I.
My neighbor knocked on my door at 2:30 this morning. Can you believe that? 2:30am? Lucky for him I was still up playing my bagpipes.
II.
Man calls 911 and says "I think my wife's dead." The operator says how do you know? He says "The sex is the same but the ironing's building up."
III.
I was in bed with a blind girl last night and she said that I had the biggest cock she'd ever laid her hands on. I said, "You're pulling my leg."
IV.
I saw a poor old lady fall on the ice today. At least I presume she was poor--she only had $1.20 in her purse.
V.
My girlfriend thinks that I'm a stalker. Well, she's not exactly my girlfriend yet.
VI.
Went for my routine check up today and everything seemed to be going fine until he stuck his index finger up my ass. You think I should change dentists?
VII.
A wife says to her husband you're always pushing me around and talking behind my back. He says "Whaddaya expect? You're in a wheel chair."
VIII.
I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said she'd like to come back as a cow. I said, "You're obviously not listening."
IX.
My wife has been missing for a week. Police said to prepare for the worst. So I went to the thrift shop to get all her clothes back.
.
I Tell Ya, I Don't Get No Respect
JOCOP Classics: Best Possible Medical Attention
"Relax. You're two tents."
The mother of a problem child was advised by a psychiatrist: "You are neurotically obsessed with your daughter's nymphomania. I'm prescribing Xanax which you should ingest whenever you feel like it."
On her next visit the psychiatrist asked, "Have the Xanax calmed you down?"
"Yes," the boy's mother answered.
"And how is your daughter now?"
"Who cares?"
Guy walks into the doctor's office and says: "I dunno, Doc: nobody pays any attention to me."
"Next."
"Are you choking?"
Guy walks into the doctor's office and says: "Doc, I keep getting pains in the eye when I drink coffee."
"Take the spoon out."
Guy walks into the doctor's office and says: "I dream there are terrorists under my bed, what can I do?"
"Take one of these every 4 laps."
Jocop Redux: The Spinster
At day's end, a woman well along in her thirties and still single, wearily trudges through the garden gate and up the walk.
Her mother, seeing her daughter's approach through the window, suddenly rushes out onto the porch and clutches at her wildly beating breast.
"Oh, Praise Jaysus, Chelsea, there's rice all over your hair! You've gotten married!!"
"No, Ma. A chinaman threw up on me."
Jocop Classic: Injuneering
It is an obsquatulation in the Engineering-Construction bidness--to which several of the more incarcerated members of the readership have devoted major portions of their respective dysfunctionalities--that the autobiographical soundbite most germane to its default practioners is as follows:
"Two years ago, I couldn't spell Enkinier. Now I are one."
Be that as it may, the observatorial was the inspiration that suggested the title of this piece which, by our own admission, is older than Hillary Rodham Clinton's [mothballed] IUD.
A young Lakota Sioux boy is talking to the elderly Chief as he watches the women do all the work with immense satisfaction.
"Chief, why do we Native Americans have such strange names? They're nothing like the white man's names."
"Why that's because our children are named after things that happen at the exact moment of conception," replies the old Chief, focusing on a young squaw's generously firm quivering haunches as she bends over to collect firewood.
"For example, a brave once saw a pony race by in a frenzy at the special moment, so he named the child Crazy Horse. Another brave--he must have been on the bottom--saw a cumulo-nimbus dividing in half just at the supreme instant, so the child was named Two Clouds."
Suddenly, the Chief, looking puzzled, turns to the young boy.
"Why do you ask, Broken Rubber?"
Jocop Classic: Latrenian's Last Physical
The post-war West Coast Italian joke has for too long languished in the oblivion that is the backwash of kulturstampedenauskalifornischehorsenscheisse™.
It was 1972 and Latrenian, on full scholarship, was doing so well at Yale he’d already been expelled by the Black Students’ Union. Not only that, even Whitey had noticed he was in the top 1% of his class.
So it was that he came to the attention of Skull & Crossbones which correctly detected him as a clear and present danger to the impending hegemony of its graduates within the corridors of power to manage the decline of The Republic.
