Heard Any Good Ones: Part 2

[moreluck]

Wishes........

A beautiful fairy appeared one day to a destitute refugee claimant outside a
Maryland immigration office.

My good man,' the fairy said, 'I've been told to grant you three wishes,
since you just arrived in the United States with your wife and three
children.'

The man told the fairy. 'Well, where I come from we don't have good teeth,
so I want new teeth, maybe a lot of gold in them.'

The fairy looked at the man's almost toothless grin and -- PING! -- he had
a brand new shining set of gold teeth in his mouth!

'What else?' asked the fairy, 'two more to go.'

The refugee claimant now got bolder. 'I need a big house with a three car
garage in Annapolis on the water with eight bedrooms for my family and the
rest of my relatives who still live in my country. I want to bring them all
over here..

' PING! - In the distance there could be seen a beautiful mansion with a
three car garage, a long driveway, a walkout patio with a BBQ in an upscale
neighborhood overlooking the bay.

'One more wish', said the fairy, waving her wand.

'Yes, one more wish.

I want to be like an American with American clothes instead of these tore
cloths, and a baseball cap instead of this turban. And I want to have white
skin like Americans.

' PING! - The man was transformed, wearing worn out jeans, a Baltimore
Orioles T-shirt and a baseball cap. He had his bad teeth back and the
mansion had disappeared from the horizon.

'What happened to my new teeth?' he wailed. 'Where is my new house?'

THIS IS GOOD .......

The fairy said 'Tough , Mac, Now that you are a White American, you have to fend for yourself.'

And she disappeared!

[moreluck]

A woman walks into a shop that sells very expensive Persian Rugs . She looks around and spots the perfect rug and walks over to inspect it. As she bends to feel the texture of the rug she farts loudly. Very embarrassed, she looks around nervously to see if anyone has noticed her little accident and hopes a sales person does not pop up at that moment. As she turns back, standing next to her is a salesman. "Good day, how may we help you today?" Very uncomfortably, she asks, "Sir, how much does this rug cost?" He answers, "Lady if you farted just touching it, you're gonna shii*t in your pants when you hear what the price is."

[moreluck]

Genie's Wish
A couple was golfing one day on a very, very exclusive golf course, lined with million dollar houses. On the third tee the husband said, "Honey, be very careful when you drive the ball don't knock out any windows. It'll cost us a fortune to fix."

The wife teed up and shanked it right through the window of the biggest house on the course. The husband cringed and said, "I told you to watch out for the houses. Alright, let's go up there, apologize and see how much this is going to cost."

They walked up, knocked on the door, and heard a voice say, "Come on in." They opened the door and saw glass all over the floor and a broken bottle lying on its side in the foyer. A man on the couch said, "Are you the people that broke my window?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that," the husband replied.

"No, actually I want to thank you. I'm a genie that was trapped for a thousand years in that bottle. You've released me. I'm allowed to grant three wishes -- I'll give you each one wish, and I'll keep the last one for myself."

"OK, great!" the husband said. "I want a million dollars a year for the rest of my life." "No problem-it's the least I could do. And you, what do you want?" the genie said, looking at the wife. "I want a house in every country of the world," she said.

"Consider it done," the genie replied.

"You know what, genie, maybe we can repay you by making one of YOUR wishes come true... what's your wish, genie?" the husband said.

"Well, since I've been trapped in that bottle, I haven't had sex with a woman in a thousand years. My wish is to sleep with your wife."

The husband looks at the wife and said, "Well, we did get a lot of money and all those houses, honey. I guess I don't care." The genie took the wife upstairs and ravished her for two hours.

After it was over, the genie rolled over, looked at the wife, and said, "How old is your husband, anyway?"

"35," she replied.

"And he still believes in genies? That's amazing!"

[moreluck]

Word Gender

From the Washington Post Style Invitation, in which it was postulated that English should have male and female nouns, and readers were asked to assign a gender to nouns of their choice and explain their reason,
The best submissions:

SWISS ARMY KNIFE -- male, because even though it appears useful for a wide variety of work, it spends most of its time just opening bottles.

