Old and New Jokes

Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable because no matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying. On one occasion, I had a valid reason but lied. Any way because the truth was too humiliating to reveal.

I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.

In this case, the truth hurt. I mean it really hurt in the place men feel the most pain. The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wifes wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. As the daily routine prescribes, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.

Ed! she hearkened. The garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it. You know where the button is. I protested through the shower pitter-patter. Reset it yourself!

I am scared! She pleaded. What if it starts going and sucks me in? Pause. Cmon, itll only take a second.

No logical assurance about how a disposal cant start itself will calm the fears of a person who suffers from Big-ol-scary-machinephobia, a condition brought on by watching too many Stephen King movies. It is futile to argue or explain. And if a poltergeist did, in fact, possess the disposal, and she was ground into round, Id have to live with that the rest of my life. So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence but it was I who would suffer.

I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, it wasnt a hexed disposal, drawing me into
its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She (Buttons aka the Grater) had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.

Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step procedure. Wild animals are sometimes faced with a fight or flight syndrome; men, in this predicament, choose only the flight option.

Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold. When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter.

My wife told me I should be flattered. At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk.

Whats the matter, cat got your tongue?

If they had only known.

Say, nice dick

What can a goose do, a duck cant, and a lawyer should?

Stick his bill up his ass.

After making love, the woman said to the man, So you are a doctor?

Thats right, said the doctor smugly. Do you know what kind?

Id say an anesthesiologis.

How did you know?, asked the M.D.

Because throughout the entire procedure, I didnt feel a thing.

The question this time, from the mens side of the table: what should you do when the women youre with asks you: What are you thinking?



Every male in the world has had to deal with this question, which is more often than not uncorked at entirely inappropriate times, such as when you are watching sports, locked in a passionate embrace, or reeling in a feisty marlin from the Gulf of Mexico. Regardless of what youre doing, you must come up with a complete and satisfactory answer, or stand accused of Hiding Your True Feelings. Which means, of course, youll spend the next week pretending to be sorry. So youve got to come up with something. And it had better be good.



Now, the obvious question here is: WHY do women want to know what were thinking? Simple: they assume were thinking in the first place. Hard to believe, but there it is.



Why on earth would they think that? Well, go up to a woman and ask her what she is thinking. I have just done so with my wife, and this is what she is thinking about:



Off the top of my head, Im thinking about the party were having Saturday, and how Im going to fix that chandelier in the front room so that people can walk around without hitting their heads. Underneath that Im thinking about my work schedule this week and whether or not Im going to have time to do some of the things I need to do at home as well. And under that Im wondering if its too late to get tickets on a plane to Ohio for Christmas. AND Im thinking about getting a snack.



Not only is she thinking about something, shes thinking about four separate things. If I check back in five minutes, shell still be thinking. Women are always thinking, and often about practical things.



Men, on the other hand, are actively thinking for about five minutes out of every hour (usually not in sequence). So, at best, you have a one in 12 chance of catching a man actually having a thought. What are we thinking about?



1. Sex

2. Food

3. Steve Miller tunes

4. Sports

5. Beavis and Butthead

6. Sex

7. Work

8. The black unknowable nothingness that frames our existence, and whether a benevolent and omnipotent higher power can possibly exist within it (or Beer)

9. Sleep

10. Sex



In summary, randomly asking a man what hes thinking has precisely a 8.83% chance of turning up a real, verifiable, honest-to-God thought. You might as well bet on the New York Jets. Sound harsh, guys? Fine. Quick–what are you thinking? Had to think about it, didnt you. You lose. Sit down.



Despite the overwhelming evidence that men, in fact, are almost never thinking, women will still demand to know their innermost thoughts. In a way, its touching; women are expressing faith that, if prodded long enough and frequently enough, they may yet boost the number of times we think in an

hour. And they will. Unfortunately, most of what well be thinking is stop asking me what Im thinking. And thats just going to get us in trouble.



The best way to keep a woman from constantly asking you what you are thinking is to have a ready, pre-memorized answer for the times that she does. Here are some tried and true responses, with the pros and cons of each:



Im thinking that tonight itd be nice to stay at home and sit by the fire together.



Pros: Romantic; Sounds as if youre spontaneous.

Cons: Requires fireplace (or a cement floor and ventilation); Romantic moments often prompt even more What are you thinking queries.



Im thinking how much I love you.



Pros: Generally provokes a positive response that short circuits any need for further conversation; Is often also true.

Cons: If you use it too much, shell know its a line, and then youre really in trouble.



I was wondering if there is actually life on other planets.



Pros: Cosmic; Shows you are a deep thinker.

Cons: Woman may wonder if this is an intro to the same sort of alien sigmoidoscopy story that ruined her last relationship.



I was imagining, if I were an animal, what sort of animal Id be.



