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John, your signature line just might be my favorite Ron White quote.
What's your best/worst joke? (2 Viewers)
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NauticalGent
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Mine too...the skit is hilarious!
NauticalGent
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STUDY.
Several years ago, Great Britain funded a study to determine why the head on a man's penis is larger than the shaft. The study took two years and cost over 1.2 million pounds. The study concluded that the reason the head of a man's penis is larger than the shaft is to provide the man with more pleasure during sex.
After the results were published, France decided to conduct their own study on the same subject. They were convinced that the results of the British study were incorrect. After three years of research at a cost of in excess of 2 million Euros, the French researchers concluded that the head of a man's penis is larger than the shaft to provide the woman with more pleasure during sex.
When the results of the French study were released, Australia decided to conduct their own study. The Aussies didn't really trust British or French studies. So, after nearly three hours of intensive research and a cost of around 75 dollars (three cases of beer), the Aussie study was complete. They concluded that the reason the head on a man's penis is larger than the shaft is to prevent your hand from flying off and hitting men in the forehead.
Several years ago, Great Britain funded a study to determine why the head on a man's penis is larger than the shaft. The study took two years and cost over 1.2 million pounds. The study concluded that the reason the head of a man's penis is larger than the shaft is to provide the man with more pleasure during sex.
After the results were published, France decided to conduct their own study on the same subject. They were convinced that the results of the British study were incorrect. After three years of research at a cost of in excess of 2 million Euros, the French researchers concluded that the head of a man's penis is larger than the shaft to provide the woman with more pleasure during sex.
When the results of the French study were released, Australia decided to conduct their own study. The Aussies didn't really trust British or French studies. So, after nearly three hours of intensive research and a cost of around 75 dollars (three cases of beer), the Aussie study was complete. They concluded that the reason the head on a man's penis is larger than the shaft is to prevent your hand from flying off and hitting men in the forehead.
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On the first day after his divorce, he sadly packed his belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases.
On the second day, he had the movers come and collect his things.
On the third day, he sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table, by candle-light; he put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, a bottle of
spring-water, 3 cans of sardines.
When he'd finished, he went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimps dipped in caviar, and some sardines into the hollow center of the curtain rods.
He then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
On the fourth day, the wife came back with her new boyfriend, and at first all was bliss. Then, slowly, the house began to smell.
They tried everything; cleaning, mopping, and airing-out the place. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned.
Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which time the two had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting. Nothing worked!...People stopped coming over to visit.
Repairmen refused to work in the house...The maid quit.
Finally, they couldn't take the stench any longer, and decided they had to move, but a month later - even though they'd cut their price in half - they couldn't find a buyer for such a stinky house.
Word got out, and eventually even the local estate agents refused to return their calls.
Finally, unable to wait any longer for a purchaser, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
Then the ex called the woman and asked how things were going. She told him the saga of the rotting house. He listened politely and said that he missed his old home terribly and would be willing to reduce his divorce settlement in exchange for having the house.
Knowing he could have no idea how bad the smell really was, she agreed on a price that was only 1/10 th of what the house had been worth ... but only if he would sign the papers that very day.
He agreed, and within two hours her lawyers delivered the completed paperwork.
A week later the woman and her boyfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home and to spite the ex-husband... they even took the curtain rods!
I LOVE A HAPPY ENDING, DON'T YOU?
On the second day, he had the movers come and collect his things.
On the third day, he sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table, by candle-light; he put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, a bottle of
spring-water, 3 cans of sardines.
When he'd finished, he went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimps dipped in caviar, and some sardines into the hollow center of the curtain rods.
He then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
On the fourth day, the wife came back with her new boyfriend, and at first all was bliss. Then, slowly, the house began to smell.
They tried everything; cleaning, mopping, and airing-out the place. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned.
Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which time the two had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting. Nothing worked!...People stopped coming over to visit.
Repairmen refused to work in the house...The maid quit.
Finally, they couldn't take the stench any longer, and decided they had to move, but a month later - even though they'd cut their price in half - they couldn't find a buyer for such a stinky house.
Word got out, and eventually even the local estate agents refused to return their calls.
Finally, unable to wait any longer for a purchaser, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
Then the ex called the woman and asked how things were going. She told him the saga of the rotting house. He listened politely and said that he missed his old home terribly and would be willing to reduce his divorce settlement in exchange for having the house.
