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At an Irish wedding reception someone yelled...

Would all the married men, please stand next to the
one person who has made your life worth living."

The bartender was almost crushed to death.

The Blonde Gambler...

A beautiful Swedish blonde walks into a Vegas casino and goes straight to the roulette table. She smiles to the two dealers and bets $20,000 on one spin.

"I hope you don't mind," she says in a dreamy voice, "but I feel much luckier naked..." and she peeled off all her clothes, staying completely naked. "Come on, baby, mommy needs a new set of clothes!"

The roulette wheel stops on 13. "I won I WON!!!" Shouts the blonde and jumps in the air in excitement

She collects the winnings and her clothes, hugs the dealers and disappears.

The two dealers looked at each other in shock, until one of them pulled himself together and ask: "Did she bet on 13?"

"I don't know," said the other dealer. "I thought you were looking..."

Conclusions:

1. Not every gamble relies on luck.

2. Not all blondes are stupid.

3. But men - are always MEN!

this is one of my all-time favorites:

two brothers 8 and 10 decide one night they're old enough to start cussing. they come to the wise and mature decision that they need to start slow and work the words into their vocabulary. the younger brother decides that the next morning he'll start using "damn" and the older brother decides to start using "ass."

the next morning, the brothers go to the kitchen for breakfast and their mom asks the younger one, "what would you like for breakfast?"

the boy proudly announces, "i'll have some of those damn pancakes."

the mother is livid. her precious little angel is sitting there talking like a sailor. she whisks him away to the other room, spanks him, and sends him up to his room.

the frustrated mom walks back into the kitchen shaking her head, she says to the older brother, "so, what would you like for breakfast?"

"i don't know", says the older brother, "but you can bet your ass it won't be pancakes."

-M

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A guy is looking for a place to sit in a crowded university library. He asked a girl in the library: "Do you mind if I sit beside you?"

The girl replied in a loud voice: "NO, I DON'T WANT TO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH YOU!"

All the students in the library started staring at the guy; he was truly embarrassed and moved to another table.

After a couple of minutes, the girl walked quietly to the guy's table and said with a laugh: "I study psychology, and I know what a man is thinking. I guess you felt embarrassed, right?"

The guy then responded in a loud voice: "$500.00 FOR ONE NIGHT? THAT'S ROBBERY!!!"

All the people in the library looked at the girl in shock. The guy then whispered in her ear: "I study law: I know how to screw people."

So . . . There was a big construction project going on almost right next door to a convent. The Mother Superior thought it would be a good idea to call a little meeting with all of the innocent novices under her care to warn them about things that might be offensive to their sensibilities.

"Sisters," she said, "I'm sure that you've noticed the construction project going on next door. I simply want to take a moment to remind you of the fact that while the men working on the project are generally good, honest and hard-working, they can be a bit rough around the edges and a bit . . . crude. They believe in calling a spade a spade."

One novice raised her hand: "No they don't, Mother Superior . . . they call it a 'f**king shovel'."

A duck walks into a bar and orders a glass of beer and a ham sandwich. The bartender looks at him and says, "Whoa! Hold up! You're a duck."

"I see your eyes are working," replies the duck.

"And you can talk!" exclaims the bartender.

"I see your ears are working, too," says the duck. "Now if you don't mind, can I have my beer and sandwich, please?"

"Certainly, sorry about that," says the bartender as he hands the duck his beer. "It's just we don"t get many ducks in this place. What are you doing out this way?"

"I'm working on the building site across the road," explains the duck. "I'm a sheetrocker."

The flabbergasted barkeep can't believe the duck and wants to learn more, but takes the hint when the duck pulls out a newspaper from his bag and proceeds to read it. So the duck reads his paper, drinks his beer, eats his sandwich, bids the bartender good day and leaves.

The same thing happens every day for two weeks.

Then one day the circus comes to town.

The ringmaster comes into the bar for a pint and the bartender says to him. "You're with the circus, aren't you? Well, I know this duck that could be just brilliant in your circus. He talks, drinks beer, eats sandwiches, reads the newspaper and everything!"

"Sounds marvelous," says the ringmaster, handing over his business card. "Get him to give me a call."

So the next day when the duck comes into the bar the bartender says, "Hey, Mr Duck, I think I can line you up with a top job, paying really good money."

