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Maggie’s Motivational Pic Thread v2.0 - - New Rules - See Post #1

I know this is a lost cause, but I'll ask anyway.

So, I *love* the funny stuff on this thread. You disturbing clown circus folks have posted some of the funniest things I've ever seen. But I can't view this at home, or at work because of all the models y'all are posting.

I also can't show this live because of my kids and wife, So I have to filter it all through and pull out the funniest stuff to show my wife when my daughter and wife won't see gyrating scantily clad STD factories.

Is there any chance we could move the funny stuff or the boobies to a different thread so I can view it live or with my wife and/or parents? (They love the political humor ones you guys are putting up.)
No
 
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Wobblin’ Goblin, the fighter that wasn’t really a fighter.


Watching one fall out of the sky at the air show near Baltimore was a surreal moment in my life. I can't imagine the pilot's thoughts when he pulled up after flying passed the show and realizing his plane was breaking apart.
 
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Wobblin’ Goblin, the fighter that wasn’t really a fighter.

Wasn't the first, either.

First combat mission for the Nighthawk was during Just Cause. As I recall the sory, two birds were to drop GBUs on a no/low value target as a diverson prior to the invasion. I've never confirmed, but was told they missed the target
 
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UFO sighting?

View attachment 7243677

Nah... woman driver (turn phone upside down)

Sirhr

Sally phoned her husband, Bill, at work for a chat.

"I'm sorry dear," said Bill, "but I'm up to my neck in work today. I don't have time to chat."

Sally replied, "But I've got some good news and some bad news for you, dear."

"OK darling," said Bill, "but as I've got no time right now, just give me the good news."

"Okay," agreed Sally. "Well, the air bags work!"
 
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There is this guy who has been shipwrecked on a deserted island for twelve long years. Each day, his routine is the same.

He goes down to the beach with torch in hand, ready to light a signal pyre of driftwood piled high on the sands. He hopes to signal a passing aircraft or ship in the hopes of someday being rescued.

One morning, he sat on the beach with the end of his torch stuck in the sand and his head in his hands.

He dreamed of bygone days when he lived the civilized life. He lifted his head to see an aberration coming out of the roiling waters. Years of bright sunlight had dulled his vision.

Nevertheless, he could make out a figured clad in scuba gear. As the diver emerged from the surf, he noticed the familiar but almost forgotten figure of a woman.

Through the tight-fitting wet suit, he could make out the curvy hips, slender waste and larger-than-normal breasts.

The diver approaches after removing her fins. She drops the scuba tank and buoyancy compensator as well as the mask and snorkel.

Getting closer, she takes off her hood from the wet-suit, revealing cascading, luxurious locks of platinum blonde hair that possessed a surreal iridescent glow that rivaled the blazing sun.

The breeze wafting in from the ocean carried the scent of Chanel #9. As she got closer, her crimson red lips parted to reveal an ultra-bright smile too sensuous to imagine. Her piercing blue eyes were like Sapphire lights in the heavens.

The castaway stood up and was speechless. He hadn’t talked to anyone in years. He was stupefied and unable to even grunt.

She got close to him and slowly unzipped her wet-suit exposing a lightly tanned cleavage that you could just plunge into with reckless abandon.

She reached in the region of her right breast and pulled out a pint of bonded bourbon, uncapped the bottle and handed it to him. Deprived of liquor for ages, he guzzled the fiery liquid with gusto, soaking his beard while savoring the alcoholic aroma mingling with her Chanel #9.

Beckoning him to come closer she reached in the region of her left breast removing a pack of imported cigarettes in a waterproof container. They’d have to be imported if he was on deserted island.

She stuck the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a waterproof match. This was beginning to be as good as it gets. He guzzled, puffed and giggled with the delight of a three-year-old with a new toy.

The gorgeous blonde smiled seductively while slowly unzipping her wet-suit a little further. She paused at her navel revealing a tummy that you could bounce a quarter on. Softly and slowly she asked; “Do you want to play around?”

