A tourist wanders into a back-alley antique shop in San
 Francisco's Chinatown.  Picking through the objects on display he
 discovers a detailed bronze sculpture of a rat.  The sculpture is
 so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop
 owner the price.
 
 "Twelve dollars for the rat, sir," says the shop owner, "and an
 extra thousand for the story behind it."
 
 "At that price, you can keep the story, old man," he replies,
 "but I'll take the bronze rat."
 
 The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the
 bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of
 the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into
 step behind him.
 
 Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster,
 but every time he passes another sewer, more rats come out and
 follow him.  By the time he's walked two blocks, at least a
 hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and
 shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as
 multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and
 abandoned cars... following him.
 
 Rats by the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the
 waterfront at the bottom of the hill he panics and starts to run
 full tilt.
 
 No matter how fast he runs, the  rats keep up, squealing
 hideously now not just thousands but  millions, so that by the
 time he comes racing to the water's edge a trail of  rats twelve
 blocks long is behind him.
 
 Making a mighty leap, he  jumps up onto a lamp post, grasping it
 with one arm,  while he hurls the bronze rat into San Francisco
 Bay as far as he can throw  it.
 
 Pulling his legs up and clinging to the post, he watches in
 amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater
 into the sea, where they drown.
 
 Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.
 
 "Ah sir, you've come back for the story,"  says the owner.
 
 "No," says the tourist,  "I was just hoping you had a bronze
 sculpture of a lawyer "

"My girl, Ginger, is going to die of syphilis," mumbles an angry
biker to one of his buddies. 

"No," says the friend, "people don't die of syphilis anymore." 

The angry biker replies, "They do when they give it to me!"

What's blue and sings alone?

     - Dan Ackroyd. 

Q: What did Jesus do when he got to the Holiday Inn?
A: He threw some nails down on the counter and asked,
   "Can you put me up for the night?"

The aged patient doddered into the doctor's office with a serious complaint.
"Doc, you've got to do something to lower my sex drive."
"Come on now Mr Peters," the doctor said, "your sex drives all in your head."
"Thats what I mean, you've got to lower it a little."