HAPPY FUCKIN FRIDAY FUCKERS !!!!

[mustynutz]

Daryl quickly picked up the phone and called his best friend Justin. It was Friday night at about 8:30 and Daryl's shift was over. Every Friday night ever since highschool the two young men had been doing the same thing; Go out looking for girls. They've only been successful three times in the past two years.

''Hello?''
''Justin! Sup dawg?''
''Nothing much, I just got home, I had a really shitty day and I just found out that my mom is having open heart surgery next week due to the heart attack. She's doing better, although every time I'm visiting her in the hospital she's still asking me if I snuck her up some cigarettes. She won't listen to me when I explain that smoking and drinking is why she had the heart attack in the first place.''
''Oh bummer.... Soooo, dude, are we going to get bitches tonight or what?''
''Daryl, are you even listening?''
''Yea, your mom likes to smoke.''
''Yes, she does and I keep telling her that but-
''So, we gonna get laid tonight or what?!''
''My mom's in the hospital Daryl''.
''We'll stop by Jack in the Box!''
''I'll be ready in 10 minutes''.

They do the same thing every Friday night, with it set in their minds that they're the 'flyest mofos' on the road. They cruise downtown every Friday looking for females, to no avail, go by Jack in the Box at about 2am, and end up back at Daryl's house passed out drunk. This one night was different though. They both noticed there were more girls cruising and walking. Daryl noticed one group in particular as he rolled down the windows and turned up the music in his '97 Honda Civic.

"Justin, look, I'm gonna holler at these girls"

Justin knew for certain that these girls were out of their league, and besides, Daryl's idea of ''hollering at girls'' is slamming on the gas when he's about to pass them, so no worries of embarassment on this night...

''Hey, ladies!!'', Daryl screams.

Justin slouches up, "Dude! Are you fuckin' nuts?", as the girls look into the car in curiosity. Then, it happens. The group of four approaches the silver Civic.

"Holy shit, dude! They're coming! What do we do??'', Justin said. After all, the duo had rarely been in this type of situation. Daryl couldn't think straight as the group eased closer.

"Uh... uh.. let's turn up the music and act like we weren't paying any attention."
"You dumbass. You just yelled at them"
"Oh, right, uh... maybe we should just take off.."

(I felt the need to write in third person about my past experiences, although I'm just winging the writing.)

 

[mustynutz]

You know what the best part of summer is? No, not the green grass or swimming pools, it's the fact that boredom often rules over time like a King who doesn't give a fuck about his peasants. Now, usually this is a bad thing. But when you have absolutely nothing to do, masturbation is often the answer.

And I mean "often".

During the school year, I wouldn't consider myself a heavy wanker. But during the summer, my wrist has a full time job.

I whack off so much during the summer that my hand has cramped up and I've had to take breaks, during which I've gone soft and have had to start again.

Last Saturday was like any other. I woke up around noon to find my mother reading the paper and my sister playing with our dog. I dove into a bowl of "Oh's" cereal and proceeded to watch whatever was on TV.

"Honey," started my mother, "your sister and I will be going shopping today. I'm going to need you to make dinner for yourself tonight."

On the outside, I seemed disappointed. It's part of my slacker/indie kid attitude. But on the inside, there was a chorus of angels singing and having sex with each other.

You see, whenever I am along in my house, I make it a point to take full advantage of the cable modem in our house to download a bunch of porn.

Watching my mother and sister pull out of the driveway onto the road in their Toyota Camry usually takes only 10 seconds, but always seems like a year. As soon as I see them shift into drive on the street, I rush to the computer, and surf to my favorite porn sites. I'm usually hard by the time the first thumbnail is loaded.

And this time was no different. I was looking at a gallery from free6.com, one of my most trusted sites that publish free galleries. I was wanking myself and was abnormally close to cumming. I decided to cum for the hell of it, as I would have many more opportunities between now and dinner to get my rocks off again and again.

As my strokes became more and more furious, I could feel the wear and tear in my wrist.

I thought nothing of it. Until...

"Oh, fuck yeah. Lick her pussy, you little slut. Oh, she likes that doesn't she? That's it, finger her twat and..."

*snap*

...

"Fuuuuuuuuck! Shit! Assfuck! Cunthood!"

I had broken my wrist before while snowboarding, and it didn't feel as nearly as bad as this. Maybe the cold temperatures numbed the pain, but in this room-temperature room, there was no natural ice pack surrounding my injury.

I ran around the house like a fucking idiot for a few minutes, pants still around my ankles, cum dripping from the tip of my dick. What the hell to do? I'd have to go to the hospital if I ever wanted to masturbate again. The embarrassment would be far less painful over the long run.

First step, erase the history on the computer and shut it down.