KIDNEYS -- female, because they always go to the bathroom in pairs.

TIRE -- male, because it goes bald and often is over-inflated.

HOT AIR BALLOON: male, because to get it to go anywhere you have to light a fire under it... and, of course, there's the hot air part.

SPONGES -- female, because they are soft and squeezable and retain water.

WEB PAGE -- female, because it is always getting hit on.

SHOE -- male, because it is usually unpolished, with its tongue hanging out.

COPIER -- female, because once turned on, it takes a while to warm up. Because it is an effective reproductive device when the right buttons are pushed. Because it can wreak havoc when the wrong buttons are pushed.

ZIPLOC BAGS -- male, because they hold everything in, but you can always see right through them.

SUBWAY -- male, because it uses the same old lines to pick people up.

HOURGLASS -- female, because over time, the weight shifts to the bottom.

HAMMER -- male, because it hasn't evolved much over the last 5,000 years, but it's handy to have around.

REMOTE CONTROL -- female...Ha!...you thought I'd say male. But consider, it gives man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and while he doesn't always know the right buttons to push, he keeps trying.

[moreluck]

A biker is riding by the zoo when he sees a little girl leaning into the lion's cage.
Suddenly, the lion grabs her by the cuff of her jacket and tries to pull her inside to slaughter her, under the eyes of her screaming parents.

The biker jumps off his bike, runs to the cage and hits the lion square on the nose with a powerful punch. Whimpering from the pain, the lion jumps back, letting go of the girl, and the biker brings her to her terrified parents who thank him endlessly.

A New York Times repor ter has watched the whole event. The reporter, addressing the biker, says, "Sir, th is was
the most gallant and brave thing I've seen a man do in my whole life."

The biker replies, "Why, it was nothing, really. The lion was behind bars. I just saw this little kid in danger, and acted as I felt right."

The reporter says, "Well, I'll make sure this won't go unnoticed. I'm a journalist from the New York Times, you know, and tomorrow's paper will have this story on the front page... So, what is it that you do when you're not riding your motorcycle?"

The biker replies, "I'm a U.S. Marine, a Republican, and I'm darn proud to be both."

The journalist leaves. The following morning the biker buys The New York Times to see if it indeed brings news of his actions and reads on the front page:

U.S. MARINE ASSAULTS AFRICAN IMMIGRANT AND STEALS HIS LUNCH.

[moreluck]

ITALIAN CAR LOAN



An Italian walked into a bank in Newrk City and asked for the loan
officer. He told the loan officer that he was going to Italy on business
for two weeks and needed to borrow $5,000 and that he was not a depositor of the bank.

The bank officer told him that the bank would need some form of security for the loan, so the Italian handed over the keys to a new Ferrari. The car was parked on the street in front of the bank. The Italian produced the title and everything checked out. The loan officer agreed to hold the car as collateral for the loan and apologized for having to charge 12% interest.

Later, the bank's president and its officers all enjoyed a good laugh at
the Italian for using a $250,000 Ferrari as collateral for a $5,000
loan. An employee of the bank then drove the Ferrari into the bank's underground garage and parked it.

Two weeks later, the Italian returned, repaid the $5,000 and the interest of $23.07. The loan officer said, "Sir, we are very happy to have had your business, and this transaction has worked out very nicely, but we are a little puzzled. While you were away, we checked you out and found that you are a multimillionaire. What puzzles us is, why would you bother to borrow $5,000?"

The Italian replied:

"Where else in New York City can I park my car for two weeks for only $23.07 and expect it to be there when I return?"

Ah, the Italians... Bada Bing

[moreluck]

Hunter..........

A hunter goes into the woods to hunt a bear. He carries his trusty
22-gauge rifle with him. After a while, he spots a very large bear,
takes aim, and fires. When the smoke clears, the bear is gone.

