Bill_J wrote: No, just hertz less.

But if they slap you at low frequency you couldn't hear it.

what happens if someone slaps you at high frequency?

it hertz

After numerous rounds of, “We don’t know if Osama is still alive,” Osama himself decided to send Ted Kennedy a letter in his own handwriting to let him know he was still in the game. Kennedy opened the letter which appeared to contain a single line of coded message, 370HSSV-0773H. Kennedy was baffled, so he e-mailed it to John Kerry. Kerry and his aides had no clue either, so they sent it to the FBI. Noone could solve it at the FBI, so it went to the CIA, then to the NSA. With no clue as to its meaning, the FBI finally asked Marine Corps Intelligence for help. Within a few seconds the Marine Corps cabled back with this reply, “Tell Kennedy he’s holding the message upside down.”

My wife called out from the bedroom asking, "Do you ever get a shooting pain across your body, like someone has a voodoo doll of you and is stabbing at it?"
I replied, No."
After a short pause she then asked, "How about now?"

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, “What is politics?” The dad says, “Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I’m the breadwinner of the family, so let’s call me capitalism. Your mother, she’s the administrator of the money, so we’ll call her the government. We’re here to take care of your needs, so we’ll call you the people. The nanny, we’ll consider her the working class. And your baby brother, we’ll call him the future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense.” The little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has soiled his diaper. The little boy goes to his parents’ room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny’s room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, “Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.” The father says, “Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.” The little boy replies, “Well, while capitalism is screwing the working class, the government is sound asleep, the people are being ignored and the future is in deep shit.”

Hello darkness my old friend...



I stood up too fast again

That was horrible. IMHO.

An old joke, befitting a sense of oneself, often portrayed in public:

Anger Management

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying “Hello.”
I politely said, “This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?”
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear “Get the right f***ing number!” and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn’s correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the ‘‘wrong’’ number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled “You’re an asshole!” and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word ‘‘asshole’’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, “You’'re an asshole!” It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic ‘‘asshole’’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, “Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I’m calling to see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID Program?”

He yelled “NO!” and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, “That’s because you’re an asshole!” and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking Spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I’'d been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a “For Sale” sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial,) I thought that I’d better call the BMW asshole, too.
I said, “Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?”
He said, “Yes, it is.” I asked, “Can you tell me where I can see it?”

He said, “Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax. It’s a yellow rambler, and the car’s parked right out in front.”
I asked, “What’'s your name?”
He said, “My name is Don Hansen,”
I asked, “When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”
He said, “I’'m home every evening after five.”
I said, “Listen, Don, can I tell you something?”
He said, “Yes?”
I said, “Don, you’re an asshole!”

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.

Then I came up with an idea. I called asshole 1.
He said, “Hello.”
I said, “You’re an asshole!” (But I didn’'t hang up.)
He asked, “Are you still there?”
I said, “Yeah,”
He screamed, “Stop calling me,”
I said, “Make me,”
He asked, “Who are you?”
I said, “My name is Don Hansen.”
He said, “Yeah? Where do you live?”

I said, “Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, a yellow rambler, I have a black Beamer parked in front.”
He said, “I’m coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.”
I said, “Yeah, like I’'m really scared, asshole,” and hung up.
Then I called Asshole no. 2.
He said, “Hello?”
I said, “Hello, asshole,”
He yelled, “If I ever find out who you are…”
I said, “You’ll what?”
He exclaimed, “I’ll kick your ass,” I answered, “Well, asshole, here’‘s your chance. I’'m coming over right now.”

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd. in Fairfax. I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better. Anger management really does work!