Old and New Jokes

Knock Knock
Whos there?
Chopin!
Chopin who?
Chopin the supermarket!

Q: How many pro-choicers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Two, one to do it and one to assert that the bulb didnt exist before it was lit up.

Extract from an Australian Mills & Boon (one of those romance books)

We met in a secluded field, the sun nearly kissing the evening horizon. The warm breeze was full of that earthly, musky scent that only those fortunate enough to live outside the urban rat race know, and quiet whispering of the leaves in the Weeping Willow overhead added the final touch to the most romantic scene.

We lay there, both naked, I knew I had to have her and have her now. Without a word being spoken, I managed to move myself to a position of dominance. I could feel instantly that this was what she had been waiting for as she frantically thrust her pelvis at my approaching organ.

I moved slowly at first, inch by inch, until I was fully inside her. Then as tension rose, we began the ultimate in sex. Although inexperienced, she approached every change of position with enthusiasm, moaning with despair every time I withdrew to prevent myself from ending it all too soon.

As sexual tension heightened towards the inevitable mind-blowing climax, it was all I could do to hold out until the moment we had been both waiting for was upon us. As it did we rolled together in the

now damp grass. As the last deep orange glow of the long set sun melted

into the darkness of approaching night, as we lay there still entwined in an amorous embrace, I kissed her long and loving and whispered how good she had been, she tenderly and sensuously licked my inner ear and whispered:

Baaaa, then re-joined the flock.

Manolo y Venancio se encuentran:

¿Qué tal, Venancio? ¿Ya has armado el rompecabezas que te compraste el otro día?

¡Jo! No se puede, me tardaría muchísimo.

Manolo, extrañado, le pregunta:

¿Te tardarías mucho? ¿Y porqué?

Es que en la caja decía de 5 años en adelante, joder!

Letter to the DENTON RECORD CHRONICLE from Dwight Crawford Sr.of Sanger, Texas:

TERRORISM, WHAT IS THAT?

I get a big laugh at the dialogue of Osama bin Laden, the Taliban, politicians, and the news media. They say terrorists will hit us again in the oncoming weeks and months. What a joke! You have a better chance of getting killed on Interstate 35E than by a terrorist.

Osama has probably seen 100 degree plus summers in Afghanistan, but he doesnt have fire ants to go with it. If he did, he wouldnt be sleeping on the ground in his cave. He talks of pain and suffering he is going to inflict on us. He doesnt know what pain is until he gets kicked by a green broke, two year old colt in a freezing rain.

Germ warfare? Texas ticks will give you Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and Lime disease, blister beetles kill your horse, green bugs destroy a wheat crop, and termites eat your house. Anthrax has killed Texas cattle for over 125 years. Whats new? Our prairie dogs carry the plague, armadillos carry leprosy, and our bats and skunks carry rabies. We have rattlesnakes, copperheads, and water moccasins. Ho hum.

They talk of gas and biological warfare. They have never pulled in behind a cattle truck while its raining, or ridden in the front seat of a pick-up between two cowboys after they have just eaten a big bowl of Texas Red Beans.

Texas aint for sissies! We have posted signs all over the state that say Dont mess with Texas! Osama, consider yourself warned!

On her way home a blonde drove past a sign that said CLEAN

RESTROOMS 8 MILES.

By the time she drove eight miles, she had cleaned 43 restrooms.

A small town prosecuting attorney called his first witness to the stand in a trial–a grandmotherly, elderly woman. He approached her and asked, Mrs. Jones, do you know me?

She responded, Why, yes, I do know you Mr. Williams. Ive known you since you were a young boy. And frankly, youve been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife, you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think youre a rising big shot when you havent the brains to realize you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you.

The lawyer was stunned. Not knowing what else to do he pointed across the room and asked, Mrs. Williams, do you know the defense attorney?

She again replied, Why, yes I do. Ive known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. I used to babysit him for his parents. And he, too, has been a real disappointment to me. Hes lazy, bigoted, he has a drinking problem. The man cant build a normal relationship with anyone and his law practice is one of the shoddiest in the entire state. Yes, I know him.

At this point, the judge rapped the courtroom to silence and called both counselors to the bench. In a very quiet voice, he said with menace, If either of you asks her if she knows me, youll be in jail for contempt within 5 minutes!

Thanx to Leon Mosteller.

I was getting my hair cut at a neighborhood shop, and I asked the barber when would be the best time to bring in my two-year-old son. Without hesitation, the barber answered, When hes four.

(via Aiken Drum, Rodney & Cathy, HorridScopes)

I found these sentences in a book which claims that they are from
actual newspaper articles:

Great care must be exercised in tying horses to trees, as they are apt
to bark.
We do not tear your clothing with machinery; we do it carefully by hand.
After Governor Baldridge watched the lion perform, he was taken to Main
Street and fed twenty-five pounds of red meat in front of the Fox Theater.
The Duchess handled the launching beautifully, confidently smashing the
champagne against the prow. The crowd cheered as she majestically slid
down the greasy runway into the sea.
Anti-nuclear protestors released live cockroaches inside the White House
Friday, and these were arrested when they left and blocked a security gate.

I worry about these people.

Path: …decvax!yale!spock!wooga

My Jewish brother married a Catholic wife. They have two daughters, with a son on the way. The wife has been taking the daughters to church every Sunday.

One Sunday, during High Mass, the older daughter whispers in her mother’s ear, Can we go home now?

Not yet, replies her mother, the Mass is only half over.

We can go now, Mommy. I’m half-Jewish.