10. The monitor is up on blocks.
9. Outgoing faxes have tobacco stains on them.
8. The six front keys have rotted out.
7. The extra RAM slots have Dodge truck parts stored in them.
6. The numeric keypad only goes up to six.
5. The password is “Bubba”.
4. There’s a gun rack mounted on the CPU.
3. There’s a Skoal can in the CD-ROM drive.
2. The keyboard is camouflaged.

AND the number 1 way to tell if a Redneck has been working on a
computer is…

1. The mouse is referred to as a “critter”.

Satan takes Bill to a huge lake of fire in which millions of poor souls are tormented and tortured. He then takes him to a massive coliseum where thousands of people are chased about and devoured by starving lions.

Finally, he takes Bill to a tiny room in which there is a Beautiful young blonde with an alluring look on her face, sitting at a table on which there is a bottle of the finest wine. To Bill’s delight, he sees a PC in the corner. Without hesitation, Bill says, “I’ll take this option.”

“Fine,” says Satan, allowing Bill to enter the room. Satan locks the room after Bill. As he turns around, he bumps into Lucifer.

“That was Bill Gates!” cried Lucifer. “Why did you give him the best place of all!”

“That’s what everyone thinks,” snickered Satan. “The bottle has a hole in it and the girl hasn’t…”

“What about the PC?”

“It’s got Windows 95!” laughed Satan. “And it’s missing three keys.”

“Which three?”

“Control, Alt and Delete.”

He went there, lay on the couch, spilled his guts then waited for the profound wisdom of the psychiatrist to make him feel better.

The psychiatrist asked me a few questions, took some notes then sat thinking in silence for a few minutes with a puzzled look on his face.

Suddenly, he looked up with an expression of delight and said, “Um, I think your problem is low self-esteem. It is very common among losers.”

Speaking specifically about manic depression, she asked, “How would you diagnose a patient who walks back and forth screaming at the top of his lungs one minute, then sits in a chair weeping uncontrollably the next?”

A young man in the rear raised his hand and answered, “A basketball coach?”

“What’s the problem?” the docotor inquired.

“Well, I’m 35 years old and I still have no luck with the ladies. No matter how hard I try, I just seem to scare them away.”

“My friend, this is not a serious problem. You just need to work on your self-esteem. Each morning, I want you to get up and run to the bathroom mirror. Tell yourself that you are a good person, a fun person, and an attractive person. But say it with real conviction. Within a week you’ll have women buzzing all around you.”

The man seemed content with this advice and walked out of the office a bit excited. Three weeks later he returned with the same downtrodden expression on his face.

“Did my advice not work?” asked the doctor.

“It worked alright. For the past several weeks I’ve enjoyed some of the best moments in my life with the most fabulous looking women.”

“So, what’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” the man replied. “My wife does.”

“Sadness,” said the student.

And the opposite of depression?” he asked of the young lady from Oklahoma.

“Elation,” said she.

“And you sir,” he said to the young man from Texas, “how about the opposite of woe?”

The Texan replied, “Sir, I believe that would be giddy-up.”

“Just put yourself in my hands for two years,” said the shrink. “Come to me three times a week, and I’ll cure your fears.”

“How much do you charge?”

“A hundred dollars per visit.”

“I’ll sleep on it,” said Shakey.

Six months later the doctor met Shakey on the street. “Why didn’t you ever

come to see me again?” asked the psychiatrist.

“For a hundred buck’s a visit? A bartender cured me for ten dollars.”

“Is that so! How?”

“He told me to cut the legs off the bed!”

Then one said, “Since we are all professionals, why don’t we take some time right now to hear each other out?”

The other three agreed.

The first then confessed, “I have an uncontrollable desire to kill my patients.”

The second psychiatrist said, “I love expensive things and so I find ways to cheat my patients out of their money whenever I can so I can buy the things I want.”

The third followed with, “I’m involved with selling drugs and often get my patients to sell them for me.”

The fourth psychiatrist then confessed, “I know I’m not supposed to, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep a secret…”