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A man walked out to the street and caught a taxi just going by. He got into the taxi, and the cabbie said, "Perfect timing. You’re just like Brian"
Passenger: "Who?"
Cabbie: "Brian Sullivan. He's a guy who did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab, things happen like that to Brian Sullivan, every single time."
Passenger: "There are always a few clouds over every body."
Cabbie: "Not Brian Sullivan. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star and you should Have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy."
Passenger: "Sounds like he was something really special."
Cabbie: "There's more. He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Brian Sullivan, he could do everything right."
Passenger: "Wow. Some guy then."
Cabbie: "He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and how to avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Brian, he never made a mistake, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man! He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Brian Sullivan."
Passenger: "An amazing fellow. How did you meet him?"
Cabbie: "Well, I never actually met Brian. He died. I'm married to his f****ing widow."
There I was is sitting at the bar staring at my drink when a large, trouble-making biker steps up next to me, grabs my drink and gulps it down in one swig. "Well, whatcha gonna do about it?" he says, menacingly, as I burst into tears. "Come on, man," the biker says, "I didn't think you'd CRY. I can`t stand to see a man crying." "This is the worst day of my life," I say. "I'm a complete failure. I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don't have any insurance. I left my wallet in the cab I took home. I found my old lady in bed with the gardener and then my dog bit me." "So I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all, I buy a drink, I drop a capsule in and sit here watching the poison dissolve; then you, you jack-ass, show up and drink the whole thing! But enough about me, how's your day going?"
A guy was on trial for murder and if convicted, would get the electric chair. His brother found out that a red neck was on the jury and figured he would be the one to bribe. He told the red neck that he would be paid $10,000 if he could convince the rest of the jury to reduce the charge to manslaughter. The jury was out an entire week and returned with a verdict of manslaughter.
After the trial, the brother went to the red neck's house, told him what a great job he had done and paid him the $10,000.
The red neck replied that it wasn't easy to convince the rest of the jury to change the charge to manslaughter. They all wanted to let him go.
Three year old Butchy is sitting on the toilet. After some time had passed, his mother thinks he's been in there a long time and goes to see what's up.
Butchy is sitting there on the toilet looking at a book. But, every few seconds he puts his book down, grips the toilet seat with his left hand and hits himself on top of the head with his right hand.
Mother asks, "Butchy, are you alright? You've been in here a long time." Butchy replies, "I'm okay, but didn't go doody, yet."
Mom says, "Okay, you can stay here a little longer but why are you hitting yourself on top of the head?" To which, Butchy replies...
Subject: class asignment, get your parents to tell a story with a moral to it
Modified by Vikings (30. September 2010, 03:55:34)
There were all the regular types of stuff: spilled milk and pennies saved.
But then the teacher realized, much to her dismay, that only Janie was left. "Janie, do you have a story to share?" the teacher asked.
''Yes ma'am. My daddy told me a story about my Mommy. She was a Marine pilot in Desert Storm, and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory, and all she had was a flask of whiskey, a pistol, and a survival knife. She drank the whiskey on the way down so the bottle wouldn't break, and then her parachute landed her right in the middle of 20 Iraqi troops. She shot 15 of them with the pistol, until she ran out of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands.
''Good Heavens," said the horrified teacher. "What did your daddy tell you was the moral to this horrible story?"
"Stay away from Mommy when she's been drinking," Janie replied.
When I was a young boy my family spent many summers down in Atlantic City. When walking the boardwalk you would often come across an old gentleman wearing a straw hat. He always had the same joke to tell: "If you cantaloupe, what will your honeydew?" :-)
Bubbles and Barbie, two blonde sisters, had promised their uncle, who had been a seafaring gentleman all his life, to bury him at sea when he died.
In due time, he did pass away, and the two blondes kept their promise. They set off from Clearwater Beach with their uncle all stitched up in a burial bag and loaded him onto their rowboat.
After a while Bubbles said, "Do you think we're out far enough, Barbie?"
Barbie slipped over the side. Finding the water only knee deep, she said, "Nope, not yet, Bubbles." So they rowed a little farther out.
Again Bubbles asked Barbie, "Do you think we're out far enough now?"
Once again Barbie slipped over the side and almost immediately said, "No, this will never do; the water is only up to my chest."
So on they rowed and rowed and rowed, and finally Barbie slipped over the side and disappeared. Quite a bit of time went by, and poor Bubbles was really getting worried when suddenly Barbie broke the surface, gasping for breath.
Sarah: That's a joke I can understand, I didn't get the clue in those chickens probably is my English to bad and Markgm your last message something for the poetry-board?
A LITTLE THREE YEAR OLD BOY IS SITTING ON THE TOILET. HIS MOTHER THINKS HE HAS BEEN IN THERE TOO LONG, SO SHE GOES IN TO SEE WHAT'S UP. THE LITTLE BOY IS SITTING ON THE TOILET READING A BOOK. BUT ABOUT EVERY 15 SECONDS OR SO, HE PUTS THE BOOK DOWN,GRIPS ONTO TO THE TOILET SEAT WITH HIS LEFT HAND AND SLAPS HIMSELF ON THE TOP OF THE HEAD WITH HIS RIGHT HAND.
HIS MOTHER SAYS: "BILLY, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? YOU'VE BEEN IN HERE FOR A WHILE."
BILLY SAYS: "I'M FINE, MOMMY.. I JUST HAVEN'T GONE POTTY YET."
MOTHER SAYS: "OK, YOU CAN STAY HERE A FEW MORE MINUTES. BUT BILLY WHY ARE YOU HITTING YOURSELF ON THE HEAD?"
You wrote, "Why do we call each other scaredy cat or chicken when cowardly or maybe making a wise choice?"
Well, maybe because we're too afraid to cross the road. And maybe we are afraid of chickens, because they are not afraid to cross the road. We even wonder if they know if there is a road, but we stand humiliated next to them when they do cross the road.
From Roberta Frosty:
I once stood on a path in a wood where chickens went left and man once stood. But I went left that day, and I was not a chicken, and then there was all of the difference that made.
You know, I forgot to ask if the chicken propels itself. I would think if would have to be live, and whole enough to propel itself to consider the question any further.
I think that when asked, "Why did the chicken cross the road?", that we must first ask if it is a whole, live chicken, or just a piece of chicken. Secondly, and where it is a whole, live chicken, I think that we should ask, seriously, if it is a sentient being, capable even of knowing that there is a road. And thirdly, I think we should face the profound dilemma that we may then find ourselves in; that we are not chickens.
A state trooper noticed a car driving along the highway very slowly. His radar clocked the vehicle at 22 mph. The trooper, worried that the driver might be in trouble, turned on his siren and brought the slow moving car to a stop. The driver was an elderly man. In the back seat sat two old ladies. both trembling with fright. What's wrong , officer? asked the driver. i was driving the speed limit, It was on the sign back there. The troper realized what had happened. Sir, that wasn't the speed limit sign, that was the route number. The speed limit is 65. You're on highway 22. Oh, the man said with a nod. Sorry about that. The trooper looked into the back seat. Are they all right? Those are my sisters, said the driver. They'll be fine. We just got off highway 175.