^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

6 SEP 04: THIS SPAM TASTES FUNNY

(BLOGGER'S NOTE: With all my supplies purchased for the hurricane we're told is NOT coming to Columbus, I'm taking Labor Day off from writing jokes. Instead, I offer a collection that's been embedded in e-mail spam I've received in recent months. Have a nice holiday -- and who knows, maybe these will be an improvement:)

A notoriously absent-minded professor was one day observed walking along the street with one foot continually in the gutter, the other on the pavement. A pupil meeting him said: "Good evening, professor. How are you?"

"Well," answered the professor, "I thought I was all right when I left home, but now I don't know what's the matter with me. I've been limping for the last half-hour."

A barber gave a haircut to a priest one day. The priest tried to pay for the haircut but the barber refused saying, "You do God's work." The next morning the barber found a dozen bibles at the door to his shop. A policeman came to the barber for a haircut, and again the barber refused payment saying, "You protect the public." The next morning the barber found a dozen doughnuts at the door to his shop. A lawyer came to the barber for a haircut, and again the barber refused payment saying, "You serve the justice system." The next morning the barber found a dozen lawyers waiting for a haircut.

Nasreddin was cutting a branch of a tree in his garden. While he was sawing, another man passed in the street. He stopped and said, "Excuse me, but if you continue to saw that branch like that, you will fall down with it." He said this because Nasreddin was sitting on the branch and cutting it at a place between himself and the trunk of the tree.

Nasreddin said nothing. He thought, "This is some foolish person who has no work to do and goes about telling other people what to do and what not to do." The man continued on his way. Of course, after a few minutes, the branch fell and
Nasreddin fell with it.

"My God!" he cried. "That man knows the future!" and he ran after him to ask how long he was going to live. But the man had gone.

A local bar was so sure that its bartender was the strongest man around that they offered a standing $1,000 bet. The bartender would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass, and hand the lemon to a patron. Anyone who could squeeze one more drop of juice out would win the money. Many people had tried over time (weightlifters, longshoremen, etc.) but nobody could do it. One day a scrawny little man wearing thick glasses and a polyester suit came in and said in a tiny, squeaky voice, "I'd like to try the bet." After the laughter had died down, the bartender said okay, grabbed a lemon, and squeezed away. Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the rind to the little man. But the crowd's laughter turned to total silence as the man clenched his fist around the lemon and six drops fell into the glass.

As the crowd cheered, the bartender paid the $1,000, and asked the little man, "What do you do for a living? Are you a lumberjack, a weightlifter, or what?"

The man replied, "I work for the IRS."

A man walked into a bar and ordered a glass of white wine. He took a sip of the wine, then tossed the remainder into the bartender's face. Before the bartender could recover from the surprise, the man began weeping. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm
really sorry. I keep doing that to bartenders. I can't tell you how embarrassing it is to have a compulsion like this."

Far from being angry, the bartender was sympathetic. Before long, he was suggesting that the man see an analyst about his problem. "I happen to have the name of a psychoanalyst," the bartender said. "My brother and my wife have both been
treated by him, and they say he's as good as they get."

Six months later, the man was back. "Did you do what I suggested?" the bartender asked, serving a glass of white wine.

"I certainly did," the man said. "I've been seeing the psychoanalyst twice a week."

He took a sip of the wine, then he threw the remainder into the bartender's face. The flustered bartender wiped his face with a towel. "The doctor doesn't seem to be doing you any good," he sputtered.

"On the contrary," the man claimed, "he's done me world of good."

"But you threw the wine in my face again!" the bartender exclaimed.

"Yes," the man replied. "But it doesn't embarrass me anymore."

Dick was seven years old, and his sister, Catherine, was five. One day their mother took them to their aunt's house to play while she went to the big city to buy some new clothes. The children played for an hour, and then at half past four their aunt took Dick into the kitchen. She gave him a nice cake and a knife and said to him, "Now here's a knife, Dick. Cut this cake in half and give one of the pieces to your sister, but remember to do it like a gentleman."