As I calmly made my way towards the machine, I heard a sound which I should not have heard. The unmistakable jingle jangle of keys entering a lock pierced my eardrums and made me panic.

The pain left me, but so did my will to move.

I stood in front of the front door, still pantless and cumful, staring straight ahead at the door. The lock was undone.

Still frozen.

The knob turned and I heard my mother's voice start up.

"Honey, I forgot my checkboo...Oh my God!!!"

The scene which she had stumbled on must've looked something like a horror movie to her right-wing Christian ways.

Her only son was in front of her, limp-wristed and drenched in cum, with a semi-hard penis.

She covered her eyes in shock, the uncovered them to make sure that she wasn't dreaming, and then shrieked again and recovered her pupils. The only thing that tumbled from her lips sounded like a combination of every question she had ever asked or been asked.

"Whowhawhehowmanynow?"

I didn't know how to reply to that. How am I going to reply to that? Why not evoke the motherly response and ask for a doctor.

"Mom, I need a doctor."

"I can see that honey. We'll talk about your doctor when we get back. You'll just have to make due with your small penis until then."

What? My small penis? My penis wasn't small, dammit! I was average. AVERAGE!

"Um, what are you talking about mom?"

As she came back from the kitchen with her checkbook and walked out the door, she said,

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Chris. Your father had a very small penis until he got his implants, too. I figured you would ask for them someday, but I guess I was never expecting to see you demand it like this. Have fun, sweetie. See you when we get back."

 

[mustynutz]

I was whacking off in my pajamas when the doorbell rang. The dog barked maniacally and, startled, I blew my load, hitting me right in the mouth. "Fuck!" Wiping it off as best I could, I ran to answer the front door.

Upon opening it, I saw that it was Jimmy, one of the contractors who are working on the bathrooms in the house. He held his usual water bottle filled with garlic juice, which he had to drink every morning due to its antioxidant power, as ordered by his doctor.

I opened my foamy, masculinity-baptized mouth. "Ha, Jimmah! Am jus brussin mah teef!"

Jimmy's eyes widened. Crying, "There is no God!" he splashed me with liberal amounts of his pungent beverage.

I screamed, "Waauugh!" and burst from the house, viciously rubbing as much garlic juice as I could out of my eyes. Stumbling over to the front gate, the rest of the contractors saw me. I cried out, "Jimmah fukka, heh pwad hif joose on me!"

The contractors, who didn't speak a word of English, began pointing and shouting, "Dracul! Esta Dracul! Donde esta mi extintor de fuego?"

One of them pulled a big yellow fire extinguisher out of their dark blue van. He aimed it squarely at me as the rest of the men cowered behind him. One of them muttered, "Deseo que mis testiculos no eran como pasas!"

A rush of powder ejaculated in my direction, covering me in a ghostly white sheath. Spitting furiously and unable to see, I jerkily found my way into town.

It was rush hour, and most motorists were displeased at my inability to stay out of intersections. One fellow in a Cadillac DeVille flashed his brights at me, and, attracted by the light, I crawled onto his car, thinking it was a car-shaped rock.

Horns were blowing, police whistles were whistling, and it was all a big mess. Then, I felt something pelt me. It was a tomato. Then, more foodstuffs began hitting me. I waved my arms around uselessly to stop the assault, but I had to retreat. Covered in tomatoes, eggs, and watermelon rinds, I lurched into a seemingly quiet area.

With impaired vision, I saw a house. Cheering, "Waaaggh!" I ran over to it and climbed into a window. Hopefully, someone inside would be able to help me out and put things to rights.

Apparently, I had climbed into a kitchen. No sooner was I crashing around, knocking things all over the place, when in walked a girl in her mid-twenties. She stopped at the door and screamed. "Aaaaaaaagh!"

I waved my hands, trying to calm her. "Nuh, nuh sreem! Ah vus nee hep! Cah yoo hep muh?"

She grabbed a wok and started hitting me with it. I backed up, but she had me against a kitchen counter and all I could do was cover my head with my hands.

When she didn't let up, I put my hands out in front of me to try and push her away. Sadly, my hands had grasped her breasts, which, due to some chemical properties of the fire-extinguisher-powder, I was now adhered to.

"Get off me! Get off! Dad! Uncle Bruno! Come here quick! Help me!"

In a panic, I tried ripping my hands away, but they were stuck tight. All of a sudden, I felt something warm and gelatinous. The girl was screaming, but then had fainted dead away. I heard heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. Looking down, I saw that her breasts had dissolved, and stuck in my hands were two silicon breast implants.

Trying to shake them loose, I heard someone shout, "We're coming, Alyssa! We've got the tire iron!"

Jolting blindly, I jumped out of the kitchen window and ran to the next street over. Finding what looked like a stately old mansion, I hopped up the steps, hoping that they'd be civilized enough to help me. The front door was open and I let myself in. It was pretty quiet inside, but low voices were talking and it sounded like some people were crying somewhere.

