Hi Everyone!
Funniest collection in weeks … make a few extra minutes to read ‘em all … you wont be sorry. And please, have a soooper-doooper-terrrrrific weekend!
:-)> Dr Bernie
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Contributions This Week From -
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• Mark Colman – Best Pumpkins
• Paul Keister – French Art Humor
• Barbara Rosenberg – This is Soooooooo Bad …
• Elyse – Hell of a Place
• Chuck Hopf – Captain Kidd Meets Captain Hook
• Don – Talking to God
• Tom Sokolowski – Gotta Love Aussie Commercials
• Maureen Zack – Still Want to Eat Out?
• another from Maureen – How To Recognize a Blonde Antelope
• EMDAlan – Definition of Old
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(from Mark Colman AND from Chuck Hopf – Best Pumpkins
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(from Paul Keister – French Art Humor
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A thief in Paris planned to steal some paintings from the Louvre. After careful planning, he got past security, stole the paintings and made it safely to his van.
However, he was captured only two blocks away when his van ran out of gas.
When asked how he could mastermind such a crime and then make such an obvious error, he replied, "Monsieur,that is the reason I stole the paintings. I had no Monet to buy Degas to make the Van Gogh."
(And you thought I didn't have De Gaulle to send this on to someone else.)
I figured I had nothing Toulouse.
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(from Barbara Rosenberg – This is Soooooooo Bad …
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Maybe politically incorrect, but....what the hell … hope you’re still in a ‘punny’ mood after the last one! - DrB
Two Muslim mothers are sitting in the cafe chatting over a pint of
goat's milk. The older of the moms pulls out her bag and starts flipping
through pictures and reminiscing. This is my oldest son, Mohammed. He would
be 24 now."
The other mom replies, "I remember him as a baby."
Mom says, "He's a martyr now."
"Oh, so sad my dear."
Mom flips to another picture. "And this is my second son, Kalid. He
would be 21."
"Oh I remember him. He had such curly hair when he was born."
Mom sighs, "He's a martyr, too."
"Oh gracious me," says the second mother.
"And this is my third son. My beautiful Ahmed! He would be 18," Mom
whispers.
"Yes," says her friend enthusiastically, "I remember when he first started
school.
"He's a martyr also," Mom says, with tears in her eyes.
After a pause an d a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at
the photos and says, "They blow up so fast, don't they?"
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(from Elyse – Hell of a Place
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One day in the future, OJ Simpson has a heart-attack and dies. He immediately goes to hell, where the devil is waiting for him.
'I don't know what to do here,' says the devil. 'You are on my list, but I have no room for you. You definitely have to stay here, so I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I've got a couple of folks here who weren't quite as bad as you. I'll let one of them go, but you have to take their place. I'll even let YOU decide who leaves.'
OJ thought that sounded pretty good, so the devil opened the door to the first room. In it was Ted Kennedy and a large pool of water. Ted kept diving in, and surfacing, empty handed. Over, and over, and over he dove in and surfaced with nothing. Such was his fate in hell.
'No,' OJ said. 'I don't think so. I'm not a good swimmer, and I don't think I could do that all day long.'
The devil opened a second door. Through it, OJ saw Bill Clinton, lying on the bed, his arms tied over his head, and his legs restrained in a spread-eagle pose. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky, doing what she does best.
OJ looked at this in shocked disbelief, and finally said, 'Yeah man, I can handle this.'
The devil smiled and said . . . . . . . .
'OK, Monica, you're free to go.'
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(from Chuck Hopf – Captain Kidd Meets Captain Hook
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Captain Hook and Captain Kidd meet in the Pirates Cove Bar. Kidd says to Hook, "What's wrong with you? You're a mess. Look at your hand ...
you've got no hand ... just that metal hook. What happened?"
"Musket exploded in my hand."
"And your leg, there's no bottom of the leg, just a peg."
"British cannon ball."
"And your eye, that black patch over it, what happened?"
"Pigeon crapped in it."
"How could you lose your eye from a pigeon crapping in it?"
"First day with the new hand."
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(from Don – Talking to God
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A man in Topeka, Kansas decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to San Francisco and started working east from there.
Going to a very large church, he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall and was intrigued with a sign, which read "Calls: $10,000 a minute.
Seeking out the pastor he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that this golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to heaven and if he pays the price he can talk directly to God.
The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way. As he continued to visit churches in Seattle, Dallas, St. Louis, Chicago, Milwaukee, and around the United States, he found more phones, with the same sign and the same answer from each pastor.
Finally, he arrived in Charleston, West Virginia, when he entered a church there, saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign read "Calls: 35 cents." Fascinated, he asked to talk to the pastor, "Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I have found this golden telephone and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven and that I could talk to God, but in the other churches the cost was $10,000 a minute. Your sign reads only 35 cents a call. Why?"
The pastor, smiling benignly, replied, "Son, you're in West Virginia now......It's a local call."
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(from Tom Sokolowski – Gotta Love Aussie Commercials
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(from Maureen Zack – Still Want to Eat Out?
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The Spoon
For all of you who frequent restaurants and understand the need for the service to be faster, this short story is a timeless lesson on how consultants can make a difference to an organization.
Last week, we took some friends out to a new restaurant and noticed that the waiter who took our order carried a spoon in his shirt pocket.
It seemed a little strange. When another waiter brought our water, I noticed he also had a spoon in his shirt pocket. Then I looked around and saw that all the staff had spoons in their pockets.
When the waiter came back to serve our soup I asked, "Why the spoon?"
"Well, he explained, "the restaurant's owners hired Andersen Consulting to revamp all our processes. After several months of analysis, they concluded that the spoon was the most frequently dropped utensil. It represents a drop frequency of approximately 3 spoons per table per hour. If our personnel are better prepared, we can reduce the number of trips back to the kitchen and save 15 man-hours per shift."
As luck would have it, I dropped my spoon and he was able to replace it with his spare. "I'll get another spoon next time! I go to the kitchen, instead of making an extra trip to get it right now."
I was impressed. I also noticed that there was a string hanging out of the waiter's fly. Looking around, I noticed that all the waiters had the same string hanging from their flies. So before he walked off, I asked the waiter, "Excuse me, but can you tell me why you have that string right there?"
"Oh, certainly!" Then he lowered his voice. "Not everyone is so observant. That consulting firm I mentioned also found out that we can save time in the restroom. By tying this string to the tip of you know what, we can pull it out without touching it and eliminate the need to wash our hands, shortening the time spent in the restroom by 76.39 percent.
I asked "After you get it out, how do you put it back?"
"Well," he whispered, "I don't know about the others, but I use the spoon."
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(another from Maureen – How To Recognize a Blonde Antelope
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I know how much you like blonde jokes…
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(from EMDAlan – Definition of Old
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First you tell your friend that you are having an affair.......
Then your friend asks you.......... "Are you having it catered?"
That, my friend, is the definition of OLD
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Hope everybody has a great weekend!
tHE fRIDAY fUNNIES is a free, weekly distribution by a lunatic to other lunatics who submit lunacy for the other lunatics to read and enjoy to get the weekend started. No personal offense is intended to any group of humans or aliens, so please, don't be offended. Contributions (jokes, NOT money!) are actively encouraged - actually desperately needed - and should be sent directly to ME, Dr Bernie, at
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Dr. Bernie Domanski
Email: fRIDAYfUNNIESbyDrBernie-owner@yahoogroups.com
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