Old and New Jokes

Blonde #1: Have you ever read Shakespeare?

Blonde #2: No, who wrote it?

Picard:
Sigma Indri, thats the star,

So, Data, please, how far? How far?
Data:
Our ship can get there very fast

But still the trip will last and last

Well have two days til we arrive

But can the Indrans there survive?

Picard:
LaForge, please give us factor nine.
LaForge:
But, sir, the engines are offline!
Picard:
Offline! But why? I want to go!

Please make it so, please make it so!
Riker:
But sir, if Geordi says we cant,

We cant, we mustnt, and we shant,

The danger here is far too great!
Picard:
But surely we must not be late!
Troi:
Im sensing anger and great ire.
Computer:
Alert! Alert! The ships on fire!
Picard:
The ships on fire? How could this be?

Who lit the fire?
Riker:
Not me.
Worf:
Not me.
Picard:
Computer, how long til we die?
Computer:
Eight minutes left to say goodbye.
Data:
May I suggest a course to take?

We could, I think, quite safely make

Extinguishers from tractor beams

And stop the fire, or so it seems…
Geordi:
Hurray! Hurray! Youve saved the day!

Again I say, Hurray! Hurray!
Picard:
Mr. Data, thank you much.

Youve saved our lives, our ship, and such.
Troi:
We still must save the Indran planet —
Data:
Which (by the way) is made of granite…
Picard:
Enough, you android. Please desist.

We understand — we get your gist.

But can we get our ship to go?

Please, make it so, PLEASE make it so.
Geordi:
Theres sabotage among the wires

And thats what started all the fires.
Riker:
We have a saboteur? Oh, no!

We need to go! We need to go!
Troi:
We must seek out the traitor spy

And lock him up and ask him why?
Worf:
Ask him why? How sentimental.

I say give him problems dental.
Troi:
Are any Romulan ships around?

Have scanners said that theyve been found?

Or is it Borg or some new threat

We havent even heard of yet?

I sense no malice in this crew.

Now what are we supposed to do?
Crusher:
Captain, please, the Indrans need us.

They cry out, Help us, clothe us, feed us!

I cant just sit and let them die!

A doctor MUST attempt — MUST try!
Picard:
Doctor, please, well get there soon.
Crusher:
They may be dead by Tuesday noon.
*COMMERCIAL BREAK, COMMERCIAL BREAK

HOW LONG WILL THESE DUMB ADS TAKE?*
Worf:
The saboteur is in the brig.

Hes very strong and very big.

I had my phaser set on stun —

A zzzip! A zzzap! Another one!

He would not budge, he would not fall,

He would not stun, no, not at all!

He changed into a stranger form

All soft and purple, round and warm.
Picard:
Did you see this, Mr. Worf?

Did you see this creature morph?
Worf:
I did and then I beat him fairly.

Hit him on the jaw — quite squarely.
Riker:
My commendations, Klingon friend!

Our troubles now are at an end!
Crusher:
Now lets get our ship to fly

And orbit yonder Indran sky!
Picard:
LaForge, please tell me we can go…?
Geordi:
Yes, sir, we can.
Picard:
Then make it so!

Need
Another
Seven
Astronauts

It was a sunny day in the Big Apple, but a poor black preacher was having enough troubles already. His rent was due, and his little chapel was losing so many of his fellow followers, that he was about to jump out into the street when the pastor who had been robbing him just happened to to turn the corner.

Whats the matter with you, my brother?

Im about to lose all my friends to your church and my rent is due.

Well, not much i can do about the rent, but I can give you a little help with the patrons of yo little chapel.

shoot fo.

And the rich preacher pulled out a genuine 1846 gold pocketwatch, and said proudly but softly, whenever yo audience is about to sleep, just sway this back and forth, and theyll do whatever you want.

can i borrow dat?

fo sho.

The next week, the rich pastor checks in with the poor pastor, but he looks even more down in the dumps.

Well? Didnt it work?

Hey yeah it worked.

Then why so low?

Well, I tried out yo hypnosis thing, and the audience went into a trance. I said the sermon, I swayed the medallion, and told the audience to applaud. It was so thunderous, you couldnt do better in an opera house! But then, the chain snapped, and I yelled, SHIT!. Itll be a miracle if we can get the chapel cleaned up!