Putting my silicon-encrusted hands out in front of me, I found my way into some sort of anteroom, where I tripped and fell into a box. Then, everything became dark.

A few minutes later, I felt myself being picked up and wheeled somewhere. I heard someone say, "Are you ready? Wait'll you see how serene your departed wife looks. We can work wonders with a steamroller accident."

The box opened, and out I popped among almost a hundred somber funeral attendees. "Raaaaagh!"

Everyone screamed. The husband fainted. The funeral home director shouted, "Ron, get the blowtorch! Get the blowtorch! Code blue!"

I turned to face the director. "Bwoh torf? Nuh! Nuh bwoh torf! Waaaaagh!"

Knocking over flowers, vases, and people, I escaped from the funeral home and ran to the woods.

Losing my way after a short while, I fell into a small pond, which happened to be a dumping place for the local power plant's nuclear waste. As I sank into the radioactive goo, a little green fairy appeared.

"Hello! I'm the sprite of nuclear waste! Once you fall into one of my pools, I give you any power of your choosing. A small lizard from Tokyo wanted to be big, and he became Godzilla. A little boy who had lost his parents wished to become a bat, so he became Batman."

"Waif, dat's nuh hou Bahman becuh Bahman--"

"That's charming. Now, what power would you like?"

There was only one thing I had always wanted. Something that would be just perfect for the conversational phrase, "Monkeys will fly out of your ass before that happens."

"Ah wan mukkees t'fry rout uf mah butt!"

"You'd like monkeys to fly out of your butt?"

"Yef! Yef!"

She waved her wand, and an instant later, I was standing aside the radioactive pond as if I had never fallen into it in the first place.

Imagining a monkey flying out of my butt, I tried it. Sure enough, a small howler monkey shot out of my ass, ripping a hole in my pants, and ejecting up into the trees.

"Howy fukka shit!"

After forcibly ejecting a good dozen howler monkeys for shits and giggles, I at last had the time to wipe my eyes and mouth clear. I found my way home without incident.

Inside, I found the contractors busy at work inside the bathroom. I asked, "Hey, can I make it in there? I need to shower."

Jimmy put his hand out at me. "Whoa there, Tiger. We're gonna be a while. Monkeys'll fly outta yer ass before we're done here today."



The moral: Learn Spanish so you can understand what the contractors were saying. Also, masturbate.

 

[mustynutz]

So it's no surprise that masturbation is essential, but nonetheless, it is also very personal. In my life, and during a great deal of myriad circumstances, I have had the grave misfortune of walking in on another guy playing a one-man game of "Whack-a-mole" and everytime I have done so, they screech and hide themselves like little school girls at a pedophile's convention. The second thing they commonly do is assume a relaxed position and act like they are calmly perusing the porno mag that has sinfully been laid out before them. The silence in the room is only superceded by the palpable awkwardness of watching this poor human being trying to cover up an act that is, by most accounts, quite natural. I have many a time looked upon the sickly embarrassed faces of these individuals and vowed to myself never to make getting caught a big deal.

It is not as easy as it sounds, but I have had time to perfect my "masturbation without remorse".

Cut to: Me, newly transferred to a new area, not yet settled, and temporarily roomed with another in the common barracks. Our schedules are similar, yet after work he goes up to his friend's room to hang out while I stay back in our room to...Hang out.

This particular day, my roommate has gone to his buddies room upstairs to chill for a while and I had (as routinely as ever) stayed in the room to "be alone with my thoughts." I had laid my favorite pornos out in such an arrangement so as to be able to view all my favorite pictures with relative ease. The only annoyance being the glare from the overhead light. I was happily trucking along and approaching high gear when I heard the electronic lock on the room door being activated.

My first instinct was to dive under the covers and shove my beloved magazines beneath my pillow. But as the latch turned, I steeled my nerve and stood my ground, waiting for the inevitable.

To my utter surprise, the intruder turned out not to be my roomie, but his best friend. His head was down as he entered the room and I turned slightly so he would not mistakenly assume that I was holding a gun in my hand. as the door swung closed, he raised his head and caught sight of me. He flinched, startled by my presence in the room, he then froze.

I had to suppress a smile as his face, his *entire* face went slack. He stood in the center of the room, holding my roommate's key card and gaping at what must have been a horrific sight. I stood near my bed, not only topless, mot merely bottomless, but butt-ass butterball naked. I held my mincemeat pastry confidently in my right hand while gingerly cupping my junk with my left.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked, being as conversationally minded as possible. He scuttled to the fridge and pulled out a sixer of Pete's wicked ale.

