I.
I'd just come out of the shop with a meat and potato pie, large chips, mushy peas and a jumbo sausage. A wretch of a homeless man sitting on the pavement said, "I've not eaten for two days." I told him: "I wish I had your will power."
II.
I took my Biology exam last Friday. I was asked to name two things commonly found in cells. Apparently "Blacks" and "Mexicans" were not the correct answers.
III.
A fat girl served me in McDonald's at lunch time. She said, "Sorry about the wait." I said, "No worries, dear, you're bound to lose it eventually."
IV.
As I approached the bank, I walked past a black kid sitting at a bus stop. When I came out, he looked at me and said "Any Change?" I said: "Nope, you're still black."
V.
Snow in the forecast. The TV weather gal said she was expecting 8 inches tonight. I thought to myself, fat chance with a face like that.
VI.
An Irish boy stands crying at the side of the road. A man asks "What's wrong?" The boy says "Me ma is dead." "Oh bejaysus!" the man says. "Do you want me to be callin' Fadder O' Riley for ye then?" "No tanks, mister," says the boy, "sex is the last ting on me mind at the moment."
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Kind of Human Milkness
London Calling
The intrepid photographer of labored pictorial clichés for the BBC was assigned to cover Southern California's wildfires.
He badly needed preconceived images of the heroic yet naive work the firefighters were doing as they battled the blazes.
When the photographer arrived on the scene, he realized that the smoke was so thick it would be a serious obstacle to his getting 'good' photographs from the ground level.
So he requested permission from his boss at Bush House to rent a plane and take photos from the air. His request was approved and he used his cell phone to call the local county airport to charter a flight. He was told the single engine plane would be waiting for him at the airport.
Arriving at the airfield, he spotted a plane warming up outside a hanger.
He jumped in with his bag, slammed the door shut and shouted, "Right. Let's go!"
The pilot taxied out, swung the plane into the wind and roared down the runway.
Once in the air, the photographer instructed the pilot, "Fly over the valley, luv, and make two or three low passes so I can get some shots of the fireworks on the hillsides!"
"What for?" asked the pilot.
"Because I'm the photographer for the bloody BBC," responded the shutterbug testily, "and I need to get fekking close-ups, don't I!"
The pilot took this in for a few seconds.
"So what you're telling me is--you're not the flight instructor?"
Outraged Editorial
In order to draw a line in the sand, set an example for others and bring submissions such at the one appearing below to a complete halt, the Board has unanimously voted to place Hugh Jorgen on indefinite suspension and hereby orders his visitation rights revoked to Stall C (wide stancers only) adjacent to the Log Cabin Buffet in the Mens' Shitter just down the hall from the Rheum Room.
Hillary the farmer was in the fertilized egg business. She had several hundred young layers, known to avian cognoscenti as 'pullets.'
And ten roosters whose job it was to fertilize the eggs.
Hillary kept records.
Any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced.
That took a lot of her time, so she bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to her roosters.
Each bell had a different tone so Hillary could tell from a distance which rooster was performing.
Now she could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.
Hillary's favorite rooster was Old Bill and a fine specimen he was.
But on this particular morning Hillary noticed Old Bill's bell hadn't rung at all!
Hillary went to investigate.
The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing.
The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, ran for cover.
But to Hillary's amazement, old Bill had his bell in his beak so it couldn't ring.
He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one.
Hillary was so proud of Old Bill, she entered him in the Arkansas State Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.
The result--the judges not only awarded Old Bill the No Bell Piece Prize, they also awarded him the Pullet Surprise as well.
Exit Strategy
There has been a monthly average of 160,000 troops in the Iraq theatre of operations during the last 22 months and a total of 2,112 US deaths.
That gives a firearm death rate of 60 per 100,000 soldiers.
The firearm death rate in Washington D.C. is 80.6 per 100,000 persons for the same period.
This means that you are at least 25% more likely to be shot and killed in the US capitol than you are in Iraq.
Conclusion: The US should pull out of Washington.
Tinkle Tinkle Little Squirt
Hugh Jorgen presents:
A woman pregnant with triplets was walking down the street when a masked robber ran out of a bank and shot her three times in the stomach. Luckily the babies were OK. The surgeon decided to leave the bullets in because it was too risky to operate. She gave birth to two healthy daughters and a healthy son. All was fine for 16 years until the day one daughter ran into the kitchen in tears.
"What's wrong?" asked the mother.
"I was taking a tinkle and this bullet came out," replied the daughter.
The mother told her it was alright and explained what had happened 16 years ago.
About a week later the second daughter walked into the room in tears.
"Mom, I was taking a tinkle and this bullet came out."
Again the mother told her not to worry and explained what happened 16 years ago.
A week later her son walked into the room in tears.
"It's okay" said the Mom, "I know what happened. You were taking a tinkle and a bullet came out."
"No," said the boy, "I was playing with myself and I shot the dog."
Intellectual Piracy
The Editorial Board is making an appeal to the readership for contributions to finance the electroshock therapy so sorely lacking from the bizarre, twilight half-world of David Marvin Mailer. Please send €250 to The Journal of Contemporary Opinion, 1800 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, DC 20500.
A pirate walks into a bar and the bartender says, "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. What happened? You look terrible."
"What do you mean?" says the pirate, "I feel fine."
"What about the wooden leg? You didn't have that before."
"Well, we were in a battle and I got hit with a cannon ball, but I'm fine now."
"Well, OK, but what about that hook? What happened to your hand?"
"We were in another battle. I boarded a ship and got into a sword fight, my hand was cut off. I got fitted with a hook. I'm fine, really."
"What about that eye patch?"
"Oh, one day we were at sea, and a flock of birds flew over. I looked up and one of them shit in my eye."
"You're kidding," says the bartender, "You couldn't lose an eye just from bird shit."
"It was my first day with the hook."
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