Knowing he could have no idea how bad the smell really was, she agreed on a price that was only 1/10 th of what the house had been worth ... but only if he would sign the papers that very day.
He agreed, and within two hours her lawyers delivered the completed paperwork.
A week later the woman and her boyfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home and to spite the ex-husband... they even took the curtain rods!
I LOVE A HAPPY ENDING, DON'T YOU?
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Butch the Rooster
Sarah was in the fertilized egg business. She had several hundred young pullets and ten roosters to fertilize the eggs.
She kept records and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.
This took a lot of time, so she bought some tiny bells and attached them to her roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so she could tell from a distance which rooster was performing. Now, she could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.
Sarah's favourite rooster, old Butch, was a very fine specimen but, this morning she noticed old Butch's bell hadn't rung at all! When she went to investigate, she saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.
To Sarah's amazement, old Butch 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.
Sarah was so proud of old Butch, she entered him in a Show and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.
The result was the judges not only awarded old Butch the "No Bell Peace Prize" they also awarded him the "Pulletsurprise" as well.
Clearly old Butch was a politician in the making. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the unsuspecting populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention?
Vote carefully in the next election. You can't always hear the bells.
Sarah was in the fertilized egg business. She had several hundred young pullets and ten roosters to fertilize the eggs.
She kept records and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.
This took a lot of time, so she bought some tiny bells and attached them to her roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so she could tell from a distance which rooster was performing. Now, she could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.
Sarah's favourite rooster, old Butch, was a very fine specimen but, this morning she noticed old Butch's bell hadn't rung at all! When she went to investigate, she saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.
To Sarah's amazement, old Butch 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.
Sarah was so proud of old Butch, she entered him in a Show and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.
The result was the judges not only awarded old Butch the "No Bell Peace Prize" they also awarded him the "Pulletsurprise" as well.
Clearly old Butch was a politician in the making. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the unsuspecting populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention?
Vote carefully in the next election. You can't always hear the bells.
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A nun walks into Mother Superior's office and plunks down into a chair. She lets out a sigh heavy with frustration.
"What troubles you, Sister?" asks the Mother Superior. "I thought this was the day you spent with your family."
"It was," sighed the Sister. "And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ." "I seem to recall that," the Mother Superior agreed. "So I take It your day of recreation was not relaxing?" "Far from it,"snorted the Sister. "In fact, I even took the Lord's name in vain today!"
"Goodness, Sister!" gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. "You must tell me all about it!"
"Well, we were on the fifth tee... and this hole is a monster, Mother - 540 yard Par 5, with a nasty dogleg left and a hidden green... and I hit the drive of my life. I creamed it. The sweetest swing I ever made. And it's flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted... and it hits a bird in mid-flight not 100 yards off the tee!"
"Oh my !" commiserated the Mother. "How unfortunate! But surely that didn't make you blaspheme, Sister!"
"No, that wasn't it," admitted Sister. "While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs my ball and runs off down the fairway!" "Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!" sympathised Mother.
"But I didn't, Mother Superior!" sobbed the Sister. "And I was so proud of myself! And while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his paws!" "So that's when you cursed," said the Mother with a knowing smile.
"Nope, that wasn't it either," cried the Sister, anguished, "because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup!"
Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said...
"You missed the f*****g putt, didn't you?"
"What troubles you, Sister?" asks the Mother Superior. "I thought this was the day you spent with your family."
"It was," sighed the Sister. "And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ." "I seem to recall that," the Mother Superior agreed. "So I take It your day of recreation was not relaxing?" "Far from it,"snorted the Sister. "In fact, I even took the Lord's name in vain today!"
"Goodness, Sister!" gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. "You must tell me all about it!"
"Well, we were on the fifth tee... and this hole is a monster, Mother - 540 yard Par 5, with a nasty dogleg left and a hidden green... and I hit the drive of my life. I creamed it. The sweetest swing I ever made. And it's flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted... and it hits a bird in mid-flight not 100 yards off the tee!"
"Oh my !" commiserated the Mother. "How unfortunate! But surely that didn't make you blaspheme, Sister!"
"No, that wasn't it," admitted Sister. "While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs my ball and runs off down the fairway!" "Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!" sympathised Mother.
"But I didn't, Mother Superior!" sobbed the Sister. "And I was so proud of myself! And while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his paws!" "So that's when you cursed," said the Mother with a knowing smile.
