Three nuns were in the church the other day and the 1st nun says, I was going through the Fathers office and do you know what I found? A bunch of pornographic magazines! What did you do? the other nuns asked.Well, of course I threw them in the trash. The second nun said, Well, I can top that. I was in Fathers room putting away the laundry and I found a bunch of condoms! Oh my! gasped the other nuns.What did you do? they asked. I poked holes in all of them! she replied.The third nun fainted.

Dear sir,

I am writing in response to your request for additional information for block number 3 of the accident reporting form.

I put poor planning as the cause of my accident. You said in your letter that I should explain more fully and I trust the following detail will be sufficient.

I am an amateur radio operator and on the day of the accident, I was working alone on the top section of my new 80 foot tower. When I had completed my work, I discovered that I had, over the course of several trips up the tower, brought up about 300 pounds of tools and spare hardware. Rather than carry the now un-needed tools and material down by hand, I decided to lower the items down in a small barrel by using a pulley, which fortunately was attached to the gin pole at the top of the tower.

Securing the rope at ground level, I went to the top of the tower and loaded the tools and material into the barrel. Then I went back to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a slow decent of the 300 pounds of tools.

You will note in block number 11 of the accident reporting form, that I weigh only 155 pounds. Due to my surprise of being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope.

Needless to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate of speed up the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the 40 foot level, I met the barrel coming down. This explains my fractured skull and broken collarbone.

Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley.

Fortunately, by this time, I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold onto the rope in-spite-of my pain.

At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of tools hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel.

Devoid of the weight of the tools, the barrel now weighed approximately 20 pounds. I refer you again to my weight in block number 11.

As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the 40 foot level, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles and the lacerations of my legs and lower body.

The encounter with the barrel slowed me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell onto the pile of tools and fortunately, only three vertebrae were cracked.

I am sorry to report, however, that as I lay there on the tools, in pain, unable to stand and watching the empty barrel 80 feet above me …

I again lost my presence of mind. I let go of the rope.

YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK IF:

Your grandmother has ever been asked to leave the bingo hall because of her language
your entire family has ever sat around waiting for a call from the Governor to spare a loved one
youve ever raked leaves in your kitchen
your stereo speakers used to belong to the Moonlight Drive-In Theater
you call the time you won a free case of motor oil as the day my ship came in
you clean your fingernails with a stick
you hammer bottle caps into the frame of your front door to make it look nice

Stalin is giving a speech in a small auditorium. During a pause, someone
in the audience sneezes. Looking up, Stalin asks,

Who sneezed?

Noone answers. Stalin orders the guards to escort the last three rows of
people outside, where they are executed. Stalin then asks,

Now, who sneezed?

Again, noone answers. Again, Stalin orders the guards to escort the last
three rows outside. Shots are heard. Again, Stalin asks,

Now! Who sneezed??

A small, bespectacled man in the second row raises his hand and says,

Um, I did, comrade.

To which Stalin replies,

Bless you.

… and then continues his speech.

Oh SPAM(tm)! Oh SPAM(tm)! Gourmet delight!
My food by day, my dreams by night.
To carve, to slice, to dice you up –
pureed in a blender and sipped from a cup.

What shining deity from Olympus knelt
down to the earth and hog butt smelt?
Creating then mans eternal desire
for swine entrails congealed by fire.

On some corporate farm, a pig has died.
Eyes, tongue, and snout end up inside
that cube of SPAM(tm) hidden in the can
I now hold in my trembling hand.

More than mere food, SPAM(tm) is for me
a hedonistic expression of gluttonous glee.
Mottled with pork fat, the pink cube engrosses.
My mouth takes it in, my intestine disposes.

Long have my arteries clogged to the sound
of sizzling SPAM(tm) when theres no one around –
furtively chewing or swallowing whole.
Triple bypass by forty, my medical goal.

Other processed meat products Ive tried or declined
Vienna Sausages, Treet, even pigs feet in brine.
Though each may be tasty in different ways,
none matches SPAM(tm) for gelatinous glaze.

That glistening pinkness beckons me
with gristle, fat, and BHT.
Oh SPAM(tm), my SPAM(tm) – the taste, the smell!
The sacred meat product, from Hormel.

Doctor, please hurry. My son swallowed a razorblade.

Dont panic, Im coming immediately. Have you done anything yet?

Yes, I shaved with the electric razor.

Doctor, Doctor, Youve got to help me – I just cant stop my hands shaking!

Do you drink a lot?

Not really – I spill most of it!

A man speaks frantically into the phone, My wife is pregnant, and her contractions are only two minutes apart!

Is this her first child? the doctor queries.

No, you idiot! the man shouts. This is her husband!

The surgeon told his patient that woke up after having been operated:

Im afraid were going to have to operate you again. Because, you see, I forgot my rubber gloves inside you.

Well, if its just because of them, Id rather pay for them if you just leave me alone.

Doctor: Did you take the patients temperature?

Nurse: No. Is it missing?

Why cant blondes put in light bulbs?

They keep breaking them with the hammers.



How many blondes does it take to change a light bulb?

Whats a light bulb?

Or: You can change those things?!

Or: Two. One to hold the Diet Pepsi, and one to call, Daaaddy!



How does a blonde change a lightbulb?

She says, Daddy, I want a new apartment.



Three blondes are attempting to change a light bulb. One of them decides to call 911:

Blonde: We need help. Were three blondes changing a light bulb.

Operator: Hmmmmm. You put in a fresh bulb?

Blonde: Yes.

Operator: The power in the house in on?

Blonde: Of course.

Operator: And the switch is on?

Blonde: Yes, yes.

Operator: And the bulb still wont light up?

Blonde: No, its working fine.

Operator: Then whats the problem?

Blonde: We got dizzy spinning the ladder around and we all fell and hurt ourselves.

The new nun goes to her first confession. She tells the priest that she has a terrible secret.

The priest then tells her that her secret is safe in the sanctity of the confessional.

She says, Father, I never wear panties under my habit.

The priest chuckles and says, Thats not so serious, Sister Bernadette. Say five Hail Marys, five Our Fathers, and do five cartwheels on your way to the altar.

How do you keep an idiot in suspense?

Q: What do you get if you cross a bear with a toilet?A: Winnie the Pooh!