"Just coming down to get some drinks." He replied, he held up the six pack as if to offer proof, not only to me, but to himself as well. he backed out of the room, holding the beer between us as if it were a shield. As soon as he reached the door he whirled around and was gone in a flash. I of course finished and went about my other daily business. Later that evening my roommate came back to the room.

"My buddy came down here earlier to get some drinks, said he saw you."

"Yup, sure did." I replied.

"He says I have to come down and get my own drinks from now on, what's that all about?"

"I have no idea."

To this day my ex-roommate wonders why his friend won't even shake my hand.

 

[mustynutz]

Dan Martin Shatters Masturbation World Record!
September 27, 2004

It's official, Dan Martin is the new king of masturbation. In a stunning feat of endurance and determination, Dan Martin achieved 36 orgasms in a 24 hour period!



Sleeping intermittently during the 24 hour marathon, Dan Martin remained focused and aroused by his impressive library of pornographic films. With over 400 films in his library and 3 televisions playing movies at all times, he had a continuous stream of footage to aid him in his quest.

It is apparent by the massive development of the muscles in his forearm that Dan Martin is not your average masturbator. In an interview with UJ reporters after the record setting event, Dan Martin was quoted as saying, "masturbation for me is a way of life. I've been training for this day since I was 13 years old and I'm happy with my performance today".

This record was formerly held by German Student, Hans Blickstein who achieved 27 orgasms in a 24 hour period. Mr. Blickstein was not available for comment.

When asked what his next world record achievement would be, Dan Martin said "my immediate goal is to get a bag of ice and some lotion on my penis to soothe the burning".

 

[mustynutz]

Over the course of many years of masturbation, I have developed an extensive list of lubricants for the purpose of aiding in the act. You will find some of these work better for different people, but I assure you, I have tested them all! So come on in, sit a spell, and learn all about flogging the bishop from someone who knows!

Lotion - The classic lubricant. Who hasn't lotioned up the old hand and gone at it? No further explanation is needed!

Vaseline (or Petroleum Jelly if you prefer) - An excellent lube if I do say so myself. Don't use this unless you've got time for cleanup, though, because it has a tendency to not go away. The up-side is you won't go dry in the middle of a good hand-hump.

Shaving Cream - An often overlooked lubricant, shaving cream offers and amazing burning sensation! While some may find this strange and weird, the warmth, combined with the sensual aroma of mom's own shaving cream, can give quite the eruption!

Saliva - People seem to overlook this simple yet amazingly realistic lube. Whether you're out on the town or just too damn lazy to grab the lotion, saliva can be the answer!

Icy Hot - Only if you're into pain, my friends. I think we all know about this...While the cooling sensation can be pleasurable, the burning is unbearable. And you can't wash it off; it just gets worse.

Water - Not a very reliable one. Its just not lubricanty enough, and more often than not you'll leave your tally whacker a little sore and maybe bloody. I can't say that I like this one.

That shit that oozes out of open wounds - Again, not recommended. Although it does lube you up, there is the good possibility of infection, which could lead to weiner loss.

Pudding - Always an alternative.

Bleach - Similar to water, but fucking burns.

Milk - Stinks afterwards.

Soap - If not washed off, soap will leave a nasty itch. I recommend soap only in the shower; vaseline and lotion also work well in the shower.

Conditioner - Many conditioners make good lubricant. They are similar to lotion, but different...And with the variety of conditioners out there, you're bound to find one that suits you best!

Shit - Stinky and dirty. This gets a thumbs-down.

Jizz - Just plain weird. Another thumbs-down.


And that concludes the list of lubricants. Feel free to whack one off, or consult mom further! Or, you can just get some ass. Whatever's easier for you. Aw fuck yourself.

 

[mustynutz]

The laws of masturbation, passed by the all-powerful Wang thousands of years ago and written on the holy phallic rocks of Scotland, dictate what happens during the jerk-off cycle. Some of them are good for you, some aren't so good, and some are just plain Murphy. I have found these ancient runes and translated them from the original Handmanese. Here they are:

1. If your brain wanders when you jerk off, then you will think of something that is a turn-off and will have to start over again.

2. If someone can walk in on you while you're jerking, they will.

3. Jerking off is the ultimate safe sex.

4. Except in the mightiest of men, at least fifteen minutes must pass between one jerk off and the next.

5. If you take two hands to jerk off, smile.

6. If you require an electron microscope and tweezers to jerk off, or GPS to even find it, perhaps you should consider surgery.

