...with a tribe of savage cannibals. He's cornered with no possible way out when he exclaims in his desperation 'God, I'm screwed!'
Suddenly the clouds part and a booming voice says 'No son, you are not. Take that rock near your right foot and throw it at that old cannibal with the large headdress!'
The explorer obeys, and the chief of the tribe lies dead on the ground.
The voice says 'NOW you're screwed!'
I heard you like reposts, so here's one from 114 years ago.
**TOWN AND COUNTRY**
The young woman who was boarding at the farmhouse expressed to the farmer her anxiety at the savage way in which the cow regarded her.
“It must be on account of that red blouse you’ve got on, miss,” answered the farmer.
“Dear me!” exclaimed the girl. “Of course, it’s out of fashion; but I had no idea a country cow would notice it.”
(From the London Journal, July 2nd, 1904)
A Parting Gift
An explorer, during a trek through an unknown jungle, made contact with a primitive tribe, and swapped basic language and customs. The day comes for the explorer to depart and, as a parting gift, he gives a fine silver mirror to the chief of the tribe. The chief takes the mirror in awe, and as the explorer explains it’s basic function, starts to gaze lovingly at the back of the mirror, admiring the patterning. This goes on for a little while, until the explorer at last says
‘You are supposed to look at the other side!’
The chief turns the mirror around briefly, flips it back and grunts ’Bah, picture of savage on back’.
You're a Savage Warrior. You're a barbarian. You come from a city in Iran. You're a Barbar Barbarian.
You're known for hanging around your favorite drinking establishment. You're a Barbar bar barbarian.
You get exiled. You're a barred Barbar bar barbarian.
You get a job cutting hair. You're a barred Barbar bar barbarian barber.
You are the exclusive hairstylist of a popular children's character. You are Babar's barred Barbar bar barbarian barber.
You get a bad case of bone spurs. You are Babar's barbed barred Barbar bar barbarian barber.
You get a side job as a singer. You are Babar's barbed barred Barbar bar barbarian barber bard.
You were named after your parents favorite Beach Boys song. You are Babar's barbed barred Barbar bar barbarian barber bard Barbara Ann.
An Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman are captured by a savage tribe
and are waiting to be executed when another captive whispers to them that the tribe are afraid of natural disasters. On hearing this, the three friends work out a plan.
Later, the Englishman is standing in front of a tribal firing squad (using bows and arrows). The tribal chief proclaims, “Ready, aim-” “ERUPTION!” yells the Englishman, who escapes while the tribe are fleeing, terrified.
When everything has quietened down the Scotsman is brought to face the tribal firing squad. The tribal chief proclaims, “Ready, aim-” “EARTHQUAKE!” yells the Scotsman, who escapes while the tribe are looking over their shoulders, saying, “where?”.
When everything has quietened down the Irishman is brought to face the tribal firing squad. The tribal chief proclaims, “Ready, aim-” “FIRE!” yells the Irishman.
The Butcher Dance
A guy has spent five years traveling all around the world making a documentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he has every single native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film. He winds up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he pops into a pub for a well earned beer. He gets talking to one of the local Aborigines and tells him about his project. The Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the "Butcher Dance."
The guy's a bit confused and says "Butcher Dance? What's that?"
"What? You no see Butcher Dance?"
"No, I've never heard of it."
"Oh mate. You crazy. How you say you film every native dance if you no see Butcher Dance?"
"UmmSUM. I got a corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?"
"No no, not corroborree. Butcher Dance much more important than corroborree."
"Oh, well how can I see this Butcher Dance then?"
"Mate, Butcher Dance right out bush. Many days travel to go see Butcher Dance."
"Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance."
"OK, mate. You drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you see dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126 miles 'til you see big huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see. Here you gotta leave car, coz much to rough for driving. You strike out due west into setting sun. You walk 3 days 'til you hit creek. You follow this creek to Northwest. After 2 days you find where creek flows out of rocky mountains. Much too difficult to cross mountains here though. You now head south for half day 'til you see pass through mountains. Pass very difficult, very dangerous. Take 2, maybe 3 days to get through rocky pass. When through, head north-west for 4 days 'til reach big huge rock - 20 ft high and shaped like man's head. From rock, walk due west for 2 days and you find village.Here you see Butcher Dance."
So the guy grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out. After a couple of hours he finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state and he's forced to crawl along at a snails pace and so he doesn't reach the tree until dusk and he's forced to set up camp for the night. He sets out bright and early the following morning. His spirits are high and he's excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious dance which he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions he has been given, he reaches the creek after three days and follows it for another two until they reach the rocky mountains. The merciless sun is starting to take its toll by this time and his spirits
are starting to flag, but wearily he trudges on until he finds the pass through the hills - nothing will prevent him from completing his life's dream. The mountains prove to be every bit as treacherous as their guide said and at times they almost despair of getting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days of back breaking effort they finally force their way clear and continue their long trek.
When they reach the huge rock, four days later, their water is running low and their feet are covered with blisters but they steel themselves and head out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives feed them and and give them fresh water and they begin to feel like new men. Once he's recovered enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells him that he has come to film there Butcher Dance.
