Archive for December, 2009
A man, whose level of drunkenness was bordering on the absurd, stood up to leave a bar and fell flat on his face.
“Maybe all I need is some fresh air,” thought the man as he crawled outside.
He tried to stand up again, but fell face first into the mud.
“Screw it,” he thought. “I’ll just crawl home.”
The next morning, his wife found him on the doorstep asleep.
“You went out drinking last night, didn’t you?” she said.
“Uh, yes,” he said sheepishly. “How did you know?”
“You left your wheelchair at the bar again.”
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December 31st, 2009
“Sixty is the worst age to be,” said the 60-year-old man. “You always feel like you have to pee and most of the time you stand there and nothing comes out.”
“Ah, that’s nothin,” said the 70-year-old. “When you’re seventy, you don’t have a bowel movement any more. You take laxatives, eat bran, sit on the toilet all day and nothin’ comes out!”
“Actually,” said the 80-year -old, “Eighty is the worst age of all.”
“Do you have trouble peeing, too?” asked the 60-year old.
“No, I pee every morning at 6:00. I pee like a racehorse on a flat rock; no problem at all.”
“So, do you have a problem with your bowel movement?”
“No, I have one every morning at 6:30.”
Exasperated, the 60-year-old said, “You pee every morning at 6:00 and crap every morning at 6:30. So what’s so bad about being 80?”
“I don’t wake up until 7:00.”
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December 30th, 2009
Hazel was a 93-year-old woman, particularly despondent over the death of her husband, Earl.
She decided she would just kill herself and join him in death.
Thinking that it would be best to get it over quickly, she took out Earl’s old Army pistol and
made the decision to shoot herself in the heart, since it was so badly broken in the first place.
Not wanting to miss the vital organ and become a vegetable and burden someone, she called
her doctor’s office to inquire as to just exactly where the heart would be on a woman.
The doctor told her, “Your heart would be just below your left breast.”
Later that night Hazel was admitted to the hospital with a gunshot wound to her left knee.
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December 29th, 2009
It was near the end of basic training and all the soldiers were getting ready for the war.
A private came charging into his Lieutenant’s office and said ” Lieutenant, we don’t have enough rifles. What am I going to use for the war?”
“I don’t have time to deal with this right now” the lieutenant thought.
He grabbed a broom, sawed off the bottom, and handed it to the solder. “Here use this instead.”
“How is this going to work?”
“When you see the bad guys coming at you, just point it at them and say ‘Bangity Bang Bang, Bang Bang’”.
So the private ran out with his new “rifle”. But soon he came running back to the Lieutenant saying “Lieutenant, we don’t have enough bayonets!”
The Lieutenant grabbed a piece of string off of his desk and gave it the private. “When you see the bad guys coming just throw this at them and say ‘Stabity Stab Stab, Stab Stab.’”
So the private was all ready for his war. He was sitting in a fox hole, hating being out there, when he saw an enemy creeping along the top of a nearby hill.
He grabbed his broom, pointed it at the bad guy and said “Bangity Bang Bang, Bang Bang Bangity Bang Bang, Bang Bang” and he fell down dead.
“Wow this really works” thought the private. He started going through the underbrush when another enemy jumped out and try to gut him - he threw his string at him and said, ‘Stabbity Stab Stab, Stab Stab!’. The enemy fell down, dead.
Pretty soon, he saw another guy rampaging through the woods. He pointed his broomstick at him and yelled, ‘Bangity Bang Bang, Bang Bang!’ Nothing, so he did it again, ‘Bangity Bang Bang, Bang Bang!’ The guy was running at him now. He threw the string, Stabbit Stab Stab StabStab!’ The enemy kept running at him and plowed him over, mortally wounding him.
Then he heard the big guy mumbling as he went past him “Tankity Tank Tank Tank Tank Tankity Tank Tank Tank Tank.”
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December 28th, 2009
The Day of Judgement has arrived. Major disasters everywhere: flood, fire, disease.
St. Peter has been at the Gates of Heaven for three straight days, asking the millions of victims some very basic questions.
