Today's jokes [12.14.11]
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A new American ambassador was being entertained by an African diplomat.
They'd spent the day discussing what the country had received from the
Russians before the new government kicked them out. "The Russians built
us a power plant, a highway, and an airport. Plus, we learned to drink
vodka and play Russian roulette."
The American frowned. "Russian roulette's not a very nice game." The
diplomat smiled. "That's why we developed African roulette. If you
want to have good relations with our country, you'll have to play.
"I'll show you how."
He pushed a buzzer, and a moment later, six magnificently built, nude
women were ushered in. "You can choose any one of those women to give
you oral sex," he told the American.
"That's great," the ambassador said, "but it doesn't seem much like
"Oh, it is. One of them is a cannibal."
Two Irishmen are sitting in a bar. Mick's looking particularly sad
and Patrick asks him what the matter is. mick says, "well, I knew that
my grandfather had died in the war, but I've just found out that he
actually died in the auschwitz concentration camp."
Patrick says, "that's terrible, did he go to the gas chamber?" and Mick
replies, "no, he fell out of the machine gun tower."
Three nuns went to a cucumber stand in an open market one day.
They asked how much the cucumbers were. The merchant said that
they were 4 for a dollar. The nuns said okay.
The puzzled merchant asked why they needed four cucumbers when
there were only three of them.
A nun answered back, "Well, we could alway eat one."
Calling in Sick....
A Cat Owner's Story Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable
because no matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss
thinks I am lying. On one occasion, I had a valid reason but lied
anyway because the truth was too humiliating to reveal. I simply
mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel
up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to
explain the bandage on my crown. In this case, the truth hurt. I mean
it really hurt in the place men feel the most pain. The accident
occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute
little kitty. As the daily routine prescribes, I was taking my shower
after breakfast when I heard my wife call out to me from the kitchen.
"Ed!" she hearkened. "The garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it."
"You know where the button is." I protested through the shower
(pitter-patter). "Reset it yourself!" "I am scared!" She pleaded.
"What if it starts going and sucks me in?" Pause. "C'mon, it'll only
take a second." No logical assurance about how a disposal can't start
itself will calm the fears of a person who suffers from
"Big-ol-scary-machinephobia," a condition brought on by watching too
many Stephen King movies. It is futile to argue or explain, kind of
like Lloyd Bentsen telling Americans they are over-taxed. And if a
poltergeist did, in fact, possess the disposal, and she was ground
into round, I'd have to live with that the rest of my life. So out I
came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about
how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence but it was I who
would suffer. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find
the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck
without warning. Nay, it wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its
gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the
dangling objects she spied between my legs. She ("Buttons" aka "the
Grater") had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took
the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most
vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged
them with her needle-like claws. Now when men feel pain or even sense
danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all
rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively,
their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising
upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well-trained monk
could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a
kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step procedure. Wild
animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome; men, in
this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. Fleeing straight
up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a
dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never
made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the
impact knocked me out cold. When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics
stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics
snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their
hysterical laughter. My wife told me I should be flattered. At the
office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept
silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. "What's the matter, cat
got your tongue?" If they had only known.
Late one night at the insane asylum one inmate shouted,
"I am Napoleon!"
Another one said, "How do you know?"
The first inmate said, "God told me!"
Just then, a voice from another room shouted, "I did not!"
PS. Congratulations on winning the World Series of Poker Main Event.
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