"I'm always looking for the next job," says the duck. "Where is it?"

"At the circus," says the bartender.

"The circus?" repeats the duck.

"That's right," replies the bartender.

"The circus?" the duck asks again. "That place with the big tent?"

"Yeah . . " replies the bartender.

"With all the animals who live in cages and performers who live in trailers?" says the duck.

"Of course," the bartender replies.

"And the tent has canvas sides and a big canvas roof with a hole in the middle?" persists the duck.

"That's right!" says the barkeep. "You've got it!"

The duck shakes his head in amazement and says,

"What the f**k would they want with a sheetrocker?"

this is one of my all-time favorites:

two brothers 8 and 10 decide one night they're old enough to start cussing. they come to the wise and mature decision that they need to start slow and work the words into their vocabulary. the younger brother decides that the next morning he'll start using "damn" and the older brother decides to start using "ass."

the next morning, the brothers go to the kitchen for breakfast and their mom asks the younger one, "what would you like for breakfast?"

the boy proudly announces, "i'll have some of those damn pancakes."

the mother is livid. her precious little angel is sitting there talking like a sailor. she whisks him away to the other room, spanks him, and sends him up to his room.

the frustrated mom walks back into the kitchen shaking her head, she says to the older brother, "so, what would you like for breakfast?"

"i don't know", says the older brother, "but you can bet your ass it won't be pancakes."

-M
I posted that first!!!!! ;)

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. . . and pretty much why I consider Tom Bergeron to be the Mort Sahl of The New Millennium . . .
(if not the next Lenny Bruce or Eddie Murphy)

So . . . From Back in The DayZ Before Helicopter Soccer MomZ . . .

A Mom, kindasorta tired of the incessant ramblings of her own little nine year old son,
suggested that he visit the construction site just down the block.

"Go over there. You might accidentally learn something," she said.
"Yet be careful, stay out of the way, and don't get hurt."

That evening, at dinner, Mom asked him if he had learned anything.

"Yeah," replied the lad: "The carpenters taught me to say 'Move it over a c*nt hair."

"I'll not have that sort of language in MY house," responded the Mom.
"Go and get me a switch."

The Lad responded: "So . . . What do I look like? A F**kin' Electrician?"

[personal note: I think they may have been Jewish Irish Italian Union Members.
But I didn't invent the joke. even if it is slightly "granny-slappin'" . . . so to speak.]

[an' ye' 'ave t' admit . . . sorta "Granny-Slappin' in the background . . .
donchee? =)

A kindergarten teacher was walking around observing her classroom of children while they were drawing pictures. As she got to one girl who was working diligently, she asked what the drawing was.
The girl replied, "I'm drawing God."
The teacher paused and said, "But no one knows what God looks like."
Without looking up from her drawing, the girl replied, "They will in a minute."

It was very early spring and a teacher in an old country schoolhouse was warning her pupils about the dangers of getting out on any ponds that were still frozen over.

"When I was a little girl, about this time of year, one of my classmates got a pair of skates for his birthday. He went down to a nearby pond, put on his skates and got out on the ice. But it was too thin and he fell through and drowned," she said.

The classroom was silent until little Billy, in the back row, raised his hand.

"Yes, Billy . . ?" said the teacher.

"Where's his skates?"

Two country kids, Clem and Oswald, had a pet. It was one of those four-legged animals that looked a lot like a horse with long ears and it made sort of a "hee-haw" sound.

One day, as they were riding down the road, the animal keeled over and died. They decided that there was nothing to do but dig a hole and bury it. Fortunately, they always had a couple of shovels handy. As they were digging the hole, they started arguing over what they were going to write on the marker. Clem was insisting that it should be "Donkey" and Oswald said that the word "Mule" should appear.

During the course of their digging and arguing, Pastor Brown came strolling down the road.

"Let's ask Pastor Brown," said one of the boys. "He knows a lot of stuff."

"Pastor Brown, is this a donkey or a mule?" asked Oswald.

The pastor looked at the dead animal by the side of the road and said, "Son . . . According to The Good Book, that there is an ass." He bade them farewell and walked off into the distance. Satisfied with the answer, the lads returned to their labors.

A few minutes later, Farmer Bill came upon the scene riding in his wagon.

"Say, Boys . . . Whatcha doin'? Are ya' diggin' a foxhole?" he inquired.