Jesus comes along and sees that Peter is much too tired to continue.
“Pete, take a break and I’ll do this for a while”.
So Jesus takes over and asks each potential resident their name, occupation, and number of children, where applicable.
After a time, an old, feeble man appears before him.
“Your name sir?” asks Jesus
“I don’t know” replies the man.
“Occupation?”
Again the old man replies that he doesn’t recall.
“Number of children?”
“No clue” says the man.
Somewhat exasperated, Jesus starts anew. “Your name really isn’t that important. However, your occupation is. Please concentrate sir; what did you do for a living, how did you gain your livelihood?”
The old man, lost in thought, slowly starts to piece it together.
“Well,” he says “I can recall working with my hands a lot. In fact, looking at the splinters in my palms, I’d have to say that I was a carpenter.”
“Excellent and honorable occupation sir. Well done! Now for the next step: How many, if any, children did you have?”
Once again the old man furrows his brow and tries desperately to remember.
After a long while he says “I’m almost sure I had one child and since I can’t remember any dresses or dolls, I’m sure the child was a boy.
And one more thing, this boy of mine was ostracized because he had holes in his hands, his feet, and his sides”.
Finally piecing the story together, Jesus jumps to his feet, the ultimate realization of who he has encountered striking him like a bolt of lightning.
With tears in his eyes, he yells “Father!!”
The old man, equally moved, rises and screams “Pinocchio!!”
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December 27th, 2009
A grumpy old man walks into a local First Baptist Church and says to the secretary, “I wanna join this damn church.”
The astonished woman replies, “I beg your pardon, sir. I must have misunderstood you. What did you say?”
“Listen up, dammit. I said I want to join this damn church!”
“I’m very sorry sir, but that kind of language is not tolerated in this church.” The secretary leaves her desk and goes into the pastor’s study to inform him of her situation. The pastor agrees that the secretary does not have to listen to that foul language. They both return to her office and the pastor asks, “Sir, what seems to be the problem here?”
“There IS no damn problem!,” the man says. “Looky here, I just won $200 million bucks in the damn lottery and I want to join this damn church to get rid of some of this damn money.”
“I see,” said the pastor. “And is this bitch giving you a hard time?”
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December 26th, 2009
Way back in the time of the samurai, there was a powerful emperor. This emperor needed a new head samurai. So, he sent out a message to everybody he knew for them to send a message to who they knew, and so forth.
A year passes, and only three people show up: a Japanese samurai, a Chinese samurai, and a Jewish samurai. The emperor asks the Japanese samurai to come in and demonstrate why he should be head samurai. The Japanese samurai opens up a matchbox, and out pops a little fly. WHOOOOOSH. The fly drops dead on the ground in 2 pieces! The emperor says, “That is very impressive!”
Then the emperor asks the Chinese samurai to come in and demonstrate why he should be head samurai. The Chinese samurai opens up a matchbox and out pops a little fly. WHOOOOOOSH. WOOOOOOOSH. The fly drops dead on the ground in 4 pieces! The emperor says, “That is really impressive!”
Then the emperor asks the Jewish samurai to come in and demonstrate why he should be head samurai. The Jewish samurai thinks, “If it works for the other two…” So the Jewish samurai walks in, opens a matchbox, and out pops a little fly. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSHHHH. A gust of wind fills the room, but the fly is still buzzing around. The emperor says in disappointment, “Why is the fly not dead?”
And the Jewish samurai replies, “If you look closely, you’ll see that the fly has been circumcised.”
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December 25th, 2009
There was a man who had had a headache for twenty years and was at the point where he wanted to end his own life, but he decided to go to a specialist first.
No doctor could solve his problem, until finally one of them said “You have a very rare problem, your testicles are pressed up against your spine causing your headache. The only way to remedy it is to remove your testicles.”
The man hesitantly agrees and gets them removed.
On his way home he walks past a taylor shop with a sign saying “ALL SUITS HALF PRICE”
Being in need of a new suit he walks in where a man greets him and says “Hello Sir I see you want a suit, I would say that you are a 34 sleeve and a 24 pant.”