A moment later the bear taps the hunter on the shoulder and says, "No
one shoots at me and gets away with it. You have two choices: I can
rip your throat out and eat you, or you can drop your trousers, bend
over, and I'll do you in the a$$."

The hunter decides that anything is better than death, so he drops his
trousers and bends over, and the bear does what he said he would do.
After the bear has left, the hunter pulls up his trousers again and
staggers back into town. He's pretty mad.

He buys a much larger gun and returns to the forest. He sees the same
bear, aims, and fires. When the smoke clears, the bear is gone. A
moment later the bear taps the hunter on the shoulder and says,

"You know what to do."

Afterwards, the hunter pulls up his trousers, crawls back into town,
and buys a bazooka. Now he's really mad. He returns to the forest,
sees the bear, aims, and fires. The force of the bazooka blast knocks
him flat on his back. When the smoke clears, the bear is standing over
him and says,

"You're not doing this for the hunting, are you?"

[moreluck]

The Pentagon once did a study on why so many American servicemen marry women in the countries where they're stationed.

Contrary to popular belief, loneliness had nothing to do with it. Once the men came back to the US, all their in-laws were thousands of miles away.

[moreluck]

GOD LIVES UNDER THE BED



I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night.
He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, 'Are you there, God?' he said. 'Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed...'

I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in.

He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult.
He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?
Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner,
and later to bed.
The only variati on in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.
He does not seem dissatisfied.

He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.

He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.

And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. ' That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!' Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.

His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.

And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.
He doesn't know what it means to be discontent.

His life is simple.

He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never wo rries that one day they may not be.

His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.

He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.
He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure.

He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.
He is free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry.. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God.

Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an 'educated' person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.

In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith.

It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions

It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care

Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God.
And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.

Kevin won't be surprised at all!
When you receive this, say a prayer. That's all you have to do. There is nothing attached. This is powerful.
Just send this to four people and do not break this, please. Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive. There is no cost, but a lot of rewards.

FRIENDS ARE ANGELS WHO LIFT US TO OUR FEET WHEN OUR WINGS HAVE TROUBLE REMEMBERING HOW TO FLY

[moreluck]

Newspapers...........


1. The Wall Street Journal is read by the people who run the country.

2. The Washington Post is read by people who think they
run the country.

3. The New York Times is read by people who think they
should run the
country, and who are very good at crossword puzzles.

4. USA Today is read by people who think they ought to
run the country,
but don't really understand The New York Times. They
do, however, like their statistics shown in pie charts.

5. The Los Angeles Times is read by people who
wouldn't mind running the
country, if they could find the time, and if they
didn't have to leave
Southern California to do it.

6. The Boston Globe is read by people whose parents used
to run the country and did a poor job of it, thank you very much.

7. The New York Daily News is read by people who
aren't too sure who's
running the country and don't really care as long as
they can get a seat
on the train.

8. The New York Post is read by people who don't care
who is running the
country as long as they do something really scandalous,
preferably while
intoxicated, and who like their news as pictures and/or
cartoons.

9. The Miami Herald is read by people who are running
another country, but need the baseball scores.

10. The San Francisco Chronicle is read by people who
aren't sure there is a country or that anyone is running it; but if so, they oppose
all that they stand for. There are occasional exceptions
if the leaders are handicapped minority feminist atheist dwarfs who also
happen to be illegal aliens from any other country or galaxy, provided of course, that they are not Republicans.

11. The National Enquirer is read by people trapped in
line at the grocery store.

12. The Seattle Times is read by people who have recently
caught a fish and need something in which to wrap it.

[Big Babooba]

DOG DIARY:

8:00 a.m. - Dog food! My favorite thing!

9:30 a.m. - A car ride! My favorite thing!

9:40 a.m. - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!

10:30 a.m. - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!

12:00 p.m. - Lunch! My favorite thing!

1:00 p.m. - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!

3:00 p.m. - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!

5:00 p.m. - Milk bones! My favorite thing!

