Attention minorities!!!

Completely Lmao at Dorian and Sonya.
May not always agree, but love your contributions.
Now, back to the fields and tortilla factories with you ........ Originally Posted by MOTOXMAN

It's tamales, dammit!!!

Hey, if we're talking minorities and reparations.... you Irish chihuahua bashers own me a Taco Bell franchise. Originally Posted by Fancyinheels

This is Texas. Taco Cabana

....except that Taco Cabana was founded in San Antonio (and fondly referred to as T.C.'s)...so let's stick with Taco Bell.

I should be given reparations for y'all's lousy grammar and spelling.

What do you call 2 Mexicans playing basketball?

Juan on Juan

Oldie but goodie!

Are hooker jokes okay? How many hookers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Apparently not five, my basements still dark.

Oh, Oh, Can I play?

Q: What do you get when you cross a hooker with a systems engineer?
A: A fuckin know-it-all!


Q: What is the difference between a drug dealer and a hooker?
A: A hooker can wash her crack and sell it again

This one's for you Fancy...

An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years, and upon her return her father cursed her, asking “Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mum thru?”

The girl, crying, replied, “Dad, I couldn’t bear to tell you… I became a call girl.”

“And what would that be, then?”

The girl hesitated, then stammered through her tears, “It’s a kind of prostitute.”

“A what! Out of here, ye ungrateful little baggage! You’re a disgrace to this family!”

“OK, Dad — as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this fur coat, brother Kevin this gold Rolex and you this Mercedes convertible. I also wanted to invite you to spend Christmas with me on my yacht on the Riviera, and to move into my ten-bedroom mansion afterward.”

The father hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Now what did ye say a call girl was again?”

The girl softly said, “A kind of prostitute!”

“Oh! Sweet Jesus! Come here and give yer old man a hug, girl; ye scared me half to death! I thought ye said a kind of Protestant!”

So how long are y'all going to allow mods to make jokes about the horrors you or your ancestors endured! Originally Posted by Chincho

This is what happens when a community organizer posts on a whore board.

This one's for you Fancy...

An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years, and upon her return her father cursed her, asking “Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mum thru?”

The girl, crying, replied, “Dad, I couldn’t bear to tell you… I became a call girl.”

“And what would that be, then?”

The girl hesitated, then stammered through her tears, “It’s a kind of prostitute.”

“A what! Out of here, ye ungrateful little baggage! You’re a disgrace to this family!”

“OK, Dad — as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this fur coat, brother Kevin this gold Rolex and you this Mercedes convertible. I also wanted to invite you to spend Christmas with me on my yacht on the Riviera, and to move into my ten-bedroom mansion afterward.”

The father hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Now what did ye say a call girl was again?”

The girl softly said, “A kind of prostitute!”

“Oh! Sweet Jesus! Come here and give yer old man a hug, girl; ye scared me half to death! I thought ye said a kind of Protestant!” Originally Posted by boardman

If you have sex with a prostitute without her permission, is it rape... or shoplifting?

Why Mexicans and blacks don't breed...
kids would be too lazy to steal.

What do you get when you cross a Mexican and a negro?
A weedeater that won't work.

How many negroes does it take to change a light bulb?
Doesn't matter.. the power has been turned off anyway.

Hey, now that WU is black................ js

Dorian opened the door.....

They don't think it be like it is, but it do.

LMAO !!!
Some body needs to close this now ........

....

This one's for you Fancy...

An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years, and upon her return her father cursed her, asking “Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mum thru?”

The girl, crying, replied, “Dad, I couldn’t bear to tell you… I became a call girl.”

“And what would that be, then?”

The girl hesitated, then stammered through her tears, “It’s a kind of prostitute.”

“A what! Out of here, ye ungrateful little baggage! You’re a disgrace to this family!”

“OK, Dad — as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this fur coat, brother Kevin this gold Rolex and you this Mercedes convertible. I also wanted to invite you to spend Christmas with me on my yacht on the Riviera, and to move into my ten-bedroom mansion afterward.”

The father hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Now what did ye say a call girl was again?”

The girl softly said, “A kind of prostitute!”

“Oh! Sweet Jesus! Come here and give yer old man a hug, girl; ye scared me half to death! I thought ye said a kind of Protestant!” Originally Posted by boardman

My family would appreciate that one.

Here's my favorite hooker joke to tell at tax time:

A woman walks into her accountant's office and tells him that she needs to file her taxes. The accountant says, "Before we begin, I'll need to ask a few questions." He gets her name, address, social security number, etc., and then asks, "What is your occupation?"

The woman replies, "I'm a prostitute." The staid accountant balks and says, "No, no, no. That will never work. Let's try to rephrase that."

The woman says, "Okay. I'm a whore."

"No, that's too crude, and too illegal. Try again."

"Call girl?"

"No."

"Lady of the evening, afternoon, morning?"

"No."

"Happy Hooker?"

"Well, you might be, but the IRS doesn't need to know that. Keep thinking."

The woman tries several other euphemisms for her occupation, but the accountant vetoes every one of them. They both sit there contemplating. The exasperated accountant says, "There has to be some way of describing what you do in socially acceptable terms."

After a moment, the woman states, "I'm a chicken farmer."

The perplexed accountant asks, "What the heck does chicken farming have to do with being a prostitute?"

"Well," she replies, "I raised 1,000 little peckers last year."

"Good enough," says the accountant.