Something had to be done. The Black Students' Union and Skull & Crossbones met, conspired, planned, scheduled and, in tandem, came up with a scheme. Phone calls were made.
Latrenian was duly summoned by the Dean of Students who explained to him that several other blacks on scholarship had recently died of unknown causes which did not involve lynch mobs. To ensure Latrenian’s continuing good health, the Dean advised, a full medical would be required as a condition for his continued scholarship. The honours student had no choice.
The following day, after no wait whatsoever, he was ushered by the stacked receptionist into a huge laboratory in the bowels of the university medical center where to his immediate consternation he was confronted by a contraption the likes of which he had never previously beheld. And he was pre-med.
"Uh, what is that?" Latrenian nervously inquired of the receptionist.
"Oh that’s just the new AMM," she replied.
"AMM?"
"Yeah. Automatic Medical Machine. All you do is sit in the dentist's chair, they hook you up and the machine performs a complete medical on you. The medical team will be right with you," she said as she sashayed her preternaturally fine ass out of the lab.
Latrenian was dealing with a sense of foreboding as The Doctor and his team of assistants suddenly appeared and immediately commenced strapping him into the AMM, all the while making the usual reassurances. "This will just take a sec." "This is one helluva diagnostic tool, you'll actually enjoy this." And: "Jesus, I lost my ass in the market last week."
What Latrenian did not know was that Yale had developed this new technological marvel for the purpose—not of checking the patient’s health—but of lowering his/her/its IQ. This new electro-mechanical breakthrough was intended for use by members of forthcoming Executive Branches on electoral supervisory personnel after future elections had been retroactively preempted.
Latrenian was now completely strapped in with wires running everywhere out of his skull.
The technician in charge flicked on the power switch, checked all the gauges and then turned his attention to the IQ Meter. This was the control to induce the desired new level in the subject's intelligence. The initial reading was IQ 140. The Doctor nodded to the technician who now turned the control down to 85.
All eyes were on Latrenian as the AMM hummed, lit up and did its work. Then the technician checked the meter, saw that the IQ had been lowered to 85. Just as he turned to give the thumbs up to The Doctor, his lab coat sleeve caught the control switch, twisting it down another turn and a half. Appalled, the technician fainted straightaway as the entire AMM team rushed to the control console. Horror stricken, The Doctor saw that the IQ control knob had been turned to "46." In total panic, he turned to Latrenian in the dentist's chair and immediately stripped away all the wiring from his skull. It was then that he checked the meter and saw that the AMM had completed its work.
Latrenian was now IQ 46.
Terrified, he turned to the former honours student and said: "Oh my god, Latrenian! Are you ok?"
The prone Latrenian had his eyes closed. But now there was a flutter of the eyelids and his eyes popped open.
“Ai donna feela so gud.”
Jocop Classic: Tonto and the Lone Ranger
With this posting, The Journal is proud to commence a look backwards to some of the classic allegories of yesteryear--a better time in which men were men and women threw their tits over their shoulders and fought like men.
This retelling is lovingly dedicated to the memory of Vidkun Quisling, the hero of Norway.
Who, like Tonto, led the way out of the dark night of despair at a time when Denmark took the easy way out.
[Skol! -Ed.]
The Lone Ranger and Tonto are crouched behind the usual huge boulders with Trigger tethered to a tree nearby.
They are surrounded by thousands of feral redskins thirsting for the blood of the masked man and his faithful sidekick.
The Lone Ranger scans the horizon one last time through squinted eyes behind the mask known throughout the West, while Tonto observes the freelance frontier lawman closely.
"Well, Tonto," says the masked man, "it looks like this is the end. There's no way out. We are completely surrounded. This is it."
"Yes, Kemo Sabe, you speak truly," replies Tonto.
"I'd just like to say, before it's too late, how much it's meant to me having you by my side to fight injustice in this great land of ours all these years. I'm just glad we were together when the end came, my friend," says the Lone Ranger, choked up.
Tonto has never taken his eyes off the masked man's face. Now, appraising the thousands of savages out there preparing themselves for the final murderous assault, he turns back to the Lone Ranger.
"What do you mean 'we,' White Man?"
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