"Like a gentleman?" Dick asked. "How do gentlemen do it?"

"They always give the bigger piece to the other person." answered his aunt at once.

"Oh" said Dick. He thought about this for a few seconds. Then he took the cake to his sister and said to her, "Cut this cake in half, Catherine.".

Bertha was a very pretty girl. Quite a lot of young men wanted to marry her, but she was not satisfied with any of them. One day, one of the young men came to visit her and asked her to become his wife. She answered, "No, John, I won't marry
you. I want to marry a man who is famous, who can play music, sing and dance very well, who can tell interesting stories, who does not smoke or drink, who stays at home in the evenings and who stops talking when I'm tired of listening."

The young man got up, took his coat and went to the door, but before he left the house, he turned and said to Bertha, "It isn't a man you're looking for. It's a television set."

A guy sits down in a Café' and asks for the hot chili. The waitress says, "The guy next to you got the last bowl."

He looks over and sees that the guy's finished his meal, but the chili bowl is still full. He says, "Are you going to eat that?"

The other guy says, "No. Help yourself."

He takes it and starts to eat it. When he gets about half way down, his fork hits something. He looks down sees a dead mouse in it, and he vomits the chili back into the bowl. The other guy says, "That's about as far as I got, too."

In some Government offices the clerks, upon arrival in the morning, have to sign their names in an "attendance book." This book provides space for signature, time of arrival, and "remarks." Ten minutes after the hour and official draws a red line under the last arrival's name, and all those coming subsequently are expected to furnish an explanation of their tardiness in the "remarks" column. When a real "London particular" occurs the number "below the line" is legion; the first of them writes: "Delayed by fog," and the rest scribble a "ditto."

One morning -- a foggy one -- Mr. Jones became a proud father; but even this only caused him to be about eleven minutes late. Proudly he wrote in explanation: "Wife had twins," which was followed in due course by the usual string of "ditto's."

Fred was applying for a job as a flagman/switch operator on the railroad. The chief engineer was conducting the interview. "What would you do if the Northern Express was heading north on Track 1 and the Southern Central was heading south on
Track 1?"

Fred quickly answered, "Well, I'd call my brother."

The chief engineer just sat there for a second. "Why would you call your brother?"

"He's never seen a train wreck before."

When Tom Howard was seventeen years old he was as tall as his father, so he began to borrow Mr. Howard's clothes when he wanted to go out with his friends in the evening. Mr. Howard did not like this, and he always got very angry when he found his son wearing any of his things. One evening when Tom came downstairs to go out, his father stopped him in the hall. He looked at Tom's clothes very carefully. Then he said angrily, "Isn't that one of my ties, Tom?"

"Yes, Father, it is." answered Tom.

"And that shirt's mine too, isn't that, Tom?"

"Yes, that's yours too," answered Tom.

"And you're wearing my belt!" said Mr. Howard.

"Yes, I am, Father," answered Tom. "You don't want your trousers to fall down, do you?"

By the time John pulled into the little town, every hotel room was taken. "You've got to have a room somewhere." he pleaded. "Or just a bed--I don't care where."

"Well, I do have a double room with one occupant," admitted the manager, "and he might be glad to split the cost. But to tell you the truth, he snores so loudly that people in adjoining rooms have complained in the past. I'm not sure it'd be worth it to you."

"No problem," the tired traveler assured him. "I'll take it."

The next morning, John came down to breakfast bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. When asked about how he slept, he replied, "Never better."

The manager was impressed. "No problem with the other guy snoring, then?"

"Nope. I shut him up in no time."

"How'd you manage that?"

"He was already in bed, snoring away, when I came in the room," John said. "I went over, gave him a kiss on the cheek, said, 'Goodnight, beautiful.' With that he sat up all night watching me."

To offer a story tip, make a donation or comment on this blog, write me - but be warned, I may post a reply.

If you quote from this in public somewhere, please be polite enough to let me know.

© 2003-04 Richard Burkard, All Rights Reserved.