Pros: Imaginative; Allows woman to spend many happy minutes trying to establish your place in the animal kingdom.

Cons: She might think you resemble a marmoset or skunk; She may forego the animal world altogether and go straight to yeasts.



Im just thinking about how true the lyrics to Dust in the Wind really are.



Pros: Shows depth of musical knowledge; As last resort to forestall conversation, you may break out into song.

Cons: If shes a connoisseur of 70s melodic rock, you may find yourself in a bitter, divisive quarrel about which is deeper, Dust or Aerosmiths Dream On.



Keep in mind that these responses are not to supersede an actual thought. If you find yourself having one at the moment she asks, go ahead and share it, as long as its not something along the lines of This relationship blows or I really like margarine. With a little practice, you should come out okay.



But, hey. Thats just what I think.

There is a story about a king in Africa who had a close friend that he grew up with. The friend had a habit of looking at every situation that ever occurred in his life (positive or negative) and remarking, This is good!



One day the king and his friend were out on a hunting expedition. The friend would load and prepare the guns for the king. The friend had apparently done something wrong in preparing one of the guns, for after taking the gun from his friend, the king fired it and his thumb was blown off. Examining the situation the friend remarked as usual, This is good! To which the king replied, No, this is NOT good! and proceeded to send his friend to jail.



About a year later, the king was hunting in an area that he should have known to stay clear of. Cannibals captured him and took them to their village. They tied his hands, stacked some wood, set up a stake and bound him to the stake.



As they came near to set fire to the wood, they noticed that the king was missing a thumb. Being superstitious, they never ate anyone that was less than whole. So untying the king, they sent him on his way. As he returned home, he was reminded of the event that had taken his thumb and felt remorse for his treatment of his friend. He went immediately to the jail to speak with his friend. You were right he said, it was good that my thumb was blown off. And he proceeded to

tell the friend all that had just happened. And so I am very sorry for sending you to jail for so long. It was bad for me to do this. No, his friend replied, this is good!



What do you mean, this is good! How could it be good that I sent my friend to jail for a year. If I had not been in jail, I would have been with you.

One day, an Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman walked into a pub together. They proceeded to each buy a pint of Guinness.

Just as they were about to enjoy their creamy beverage, three flies landed in each of their pints and got stuck in the thick head.

The Englishman pushed his beer away from him in disgust.

The Scotsman fished the offending fly out of his beer and continued drinking it as if nothing had happened.

The Irishman, too, picked the fly out of his drink, held it out over the beer and then started yelling: AH BEGORRAH! SPIT IT OUT, SPIT IT OUT!

Young Dave was courting Mabel, who lived on an adjoining farm out west in cattle country. One evening, as they were sitting on Daves porch watching the sun go down over the hills, Dave spied his prize bull doing the business on one of his cows. He sighed in contentment at this idyllic rural scene and figured the omens were right for him to put the hard word on Mabel.

He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, Mabel, Id sure like to be doing what that bull is doing.

Well then, why dont you? Mabel whispered back. It is YOUR cow.

Era un concurso internacional a ver quien de un pedo aventaba más lejos un cadáver. Se inscribieron un gringo, un italiano y un mexicano. Para prepararse quince días antes del concurso, los tres se pusieron un tapón.

El gringo comenzó a comer hot dogs, hamburguesas y ham and eggs; el italiano comió pizzas, espagueti y ravioli; el mexicano se atascó de frijoles, garnachas y tacos de todos tipos. Y empezaron a agarrar presión para el día del concurso.

Llego el día y el primero que pasó fue el gringo. Se puso en posición, le colocaron el cadáver, se quitó el tapón y empezo a pujar. Se aventó un pedo y mandó el cadáver a cinco metros.

Después vino el italiano, se puso en posición, le pusieron el cadaver, se quitó el tapón y empezó a pujar; se aventó un pedo y lanzó el cadáver a siete metros.

Le tocó el turno al mexicano, se puso en posición, le pusieron el cadaver, se quitó el tapón, y la porra gritando: México, México, ra, ra, ra. Y empezó el pinche mexicano a pujar, se puso colorado, se le inflaron los cachetes y hasta le salieron lagrimitas de los ojos, y la porra: Mexico, Mexico, ra, ra, ra, y nada que podía, hasta que por fin se oyó un pequeño piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. Toda la gente se quedo atónita, y en eso se paró el cadáver, se tapó las narices y le dijo al mexicano: Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiingas a tu madre, se fue caminado y cayó a 20 metros, y con eso ganó el mexicano.

En un restaurante, un comensal le ordena al mesero:

Mesero, déme un huevo duro.

El mesero lo atiende y le lleva el huevo. Tiempo después, el tipo grita enojado:

Mesero, este huevo está blando.

El mesero se acerca a la mesa, mira al huevo y exclama:

¡Cállate, huevo hijo de puta!