ON JOKES

A joke walked into a bar, and the bartender started laughing and laughing.



"Why did the joke cross the road?"
"I don't know."
"Because a chicken was telling it."
"Oh yeah?  What was the joke about?"
"I'm not sure since I am just learning chicken, but it had something to do with prostitutes laying eggs."



"How many jokes does it take to change a light bulb?"
"I don't know.  How many?"
"Six hundred and forty-seven."
"What?  Six hundred and forty-seven jokes to change a light bulb?" 
"Yeah, 647 jokes to change a light bulb."
"Why so many?"
"The jokes are in the union."



A joke has a black eye.
"What happened to you?" asked another joke.
And the joke replied, "My punchline lost control."

"Knock Knock"

"Who's there?"

"Joke."

"Joke who?"

"I would hope that you wouldn't want to joke anyone."

The bartender was still laughing.  The joke was not impressed.  Not only has the bartender peed his pants, but his ass fell off.  

"I'm not that funny!" said the joke.

But the bartender kept laughing, and died laughing right there in the bar.  The bartender was deader than Dracula getting a suntan.

The joke left, but later complained to The Bar Association (TBA) about the bartender's behavior and poor service.  TBA fined the bartender, and ordered him never to die laughing again. 

OTHER EXPLANATIONS FOR EINSTEIN'S THEORY OF RELATIVITY

Albert Einstein died Monday April 18, 1955.  Relatively speaking, he is dead.

Here are some other explanations for 

Eggs equals Mess if you Crack them twice.


Eagerness equals Much Crack taken twice.


Edginess equals Many Cranky two-year olds.


Easter equals Making Christ live twice.


Eczema equals Meditating on Crabs squared.


Embarrassment equals Making Crazy blogs more than twice.


Endings equals Magnificent Curtains squared or joined signalling The Show Is Over!

 

FOUR PICTURES THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS

 

 



 

THE WINTER BLAHS . . .

I'm tired of weathering fights with Emily Bronte.  (So are Heathcliff and Cathy Earnshaw.)

The Fountainhead froze because it's too cold to count with Monte Cristo.  (His friend Alex Dumas annoys me by always shrugging his atlas.)

I wish Hamlet would make up his mind.  He can't decide whether to shovel my snow, or not to shovel my snow.  (He also can't decide whether to buy slings and arrows with his outrageous fortune, or take arms against a sea of troubadours.)

The cold means my huckleberry won't fin, and Mark Twain hasn't the time to fix it.  Says he's too busy painting frozen fences with Tom Sawyer. 

King Lear won't lend me his jet to fly to a warmer climate.  He tells me to reason not the need.

Henry Miller refuses to move the Tropic of Capricorn north so that the Equator becomes the Tropic of Cancer.  Even Portnoy is complaining about this.

As if I don't have enough to do!  Oliver slipped on some ice and twisted his ankle.  Our mutual friend Charlie Dickens is too busy building his bleak house to help me to look after Oliver's cat Copperfield, and Oliver's dog Dorrit.

It's too cold to go to the the lighthouse.  It's too cold to go to the fair at Vanity.  It's too cold to go see Alice in Wonderland. (My friends Virginia Woolf, Bill Thackeray and Lou Carroll are disappointed.)

Gus Flaubert and Georgie Orwell say it's too cold for them to bring me eggs from Madame Ovary's animal farm.

I agree with my neighbor, Gabe Marquez, that cold winters make it seem like one hundred years of solitude.

Would there be winter blahs if Oedipus Rex had created Mother's Day in January?

HOW TO LOSE WEIGHT

Cut off your toes.
Cut off your feet.
Cut off your nose.
Stop eating meat.

Cut off your legs.
Cut off your butt.
Stop eating eggs.
What's left to cut?

Cut off your hands.
Cut off your arms.
Don't eat pecans.
Carry no charms.

Still not too thin
After these cuts?
Remove your skin.
Throw out your guts.

What's left of you
Won't gain weight back.
Clothing that's new
Will be a sack.

No arms. No nose.
No legs. No guts.
Don't decompose,
And don't go nuts.