7. Porno is always better than your imagination.

8. Water is the cheapest lubricant.

9. Masturbation is the solution for all relationship problems.

10. Frequent masturbation can extend lifespan.

11. If you pee after jerking off, it will always come out at a strange angle and hit the seat or floor.

12. Never pee with a hard-on. It will fly into your face if your muscles spasm.

13. The kinkier the fantasy, the faster the ejaculation.

14. Always change underwear if going out after jerking off, unless you know women who like pheremones.

15. Pubic hair will always get caught in your hand and hurt when it gets pulled.

16. If you call your girlfriend Lefty, then you probably jerk off too frequently.

17. Never pay for porn you can get for free. Jerking off is a right, not a privilege for the rich.

18. For about the next hour, every time a woman says "come" you will think of your hand and smile.

19. If your penis is blue after jerking off, consider loosening your grip.

And lastly:

20. "Masturbation is self-improvement."

 

[mustynutz]

Nobody likes a Man-Whore. Really. If you are a Man-Whore reading this, you probably don't even like yourself. Man-Whores are dirty rutting beasts, who'll happily root their best mates girlfriend whilst his back is turned. He is undeniably attractive and pulls the sorts of chicks who you can only dream about. And this seems so unfair to you, since he's an unfunny wanker and you can drink twice as much beer as him.
As for why us ladies hate Man-Whores, well it's kind of self explantory. They try anything to get us in the sack, then once they've accomplished that they tell all their mates, piss off without asking for our phone number, and the next weekend we see them they're making out with our worst enemy.
So here is what to do, ladies:

1st Step - Preparation:
- Don't shave your legs for a month. Wear the same knickers for two weeks (and don't even think about washing down there, Missy.)

2nd Step - Entrapment:
- Pick up a Man-Whore (this won't take much effort. Just get a titty top happening and laugh at every single thing he says).
- Invite him back to your place (this probably won't be necessary as he will undoubtedly invite himself).

3rd Step - Getting freaky.
- The Man-Whore will most probably be stronger than you. So in order to give him the working he deserves, suggest a little bondage. Use handcuffs, not material. The Man-Whore will go along with it, albeit a little half-heartedly (Man-Whore's love to dominate).
- Straddle the Man-Whore and kiss him for a while.
- Start to get a bit kinky. In a weird way. Ask him to lick your hairy legs. Yummmmm.
- If you have the guts, sit your arse right down on his head so that his face is buried in your muff, forced to inhale the putrid stench you've been baking for the last fortnight.
- The Man-Whore will be a tad revolted by this stage, but he'll still be keen because he can't wait to tell all his mates about the disgusting bitch he boned last night and what a hero he was to take one for the team, etc.
- Move away from this position so that you are again straddling the Man-Whore. Now take the Man-Whore penis in your hands. Don't stroke it or touch it in a pleasing way. Pick at it, examine it. Jump up in a hurry and return to the room with a magnifying glass. At this stage the Man-Whore will be a little curious, perhaps disturbed. Explain that you're looking for any signs of STDs and you've just found a wart on his dick. Right now he will be trying to break free, demanding that you let him go (but if you're smart you went with the handcuffs, not the material). Pretend you cannot hear him.
- Assure him that it's okay, because you have herpes yourself. He'll just need to cover himself with four condoms.
- The Man-Whore will be thinking of how you were just sitting on his face with your herpes infested box shoved right in his mouth. He will be going wild right now. He'll probably be screaming words like "dirty disease ridden slut". You must not let this upset you. Smile sweetly and remind him that he has genital warts. His erection should have subsided a long time ago. In fact, his dick should be trying to crawl up into his stomach. A perfect photo opportunity.
- Before you take any pictures, invite any housemates into your room who have a sense of humour. Stand around and have a bit of a chuckle. Get one of your mates to pose with him. The Man-Whore will be trying to rip apart your bed head by this stage. Possibly he has already bent the metal.
- If you have a cattle prod handy, don't hesistate to give him a few right up the arse.

At some stage you are going to have let the Man-Whore leave. When you do release him you are probably going to get bashed. But seriously, you deserved it.

 

[mustynutz]

(3 March 2002, Sheffield, England) As Kim Fontana, 32, and Paul Cowley, 40, left the pub, they noticed that a streetlight was burned out, creating an attractive pool of darkness on the road. Unable to rein in their passion, they began to canoodle on the asphalt outside the pub.

Witnesses said the couple was lying right on the white line, kissing and cuddling. The passionate pair were warned of the danger of their chosen position not once, not twice, but three times -- by a car driver, a bus driver, and a pedestrian.

An off-duty paramedic honked three times and shouted, "You want to get up, or otherwise you’ll be run over." The man simply said "Cheers, mate," and the paramedic heard a female voice laughing. A bus driver swerved to avoid them, and drove past with wheels on the curb. A concerned pedestrian shouted to warn them that another bus was headed their way.

Despite these disruptions, Kim and Paul continued, oblivious to the approach of a small, single-decker Nipper bus. The bus driver mistook the undulating shape for a bag of rubbish in the poorly lit street, and was unable to stop in time. There was a dull thud...