7:00 p.m. - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

8:00 p.m. - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!

11:00 p.m. - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!



CAT DIARY:

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.

In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly
demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am.

Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.

The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe..... For now...

[Big Babooba]

6 Truths of Life



1. You cannot touch all your teeth with your tongue.





2. All idiots, after reading the first truth, will try it.








3. And discover that The first truth is a lie.








4. You're smiling now because you're an idiot.















5. You soon will forward this to another idiot.











6. There's still a stupid smile on your face.








I apologize about this .

I'm an idiot and I needed company ..

[Big Babooba]

While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75 year old Texas rancher, whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to Obama and his bid to be our President. The old rancher said, 'Well, ya know, Obama is a 'post turtle'.'
Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a 'post turtle' was. The old rancher said, 'When you're driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a 'post turtle'.'
The old rancher saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain. 'You know he didn't get up there by himself, he doesn't belong up there, he doesn't know what to do while he is up there, and you just wonder what kind of a dumb arss put him up there to begin with.'

[moreluck]

One Sunday a cowboy went to church. When he entered, he saw that he and the preacher were the only ones present. The preacher asked the cowboy if he wanted him to go ahead and preach.
The cowboy said, "I'm not too smart, but if I went to feed my cattle and only one showed up, I'd feed him."
So the minister began his sermon.
One hour passed, then two hours, then two-and-a-half hours.
The preacher finally finished and came down to ask the cowboy how he had liked the sermon.
The cowboy answered slowly, "Well, I'm not very smart, but if I went to feed my cattle and only one showed up, I sure wouldn't feed him ALL the hay."

[moreluck]

'Someone asked the other day, 'What was your favorite fast food when you were growing up?'

'We didn't have fast food when I was growing up,' I informed him. 'All the food was slow.'

'C'mon, seriously. Where did you eat?'




'It was a place called 'at home,'' I explained. 'Grandma cooked every day and when Grandpa got home from work, we sat down together at the dining room table, and if I didn't like what she put on my plate I was allowed to sit there until I did like it.'




By this time, the kid was laughing so hard I was afraid he was going to suffer serious internal damage, so I didn't tell him the part about how I had to have permission to leave the table. But here are some other things I would have told him about my childhood if I figured his system could have handled it:




Some parents NEVER owned their own house, wore Levis, set foot on a golf course, traveled out of the country or had a credit card. In their later years they had something called a revolving charge card. The card was good only at Sears Roebuck. Or maybe it was Sears AND Roebuck. Either way, there is no Roebuck anymore. Maybe he died.




My parents never drove me to soccer practice. This was mostly because we never had heard of soccer. I had a bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds, and only had one speed, (slow). We didn't have a television in our house until I was 11, but my grandparents had one before that. It was, of course, black and white, but they bought a piece of colored plastic to cover the screen. The top third was blue, like the sky, and the bottom third was green, like grass. The middle third was red. It was perfect for programs that had scenes of fire trucks riding across someone's lawn on a sunny day Some people had a lens taped to the front of the TV to make the picture look larger.





I was 13 before I tasted my first pizza, it was called 'pizza pie.' When I bit into it, I burned the roof of my mouth and the cheese slid off, swung down, plastered itself against my chin and burned that, too. It's still the best pizza I ever had.




We didn't have a car until I was 15. Before that, the only car in our family was my grandfather's Ford. He called it a 'machine.'





I never had a telephone in my room. The only phone in the house was in the living room and it was on a party line. Before you could dial, you had to listen and make sure some people you didn't know weren't already using the line.




Pizzas were not delivered to our home. But milk was.





All newspapers were delivered by boys and all boys delivered newspapers I delivered a newspaper, six days a week. It cost 7 cents a paper, of which I got to keep 2 cents. I had to get up at


4 AMevery morning. On Saturday, I had to collect the 42 cents from my customers. My favorite customers were the ones who gave me 50 cents and told me to keep the change. My least favorite customers were the ones who seemed to never be home on collection day.