido

I'm sure tomorrow I'll just take everything in stride, but right now I'm 
going to go get a cool, refreshing beverage and go sit in the jacuzzi for 
a while and try not to think about much. Then tomorrow, I'll go to work 
and try to get caught up. Works for me. G'night everyone.           -dave

P.S. Gotta say it again...poor Fido.





A highly timid little man, Casper Milquetoast, ventured into a biker bar
in the Bronx and clearing his throat asked, "Um, err, which of you
gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?" 
 
A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers, his body hair growing out
through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the
quivering little man and said, "It's my dog. Why?" 
  
"Well," squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous, "I believe my dog
just killed it, sir." 
 
"What?" roared the big man in disbelief. "What in the hell kind of dog do
you have?" 
 
"Sir," answered the little man, "It's a four week old puppy." 
 
"Bull!" roared the biker, "How could your puppy kill my Doberman?" 
 
"It appears that he choked on it, sir."