Kim and Paul were struck and killed at midnight. Paramedics found Kim lying on her back with her jumper pulled up, and Paul between her legs with his trousers pulled down.

The only downside to this timely removal of lunacy from the gene pool is the fate of the bus driver. Despite the couple's own actions, and a police investigator's statement that "one can expect a pedestrian walking or running in the road, but to expect a driver to anticipate a pedestrian lying in the road is out of the ordinary" -- a judge felt that "his driving fell below the standard one would reasonably expect of a prudent, competent driver."

The bus driver was fined for careless driving and his license was revoked for six months. Fortunately, his employers consider him an excellent employee, and plan to give him other duties for six months. Relatives of the victims said they were glad the driver had kept his job.


(12 February 2003) Three men wielding knives tried to rob a slaughterhouse. But when it comes to hand to hand combat with sharp blades, butchers working in a slaughterhouse are more than a match for your average thief. They stabbed two of the intruders to death. The third man escaped from the angry butchers and fled in his car.
Police soon spotted him, and after a brief car chase, the would-be thief pulled over and leapt from his vehicle. But instead of fleeing into the underbrush, he tried to dodge heavy traffic and escape across the highway. Perhaps he thought that threatening butchers with knives was not a sufficient demonstration of his intelligence.

(16 March 2003, Michigan) Ignoring Coast Guard warnings, David Manley ventured onto the icy surface of Saginaw Bay with his pickup truck one chilly morning. Predictably, the vehicle broke through the ice, but the 41-year-old managed to avert tragedy and escape from the sinking truck. He reached the shore wet and cold, but alive.
Despite his traumatic experience, and despite a day of sunshine and warm temperatures in the 60s, David returned to Saginaw Bay late the following night. This time he was driving an all-terrain vehicle, and accompanied by a friend. Surprise! The ATV also plunged through the ice.

His companion survived, but David had used up his luck. His body was recovered by the Coast Guard southwest of the Channel Islands. An autopsy was scheduled to determine whether anything besides a desire to win a Darwin Award was a factor in his demise.

(9 April 2003, New Zealand) Phil needed to make repairs to the underside of his car. But when he jacked it up, there wasn't enough room for him to work. So he removed the car's battery, placed the jack on top of it, and set to work again, this time with plenty of elbow-room.
Unfortunately for Phil, car batteries are not designed to carry much weight. The battery collapsed and the jack toppled, trapping him beneath the car. Unable to breathe due to the weight on his chest, he quickly expired in a pool of battery acid.

This incident is illuminated by two additional facts: First, Phil's occupation was Accident Prevention Officer at a large food processing plant. And second, ten years previous, he had been working under a car when the jack collapsed, trapping him and breaking one of his legs. Some people just don't learn -- even from their own mistakes.

 

[mustynutz]

January 2003, India) Regarding accidental deaths during the construction of a subway in New Delhi, the New York Times wrote, "One of those killed was an unlucky thief who tried to steal braces holding up a concrete slab; it fell and killed him."

February 2003, East Timor) A man was found lying facedown, covered in mud and blood, the apparent the victim of a street crime in Dili, the capital of East Timor. It was not until a post mortem examination was conducted that U.N. police were able to reconstruct his last moments. This up-and-coming young man decided that it was cool to shove his weapons, two long knives, down the waistband of his trousers. Unsheathed. The hapless fellow jumped over a small fence and landed in a large puddle of mud. He slipped, which sent the blade of his "trouser knife" into his leg, severing his femoral artery. He bled to death before he could stagger ten feet from the puddle


(17 February 2003, New York) A 25-year-old man, long accustomed to annoying neighbors by snowmobiling at high speeds through sleeping streets, finally received his comeuppance -- and in the process, a Darwinian nomination -- when he drove headfirst into a tree.
It is not only his reckless speeding through a nighttime residential area that makes him eligible, nor is it merely because he was driving an unregistered, uninsured snowmobile without a helmet while drunk. Although these spectacularly stupid ideas were ultimately responsible for his demise, there is yet another relevant aspect to report.

Brian "The Brain" Sabinsky was a fireman, a member of the same company dispatched to peel him off the tree, the same organization that preaches snowmobile safety; responds to other gruesome, drunken, helmet-free snowmobile "accidents" every year; and the very same company that posts an illuminated "helmet safety" notice 700 feet from his own home.

Clearly, while others have been as foolish as Brian in their choice of recreational activities, few have been so uniquely aware of the possible repercussions prior to making that choice!

 

[mustynutz]

(February 2003, Australia) I heard this on radio and happened to pass the house the next day. A homeowner was doing some welding on the roof of his house at Port Macquarie in NSW. He had problems with his oxy tanks slipping, so he decided to tack weld them to the roofing iron. That was the last thing he ever did. When I passed the house the next day, there wasn't much left of the roof on that side of the house.

