More Fun

[Retread]

A punter was at the horse races playing the ponies and all but losing his shirt.

He noticed a Priest step out onto the track and blessed the forehead of one of the horses lining up for the 4th race.

Lo and behold, that horse - a very long shot - won the race.

Next race, as the horses lined up, the Priest stepped onto the track. Sure enough, he blessed one of the horses.

The punter made a beeline for a betting window and placed a small bet on the horse. Again, even though it was another long shot, the horse won the race.

He collected his winnings, and anxiously waited to see which horse the Priest would bless next.

He bet big on it, and it won. As the races continued the Priest kept blessing long shots, and each one ended up winning.

The punter was elated. He made a quick dash to the ATM, withdrew all his savings, and awaited for the Priest's blessing that would tell him which horse to bet on ..

True to his pattern, the Priest stepped onto the track for the last race and blessed the forehead of an old nag that was the longest shot of the day.

This time the priest blessed the eyes, ears, and hooves of the old nag. The punter knew he had a winner and bet every cent he owned on the old nag.

He watched dumbfounded as the old nag came in last. In a state of shock, he went to the track area where the Priest was.

Confronting Him, he demanded, 'Father! What happened? All day long you blessed horses and they all won. Then in the last race, the horse you blessed lost by a mile. Now, thanks to you I've lost every cent of my savings!'.

The Priest nodded wisely and with sympathy.

'Son,' he said, 'that's the problem with you Protestants, you can't tell the difference between a simple blessing and last rites.

[Retread]

The elderly priest, speaking to the younger priest, said, ''You had a good idea to replace the first four pews with plush bucket theatre seats. It worked like a charm. The front of the church always fills first now.''

The young priest nodded, and the old priest continued, ''And you told me adding a little more beat to the music would bring young people back to church, so I supported you when you brought in that rock 'n roll gospel choir. Now our services are consistently packed to the balcony.''

''Thank you, Father,'' answered the young priest. ''I am pleased that you are open to the new ideas of youth.''

''All of these ideas have been well and good,'' said the elderly priest, ''But I'm afraid you've gone too far with the drive-thru confessional.''

''But, Father,'' protested the young priest, ''my confessions and the donations have nearly doubled since I began that!''

''Yes,'' replied the elderly priest, ''and I appreciate that. But the flashing neon sign, 'Toot 'n Tell or Go to Hell' cannot stay on the church roof!"

[Retread]

WHY OUR HEALTH CARE COSTS ARE SO HIGH!!!

Kevin had shingles.

Those of us who spend much time in a doctor's office should appreciate this! Doesn't it seem more and more that physicians are running their practices like an assembly line?

Here's what happened to Kevin:

Kevin walked into a doctor's office and the receptionist asked him what he had. Kevin said: 'Shingles.' So she wrote down his name, address, medical insurance number and told him to have a seat.

Fifteen minutes later a nurse's aide came out and asked Kevin what he
had...

Kevin said, 'Shingles.' So she wrote down his height, weight, a complete medical history and told Kevin to wait in the examining room.

A half hour later a nurse came in and asked Kevin what he had. Kevin said, 'Shingles..' So the nurse gave Kevin a blood test, a blood pressure test, an electrocardiogram, and told Kevin to take off all his clothes and wait for the doctor.

An hour later the doctor came in and found Kevin sitting patiently in the nude and asked Kevin what he had.

Kevin said, 'Shingles.' The doctor asked, 'Where?'

Kevin said, 'Outside on the truck. Where do you want me to unload 'em??'

HOPE THIS MAKES YOU LAUGH OUT LOUD LIKE I DID... THAT'S WHY I HAD TO POST IT....THESE DAYS WE NEED ALL THE LAUGHS WE CAN GET.

[Retread]

A man goes into the hospital for a vasectomy.

Before the procedure a very attractive nurse comes in and takes his vitals, then tells him to take all of his clothes off.

When he is fully undressed she instructs him to lie down on the table.

The man obeys.

The nurse then takes all of her clothes off and climbs on top and has her way with him.

Upon the completion of the act the man catches his breath and asks what that was all about.

The nurse informs the patient that studies have shown that before a vasectomy if the man has an ejaculation, he will be more relaxed and that the vasectomy is easier for the surgeon to perform thereby making the surgery safer, more efficient, and quicker.

The nurse then dresses and wheels the patient to the operating room. While they are going down the hall the patient looks through a window to the right and sees six men in a room masturbating.

Curious, the man asks, "What are they doing in there"?

