• Hi everyone,

    As you all know, Coffee (Dean) passed away a couple of years ago. I am Dean's ex-wife's husband and happen to have spent my career in tech. Over the years, I occasionally helped Dean with various tech issues.

    When he passed, I worked with his kids to gather the necessary credentials to keep this site running. Since then (and for however long they worked with Coffee), Woodschick and Dirtdame have been maintaining the site and covering the costs. Without their hard work and financial support, CafeHusky would have been lost.

    Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been working to migrate the site to a free cloud compute instance so that Woodschick and Dirtdame no longer have to fund it. At the same time, I’ve updated the site to a current version of XenForo (the discussion software it runs on). The previous version was outdated and no longer supported.

    Unfortunately, the new software version doesn’t support importing the old site’s styles, so for now, you’ll see the XenForo default style. This may change over time.

    Coffee didn’t document the work he did on the site, so I’ve been digging through the old setup to understand how everything was running. There may still be things I’ve missed. One known issue is that email functionality is not yet working on the new site, but I hope to resolve this over time.

    Thanks for your patience and support!

Kellys ongoing goofy thread...

Hello folks, today I want to tell you a tale.
Once upon a time, there was a beauty contest. There were stunning girls showing their amazing looks, but, at a certain moment, a young girl, cuter than the others, got on the stage and started singing a wonderful melody. All the other girls were assembled around her and they didn't know what to say. They just looked at each other in confusion and they learnt how a true princess looks, and sounds, like.
Well, not a long story, but a nice one, I think.
 
From a riding buddy last weekend :lol:

faceplant.gif
 
An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years. Upon her return, her Father cursed her heavily.

'Where have ye been all this time, child? Why did ye not write, not even a line? Why didn't ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old Mother through?'

The girl, crying, replied, Daddy... I became a prostitute.' 'Ye what!? Leave here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You're a disgrace to this Catholic family.'

'OK, Daddy ... as ye wish. I only came back to give mum this fur coat, title to a ten bedroom mansion, plus a 5 million savings certificate. For me little brother, this gold Rolex And for ye Daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that's parked outside plus a membership to the country club .. (takes a breath) ... and an invitation for ye all to spend New Year's Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera.'

'What was it ye said ye had become?' says Dad. Girl, crying again, 'A prostitute, Daddy!.'

'Oh! My Goodness! Ye scared me half to death, girl! I thought ye said a Protestant! Come here and give yer old Dad a hug !!
 
Ahahahahah. I love jokes.
What about this one I heard some days ago?

A man is laying on his bed, feeling very sick, so his wife calls a doctor.
The doctor arrives, barely greets the lady and, after having seen the man, tells her: «Well, since your husband seems to be seriously ill, I have to ask you to leave the room, in order to let me concentrate on him.». So does the lady.
After two minutes, the doctor opens the door and asks the woman if she could lend him a knife. The woman thinks «What is he going to do to my poor husband? Does he want to perform surgery here? With the knife?» But she doesn't want to interfere and wants to let him concentrate, so she just gives him the knife.
Then, after a while, the doctor opens the door again and asks for a hammer! The lady is shocked, but she just gives him the tool.
Some minutes later the doctor wants a saw. Then the woman really panics and asks: «Please, doctor, tell me, is my husband's condition so bad?», The doctor answers «Actually, I don't know... I haven't managed to open my briefcase yet.».
 
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