 

[mustynutz]

11 March 2003, Spain) Early one morning, police received a call warning that three robbers had invaded the bar of a Madrid brothel. The police dispatched several units, and confirmed that the call was true. Officers surrounded the building, and used a bullhorn to coax the offenders from the premises.
The robbers, understandably frightened, found themselves in an untenable situation inside a building surrounded by dozens of policemen. Their subsequent actions may have been influenced by the ready availability of alcohol. Instead of surrendering, they decided to go out in a blaze of glory, and tried to escape while shooting at everything in sight.

The policemen ducked, covered, and proceeded to shoot back at the running robbers. Two were fatally injured, and the third was wounded in his right leg.

Why was the gunfight over so quickly? The three robbers were carrying REAL guns loaded with FAKE ammunition. They were firing blanks, making enough sound and light to fool the police into shooting back, but not enough to actually help them escape.

 

[mustynutz]

August 2002, Kansas) Police said an Olathe man was struck and killed by a train after his vehicle broke down on Interstate 35. His attempts at repairing his car had failed, and he had stepped away from the busy freeway to call for help, when the train engineer spotted him standing on the tracks. The engineer said the man was holding a cell phone to one ear, and cupping his hand to the other ear to block the noise of the train.

 

[mustynutz]

(Iowa) Several years ago, an adventurous pair decided to take their ropes and rappel off the Boone Scenic Valley Railroad train over the Des Moines river. Words can't describe how breathtakingly high this narrow train bridge is over the river valley. The open train ride over the abyss is both stunningly beautiful and somewhat nerve-wracking.
Our adventurers had to be completely fearless, because they walked to the middle of this narrow railroad bridge, tied off their ropes, and began to rappel down. When the train came by on it's daily tour of the valley, their one mistake became apparent. They had tied the ropes to the sturdiest support possible: the steel train tracks...


14 February 2002, Pennsylvania) Daniel and his friend were practicing their marksmanship by shooting at targets in a farm field. But instead of the usual choices of mice, bottles, or birds, they selected a more worthy adversary: electrical insulators.
These pear-shaped glass or plastic devices are intended to hold electrical wires aloft. But after the men shot six insulators off two utility poles, the shattered targets were no longer up to the job. A high-voltage wire fell to the ground and Daniel, attempting to prevent a serious fire, seized the sizzling wire in his hand, and was electrocuted.

An Allegheny Power spokesman advised people not to shoot at electrical insulators

(23 September 2002, Brazil) A farm keeper from São Paulo decided to remove a beehive from his orange tree. He didn't know exactly how to proceed, but he knew the hive should be burned, and he knew bees sting. So he protected his head with a plastic bag sealed tightly around his neck, grabbed a torch, and went off to fight the bees.
His worried wife went to look for him a few hours later, and found him dead. However, it wasn't the bees that killed him. The plastic bag had protected him from smoke, stingers, and... oxygen! He had forgotten to put breathing holes in the bag.

 

[mustynutz]

29 July 2002, Ukraine) Late one night, the inhabitants of Yuvieyna village, a suburb of Lugansk, awoke to a loud explosion. Not long before the explosion, a 40-year-old deputy of the local administration board had taken his dog out for a walk. He encountered a Police Academy cadet who was escorting two women to their homes.
The cadet pointed out that the deputy's dog was not allowed on a public street without a lead and muzzle. Now, only an exceedingly bold cadet would be presumptuous enough to tell a village deputy what to do, so the two men began to argue. Unable to resolve the matter by verbal means, the deputy finally pulled out a military RGD-5 hand grenade and threw it to the cadet's feet. His well-trained dog immediately ran for the object and fetched it for his master... and man and dog met the same messy fate.

Police are investigating how the deputy came to have a grenade in a country where citizens are forbidden to carry arms, let alone military ordinance.


March 2002, Hungary) Because of the threat of nuclear smugglers from ex-USSR countries, Hungarian border guards working the Ukraine border are responsible for more than passport control. Even the smallest border stations have Geiger-Muller detector gates, which resemble empty doorframes like the metal detectors at airports. But instead of metal, they detect radioactive materials.
A man with a backpack arrived at the border. He seemed a bit dizzy, maybe drunk, but vodka is cheap in the Ukraine and drunken men are common in this area. The man was instructed to pass through the Geiger-Muller detector gate. Although he seemed a bit anxious, finally he obeyed -- and the gate signalled an urgent alert. One glance at the dosimeter, and people were running for their lives. The man was hot!

The Hungarian army dispatched an ABC (Atomic-Biological-Chemical) reconnaissance vehicle to investigate and decontaminate the scene. The soldiers found the man sprawled facedown, dead, a few steps away from the gate. They turned the body over and found a large wound burnt into his stomach. The moron had taped a chunk of a radioactive substance to his body!

