Two powerful Politicians die after prolonged illnesses. Their souls arrive in heaven and are 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 high officials around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you.
No problem, just let us in, says the guy.
Well, I'd like to but I have orders from higher up. What we'll 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. We want to be in Heaven, say the Politicians.
I'm sorry but we have our rules.
And with that, St. Peter escorts him/her to the elevator and they goes down, down, down to Hell. The doors open and they find themselves in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a club and standing in front of it are all their friends and other politicians who had worked with them, everyone is very happy and in evening attire. They run to greet them, hug them, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.
Also present is the Devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before they realizes it is time to go. Everyone gives them a big hug and waves while the elevator rises.
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on Heaven where St. Peter is waiting for them. "Now it's time to visit Heaven.
So 24 hours pass with the head of state joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before they 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.
They reflect for a minute, then the politicians answer, Well, each answer, I would never have said it, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell.
So St.. Peter escorts them to the elevator and they go down, down, down to Hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and they are in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. They see all their friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. The Devil comes over to them and lays his arm on each ones neck. We don't understand, stammer the politicians. Yesterday we were here and there was a golf course and club and we ate lobster and caviar and danced and had a great time.
Now all there is, a wasteland full of garbage and our friends look miserable.
The Devil looks at them, smiles and says, Yesterday we were campaigning...Today you voted for us!
VOTE WISELY THIS COMING ELECTION!!
A couple traveling cross country decided to stop for a cup of coffee in a local diner somewhere in Texas. While they were sitting at a booth near the counter sipping their coffee, a local cowboy stumbles in and heads for the closest stool at the counter.
As he lifts his leg over the stool, he cuts one of the loudest farts ever heard by a human.
The tourist jumps up and yells,"Sir, how dare you fart before my wife!"
The cowboy stopped, tipped his hat politely and says, "I'm awful sorry ma'am...I didn't know we was a takin' turns."
Subject Anger managementAnger management
When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know. Take it out on someone you don't know.
I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robin Carter?" Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.
I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. I had transposed the last two digits of her phone number. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an asshole!" and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'asshole' calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?" He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!"
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his car window, so I wrote down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole ( I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole, too.
I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes, it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an asshole." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.
But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea. I called Asshole #1.
"Hello."
"You're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house, with my black BMW parked in front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."
Then I called Asshole #2. "Hello?" he said.
"Hello, asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 13 News about the gang war going down on West 34th Street.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th street. There I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter and a news crew.
NOW I feel much better. Anger management really works.
A photographer from a well-known national magazine
was assigned to cover the recent Southern California fires.
The magazine wanted to show some of the heroic work of the
firefighters as they battled the blazes.
When the photographer arrived, he realized that the
smoke was so thick that it would seriously impede or
make it impossible for him to photograph anything from ground-level.
So he requested permission to rent a plane and take photos from the air.
His request was approved, and arrangements were made.
He was told to report to a nearby airport, where a single-engine plane
would be waiting for him. He arrived at the airport and saw a plane warming
up near the gate.
He jumped in with his bag and shouted, Let's go!
The pilot swung the plane into the wind, and within
minutes they were in the air.
The photographer said, Fly over the park and make two or three low passes
so I can take some pictures.
Why? asked the pilot.
Because I am a photographer for a national
magazine, he responded, and I need some close-up shots.
The pilot was silent for a moment; finally he
stammered, So, you're telling me you're not the flight instructor?
A woman walks into a bar and orders two shots.
She downs the first one...This is for the shame, and then the second
one...This is for the glory.
She then orders two more shots.
She drinks the first one...This is for the shame and then the second
one... This is for the glory.
She is about to order two more shots when the bartender stops her.
Ma'am, I was just wondering...what's this about shame and glory?
Well," she replies, I like to do my housework naked. But when I bent
over to pick something up, my Great Dane mounted me from behind.
That must be the shame, the bartender said.
No, that was the glory. The shame is when we got knotted together
and he dragged me around the front yard for forty minutes.
Bill and Hillary Clinton and John Kerry are flying on Kerry's wife's private jet.
Bill looks at Hillary, chuckles and says, You know, I could throw a $100.00
bill out the window right now and make somebody very happy.
Hillary shrugs her shoulders and says, Well, I could throw ten $10.00 bills
out the window and make 10 people very happy.
Kerry says, Of course then, I could throw one-hundred $1.00 bills out the
out the window and make a hundred people very happy.
The pilot rolls his eyes, looks at all of them and says to his co-pilot, Such Big shots back there..... I could throw all of them out the window and make millions happy.
A guy was stopped by a policeman for speeding, and does a lot of pleading, trying to get out of the ticket.
The policeman says Okay, I'll ask you a question. If you answer correctly, I'll forget about the ticket!
Agreed! answers the speeder.
You're driving at night, and two lights appear in front of you. What is it?
That's easy! It's a car!
Sure! But, what kind of car?
Is it a Ford?
Is it a Chevy?
Is it a Saab, what?, says the policeman, and begins to write the ticket.
Wait! Give me another chance!" begs the guy.
Okay, but this is your last chance! You fail to answer - you get the ticket!"
Fair enough.
You're driving at night, and a light appears in front of you. What is it?
That's easy! It's a motorcycle!
Sure! But, what kind of bike?
Is it a Honda? or
Is it a Suzuki? or
Is it a Harley?"
How the hell should I know! answered the guy, exasperatedly.
Sorry, you're getting the ticket! responded the officer.
Yeah, well okay. But let me ask you a question too then.
Go ahead
You see a bare breasted woman standing at the curve, bargaining with clients, what is it? asks the guy.
Oh, that's easy! replies the officer. It's a hooker!
Sure! But, what kind of hooker?
Is it your mother? or
Is it your sister? or
Is it your daughter?"
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