The castaway hemmed, hawed, groaned, giggled, spurted excited gasps with fresh liquor and unseen tobacco from his trembling lips.

His eyes bulged out from their sockets like corks popping from champagne bottles. His cheeks got redder than a suppressor on a SAW during a mag-dump. His legs got wobbly and his hands were shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail.

She inched her zipper down a little further, smiled, winked and asked; “Well?”

His chest heaved and his body quaked with excitement as he gasped; “Don’t tell me that you got a set of golf clubs in there?”
 
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There is this guy who has been shipwrecked on a deserted island for twelve long years. Each day, his routine is the same.

He goes down to the beach with torch in hand, ready to light a signal pyre of driftwood piled high on the sands. He hopes to signal a passing aircraft or ship in the hopes of someday being rescued.

One morning, he sat on the beach with the end of his torch stuck in the sand and his head in his hands.

He dreamed of bygone days when he lived the civilized life. He lifted his head to see an aberration coming out of the roiling waters. Years of bright sunlight had dulled his vision.

Nevertheless, he could make out a figured clad in scuba gear. As the diver emerged from the surf, he noticed the familiar but almost forgotten figure of a woman.

Through the tight-fitting wet suit, he could make out the curvy hips, slender waste and larger-than-normal breasts.

The diver approaches after removing her fins. She drops the scuba tank and buoyancy compensator as well as the mask and snorkel.

Getting closer, she takes of her hood from the wet-suit, revealing cascading, luxurious locks of platinum blonde hair that possessed a surreal iridescent glow that rivaled the blazing sun.

The breeze wafting in from the ocean carried the scent of Chanel #9. As she got closer, her crimson red lips parted to reveal an ultra-bright smile too sensuous to imagine. Her piercing blue eyes were like Sapphire lights in the heavens.

The castaway stood up and was speechless. He hadn’t talked to anyone in years. He was stupefied and unable to even grunt.

She got close to him and slowly unzipped her wet-suit exposing a lightly tanned cleavage that you could just plunge into with reckless abandon.

She reached in the region of her right breast and pulled out a pint of bonded bourbon, uncapped the bottle and handed it to him. Deprived of liquor for ages, he guzzled the fiery liquid with gusto, soaking his beard while savoring the alcoholic aroma mingling with her Chanel #9.

Beckoning him to come closer she reached in the region of her left breast removing a pack of imported cigarettes in a waterproof container. They’d have to be imported if he was on deserted island.

She stuck the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a waterproof match. This was beginning to be as good as it gets. He guzzled, puffed and giggled with the delight of a three-year-old with a new toy.

The gorgeous blonde smiled seductively while slowly unzipping her wet-suit a little further. She paused at her navel revealing a tummy that you could bounce a quarter on. Softly and slowly she asked; “Do you want to play around?”

The castaway hemmed, hawed, groaned, giggled, spurted excited gasps with fresh liquor and unseen tobacco from his trembling lips.

His eyes bulged out from their sockets like corks popping from champagne bottles. His cheeks got redder than a suppressor on a SAW during a mag-dump. His legs got wobbly and his hands were shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail.

She inched her zipper down a little further, smiled, winked and asked; “Well?”

His chest heaved and his body quaked with excitement as he gasped; “Don’t tell me that you got a set of golf clubs in there?”
Great jokes, but this is the Motivational Picture thread. Where’s the pictures? :D:cool:
 
Where are the white knights that are saying, "You assholes shouldn't be staring at those ladies, they're just trying to play golf!" Like in one of the weightlifting/gym threads???
Fuck that. One of the best things about the gym is watching gals turn a nickel into aluminum foil.

'Murica
 
THE KNEELING HIGH JUMP! This is Incredible!!!

Are you aware that a new world record has been set for the HIGH JUMP from a KNEELING position ?

The record (0.757 meters) - remember this is from a KNEELING position, was set recently on a beach near Montpelier in Southern France

The photograph below was taken a split second before the jump - but it gives you an idea as to how it was achieved...
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