www.jdunman.com

THIS NAVY VET SUPPORTS OUR TROOPS!!!

This web is my electronic sandbox to test and experiment with ideas. It also serves as a notebook for the enjoyment of my family and friends. My web site contains one or more servers that process and display information in multiple formats. Anyone can view the public sections by logging in using the GUEST account.. However, to get full access to all public sections, create your own user account by completing the online Registration. Please use your AccountID and Password when you logon.

If you'd like to contact the creator, e-mail Jerry @ jdunman.com

Proud to be a U.S. Military Family.

Humor for the hour... (Missed one? View the last 48 wits of humor)
ContentDisplay Untitled Document Tortured metaphors from high school English papers... He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something. Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature British beef. McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup. She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword. The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Joke number 0970

Humor for the hour... (Missed one? View the last 48 wits of humor)

ContentDisplay Untitled Document Tortured metaphors from high school English papers...

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature British beef.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup.

She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.

The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Joke number 0970

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