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A guy walks into the local welfare office, marches straight up to the counter and says, “Hi… You know, I just HATE drawing welfare. I’d really rather have a job.”
The social worker behind the counter says, “Your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a chauffeur and bodyguard for his beautiful nymphomaniac daughter. You’ll have to drive around in his Mercedes, but he’ll supply all of your clothes. Because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You’ll be expected to еsсоrт her on her overseas holiday trips. You will have to satisfy her sеxuаl urges. You’ll be provided a two-bedroom apartment above the garage. The starting salary is $200,000 a year.”
The guy, wide-eyed, says, “You’re bullsh1ttin’ me!”
The social worker says, “Yeah, well… you started it.”
Continuing the current trend of large-scale mergers and acquisitions, it was announced today at a press conference that Christmas and Hanukkah will merge. An industry source said that the deal had been in the works for about 1300 years.
While details were not available at press time, it is believed that the overhead cost of having twelve days of Christmas and eight days of Hanukkah was becoming prohibitive for both sides. By combining forces, we’re told, the world will be able to enjoy consistently high-quality service during the Fifteen Days of Christmukah, as the new holiday will be called.
Massive layoffs are expected, with lords a-leaping and maids a-milking being the hardest hit. As part of the conditions of the agreement, the letters on the dreydl, currently in Hebrew, will be replaced by Latin, thus becoming unintelligible to a wider audience.
Also, instead of translating to “A great miracle happened there,” the message on the dreydl will be the more generic “Miraculous stuff happens.” In exchange, it is believed that Jews will be allowed to use Santa Claus and his vast merchandising resources for buying and delivering their gifts.
One of the sticking points holding up the agreement for at least three hundred years was the question of whether Jewish children could leave milk and cookies for Santa even after having eaten meat for dinner. A breakthrough came last year, when Oreos were finally declared to be Kosher. All sides appeared happy about this.
At the press conference close, all attendees joined hands and sang a rousing rendition of “Oy Vey, All Ye Faithful.”
A police motorcycle cop stops a driver for running a red light. The guy is a real jеrк and comes running back to the officer demanding to know why he is being harassed by the Gestapo!
So the officer calmly tells him of the red light violation.
The motorist instantly goes on a tirade, questioning the officer’s ancestry, sеxuаl orientation, etc., in rather explicit terms. The tirade goes on without the officer saying anything.
When he gets done with writing the ticket he puts an “AH” in the lower right corner of the narrative portion of the ticket. He then hands it to the ‘violator’ for his signature.
The guy signs the ticket angrily, and when presented with his copy points to the “AH” and demands to know what it stands for.
The officer says, “That’s so when we go to court, I’ll remember that you’re an аsshоlе!”
Two months later they’re in court. The ‘violator’ has such a bad driving record he is about to lose his license and has hired a lawyer to represent him. On the stand the officer testifies to seeing the man run the red light.
Under cross examination the defense attorney asks;”Officer is this a reasonable facsimile of the ticket you issued my client?”
Officer responds, “Yes, sir, that is the defendant’s copy, his signature and mine, same number at the top.”
Lawyer:
“Officer, is there any particular marking or notation on this ticket you don’t normally make?”
“Yes, sir, in the lower right corner of the narrative there is an “AH,” underlined.”
“What does the “AH” stand for, officer?”
“Aggressive and hostile, Sir.”
“Aggressive and hostile?”
“Yes, Sir?
“Officer, are you sure it doesn’t stand for Аsshоlе?”
“Well, sir, you know your client better than I do!”
Due to budget constraints, the Board of the Daily Planet advised Perry White that he had to let one of his star reporters go. He was really overwhelmed about the magnitude of the decision. "Who should go, Clark or Lois?"
He actually did some praying, which he hadn't done for a long time. He asked,
"Please. Show me a sign." That afternoon he was doing some shopping at Walmart, and when he went to his car he suddenly saw the answer.
The next day he called Clark and Lois into the office and said,
"I'm sorry, Lois, but you have to go." After Lois collected her things and left, Clark took Perry aside and asked,
"Chief - how did you know which one of us should go?"
Perry said,
"Well, that turned out to be easier than I thought. While I was parking at Walmart, I looked up and there was the sign: FIRE LANE."
Eric is looking for a new desk for his office and he spots one that looks perfect in an antique shop window. He goes inside and asks the shopkeeper how much it is.
“That desk is going for £2000,” says the shopkeeper.
“$2000 for an old desk? That’s outrageous!” exclaims Eric.
“Ah,” says the shopkeeper, “but this is a magic desk.” He turns to the desk and asks, “Desk, how much money do I have in my pocket?”