The nurse responds, "They are getting vasectomies too, but...you have Blue Cross and they have Obama Care."

[ABC in Georgia]

Two Middle East mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat's milk.

The older of the two pulls a small folder out of her handbag and starts flipping through photos. They start reminiscing.

''This is my oldest son, Mujibar. He would have been 24 years old now.''

''Yes, I remember him as a baby.'' says the other mother cheerfully.

"He's a martyr now though." the mother confides.

"Oh, so sad dear...'' says the other.

''And this is my second son, Khalid. He would have been 21.''

''Oh, I remember him,'' says the other happily, ''he had such curly hair when he was born.''

''He's a martyr too...'' says the mother quietly.

''Oh, gracious me...'' says the other.

''And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He would have been 18'', she whispers.

"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically, ''I remember when he first started school...''

''He's a martyr also,'' says the mother, with tears in her eyes.

After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and, searching for the right words, says . . .

"They blow up so fast, don't they?"

Retread ...

I really do get a kick out of your entries.

This one I am stealing to forward to friends!

Although, I do feel sad ... in real life ... for such brain-washed women, who no doubt are *proud* of sacrificing their children to Allah.

[Retread]

Retread ...

I really do get a kick out of your entries.

This one I am stealing to forward to friends!

Although, I do feel sad ... in real life ... for such brain-washed women, who no doubt are *proud* of sacrificing their children to Allah.(PBUH)

And, as swiped from commenters over in "Jihad Watch" ... I don't mean "Peace" for the letter "P" ...

All humor should be shared as much as possible. As we did with good ideas at work, steal freely and openly.


BTW - congratulations on your "choice". I have a good friend living in Calgary whose email look as much or more US than mine. Spends his winters in Hawaii.

[Retread]

A fortune teller

A woman goes to visit a fortune teller. In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the mystic delivered grave news.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just be blunt – prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year."

Visibly shaken, the woman stares at the fortune teller's lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands.

She took a few deep breaths to compose herself.

She simply had to know. She met the fortune-teller's gaze, steadied her voice, and asked her question:

"Will I be found guilty?"

[Zeus]

A young ventriloquist is touring the clubs and stops to entertain at a bar in a small town.


He's going through his usual run of stupid blonde jokes, when a large, blonde woman in the fourth row stands on her chair and says, "I've heard just about enough of your denigrating blond jokes! What makes you think you can stereotype women that way? What does a person's physical attributes have to do with their worth as a human being?" The ventriloquist looks on in amazement.


"It's guys like you who keep women like me from being respected at work and in my community," she continued, "and of reaching my full potential as a person because you and your kind continue to perpetuate discrimination against not only blondes but women at large... all in the name of humor."


Flustered, the ventriloquist begins to apologize. The blonde interjects, "You stay out of this, mister, I'm talking to that little bastard on your knee!"


Author Unknown

[Retread]

I was sitting at a long stoplight yesterday, minding my own business, patiently waiting for it to turn green even though there was no on-coming traffic.
A carload of bearded, young, loud Muslims, shouting Anti-American slogans, with a half-burned American Flag duct-taped on the trunk of their car and a "Remember 9-11" slogan spray painted on the side, was stopped next to me.
Suddenly they yelled, "Aqbar Allah! Praise Allah!" and took off before the light changed.
Out of nowhere an 18-wheeler came speeding through the intersection and ran directly over their car, crushing it completely and killing everyone in it.
For several minutes I sat in my car thinking to myself, "Man...that could have been me!"
So today, bright and early, I went out and got a job as a truck driver.

[Odysseus]

Two Middle East mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat's milk.

The older of the two pulls a small folder out of her handbag and starts flipping through photos. They start reminiscing.

''This is my oldest son, Mujibar. He would have been 24 years old now.''

''Yes, I remember him as a baby.'' says the other mother cheerfully.

"He's a martyr now though." the mother confides.

"Oh, so sad dear...'' says the other.

''And this is my second son, Khalid. He would have been 21.''

''Oh, I remember him,'' says the other happily, ''he had such curly hair when he was born.''

''He's a martyr too...'' says the mother quietly.

''Oh, gracious me...'' says the other.

''And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He would have been 18'', she whispers.

"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically, ''I remember when he first started school...''

''He's a martyr also,'' says the mother, with tears in her eyes.

After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and, searching for the right words, says . . .

"They blow up so fast, don't they?"

Bumper sticker seen in Gaza: "My martyr blew up your honor student."