"Oh mate. Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late. You miss dance."
"Well, when do you hold the next dance?"
"Not 'til next year."
"Well, I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for me, tonight?"
"No, no, no! Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. If hold more, gods get very angry and destroy village! You want see Butcher Dance you come back next year." The guy is devastated, but he has no other option but to head back to civilization and back home. The following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss out again, sets out a week earlier than last time. He is quite willing to spend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he is present to witness it.
However, right from the start things go wrong. Heavy rains that year have turned the dirt track to mud and the car gets bogged every few miles, finally forcing them to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree. They reach the creek and the mountains without any further hitch, but halfway through the ascent of the mountain they are struck by a fierce storm which rages for several days, during which they are forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsides. It would be suicide to attempt to scale the treacherous paths in the face of such savage elements.
Then, before they have traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of the crew sprains his ankle badly which slows down the rest of their journey to the rock and then the village enormously. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they have been travelling, they stagger into the village at about 12:00 noon.
"The Butcher Dance!" gasps the guy. "Please don't tell me I'm too late!"
The chief recognizes him and says "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time."
Relieved beyond measure, the crew spend the rest of the afternoon setting up their equipment - preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid as dusk falls, the natives start to cover there bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of bird's feathers and animal skins. Once darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle around a huge roaring fire.
A deathly hush descends over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body enters the circle and begins to chant. Some sort of witch doctor or medicine man, figures the guy and he whispers to the chief "What's he doing?"
"Hush" whispers the chief. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dreamworld watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect us for another year."
The chanting of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he removes himself from the circle. From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums booms out across the land and the natives begin to sway to the stirring rhythm.
The guy is becoming caught up in the fervour of the moment himself. This is it. He now realizes beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He is about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by mankind.
The chief strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, starts to sing: "You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right arm out. You butch yer right arm in and you shake it all about"
There was a school in England which was infamous for having the savage bullies. [Long]
There was a school in England which was infamous for having the savage bullies. The school used to come in the news fairly regularly for nothing but their bullies. More often than not the school bullies used to line up the other students and hit them in the face. The consequences of not being present in the line were worse than getting *punched* in the face, so helplessly once a week on Monday all the students lined up. The children were made to line up on the football pitches far away from the school building so the teachers wouldn't catch them too often.
The bullies were usually the eldest students in school on that particular day, and the line was particularly *bad* when the bullies were 16 year olds, and was terrible when the bullies were even younger.
A new teacher had joint school and she had heard so much about the bullying and she had zero tolerance for harassment of any sort. She decided that she's going to catch the bullies responsible for this.
So every Monday she would go to the football pitches and catch the bullies but there always used to be a *bad line*, and so she would never catch the eldest students who were the linchpins in this entire bullying scheme. She had never even seen the *terrible line*, she always used to catch the 16, and so one day she decided to use the genie lamp that she had since she was in her early twenties. She had used 2 wishes from the genie, and decided that she would use her last wish to try and catch the bullies in charge.
Her two previous wishes were used on becoming the most knowledgeable economics teacher in the UK and to be an extremely fun teacher in the classroom. These two wishes were granted to her by the genie and it helped her land the teaching job at this school.
She rubbed the lamp and the genie came out, she then went on to explain to the genie about the punching situation in the school and how all the students were made to stand in a line. She then went on to explain how she had only been catching the *bad line* of students and how she wished that she could catch the other bullies. The genie nodded and told her that things would be different tomorrow.
So the next Monday the teacher went to school like normal, and saw that there were no 16 year olds in school. This intrigued her, but at least she knew she that she wouldn't see the *bad line*, this excited her. She had dreamt of this day where she would finally catch the other bullies who were *punching* all the students.
The teacher began to walk towards the football field not knowing what to anticipate as she had never seen any other line apart from the *bad* one.
Once she reached there she knew that the genie had fulfilled her wish once again because, in front of her she saw it; the punchline, and it was *terrible*.
A bear walks into a bar.
He sits at the bar and orders a drink. The bartender says "You need to leave, we don't serve your kind here." The bear is enraged. He rears up on his hind legs, lets out a savage feral roar and in one bite he swallows the lady sitting next to him.
"NOW." he says. "HOW ABOUT THAT DRINK."
"We don't serve drug addicts here either." Says the bartender.
"I saw that barbitchuate."
A true american hero.
A young woman is attacked by what apppears to be a rabid stray dog. Before the dog can injure her further, a young man steps in and starts fighting with the dog - Unfortunately though he is forced to kill it. Shortly after, a police officer who has been watching the scene rushes over.
"Son, that was incredible! Youre a hero. I tried to help, but I couldnt get a clean shot on that beast. I can already see tomorrows newspaper: Young American Saves Woman From Savage Beast!"
"Well, thank you for your kind words Officer, but to tell you the truth Im not American."
"Well, I guess then it will be: Young Latino saves Woman..."
"Im not Latino either Sir."
The Officer, clearly getting agitated responds:
"Damnit son, where youre from then?"
"Im an Iraqi tourist."