“Wow! How did you know that?” said the man.
“Why Sir I’ve been in this business for 40 years. Would you like shoes to go with that?”
“Sure” says the man. “Okay I’d say that you’re a size 10 wide.”
“Ok, now you’re freaking me out…Thats a great talent” says the man.
“Thanks” replied the shopkeeper, “Now how about some undergarments?”
“Ok see if you can guess my size”, said the man.
“Easy 36″ said the shopkeeper.
“Nope 34″ replied the man.
To which the shopkeeper exclaimed “Impossible a size 34 would skwish your testicles against your spine and you’de get a headache”.
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December 24th, 2009
One sunny day in 2008, an old man approached the White House from across Pennsylvania Avenue, where he’d been sitting on a park bench. He spoke to the Marine standing guard and said, “I would like to go in and meet with President George W. Bush.”
The Marine replied, “Sir, Mr. Bush is no longer President and doesn’t reside here.”
The old man said, “Okay,” and walked away.
The following day, the same man approached the White House and said to the same Marine, “I would like to go in and meet with President George W. Bush”.
The Marine again told the man, “Sir, as I said yesterday, Mr. Bush is no longer President and doesn’t reside here.”
The man thanked him and again walked away . . .
The third day, the same man approached the White House and spoke to the very same Marine, saying “I would like to go in and meet with President George W. Bush.”
The Marine, understandably agitated at this point, looked at the man and said, “Sir, this is the third day in a row you have been here asking to speak to Mr. Bush. I’ve told you already several times that Mr. Bush is not the President anymore and doesn’t reside here. Don’t you understand?”
The old man answered, “Oh, I understand you fine, I just love hearing your answer!”
The Marine snapped to attention, saluted, and said, “See you tomorrow”
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December 23rd, 2009
During the Great Depression, there was a man who walked into a bar one day. He went up to the bartender and said, “Bartender, I’d like to buy the house a round of drinks.”
The bartender said, “That’s fine, but we’re in the middle of the Depression, so I’ll need to see some money first.”
The guy pulled out a huge wad of bills and set them on the bar. The bartender can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Where did you get all that money?” asked the bartender.
“I’m a professional gambler,” replied the man.
The bartender said, “There’s no such thing! I mean, your odds are fifty-fifty at best, right?”
“Well, I only bet on sure things,” said the guy.
“Like what?” asked the bartender.
“Well, for example, I’ll bet you fifty dollars that I can bite my right eye,” he said.
The bartender thought about it. “Okay,” he said.
So, the guy pulled out his false right eye and bit it. “Aw, you screwed me,” said the bartender, and paid the guy his $50.
“I’ll give you another chance. I’ll bet you another fifty dollars that I can bite my left eye,” said the stranger.
The bartender thought again and said, “Well, I know you’re not blind, I mean, I watched you walk in here. I’ll take that bet.” So, the guy pulled out his false teeth and bit his left eye.
“Aw, you screwed me again!” protested the bartender.
“That’s how I win so much money, bartender. I’ll just take a bottle of your best scotch in lieu of the fifty dollars,” said the man.
With that, the guy went to the back room and spent the better part of the night playing cards with some of the locals. After many hours of drinking and card playing, he stumbled up to the bar. Drunk as a skunk, he said, “Bartender, I’ll give you one last chance. I’ll bet you five hundred dollars that I can stand on this bar on one foot and piss into that whiskey bottle on that shelf behind you without spilling a drop.”
The bartender once again pondered the bet. The guy couldn’t even stand up straight on two feet, much less one. “Okay, you’re on,” he said.
The guy climbed up on the bar, stood on one leg, and began pissing all over the place. He hit the bar, the bartender, himself, but not a drop made it into the whiskey bottle.
The bartender was ecstatic. Laughing, the bartender said, “Hey pal, you owe me five hundred dollars!”
The guy climbed down off the bar and said, “That’s okay. I just bet each of the guys in the card room a thousand bucks each that I could piss all over you and the bar and still make you laugh!”
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December 22nd, 2009
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