A drunk was staggering down the main street of town. Somehow he managed to make it up the stairs to the cathedral and into the building, where he crashed from pew to pew, finally making his way to a side aisle and into a confessional. A priest had been observing the man’s sorry progress and figuring the fellow was in need of some assistance, proceeded to enter his side of the confessional. But his attention was rewarded only by a lengthy silence. Finally he asked, “May I help you, my son?”
“I dunno,” came the drunk’s voice from behind the partition. “You got any toilet paper on your side?”
Dad: Son, come in here, we need to talk.
Son: What’s up, Dad?
Dad: There’s a scracth down the side of the car. Did you do it?
Son: I don’t believe, if I understand the definition of “scratch the car”, that I can say, truthfully, that I scratched the car.
Dad: Well, it wasn’t there yesterday, and you drove the car last night, and no one else has driven it since. How can you explain the scratch?
Son: Well, as I’ve said before, I have no recollection of scratching the car. While it is true that I did take the car out last night, I did not scratch it.
Dad: But your sister told me she saw you back the car against the mailbox at the end of the driveway, heard a loud scraping sound, saw you get out to examine the car, and then drive away. So again I’ll ask you, yes or no, did you scratch the car?
Son: Oh, you mean you think you have evidence to prove that I scratched it. Well, you see, I understood you to mean did “I” scratch the car. I stand by my earlier statement, that I did not scratch the car.
Dad: Are you trying to tell me you didn’t drive the car into the mailbox?
Son: Well, you see sir, I was trying to drive the car into the street. I mishandled the steering of the car, and it resulted in direct contact with the mailbox, though that was clearly not my intent.
Dad: So you are saying that you did hit the mailbox?
Son: No sir, that’s not my statement. I’ll refer you back to my original statement that I did not scratch the car.
Dad: But the car did hit the mailbox, and the car did get scratched as a result of the contact?
Son: Well, yes, I suppose you could categorize it that way.
Dad: So you lied to me when you said you did not scratch the car?
Son: No. No, that is not correct. Your question was “Did I scratch the car?” From a strict legal definition, as I understood the meaning of the sentece, I did not scratch the car... the mailbox did... I was merely present when the scratching occurred. So my answer of “No” when you asked “Did I scratch the car” was legally correct, although I did not volunteer the information.
First grade class come in from recess.
Teacher asks Alice: “What did you do at recess?”
Alice says, “I played in the sand box.”
Teacher says, “That’s good. Go to the black board, and if you can write ‘sand’ correctly, I’ll give you a fresh-baked cookie.”
She does and gets a cookie.
Teacher asks Billy what he did at recess.
Billy says, “I played with Alice in the sand box.”
Teacher says, “Good. If you write ‘box’ correctly on the blackboard, I’ll give you a fresh-baked cookie.”
Billy does and gets a cookie.
Teacher then asks Mustaffa Machmoud what he did at recess.
He says, “I tried to play with Alice and Billy, but they threw rocks at me.”
Teacher says, “Threw rocks at you? That sounds like blatant racial discrimination. If you can go to the black board and write ‘blatant racial discrimination’ I’ll give you a cookie.”
A man went to the doctor’s. The doctor came in and said, “Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that you have an inoperable brain tumor. The good news is our hospital has just been certified to do brain transplants and there has been an accident right out front and a young couple was killed and you can have whichever brain you like. The man’s bran is $100,000.00 and the woman’s brain is $30,000.00.”
The patient could not help but ask, “Why such a large difference between the mail and female brans?”
The doctor replied, “The female brain is used.”
A husband and wife were having dinner at a very fine restaurant when this absolutely stunning young woman comes over to their table, gives the husband a big kiss, tells him she’ll see him later, and walks away.
His wife glares at him and says, “Who was that??!!”
“Oh,” replies the husband, “That was my mistress.”
The wife says, “That’s it; I want a divorce.”
“I understand,” replies her husband, “But, remember, if you get a divorce, there will be no more shopping trips to Paris, no wintering in the Caribbean, no Lexus in the garage, and no more country club. But the decision is yours.”