Q: How many people at an American football match does it take to change a lightbulb ?
A: Three. One to change it and two to tip the entire contents of the ice bucket over the coach to congratulate him on a successful bulb screwing.

Cuentan que un gerente muy importante, de una conocida multinacional, tuvo una crisis cardiaca por culpa del trabajo. Fue dado de baja y enviado al campo con el objeto de que recuperara las fuerzas y se relajara un poco.

Después de pasar dos días sin hacer nada, el hombre estaba ya harto de la vida bucólica y pastoril y se aburría soberanamente. Así que decidió hablar con el granjero que le hospedaba y solicitarle alguna tarea sencilla para pasar el rato y ocupar el tiempo, a la vez que así haría algo de ejercicio.

Al día siguiente, se levantaron temprano, antes que saliera el sol. El granjero, conocedor de la idiosincrasia de la gente de ciudad y temiendo algún estropicio irreparable, resolvió asignarle tareas simples en las que no pudiera causar daño alguno (incluyendo a él mismo).

La tarea es muy sencilla, dijo el granjero, dándole una pala. Sólo tiene que recoger el estiércol que hay en el chiquero y repartirlo por el sembrado para abonarlo. Cuando termine, venga a verme.

El granjero era propietario de más de doscientos cerdos, y el estiércol se acumulaba hasta la altura de la rodilla. Así que el hombre estimó que la faena le llevaría al gerente dos o tres días. Cual fue su sorpresa cuando, al cabo de tres horas, apareció el gerente lleno de estiércol hasta las orejas, sonriente y con cara de satisfecho.

Ya he terminado.

Viendo que, en efecto, la tarea estaba terminada y, además, con eficiencia, el granjero decidió asignarle otra. Dándole un enorme cuchillo le explica:

Bien. Hay que sacrificar unos pollos que mañana vienen a recoger los de la carnicería. Basta con cortarles la cabeza. Es un poco más complicado, pero seguro que puede hacerlo.

Eran más de mil quinientos pollos para sacrificar y supuso que el gerente no terminaría hasta bien entrada la noche. Incluso, pensó en ayudarle más adelante, cuando terminara de recoger la siembra.

Apenas habían pasado un par de horas, cuando el gerente se presentó con toda la ropa y la cara manchada de sangre, el cuchillo mellado y sonriente como un niño en el día de los Reyes Magos.

Ya he terminado.

El granjero no salía de su asombro.

¡Increíble!

El mismo, acostumbrado a la dura vida rural, no lo hubiera hecho mejor: los mil quinientos pollos estaban amontonados en un lado y las mil quinientas cabezas en otro lado. El granjero se rascó la cabeza, pensativo. Llevó al gerente junto a un gran montón de patatas y le dijo:

Muy bien. Ahora hay que separar las patatas. Las grandes a la derecha y las pequeñas a la izquierda.

Pensó el granjero que en menos de una hora vería otra vez al gerente pidiéndole más trabajo. Pero no fue así. Pasó la hora de la comida, la hora de cenar, se hizo de noche y el gerente no aparecía. Creyendo que algo le habría sucedido, el asustado granjero fue donde había dejado al gerente y se lo encontró sentado delante del mismo montón de patatas, sin que hubiera separado ninguna.

¿Le pasa algo?, preguntó extrañando.

El gerente se volvió con una patata en la mano y le contestó:

Mire, repartir mierda y cortar cabezas es algo a lo que estoy muy acostumbrado. ¡Pero, esto de tomar decisiones!

Outside a pharmacy in a busy street, a poor man is clutching onto a pole for dear life – not breathing, not moving, not twitching a muscle – just standing there, frozen.

The pharmacist, seeing this strange sight in front of his shop, goes up to his assistant and asks, Whats the matter with that guy? Wasnt he in here earlier?

Assistant replies, Yes he was. He had the most terrible cough and none of my prescriptions seemed to help.

Pharmacist says, He seems to be fine now.

Assistant replies, Sure, he is. I gave him a box of the strongest laxatives on the market… Now he wont dare cough!

One is white, plastic and dangerous for kids to play with the other you carry groceries in.

As migration approached, two elderly vultures doubted they could make the trip south, so they decided to go by airplane.

When they checked their baggage, the attendant noticed that they were carrying two dead raccoons. Do you wish to check the raccoons through as luggage? she asked.

No, thanks, replied the vultures. Theyre carrion.