A poor minister was having trouble managing his church.
The income was pitiful, the plumbing rattled, the roof leaked, the air conditioning didn't work, and the church didn't have the funds for any repairs.
The minister got a brilliant idea.
He bought a book about hypnosis, and read it from cover to cover.
At the next service, he took out a watch and chain, swung it back and forth, and lulled the congregation into a hypnotic trance.
He said, "I want everybody to walk down the aisle and put $20 in the plate."
They did, and he had the church's roof fixed that week.
This worked so well that the next Sunday he decided to do it again.
Taking his watch out, he proclaimed, "I want everybody to come down the aisle and drop $100 in the offering plate."
They did, and he got the air conditioning fixed and the parking lot redone.
His third Sunday, he got to thinking, "I haven't been paid in a long time. I deserve a little money."
He started swinging his watch again, and he thought, "I deserve a lot more than a little bit of money. I deserve enough to go overseas and have a cottage on the beach. I deserve a lot more."
He got so excited about what he was fixing to receive, that his hands started to sweat and as the watch slipped from his grip, he yelled:
"S**t!"
It took him two weeks to air out the church.
The preacher, in his Sunday sermon, used "Forgive Your Enemies" as his subject.
After a long sermon, he asked how many were willing to forgive their enemies.
About half held up their hands.
Not satisfied he harangued for another twenty minutes and repeated his question.
This time he received a response of about 80 percent.
Still unsatisfied, he lectured for another 15 minutes and repeated his question.
With all thoughts now on Sunday dinner, all responded except one elderly lady in the rear.
"Mrs. Jones, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?"
"I don't have any."
"Mrs. Jones, that is very unusual. How old are you?"
"Ninety three."
"Mrs. Jones, please come down in front and tell the congregation how a person can live to be ninety-three, and not have an enemy in the world."
The little sweetheart of a lady tottered down the aisle, very slowly turned around and said:
"It's easy, I just outlived the вiтсhеs."
The priest in a small Irish village loved the rooster and ten hens he kept in the hen house behind the church.
One Sunday morning, before mass, he went to feed the birds and discovered that the соск was missing. He knew about соск fights in the village, so he questioned his parishioners in church. During mass, he asked the congregation, 'Has anybody got a соск?
All the men stood up.
'No, no,' he said, 'that wasn't what I meant. Has anybody seen a соск?'
All the women stood up.
'No, no,' he said, 'that wasn't what I meant. Has anybody seen a соск that doesn' t belong to them?'
Half the women stood up.
'No, no,' he said, 'that wasn't what I meant. Has anybody seen MY соск?'
Sixteen altar boys, two priests and a goat stood up.
The priest fainted.
John O'Reilly hoisted his вееr and said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, between the legs of me wife!"
That won him the top prize at the pub for the best toast of the night!
He went home and told his wife, Mary, "I won the prize for the best toast of the night."
She said, "Aye, did ye now. And what was your toast?"
John said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife."
"Oh, that is very nice indeed, John!" Mary said.
The next day, Mary ran into one of John's drinking buddies on the street corner.
The man chuckled leeringly and said, "John won the prize the other night at the pub with a toast about you, Mary."
She said, "Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised meself.
You know, he's only been there twice in the last four years.
Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come."
The seven dwarves are in Rome and they go on a tour of the city.
After a while they go to the Vatican and meet the Pope. Grumpy, for once, seems to have a lot to say. He keeps asking the Pontiff questions about the church and, in particular, the nuns. "Your Holiness, do you have any really short nuns?" Grumpy asks.
"No, my son, all of our nuns are at least five feet tall," smiles the Pope.
"Are you sure? I mean, you wouldn't have any nuns that are, say, about my height? Maybe a little shorter?"
"I'm afraid not. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," replies Grumpy. "But you're positive? Nobody in a habit that's about three feet tall, maybe two-and-a-half feet tall?"
"I'm sure, my vertically-challenged son," says the Pope, trying not show his curiosity.
"Okay," moans Grumpy.
So the Pope listens to the dwarves as they leave the building. "What'd he say? What'd he say?" chant the other six dwarves.
Grumpy mutters, "He said they don't have any."
And the other six start chanting, "Grumpy fuскеd a реnguin! Grumpy fuскеd a реnguin!"