"Nope, that wasn't it either," cried the Sister, anguished, "because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup!"
Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said...
"You missed the f*****g putt, didn't you?"
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Gotta love golf jokes!
Rx_
Nothing In Moderation
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The Rogozen Treasure, called the find of the century, is a Thracian treasure. It was discovered by chance in July 1985 by a tractor driver digging a well in his garden in the Bulgarian village of Rogozen.
It consists of 165 receptacles, including 108 phiales, 55 jugs and 3 goblets. The objects are silver with golden gilt on some of them with total weight of more than 20 kg. The treasure is an invaluable source of information for the life of the Thracians, due to the variety of motifs in the richly decorated objects. It is dated back to the 5th–4th centuries B.C.
Click on image to see:
It consists of 165 receptacles, including 108 phiales, 55 jugs and 3 goblets. The objects are silver with golden gilt on some of them with total weight of more than 20 kg. The treasure is an invaluable source of information for the life of the Thracians, due to the variety of motifs in the richly decorated objects. It is dated back to the 5th–4th centuries B.C.
Click on image to see:
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Christmas Safety advice for drivers.
Be careful out there chaps, many men will have had too much to drink over Christmas. Therefore they will be getting their wives to drive them!
Be careful out there chaps, many men will have had too much to drink over Christmas. Therefore they will be getting their wives to drive them!
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Re: Christmas Safety advice for drivers.
Actually, that wouldn't be so bad. My wife drives quite well. It's the bachelors out there who bother me, and it has nothing to do with the holidays. In south Louisiana, "Cajun style" drivers are the problem and my wife knows how to defend against them. After all, she IS a Cajun.
Actually, that wouldn't be so bad. My wife drives quite well. It's the bachelors out there who bother me, and it has nothing to do with the holidays. In south Louisiana, "Cajun style" drivers are the problem and my wife knows how to defend against them. After all, she IS a Cajun.
Vassago
Former Staff Turned AWF Retiree
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Re: Christmas Safety advice for drivers.
Should this be under the Best/Worst joke thread?
If you think they drive bad in New Orleans, you should see the driving in Boston. I only had the honor of being there for a few days for an event, but I have never seen such awful drivers.
And in Florida, people completely forget how to drive in the rain. It rains almost daily.
Should this be under the Best/Worst joke thread?
If you think they drive bad in New Orleans, you should see the driving in Boston. I only had the honor of being there for a few days for an event, but I have never seen such awful drivers.
And in Florida, people completely forget how to drive in the rain. It rains almost daily.
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Re: Christmas Safety advice for drivers.
That's where I thought I'd put it! Obviously too much Christmas cheer! Will correct it now. Merry Christmas to one and all...
Should this be under the Best/Worst joke thread?
That's where I thought I'd put it! Obviously too much Christmas cheer! Will correct it now. Merry Christmas to one and all...
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I once saw a survey of the worst USA drivers. Boston, New York City, Washington, Chicago, and New Orleans were in the top 10. I am pretty sure Los Angeles was also in the running and Miami was in the mix. Don't remember the others. Wish that WAS a joke - but sadly it is not.
D
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Looks like this page is leading up to driving jokes? Dang, I skipped from page 9 to here (195) and will have to paste my notepad text anyway. Hope this isn't somewhere between 10 and here and is in keeping with the original intent:
A psychiatrist out riding on a horse comes across a local man.
"You live around here?"
"Yup" says the local. "Been farming here for nigh on 40 years. What about you?"
"I'm from the city. I work there as a psychiatrist."
They continued to make small talk when suddenly the horse made a sound like a chicken.
"Hey!" says the local. "Your horse just cackled like a chicken!"
"I know. She thinks she's a hen." says the psychiatrist.
"Well you're a psychiatrist. Why don't you straighten her out?"
"I would" says the doc "but I need the eggs."
A psychiatrist out riding on a horse comes across a local man.
"You live around here?"
"Yup" says the local. "Been farming here for nigh on 40 years. What about you?"
"I'm from the city. I work there as a psychiatrist."
They continued to make small talk when suddenly the horse made a sound like a chicken.
"Hey!" says the local. "Your horse just cackled like a chicken!"
"I know. She thinks she's a hen." says the psychiatrist.
"Well you're a psychiatrist. Why don't you straighten her out?"
"I would" says the doc "but I need the eggs."
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Oldie but goodie, Micron.
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