Jokes

With the Holidays over, I would like to share a personal experience with my friends about drinking and driving.

As you may know some of us have been known to have brushes with the authorities from time to time on the way home after a "social session" out with friends. Well, a few days ago I was out for an evening with friends and had several cocktails; that was followed by some rather nice red wine. Feeling jolly I still had the sense to know that I may have been slightly over the limit.

That's when I did something that I've never done before -- I took a cab home.

Sure enough on the way home there was a police road block, but since it was a cab they waved it past. I arrived home safely without incident.

This was a real surprise as I had never driven a cab before. I don't know where I got it and now that it's in my garage I don't know what the hell to do with it!

I am taking offers.

Sex is like snow. You never know how many inches you're going to get or how long it's going to last!

One day in the confessional ... A young Catholic girl went to confession and said to the priest, “I’m pregnant.”

He asked, “How did this happen, my child?”

She said, “I think it must have been the second coming.”

The priest, shocked by this reply asked, “What makes you think this has anything to do with the Second Coming?

She replied, “Because I swallowed the first one...”

lmfao

While walking down the street one day a Corrupt Senator (that just might be redundant) was tragically hit by a car and died.

He arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

“Welcome to heaven,” says St ... Peter... “Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you...”

“No problem, just let me in,” says the Senator.

“Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from the Big Boss. What He wants to do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.”

“Really? I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven.” Says the Senator.

“I’m sorry, but the Big Boss rarely speaks, but when He does then His will must be done.”

And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course.

In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.

Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.

They played a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and the finest wines and champagne.

Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who is having a good time dancing, back slapping and telling jokes.

They are all having such a good time that before the Senator realizes it, it is time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.

The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens in heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him, “Now it’s time to visit heaven...”

So, 24 hours passed with the Senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

“Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.”

The Senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: “Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.”

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell...

Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage.

He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls to the ground. The black bags and what goes in the top falls right back out of the bottom.

The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t understand,” stammers the Senator. “Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?”

The devil smiles at him and says “Yesterday we were campaigning...” “Today, you see the result of your vote...”

Please vote wisely in your primary election and again in November. YOU will have to live with the consequences. And if you chose to not vote then you will let others make YOUR decision for you. And if you don’t like the results then it’s your own fault.

AROUND AGE 10, my dad got me one of those little badass long bow beginner kits. Of course, the first month I went around our land sticking arrows in anything that could get stuck by an arrow. (Did you know that a 1955 40-horse Farmall tractor will take six rounds before it goes down? Tough SOB.)

That got boring, so being the ten-year-old Dukes of Hazard fan that I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut up T-shirt doused in chainsaw gas tied around the end and was sending flaming arrows all over the place. Keep in mind this was 99.999% humidity swampland so there really wasn’t any fire danger. I’ll put it this way: a set of post hole diggers and a three-foot hole and you had yourself a well.

One summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large rotten oak stump in our backyard. I looked over under the carport and see a shiny brand new can of starting fluid (ether). The light bulb went off. I grabbed the can and set it on the stump. I thought that it would probably just spray out in a disappointing manner. Let’s face it: to a ten-year-old old mouth-breather like myself, ether really doesn’t “sound” flammable. So, I went back into the house and got a one-pound can of dad’s muzzleloader Pyrodex.

At this point, I set the can of ether on the stump and opened up the can of black powder. My intentions were to sprinkle a little bit around the ether can but it all sorta dumped out on me. No biggie ... one pound of Pyrodex and sixteen ounces of ether should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know? You know what? Heck with that. I’m going back in the house for the other can. Yes, I got a second can of Pyrodex and dumped it too.

Now we’re cookin’. I stepped back about fifteen feet and lit the two-stroke arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and let fly. As I released, I heard a swish as the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time frame, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck. OH CRAP! He just got home from work. So help me God it took ten minutes for that arrow to go from my bow to the can. My dad was walking towards me in slow motion with a WTF look in his eyes.

I turned back towards my target just in time to see the arrow pierce the starting fluid can right at the bottom. Right through the main pile of pyrodex and into the can.

Oh. Hell.

When the shock wave hit it knocked me off my feet. I don’t know if it was the actual compression wave that threw me back or just reflex jerk back from 235 MF’n decibels of sound. I caught a half a millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs all hovering one foot above the ground as far as I could see.

It was like a little low to the ground layer of dust fog full of grasshoppers, spiders, and a crawfish or two. The daylight turned purple. Let me repeat this ... THE DAMN DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE!

There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said “was”. That mother got up and ran off. So here I am, on the ground, blown completely out of my shoes, with my thundercats T-shirt shredded, my dad is on the other side of the carport having what I can only assume is a Vietnam flashback: “ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE YOUR BRINGIN’ EM IN TOO CLOSE!! CEASE FIRE GOLL DAMIT CEASE FIRE!!!!!”

His hat has blown off and is thirty feet behind him in the driveway. All windows on the north side of the house are blown out and there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud about two thousand feet over our backyard. There is a Honda 185s three-wheeler parked on the other side of the yard and the fenders are drooped down and are now touching the tires.

I wish I knew what I said to my dad at this moment. I don’t know. I know I said something. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t hear inside my own head. I don’t think he heard me either ... not that it would really matter. I don’t remember much from this point on. I said something, felt a sharp pain, and then woke up later. I felt a sharp pain, blacked out, woke later ... Repeat this process for an hour or so and you get the idea. I remember at one point my mom had to give me CPR so dad could beat me some more. Bring him back to life so dad can kill him again. Thanks mom.