"Not according to Pastor Brown," replied Clem.

I posted that first!!!!! :wink:
well then you have good taste in jokes! -M

So a priest and a rabbi lived next door to each other. At some point they decided that they needed some automotive transportation and agreed to go in together to buy a car that they could share. They parked it on the street between their two houses.

One morning, the rabbi looked out his window and saw the priest walking around the car with a little container of water. He was flipping some of the water on the car, blessing it.

Not to be outdone, the rabbi went out and clipped an inch off of the tailpipe.

True Story...

Back in my Air Force days, I dated a young lady that lived in a very small town just outside of Edwards AFB in California. Kathy, had 3 sisters, all younger than her. Her dad was the kind of fella that always liked to joke around and have a lil fun picking on the girls. Mrs. Walker, the mom, was the kindest and most gentle woman you could ever know. And lawdy, could she cook! Mrs. Walker also had three Calico Persian Cats that she always entered in those prettiest cat contests they had all over Southern California. She even won a few ribbons. The Walker's youngest daughter, Theresa, had some emotional and other problems, and she was known to do some rather odd things from time to time. I think she was 8 or 9 years old.

Well, this one Thanksgiving, the Walker's invited me over for dinner and said I could bring a couple friends from the barracks. Mr. Walker was an Air Force Retiree and worked out at the base. So, me and my buddies headed out to the Walker's for Thanksgiving dinner and a little football on the TV. Mrs. Walker prepared a fantastic holiday feast and we all had more than our share of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, home grown green beans, yams, etc. After the meal, we all went into the den to watch a little football. The two youngest girls went outside. About an hour or so later, Mrs. Walker asked if we were ready for some homemade pumpkin pie? She excused herself, saying she had to go out to the garage to get the whip cream from the freezer. It wasn't even a minute later, when we heard this blood curdling scream coming from the garage. We all ran out to the garage, and there was Mrs. Walker just hysterical, crying and wailing...holding one of her cats in her hands. She pointed to the freezer...and there were her other two cats. According to Theresa's older sister, Theresa thought it would be fun to put the cats in the freezer.

Mr. Walker took the cat from his wife and noted that it wasn't breathing. One of my friends and I got the other two cats out of the freezer and told Mr. Walker that both appeared to be alive but were having a difficult time breathing. Mrs. Walker was beside herself, and being the kind of mother that she was, wouldn't let herself get angry or scold her youngest daughter.

We all went back into the house and Mr. Walker called their Vet. The Vet said to get some towels and start rubbing them down. It was obvious that one had expired, the one Mrs. Walker had been holding in the garage. Kathy and her mom were holding that cat. Of course, Theresa was very upset and crying. She just didn't know any better and didn't mean them any harm.

After about 15 minutes of rubbing these cats down it looked like one was going to make it. But the other one was still having a hard time of it and had gone into convulsions.

So, Mr. Walker called the Vet back and gave him an update. The Vet told Mr. Walker to get some gasoline and force a teaspoon of gas down the throat of the cat that was still having problems. One of my friends went out to the garage and took some gas from the lawnmower, came back inside and handed it to Mr. Walker. As I held the cat, Mr. Walker filled an eyedropper with some of the gasoline and forced down the cat's throat. Not 10-15 seconds later, that doggone cat shot straight up out of my lap, ran around the living room, knocked down a lap from an end table, circled around about a dozen times, in and out between everyone's legs, then just fell over almost right in the middle of the floor, as stiff as a board...and died.
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Poor thing...it ran out of gas.

At the last kitty's funeral, did they play some rolling stones?




jumping cat flashed on some gas, gas, gas.

(while feeling very, very bad at the expense of metaphorically mistreated animals . . .
somehow I was reminded of something like this . . .

"I Can't Get No . . . Satiscatshun . . ."
"I See a Cat Door and I want it painted black . . .]
"Have You Seen Your Kitty, Baby, Standin' in the Shadows?"

(I might note here--for the sake of perspective, based upon actual experience, in the real world, regarding jokes about perceived "cruelty to animals"--that I once (at the tender age of about 23, decades ago) mildly got up in a guy's face for showing off his little pistol by shooting some stray kittens in the parking lot of a bar. I said, "That's about the sorriest thing I ever saw, Jerry." (I don't "love" cats, but I don't hate them either.) In his "speed" induced state of ecstasy he put the same gun to my head in return for my remark regarding his behavior. I actually said, "Whatever. Pull the trigger, MotherFu*ker." He considered his future and didn't do the wrong thing. Hope that didn't bring down the room. The way I look at it, it was a blessing in disguise for the both of us.)