They found a discarded nuclear waste canister on the Ukrainian side of the border. If the man hadn't removed the contents and hidden it under his clothing, neither the gate nor the border guards would have spotted what he was carrying. He would still be alive today, but perhaps others would not.

 

[mustynutz]

8 September 2002, Italy) "Hey watch this!" A 53-year-old Glasgow man, attempting what police describe as a bizarre stunt, attached a climber's snap hook to an unused overhead tram cable and attempted to manually ride down the mountain. But the mountain was steep, gravity was constant, and he was unable to moderate his rate of descent. He accelerated out of control, and within seconds crashed against the rocks, and proceeded to bash his way 200 meters down the slope before impacting a pylon. Reports state that several people attempted to stop him from riding down the cable. He should have listened to their advice. When he came to rest, he was DOA.

 

[mustynutz]

(January 2002, Italy) A violent attack on an innocent man? Andreas, a 23-year-old ex-bouncer from Italy, was found lying in a pool of blood near a country road. Police initially mistook him for a victim of sadistic mutilation. His left leg had been nearly severed by a chainsaw. His last act was an emergency call to operators who heard only a "death rattle." By the time help arrived, copious bleeding had drained his body of blood.

Sad plight? Not quite.The incredible truth was far odder.

Andreas had conspired with his cousin in an insurance scam. The 29-year-old accomplice confessed that he was the "assailant" who attacked--and inadvertently killed--the younger man in a mutually planned insurance fraud that went badly awry.

Andreas had convinced his cousin to cut his left leg off with a chainsaw in order to reap nearly a million dollars from numerous insurance policies. Permanent disability was all that was required. Andreas relied on his cunning, and his knowledge of first aid, to survive the chainsaw incident.

The attack took place near a country lay-by. The cousin sawed Andreas' leg below the knee, and severed a major artery in a gambit timed too close for survival. Emergency crews arrived to find Andreas dead and his cousin fled, tossing the chainsaw in a river on the way out of town.

The cousin now languishes in a cell on homicide charges. Andreas' death was a classic example of fate noticing those who buy chain saws.

(8 February 2002, Pennsylvania) Outside a camp for troubled youths, sneakers dangled from the electricity line, presumably tossed there by a camper who enjoyed the challenge and notoriety. But the sneakers were an eyesore to one 20-year-old employee. They must be eliminated!
He stood in the raised bucket of a front-end loader, and poked at the sneakers with a device consisting of a fourteen-foot coppper tube with a pocketknife taped to the end. The determined employee had nearly removed a pair of shoes, when the knife pierced the insulation and made contact with the electrical wire. He was knocked out of the bucket and landed on the hood of the loader, with burns on his hands, a foot, and his buttocks. He died from his injuries three weeks later.

Does his death seem the obvious result of a foolish choice? Not according to his mother, who said, "Nobody knows what really happened."

(July 2002) This story was told at a symposium dinner, by two Austrian pathologists who work together in Germany. A deceased male was brought to them for a post mortem. He had suffered severe head trauma. According to police reports, the man wanted to see how a German World War II hand grenade was constructed. His curiosity led him to clamp the grenade in a vise, and cut a thin band around the center with a circular saw, so that he would be able to crack open the two halves. Unfortunately, the man cut a little too deep, and detonated the grenade. The pathologists stated that the man had very little brain material when he was brought to them; however, they were not sure if that was a result of the explosion!

 

[mustynutz]

(30 January 2002, Brazil) Airport taxi drivers frequently hear the announcement, "The white zone is for loading and unloading of passengers only." But Santos Dumont airport in Rio de Janeiro may need to add a new phrase: "The runway is for take-off and landing of airplanes only."
"The signs that tell you to stop when the plane is on the runway are practically invisible," said the director of the local taxi cooperative. Apparently a Boeing 737 preparing for takeoff was equally invisible to one 64-year-old taxi driver, who sped onto the runway after dropping off his fare. He was right behind the jet when it revved its engines in preparation for a 140-mph takeoff.

Local aviation experts say the force of the 737’s jets is comparable to a hurricane, but, we assume, much hotter. The taxi was spun 25 meters through the air, hit the rocks at Guanabara Bay, and ejected its driver. The man’s tip for the trip was a broken skull and thorax. He is presently in a coma.

Airport authorities cited driver error as the cause of the accident.


July 2002, Romania) Forget posted train schedules! Like an American Indian listening for horses in an old Western, a Romanian man placed his ear against the tracks to listen for the arrival of a train scheduled to stop at his station. Instead, the 46-year-old man was hit by an express train, and died instantly from head trauma.
Apparently it's true that you don't hear the bullet that hits you!

 

[public3nemy#1]

hey musty, i really like these stories, did u write these or get em somehwere online?