The following day, the headline of the local newspaper:
Muslim Terrorist jailed after killing innocent pet dog!
Man gets lost in the desert.
He has no compass and he has lost his sense of direction.
Suddenly he sees a caravan on the horizon. He jumps, shouts and waves his arms to get their attention, and, oh joy, they notice him and move in his direction.
But his happiness is short lived, as the travelers turn out to be mean and sadistic. They rough him up, and then bury him in the sand with only his head above the surface.
He grimly contemplates whether he'll die of sun stroke, dehydration or from attack of some savage beast. Suddenly, a lone traveler appears in front of him and inquires about his predicament.
**You see, first I got lost, without a compass and provisions. Then I encountered these sadists, who beaten me up, bury me this way and left... Can you believe such behavior?**
**Tsk, tsk...** says the traveler, as he puts his foot on top of the man's head and pushes it under the surface **Amateurs, such amateurs...**
Why are doomsday preppers so good in bed?
Everyday news from the front would trickle into our village via fleeing refugees, radio, and telegram.
Our army was being beaten from what I could tell, and were in full retreat from the invading Easterners.
The Easterners, savage men according to all the adults in my village, and the man in the television. Beings who were rather more beasts than men, beasts that ate babies and burned children alive. My father would tell me stories of these Easterners, stories that made me terrified for my life.
Some days at school during play-time, me and my friends would gather under a tree and wonder what an Easterner even looked like.
*"Probably like bears!"*
*"No! like giant ugly wolfmen, with big teeth! Grrr!"*
*"Maybe big angry bulls! With horns!"*
We were children, and we knew nothing of the horrors of the war that had been raging across the world for the past 5 years.
*Curiously enough to the west of our village was a large forest, that no child was to ever enter. Just like the stories of the Eastern soldiers, our parents told us that there were horrible things in the forest, things that would love to eat a child.*
For a while things suddenly died down that is until Winter came.
On 1 snowy morning a column of tired looking men with torn clothes and covered in bandages marched into our village. These were soldiers of our Army? Far different from the textbooks and pictures I had seen years ago, when the war first started, these almost half awake men looked like a stiff breeze would blow them over.
Papa told me that we would have to flee to the West, the Easterners were near, Nearer than anyone in the village could've even anticipated.
*"But the soldiers will protect us Father!"* I begged as He and my mother frantically began packing our belongings onto a wagon, but he seemed to ignore me.
My infant brother cooed in his crib at all the commotion to which he was ignorant too. As I looked out the window I saw all our neighbors were already either packing or making their way on the main road which ran North and out of the town.
*"Everyone is leaving Mama!"*
**"And we will have to go too dear"** My mother replied tiredly
My mother sighed as while she folded one of my dresses
**"I don't know.."**
The tired looking soldiers that came this morning had opted to leave as well, and were traveling along the same road North as the people from our Village. My Father picked me and my brother up and loaded us onto a wagon which he pulled himself. I took a last look through the window of our house and saw how bare and empty it was, before we trodded off Northward.
I was excited to leave the village, and get to see what was outside of it, but the sights I saw were less than exciting.
I saw trees and houses blackened by fire and shattered by bombs. There were dead dogs and horses covered in flies that lay at the side of the road, and my heart felt, sick. The earth was covered in frost and bare, parts of it were upturned and shallow graves filled them.
I looked to the East of the road and saw the forest again, it's tall dark trees seemed to be untouched by the carnage that I saw. Father had drawn our wagon for hours, and I saw as the sun set in the horizon and nightfall came. We opted to make camp for the night with several other columns of people from our village and soldiers, and wait until morning.
The night was silent and dark, there was no campfire, and there was no sound of crickets or birds. It seemed like we were the only living things left in the world.
When I did fall I asleep, I was woken shortly afterwards by the sound of a man's scream
I soon heard loud booms, and the popping of rifles.
More screams and more booms.
*My father cried out to our mother before something cut him down.*
Shadowy men on horses yelped and screeched as they rode into our camp.
They yelled out in their horrible tongues as they cut down men and women alike
The world devolved into chaos as torches began to be thrown onto the wagons and tents, and fire consumed them.
*I looked around for my mother in the dim light, but she was nowhere to be seen*
In a panic, I grabbed my baby brother and fled to the shelter of the trees in the woods to our East.
The sound of hooves, guns, and screams was deafening, and my infant brother wailed in confusion from the carnage.
My lungs and feet burned, and my knees bled from scraping up against the foliage and bushes. I fled until the noise of the battle died down, and I was alone in the dark and dead silent forest.
*Silent, save for the distant sound of a what appeared to be crow's cry*
My brother by this time had somehow fallen silent and asleep, and I looked up to see that the moon was all but blocked off from the trees which looked taller now that I was actually in the Forest.
My fatigue hit me like a running horse all at once, and I found that I was incredibly drowsy. I carried my brother and myself over to a nearby tree where we fell asleep under its canopy.
When morning came, I still felt tired, and barely any sunlight was able to make its way through the dense canopies of the trees.
There were no sounds of chirping birds in the trees, and the wind seemed to be dead. The forest was dark and silent just like it was at night.