Now that all that is out of the way . . .
On to prepping dinner tonight: It involves one of the finer portions of a pig.
If cooked correctly.

Speaking of "Life in The Food Chain" . . .
This has always been one of my favorite jokes:

So a Traveling Salesman/rip-off artist/conman stops by a farmhouse and knocks on the door.
He is there to "Recharge the Lightning Rods" that he noticed were adorning the roofline of the structure.

While he is enjoying the shade provided by the rustic, non-ostentatious, front porch (while waiting for someone to answer his knock on the door) he notices a three-legged pig rooting around in the front yard and that strikes him as curious.

Finally The Farmer comes to the door.

"Howdy, Stranger," he says to the salesman.

"I'm here to convince you of the value of having your lighting rods recharged . . . But before we get all into that, I notice that you have a three-legged pig, out there, in your front yard . . ." the traveler responds.

"Oh, yeah. That's Bessie. We call her Bessie . . . which is really a more fittin' name fer a cow . . . on account o' she's like the Lassie o' pigs."

"What do you mean?" asked the Lighting Rod Recharger.

"Well . . . There was the time when little Julie fell into the pond and almost drowned. Bessie dragged her out, called 911, performed CPR and saved her life."

"Wow. Awesome," said the Traveling Purveyor of Confidence Games.

"An' that ain't all . . ." the Farmer continued: "One time, at night, a fire started in the house and Bessie ran through the place, oinkin' and gruntin' t' raise the roof and a-wakin' us all up to where we could put out the flames before the smoke would'a kilt us all."

"That's Amazing," replied the Bedazzled Youngster on The Porch. "But I still don't understand why the pig has only three legs. Did it get injured in performing one of its feats of valor?"

"Nope," replied the Farmer. "You don't eat a pig . . . like THAT . . . all at once."

[This is an abbreviated version of the joke--prior to the Invention of FaceBook--that my SweetWife told me, face to face, in person, perhaps on our second "date" as we were enjoying some dish, involving noodles or whatever at a semi-elegant restaurant, many years ago . . . I will resist the urge to embellish it needlessly (and confess that it is impossible for me to recapture her nearly perfect imitation of a Southern Accent, as demonstrated by a country/self-described 'Shanty Irish' girl from Minnesota):

So . . .

Two elegant, sort of old (or at least middle-aged), Old School Southern Ladies are sitting on a Veranda (perhaps in Savanna or Somewhere in Mississipi or Alabama or Tennessee, or wherever those Charismatic Aglow Conferences used to take place) overlooking the estate of the Hostess.

They are sipping Authentic, Old School, Mint Juleps (or tea for the more proper).

The Hostess says (to her guest): "See this here diamond ring on mah finger? Mah husband gave it to me in honor of the birth of our first child."

Her Guest Repies: "Mah (trans.: 'My') . . . Mah . . . How Nice."

The Hostess says: "And this here addition to the house, that is, the veranda upon which we are sitting, today, was built in honor of the birth of our second child."

Her Guest Replies: "Mah . . . Mah . . . How Nice."

The Hostess says: "Do you see that there Mercedes in the Driveway? Mah husband gave that to me in honor of the birth of our third child . . .

Her Guest Replies: "Mah . . . Mah . . . How Nice."

"So . . . What did YOUR husband give you in honor of the birth of your only child . . ?" (the hostess inquires).

Her Guest Replies: "He sent me to Charm School."

"'Charm School'?"

"Yes . . . Charm School. Before that I used to say 'Fu*k You. Now I say: Mah, Mah . . . How nice."

[Note: I actually spewed noodles through my nose when she--that is, my then fiancé--delivered that punchline at the table in a fine dining establishment. (I already knew I loved her . . . The shock of realizing she had a non-stuffy sense of humor sealed the deal.)]

I think James Garner could have done a passable--totally believable--version of either or any or all of the preceding jokes.
Dude was a communicator. In the best sense of the term. Plus with an Oklahoma Connection for those who don't forget. =)