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Forwarded message:
> It's been a year now since I started sending out the joke and it has
> been a lot of fun to watch the list grow to nearly 10,000 people all
> over the planet.  I will be taking a few weeks off from sending the joke
> out while I take care of some personal stuff in my life.  (i.e. moving
>  and attempting to spend a lot of time outside.)  Don't
> worry, I'll be back in a few weeks after I get situated...  Thanks again
> to Erik Jacobson for all his time and donations of system resources to
> keep the joke alive!  As I like to do every now and then, I'm sending out
> one of my all time favorite jokes...  I've sent it before, but I like it so
> much I'm sending it again.
> - Scott
> ----------------------------------------------------------------------
>      Once upon a time there lived a man who had a terrible passion for
> baked beans.  He loved them, he adored them, he yearned for them.  But
> they always caused him a great deal of embarrassment shortly after
> eating them.  The reaction of his body to the beans was swift and
> terrible to behold.
>      One day he met a girl and fell in love.  When it became apparent
> that they would marry, he realized she might be even more embarrassed and
> humiliated by his addiction to baked beans.  He decided to make the
> supreme sacrifice and give up his beloved baked beans.  A short time later
> they were married.
>      Some months later, on his way home from work, his car broke down.
> He was not too far from home so he decided to leave the car and walk
> the rest of the way.  He passed a small roadside cafe and decided to call
> his wife and tell her that he would be late for supper.  As he entered the
> cafe, the smell of baked beans overwhelmed him.  He still had several miles
> to go, and decided that he could walk off any after-effects before reaching
> home.  Before he knew it, he had eaten three large plates of baked beans.
> Even as he left the cafe, the effects began to be felt.  He pooted up a
> hill, and poot-pooted down the other side.  As he grew closer to home, the
> frequency and forcefulness diminished greatly, and he felt reasonably safe.
>      Just as he reached his home, however, he felt a great rumbling inside
> and was seized with a terrible urgency.  As he waited just outside his
> front door to release one last effort, his wife threw open the door.  She
> excitedly exclaimed, "Darling, I have made the most wonderful surprise
> dinner for you."  She blindfolded him and led him to his chair at the head
> of the table.  Just as she was ready to remove the blindfold, the phone
> rang.  She made him promise not to peek until she returned and went to
> answer the phone.
>      When she had gone, he seized the opportunity, shifted his weight to
> one leg and loudly broke wind.  It was not only loud, but as ripe as a
> rotten egg.  He had a hard time breathing, so he took his napkin and began
> to fan the air about him.  He just started feeling better when he felt
> another urge.  He again raised one leg and let her rip.  It sounded like a
> tuba and smelled so bad that he started gagging.  He fanned until his arms
> ached.  Things had just about returned to normal when he felt another
> powerful urge.  He shifted his weight to the other leg and let go.  This
> was the prize-winner.  The windows rattled, the dishes on the table shook
> and a minute later the flowers on the table were dead.
>      While keeping one ear on the conversation in the hallway, he continued
> like this for the next 15 or 20 minutes, fanning away each time with his
> napkin.  When the sounds of farewells indicated the end of the telephone
> conversation, he neatly laid his napkin in his lap and folded his hands on
> top of it.  Smiling contentedly, he was the picture of innocence when his
> wife returned to the room.
>      Apologizing for talking so long, she asked if he had peeked.  After
> assuring her that he had not, she removed the blindfold, revealing the
> dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday party!
> Have a great weekend everyone!
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> ---
> * TLX 4.0 * Pentiums melt in your PC, not in your hand.
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