The desk taps one of its legs on the floor four times. The shopkeeper turns out his pocket and, sure enough, there are four pound coins there.
“Wow, that’s pretty cool,” says Eric. “Alright, desk, how much money does my wife have in her bank account?”
At this, the desk goes wild, manically ваnging all four of its legs up and down repeatedly for over five minutes non-stop.
“Dамn, where did she get all that from?” asks Eric.
The desk’s legs slide apart and its drawers fall down.
A woman went down to the Welfare Office to get aid.
The office worker asked her, “How many children do you have?”
“Ten,” she replied.
“What are their names?” he asked.
“David, David, David, David, David, David, David, David, David and David,” she answered.
“They’re all named David?” he asked “What if you want them to come in from playing outside?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “I just call ‘David,’ and they all come running in.”
“And, if you want them to come to the table for dinner?”
“I just say, ‘David, come eat your dinner’,” she answered.
“But what if you just want ONE of them to do something?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “I just use their last name!”
Our teacher asked what my favorite animal was, and I said,
"Fried chicken."
She said I wasn't funny, but she couldn't have been right, because everyone else laughed. My parents told me to always tell the truth. I did. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA. He said they love animals very much. I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef.
Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal's office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.
The next day in class, my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was. I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, so I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken. She sent me back to the principal's office. He laughed, and told me not to do it again.
I don't understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn't like it when I am. Today, my teacher asked me to tell her what famous person I admired most.
I told her, "Colonel Sanders."
Guess where I am now ...
There was a kid who wouldn't learn the letters of the alphabet, so his teacher said 'go home, and learn the letters!' He went home and asked his sister
"What's the first letter?"
She said "Shut up!"
Then he asked "what's the second letter?"
She was singing along with the radio, so she said "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
Then he went to see his dad, who was watching football, and said "What's the third letter?"
His dad said "Go! Go! Go!"
"What's the fourth letter?"
"64! 64! 64!" Then he went to see his brother, who was watching TV, and said "What's the sixth letter?"
His brother ignored him while watching TV and said "na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na BATMAN!"
The next day the teacher said. "Okay, what's the first letter?"
"Shut up!"
"Are you trying to get in trouble?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
"Do you want to go to the principal's office?"
"Go! Go! Go!"
"How many spankings do you want?
"64! 64! 64!"
"Who do you think you are?"
"Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na BATMAN!"
Something for you under 45’s to look forward to: …
Here’s how bad it can get… …
When I turned 55, along with my geezer discount for auto insurance and my free intro membership to AARP, my doctor suggested a range of medical tests. One of these was the inspection for polyps. I made an appointment for 8 am on a Monday morning. …
…
I turned up on time, leaving behind in my bathroom, a stack of empty Fleet bottles. (You over-50’s know what I mean.) The doc looked at me blankly and said, “Why are we here?” and I told him. “A colonoscopy.” …
…
He said, “Oh, Chr!st, I knew there was a reason I didn’t want to come into work today.”
The instrument is a long black hose about 1/2″ in diameter, a black box and a video monitor. A little Vaaseline, and in she goes. On the monitor, it looked like a pink subway tunnel; thankfully, clean as a whistle. Then the doc “pumped me up with air,” and I felt like a mylar party balloon. The tunnel on the screen gets really wide, and then we start to move again. After a few minutes, doc gets excited and says, “Wow! Sixty centimeters!” I know that means about two feet. I can feel this little parasite crawling around under my liver. Ultimately, he pronounces that I will not die soon, not of воwеl cancer anyway, and starts to withdraw Mr. Вuтт-cam.
Ten minutes later, I am waiting in the lobby for the elevator. I slowly realize that all that air that was pumped into me is preparing for its escape. The elevator shows up. There are ten or twelve people on it. … I get on. … The elevator is hot and crowded and I am squeezed between two heavy folk. The air begins to escape, not at all quietly.
People are trying to find an unoccupied corner of the elevator to escape the symphony from my bun tuba. … Panic is close. … There is no smell, since it was only air, but the noise more than makes up for it. One woman seems about to vомiт.
It took more than six hours, (in “subjective time units,”) to reach the ground floor. The door opens and the disgusted mob in the elevator flees with undignified haste. I walk from the elevator and hear a child behind me say, “Boy, did that man ever fаrт!”
“Shush, honey, he was just here to see the doctor about it. Don’t make fun of him. He’s sick.”
The rest of the way home, I am treated to a sphincterhorn concerto in the privacy of my own car. Key of G♭.
Be warned, those of you in your late 40’s. Someday you too will face the same embarrassment.