One thing is for sure ... I never had to mow around that stump again. Mom had been bitching about that thing for years, and dad never did anything about it. I stepped up to the plate and handled business. Dad sold his muzzleloaders a week or so later. And I still have some sort of bone growth abnormality either from the blast or the beating. Or both. I guess what I’m trying to say is, get your kids into archery. It’s good discipline and will teach them skills they can use later on in life.

Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife.

A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:

Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety... ??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I’d get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.

AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised ... Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5” long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, ‘no possible way!’ What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best...

I’m sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as if to say, ‘don’t do it dipshit, ‘ while I’m reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and...

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD ... WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION ... WHAT THE HELL!!!

I’m pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, and my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs. The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room ... Note: If you ever feel compelled to ‘mug’ yourself with a tazer, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor ... A three second burst would be considered conservative. IT HURT LIKE HELL!!!

A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was ... My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs ... I had no control over the drooling...

Apparently I shit myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair. I’m still looking for my nuts and I’m offering a significant reward for their safe return!

P.s ... My wife, can’t stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!!!

How many dead hookers does it take to change a light bulb?

Apparently not five as my basement is still dark.

AROUND AGE 10, my dad got me one of those little badass long bow beginner kits. Originally Posted by Burlarr

Dude, all of your posts are funny as fuck. The archery one is my favorite!

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Did you hear about the guy who had a dog with no legs? Every morning he took him out for a drag.

Meet Phillip John Stroh

All seniors should live so long as to become this kind of old man!

Toward the end of the Sunday service, the Minister asked, “How many of you have forgiven your enemies?”

80% held up their hands. The Minister then repeated his question. All responded this time, except one man, Phillip Stroh.

“Mr. Stroh, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?”

“I don’t have any,” he replied gruffly.

“Mr. Stroh, that is very unusual. How old are you?”

“I’ll be Ninety on July 22nd,” he replied. The congregation stood up and clapped their hands.

“Oh, Mr. Stroh, would you please come down in front and tell us all how a person can live almost 90 years and not have an enemy in the world?”

The old fella tottered down the aisle, stopped in front of the pulpit, turned to face the congregation, and said simply, “I outlived all them assholes.”

Then he calmly returned to his seat.

Meet Phillip John Stroh

All seniors should live so long as to become this kind of old man!

Toward the end of the Sunday service, the Minister asked, “How many of you have forgiven your enemies?”

80% held up their hands. The Minister then repeated his question. All responded this time, except one man, Phillip Stroh.

“Mr. Stroh, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?”

“I don’t have any,” he replied gruffly.

“Mr. Stroh, that is very unusual. How old are you?”

“I’ll be Ninety on July 22nd,” he replied. The congregation stood up and clapped their hands.

“Oh, Mr. Stroh, would you please come down in front and tell us all how a person can live almost 90 years and not have an enemy in the world?”

The old fella tottered down the aisle, stopped in front of the pulpit, turned to face the congregation, and said simply, “I outlived all them assholes.”

Then he calmly returned to his seat.

“Hello, is this the Sheriff’s Office?”

“Yes. What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling to report ‘bout my neighbor Virgil Smith ... He’s hidin’ marijuana inside his firewood! Don’t quite know how he gets it inside them logs, but he’s hidin’ it there.”

“Thank you very much for the call, sir.”

The next day, the Sheriff’s Deputies descend on Virgil’s house. They search the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood, but find no marijuana. They sneer at Virgil and leave.

Shortly, the phone rings at Virgil’s house.

“Hey, Virgil! This here’s Floyd ... Did the Sheriff come?”

“Yeah!”

“Did they chop your firewood?”

“Yep!”

“Happy Birthday, buddy!”

Whoever said that rednecks weren’t sentimental?

A tourist walked into a Chinese curio shop in San Francisco. While looking around at the exotic merchandise, he noticed a very lifelike, life-sized, bronze statue of a rat. It had no price tag, but was so incredibly striking the tourist decided he must have it. He took it to the old shop owner and asked, “How much for the bronze rat?”

“Ahhh, you have chosen wisely! It is $12 for the rat and $100 for the story,” said the wise old Chinaman.

The tourist quickly pulled out twelve dollars. “I’ll just take the rat, you can keep the story”.

As he walked down the street carrying his bronze rat, the tourist noticed that a few real rats had crawled out of the alleys and sewers and had begun following him down the street. This was a bit disconcerting so he began walking faster.

A couple blocks later he looked behind him and saw to his horror the herd of rats behind him had grown to hundreds, and they began squealing. Sweating now, the tourist began to trot toward San Francisco Bay.

Again, after a couple blocks, he looked around only to discover that the rats now numbered in the MILLIONS, and were squealing and coming toward him faster and faster.

Terrified, he ran to the edge of the Bay and threw the bronze rat as far as he could into the Bay.

Amazingly, the millions of rats all jumped into the Bay after the bronze rat and were all drowned.

The man walked back to the curio shop in Chinatown.

“Ahhh,” said the owner, “You come back for story?”

“No sir,” said the man, “I came back to see if you have a bronze Democrat.

I bet you didn’t see that one coming.

How do you know your girlfriend is getting fat...?

She is starting to fit into your wife's clothes!!!

What's the difference between Mick Jagger and a Scotsman?

Mick Jagger says "Hey you get off of my cloud"

A Scotsman says "Hey McCloud get off of my ewe"