Joe was known as a stingy bastard, so when he died it quickly went around town that Joe’s will provided $30,000 for an elaborate funeral.
As the last guests departed the affair, his wife, Helen, turned to her oldest friend.
“Well, I’m sure Joe would be pleased,” she said.
“You told me about the $30,000 in the will,” replied her friend Jody, who lowered her voice and leaned in close. “But how much did this really cost?”
“All of it,” said Helen. “Thirty thousand!”
“No!” Jody exclaimed. “I mean, it was very nice, but $30,000?”
“The funeral was $6,500,” Helen answered. “The wake, food and drinks were another $1,000. The rest went for the memorial stone.”
Jody computed quickly. “Wait; $22,500 for a memorial stone? My God, how big is it?!”
Helen held up her hand: “Three and a half carats.” Continue reading
The IRS decides to audit Grandpa, and summons him to the IRS office. The IRS auditor was not surprised when Grandpa showed up with his attorney.
The auditor said, ‘Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I’m not sure the IRS finds that believable.’
I’m a great gambler, and I can prove it,’ says Grandpa. ‘How about a demonstration?’
The auditor thinks for a moment and said, ‘Okay. Go ahead.’
Grandpa says, ‘I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye.’
The auditor thinks a moment and says, ‘It’s a bet.’
Grandpa removes his glass eye and bites it. The auditor’s jaw drops. Grandpa says, ‘Now, I’ll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye.’
Now the auditor can tell Grandpa isn’t blind, so he takes the bet. Grandpa removes his dentures and bites his good eye. The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Grandpa’s attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.
‘Want to go double or nothing?’ Grandpa asks ‘I’ll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between.’
The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there’s no way this old guy could possibly manage that stunt, so he agrees again. Grandpa stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, but although he strains mightily, he can’t make the stream reach the wastebasket on the other side, so he pretty much urinates all over the auditor’s desk.
The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win. But Grandpa’s own attorney moans and puts his head in his hands. ‘Are you okay?’ the auditor asks.
‘Not really,’ says the attorney. ‘This morning, when Grandpa told me he’d been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty-five thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over your desk and that you’d be happy about it!’ Continue reading
This from our friend Erik.
There was a discussion on the Today programme about the rising price of admission to Premier League football matches.
An older chap being interviewed said he could recall many years ago arriving at the turnstiles (it was probably West Ham United) and being told:
“That will be ten quid, mate.”
“What?!” the old chap exclaimed. “I could get a woman for that!”
The guy on the turnstile retorted, “Sure, but not for 45 minutes each way with a brass band and a meat pie in the interval, you couldn’t!” Continue reading
All of today’s “amusements” were sent to me by my father.
A gas station owner in Mississippi was trying to increase his sales. So he put up a sign that read, “Free Sex with Fill-Up.”
Soon a local redneck pulled in, filled his tank and asked for his free sex. The owner told him to pick a number from 1 to 10.
If he guessed correctly he would get his free sex. The redneck guessed 8, and the proprietor said, “You were close. The number was 7. Sorry. No sex this time.”
A week later, the same redneck, along with a buddy, Bubba, pulled in for another fill-up.
Again he asked for his free sex. The proprietor again asked him to guess the correct number. The redneck guessed 2 this time.
The proprietor said, “Sorry, it was 3. You were close, but no free sex this time.”
As they were driving away, the redneck said to his buddy, “I think that game is rigged and he doesn’t really give away free sex.”
Bubba replied, “No it ain’t rigged. My wife won twice last week.” Continue reading
My wife and I were going through a rough patch financially, but we kept ourselves sane by repeating, “As long as we have each other, we don’t need anything else.”
But when the television in our bedroom broke and we couldn’t afford to repair or replace it, my wife lost it.
“That’s just great!” she shouted. “Now there’s no entertainment in our bedroom at all!” Continue reading
This from my friend Julie in Australia.
A duck walks into a pub and orders a pint of beer and a ham sandwich.
The barman looks at him and says, “Hang on! You’re a duck.”
“I see your eyes are working,” replies the duck.
“And you can talk!” exclaims the barman.
“I see your ears are working, too,” says the duck. “Now if you don’t mind, may I have my beer and my sandwich please?”
“Certainly, sorry about that”, says the barman as he pulls the duck’s pint. “It’s just we don’t get many ducks in this pub. What are you doing round this way?”
“I’m working on the building site across the road,” explains the duck. “I’m a plasterer.”
The flabbergasted barman cannot believe the duck and wants to learn more, but takes the hint when the duck pulls out a newspaper from his bag and proceeds to read it.
So, the duck reads his paper, drinks his beer, eats his sandwich, bids the barman good day and leaves.
The same thing happens for two weeks.
Then one day the circus comes to town.
The ringmaster comes into the pub for a pint and the barman says to him, “You’re with the circus, aren’t you? Well, I know this duck that could be just brilliant in your circus. He talks, drinks beer, eats sandwiches, reads the newspaper and everything!”
“Sounds marvellous,” says the ringmaster, handing over his business card. “Get him to give me a call.”
So the next day when the duck comes into the pub the barman says, “Hey Mr. Duck, I reckon I can line you up with a top job, paying really good money.”
“I’m always looking for the next job,” says the duck. “Where is it?”
“At the circus,” says the barman.
“The circus?” repeats the duck.
“That’s right,” replies the barman.
“The circus?” the duck asks again, “with the big tent?”
“Yeah,” the barman replies.
“With all the animals who live in cages and performers who live in caravans?” says the duck.
“Of course,” the barman replies.
“And the tent has canvas sides and a big canvas roof with a hole in the middle?” persists the duck.
“That’s right!” says the barman.
The duck shakes his head in amazement, and says, “What the f**k would they want with a plasterer??!” Continue reading
I am writing to say what an excellent product you have! I’ve used it all of my married life, as my Mom always told me it was the best.
Now that I am in my fifties I find it even better! In fact, about a month ago, I spilled some red wine on my new white blouse. My inconsiderate and uncaring husband started to belittle me about how clumsy I was, and generally started becoming a pain in the neck.
Well, one thing led to another and somehow I ended up with his blood on my new white blouse! I grabbed my bottle of Tide with bleach alternative, and to my surprise and satisfaction, all of the stains came out! In fact, the stains came out so well the detectives who came by yesterday told me that the DNA tests on my blouse were negative.
Then my attorney called and said that I was no longer considered a suspect in the disappearance of my husband.
What a relief! Going through menopause is bad enough without being a murder suspect! I thank you, once again, for having a great product.
Well, gotta go — I have to write to the Hefty Bag people.
An old lady walked into a newspaper office.
She approached an employee and said that her husband had died and that she would like to have an obituary appear in the paper.
The employee gave her a form and told her to write the obituary on it. She wrote, “Earl W. Worth died Saturday, December 2nd at his home. Services are at The Baptist Church at 3 P.M.”
The employee looked at the form and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but obituaries are limited to 7 words apiece.
The woman took another form and wrote, “Earl died. ’57 Chevy truck for sale.”