Poll

Jokes: the lobster blush. why

the communism.
9 (6.6%)
the shelfish.
7 (5.1%)
the see wead.
7 (5.1%)
he was gay.
8 (5.9%)
105 (77.2%)

Total Members Voted: 136

Author Topic: why don't australians just leave their island  (Read 7338 times)

Don't joke about the Emus. We've had serious problems with them.

Dem cassowaries though

why don't scots just leave the planet

Why can't the planet just leave the solar system



Cassowaries are pussies.
If I understand what it is you've been saying in this topic, and in general, that means Cassowaries are marmite, which makes them beer, which makes them piss, yes?

Why can't the planet just leave the solar system
Why can't the solar system just leave the galaxy

SHHHHHHHHH
no
I demand to know what you are doing in australia

Cassowaries are pussies.
If only they actually did this
Quote
Twilight falls on northeastern Australia. Beer in hand and with the warm glow of the campfire illuminating the surrounding foliage, you spot a dart of blue through the green and hear a low-pitched boom—too deep to be a bird, too high to be thunder.

Curious and a bit tipsy, you venture forth to explore. Meeting you eye-to-eye is a 6-foot-tall, 129-pound bird. Your eyes quickly scan the beast but miss the 5-inch dagger-like claw on its middle toe. The bird looks tame, but it has repeatedly been fed by people and is now expecting the same from you.

You know not to feed the wildlife, but you toss a beer can its way. When the bird doesn't move, you move forward and make a fake charge for the (drunken) hell of it. The creature roosters its head and you think it’s finally going for the brew. But instead it lunges toward you. Suddenly, you're one of the 221 recorded victims of a cassowary attack. You laugh and turn to run, thinking the modern-day velociraptor will be easily distanced. You’re wrong. The cassowary tops out at 31 mph and easily keeps pace with your drunken amble.

The bird kicks and you stumble across a log. In a flash, it leaps nearly five feet into the air, landing beside your neck. You cover your face in fear as the cassowary nears. With one powerful kick, it opens a half-inch gash, nicking your carotid artery.

Hearing your screams, a nearby camper comes to your aid, shooing off the bird. Within seconds of his arrival and eight minutes after the gash was formed, you slip into unconsciousness. The camper tries to staunch the flow of blood, but it’s no use. You're the second person since 1926 to die by cassowary.