A little humor

[Matthew]

A guy is sitting at a bar minding his own buisness having a beer when this big dude comes in ,walks up behind him and gives him a karate chop to the side of the neck. The man is knocked off his stool ,laying on the ground when the big dude says that was a karate chop from china, and leaves. The man picks himself off the floor and sits back in his stool and continues to finish his beer. A little while later the same big dude returns walks up behind the guy winds up with his outher hand and hits the man on the other side if the neck. Knocking the guy to the floor the big dude says that was a karate chop from japan. The man has has enough he pays for his beer and leaves. A short while later the man returns to find the big dude sitting in his spot at the bar the man walks up behind him winds up and cracks the big dude in the head knocking him out cold. The man tells the bartender when he wakes up tell him that was a crowbar from SEARS.

[goodcompanion]

Okay, then.

There’s this penguin, who’s having trouble with his car. He drops it off at the mechanic’s place in the morning. The mechanic tells him he’ll need a few hours to run a diagnostic. “No problem,” the penguin says, “I can just run a few errands in town while I’m waiting.”

So the penguin does his errands. Goes to the bank, goes to the bookstore for a little bit, then has lunch at his favorite diner. Has fish and chips, his favorite, of course.

After lunch the penguin makes his way back to the garage. “So,” he says to the mechanic, “What’d you find out?”

The mechanic looks worried. “Well, mister penguin, I have to tell ya, this really doesn’t look too good. Looks to me like you’ve blown a seal.”

“Naw, it’s not that,” says the penguin, hurriedly wiping his beak, “just a little tartar sauce from lunch.”

[mitchmaine]

the sport is out in the woods with the old indian guide looking for deer sign, when a wedge of geese flew over heading south honkin away. the guide said “when you see the geese coming out of canada in the fall, you’ll notice one side of the v is always longer”. so the sport asked “why is that?” and the old indian scratched his chin, looked up into the sky and said “there ‘s more geese on that side”.

[Gabe Ayers]

An old prospector shuffled into the town of El Indio, Texas leading an old tired mule. The old man headed straight for the only saloon in town, to clear his parched throat. He walked up to the saloon and tied his old mule to the hitch rail. As he stood there, brushing some of the dust from his face and clothes, a young gunslinger stepped out of the saloon with a gun in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.

The young gunslinger looked at the old man and laughed, saying, “Hey old man, have you ever danced?” The old man looked up at the gunslinger and said, “No, I never did dance… never really wanted to.”

A crowd had gathered as the gunslinger grinned and said, “Well, you old fool, you’re gonna’ dance now,” and started shooting at the old man’s feet. The old prospector, not wanting to get a toe blown off, started hopping around like a flea on a hot skillet. Everybody was laughing, fit to be tied.

When his last bullet had been fired, the young gunslinger, still laughing, holstered his gun and turned around to go back into the saloon. The old man turned to his pack mule, pulled out a double-barreled shotgun, and cocked both hammers. The loud clicks carried clearly through the desert air.

The crowd stopped laughing immediately. The young gunslinger heard the sounds too, and he turned around very slowly. The silence was almost deafening. The crowd watched as the young gunman stared at the old timer and the large gaping holes of those twin barrels.

The barrels of the shotgun never wavered in the old man’s hands, as he quietly said, “Son, have you ever kissed a mule’s ass?”
The gunslinger swallowed hard and said, “No sir….. but… I’ve always wanted to.”

There are two lessons for us all here:

Don’t waste ammunition.

Don’t mess with old people.

[mother katherine]

Matthew
Now THAT’S funny. My family in Maine has enjoyed stories of that type for years – especially my Uncle John(RIP)
oxnun

[jac]

50 years ago a young couple got married in Scotland. For the honeymoon they toured America. They visited New York, Empire State, Hoover dam, then a native American reservation. As they strolled among the teepees admiring the traditional crafts the young man spotted a sign.. “Chief Crazy Horse.. Best memory in the world”… entering the teepee he sat down and said “Hello”. The chief replied “How”… “Ok” says the young man.. “Who won the Scottish Cup for soccer in 1950”?.. Chief replies .. “The Rangers.. 2 1”.
Suitably impressed the young man rejoined his new wife and finished their holliday.. Years passed and for their 50th wedding aniversary they did their honeymoon again.. New York,Empire State, Hoover dam Then the native American reservation.. As they wandered, the by this time old man, said ” Look honey its the same Chief with the great memory , I’m going in again”.. Entering the teepee he sits and as the chief enters he tries to show some of the panache and sophistication he had learned over the years and said to the chief “How”.. The chief replies ” Penalty shoot out in the last 3 minutes”!!!
John

[Matthew]

Mother Katherine Ive got one you and Mitchmaine might get a kick out of. There are to brothers from Maine and they are lobster fishermen. One of the brothers is married to a girl from New Jersey. One day the mother in law is up from Jersey visiting when they decide to take the boat out and give her a tour of the beautiful Maine coastline. The weather suddenly turns bad and a huge wave knocks the mother in law over board. Every one searches for days and finaly the Coast Guard calls off the search. They have a big service for her and lay a empty caskit to rest. The brothers return to fishing for lobster and one day they pull a pot with something heavy on the line. They pull it up and it is the dead mother in law with 30 lobsters attached to her. They pull the lobsters off and the one brother sais what do we do with her now? The other brother says HELL SET HER AGAIN.