Just then the wife notices a mutual friend entering the restaurant with a gorgeous woman. “Who’s that woman with Jim?” she asks.
“That’s his mistress,” replies her husband.
“Ours is prettier,” says the wife.
Three old men were talking about the best thing that could happen to them at that time of life. The 80 year old said, “The best thing that could happen to me is to be able to have a good pee. I just stand there and it dribbles and hurts, and I have to go over and over again.” The 85 year old said, “The best thing could happen to me is if I could have a good bowel movement. I take every kind of laxative I can get my hands on and it is still a problem.” The 90 year old man said, “That’s not my problem, every morning at 6:00 am sharp I have a good long pee and at 6:30 sharp I have a great bowel movement. The best thing that could happen to me is if I could wake up before 7:00.”
A man is in bed with his wife when there is a rat-a-tat-tat on the door. He rolls over and looks at his clock, and it’s half past three in the morning. “I’m not getting out of bed at this time,” he thinks, and rolls over. Then, a louder knock follows.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” says his wife. So he drags himself out of bed, and goes downstairs. He opens the door and there is a man standing at the door. It didn’t take the homeowner long to realize that the man was drunk.
“Hi there,” slurs the stranger. “Can you give me a push??”
“No, get lost. It’s half past three. I was in bed,” says the man and slams the door.
He goes back up to bed and tells his wife what happened and she says, “Dave, that wasn’t very nice of you. Remember that night we broke down in the pouring rain on the way to pick the kids up from the baby-sitter and you had to knock on that man’s house to get us started again? What would have happened if he’d told us to get lost??”
“But the guy was drunk,” says the husband.
“It doesn’t matter,” says the wife. “He needs our help and it would be the Christian thing to help him.”
So the husband gets out of bed again, gets dressed, and goes downstairs. He opens the door, and not being able to see the stranger anywhere he shouts, “Hey, do you still want a push??”
And he hears a voice cry out, “Yeah please!”
So, still being unable to see the stranger he shouts, “Where are you?”
And the stranger replies, “I’m over here, on your swing.”
A truck driver used to amuse himself by running over lawyers he would see walking down the side of the road. Every time he would see a lawyer walking along the road, he would swerve to hit him, and there would be a loud “THUMP” and then he would swerve back on the road.
One day as the truck driver was driving along he saw a priest hitch-hiking. He thought he would do a good turn and pulled the truck over.
He asked the priest, “Where are you going, Father?”
“I’m going to the church 5 miles down the road!” replied the priest.
“No problem, Father! I’ll give you a lift. Climb in the truck.”
The happy priest climbed into the passenger seat and the truck driver continued down the road. Suddenly the truck driver saw a lawyer walking down the road and instinctively he swerved to hit him. But then he remembered there was a priest in the truck with him, so at the last minute he swerved back to the road, narrowly missing the lawyer, he still heard a loud “THUD.” Not understanding where the noise came from he glanced in his mirrors and when he didn’t see anything, he turned to the priest and said, “I’m sorry, Father. I almost hit that lawyer.”
“That’s okay,” replied the priest. “I got him with the door!”
A cop pull a guy over.
“Your eyes are awfully red. Have you been drinking?”
“Gee, officer,” the man says. “Your eyes are awfully glazed -- have you been eating doughnuts.?”
Be careful that you type in the right address when you send an email. Who knows what might happen:
A businessman from Wisconsin went on a business trip to Louisiana. Upon arrival, he immediately plugged his laptop into the hotel room port and sent a short email back home to his wife, Jennifer Johnson, at her address, JennJohnson@global.com.
Unfortunately, in his haste, he mistyped a letter and the email ended up going to JeanJohnson@global.com, a Jean Johnson in Duluth, the wife of a priest who had just passed away and was buried that day. The priest’s wife took one look at the E-mail and promptly fainted.
It read: “Arrived safely, but it sure is hot down here!”
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