[Carl Russell]

DEA officer stops at a ranch in Texas , and talks with an old rancher. He tells the rancher, “I need to inspect your ranch for illegally grown drugs.” The rancher says, “Okay , but do not go in that field over there,” as he points out the location.

The DEA officer verbally explodes saying, ” Mister, I have the authority of the Federal Government with me.” Reaching into his rear pants pocket, he removes his badge and proudly displays it to the rancher. “See this badge? This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish….. On any land. No questions asked or answers given. Have I made myself clear? Do you understand? “

The rancher nods politely, apologizes, and goes about his chores.

A short time later, the old rancher hears loud screams and sees the DEA officer running for his life chased by the rancher’s big Santa Gertrudis bull……

With every step the bull is gaining ground on the officer, and it seems likely that he’ll get gored before he reaches safety. The officer is clearly terrified. The rancher throws down his tools, runs to the fence and yells at the top of his lungs…..

” Your badge. Show him your BADGE ! “

[mitchmaine]

this old fella sittin’ by side the road hears this noise. and he looks down the road to see this ball a’ dust comin’. by and by comes this man draggin’ a chain. the old fella says “how come yer draggin’ that chain down the road?”. the man says ” i tried pushin’ it but it didn’t work.”

[Carl Russell]

Coming off the landing at the end of a day last fall, I headed the horses back toward home. I noticed a car from NJ drive by, both driver and passenger looked perplexed as they surveyed me. Not too long later, there they were coming up behind me.

They slowly gained on me, and started to pass. The woman in the passenger seat rolled down her window, and gave me the kind of look that it was obvious she wanted to ask me a question, so I stopped.

The man driving piped right up, “Does this road go to Bethel?”…..I didn’t hesitate a breath responding, “I’ve lived here my whole life, and haven’t seen this road go anywhere yet!!”:D

Carl

[dominiquer60]

Carl, That last one sounded like it came straight out of the book “Listen While I Think…., I am a Vermonter,” pure Yankeese.

[mitchmaine]

a father and son were chopping wood for winter and piling it up in one cord piles thru the woodlot, and had been cutting for about three weeks. the boy was getting tired of the job and asked his dad “how much more do we have to cut?”. his father looked around at their job, scratched his head and said “run up on top of that mountain there and ask the old indian”. the boy headed for the mountain, picked up a path and found himself at the top. there by a cliff was an old man whittling a stick with his knife. the boy asked how much wood they should cut for winter and the old man stood out on his rock and looked out over the valley and told the boy “looks like a bad winter”. the boy went back down, told his father, and they kept cutting. after a couple days the boy asked again. and his father sent him back on the mountain. the old man stepped out on his cliff and said “worse than i thought”. the boy relayed the message to his father and they kept cutting. now the dad was tired of cutting, so both went up to see the indian. they asked how hard the winter was going to be and the indian stepped out on the rock, shook his head and told them “worst winter i’ve ever seen”. the boy stepped out beside him and asked “how do you know?” and the old man pointed down to the valley and said “i’ve been watching these two guys chopping wood now for a month and they haven’t quit yet. it must going to be some bad winter”.

[Anonymous]

Dear Friends,

My wife Sandy is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something akin to “hey y’all, hold my beer and watch this!” Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this story chronicled in a LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes.

Last weekend I spied something at Larry’s Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my “fancy” is easily tickled.) I bought something really cool for Sandy. The occasion was our 9th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl.

What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, google-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you’ve never seen one of these things in action, then you’re missing out – Way To Cool!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-A batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don’t need no stinkin’ directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I’d get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to.
I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeee!!! I am easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to Sandy 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, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog Skeeter looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Skeeter) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target.
I must admit I thought about zapping Skeeter for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. He is such a sweet puppy, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to Sandy to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.
Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time…

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses purched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer in the other. 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 loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.
All the while I’m looking at this little device (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, “no friggin’ way!” Friggin’ way – trust me, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best. Those of you who know me will have a pretty good idea what followed. I’m sitting there alone. Skeeter looking on with his head cocked to one side as to say, “don’t do it buddy,” reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil’ ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?)
I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight-always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don’t ya hate that?)

I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and
HOLY*****************!!!
I’m pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the floor over and over again.
I vaguely recall waking on my side in the fetal position, skin on fire, glasses nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Skeeter was standing over me making huffing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to himself,
“Do it again, do it again!”

(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’re not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent trashing about on the floor.)

If you are lucky, you won’t dislodge one of the prongs 1/4″ deep in your thigh like yours truly. I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantle of the fireplace. (How did they get there?) Every muscle in my body was twitching, my face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88lbs, give or take an ounce or two.

I drug my quivering body to my recliner, managed to turn it upright and crawled in. Spent the rest of the afternoon regaining my scences.

[CharlyBonifaz]

there truely are men that will do anything for their wife …..;)
hope you feel a lot better by now!

[LStone]

@Dave G 15257 wrote:

Dear Friends,

I must admit I thought about zapping Skeeter for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. He is such a sweet puppy, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to Sandy to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.
Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time…

Dave, Dave,…Dave. Thanks for the technical training. You have one lucky woman there. Certainly IMO you weren’t wrong, but to finish implementing your test, you shoulda invited over your second best friend for a bunch o’ beers and steaks.

Hilarious.

[Author]

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