[hpdog259962]

A drunk homeless man walks in to a confessional and sits down. The
priest notices the man sitting for ten minutes without a sound. “How
can I help you my son?” Said the priest. No answer. “Son It’s not that
bad in the eyes of the lord, you can tell me.” Still quiet. Finally the
priest knocks on the wall. The man replies “ain’t no use knockin’ there
ain’t no more paper over here neither!”

[hpdog259962]

Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside with only a pet dog for

company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest

and asked, “Father, me dog is dead. Could ya’ be saying’ a mass for
the

poor creature?”

Father Patrick replied, “I’m afraid not; we cannot have services for
an

animal in the church. But there are some Baptists down the lane, and

there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for

the creature.”

Muldoon said, “I’ll go right away Father. Do ya’ think $5,000 is
enough

to donate to them for the service?”

Father Patrick exclaimed, “Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus! Why didn`t ya

tell me the dog was Catholic

[hpdog259962]

My girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year when we decided
to get married. My parents helped us in every way, and my friends
encouraged me. My girlfriend? She was a dream! There was only one
thing bothering me. That one thing was her younger sister. My
prospective sister-in-law was twenty years of age, wore tight
miniskirts, and low cut blouses. She would regularly bend down when
near me, and I got many a pleasant view of her underwear. It had to
be deliberate. She never did it when she was near anyone else. One
day little sister calls and asked me to come over to check the
wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived. She whispered to
me that soon I was to be married, and she had feelings and desires
for me that she could not overcome and did not really want to
overcome. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once
before I got married and committed my life to her sister.
I was in total shock and could not say a word. She said, “I’m going
upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want to go ahead with it just come
up and get me.” I was stunned. I was frozen in shock as I watched her
go up the stairs. When she reached the top, she pulled down her
panties and threw them down the stairs at me. I stood there for a
moment, then turned and went straight to the front door. I opened the
door and stepped out of the house and walked straight toward my car.
My future father-in-law was standing outside… With tears in his
eyes he hugged me and said, “We are very happy that you have passed
our little test. We could not ask for a better man for our daughter.
Welcome to the family!”

And the moral of this story is: Always keep your condoms in the car.

[hpdog259962]

Cough Syrup

The owner of this drug store walks in to find a guy leaning heavily
against a wall.
The owner asks the clerk:
“What’s with that guy over there by the wall?”
The clerk responds:
“Well, he came in here this morning to get something for his cough. I
couldn’t find the cough syrup, so I gave him an entire bottle of
laxative.”
The owner, wide-eyed and excited shouts:
“You idiot! You can’t treat a cough with a bottle of laxatives!”
The clerk calmly responds:
“Of course you can! Look at him; he’s afraid to cough!”

[hpdog259962]

The local bar was so sure that its bartender was the strongest man
around that they offered a standing $1000 bet. The bartender would
squeeze a emon until all the juice ran into a glass, and hand the
lemon to
a patron. Anyone who could squeeze one more drop of juice out would
win the money. Many people had tried over time – weightlifters,
longshoremen, etc. but nobody could do it.

One day a scrawny little man came in wearing thick glasses and a
polyester suit, and said in a tiny, squeaky voice, “I’d like to try
the bet.

After the laughter had died down, the bartender said okay, grabbed a
lemon, and squeezed away. He then handed the wrinkled remains of the
rind to the little man.

But the crowd’s laughter turned to total silence as the man
clenched his fist around the lemon and six more drops of juice fell
into the
glass. As the crowd cheered, the bartender paid him the $1000, and
asked the little man, “What do you do for a living? Are you a
lumberjack, a weight lifter, or what?”

The man replied,

“I work for Revenue Canada (Or America, or whatever).”

[hpdog259962]

Hi Guys
A Mafia Godfather finds out that his bookkeeper has screwed him for
ten million bucks. This bookkeeper is deaf. It was considered an
occupational benefit, and why he got the job in the first place,
since it was assumed that a deaf bookkeeper would not be able to hear
anything he’d ever have to testify about in court.

When the Godfather goes to shakedown the bookkeeper about his
missing $10 million bucks, he brings along his attorney, who knows
sign
language. The Godfather asks the bookkeeper: “Where is the 10
million bucks you embezzled from me?”

The attorney, using sign language, asks the bookkeeper where the 10
million dollars is hidden.

The bookkeeper signs back: “I don’t know what you are talking
about.”

The attorney tells the Godfather: “He says he doesn’t know what
you’re talking about.”

That’s when the Godfather pulls out a 9 mm pistol, puts it to the
bookkeeper’s temple, cocks it, and says: “Ask him again!”

The attorney signs to the underling: “He’ll kill you for sure if you
don’t tell him!”

The bookkeeper signs back: “OK! You win! The money is in a brown
briefcase, buried behind the shed in my cousin Enzo’s backyard in
Queens!”

The Godfather asks the attorney: “Well, what’d he say?”

The attorney replies: “He says you don’t have the balls to pull the
trigger.

The Funeral is on Monday

[hpdog259962]

A plumbing trap is a ‘P’ bend in a pipe (so called because it looks

like a ‘P’ lying on its face). Water trapped in the upper part of the

‘P’ prevents gasses from leaking back into the house through the

drains. A trap is placed at every fixture in the system.

‘P’ traps are useful, yet the amateur plumber is faced with a far
more

treacherous trap. It comes in the form of a small, unventilated
space,

and a metal can filled with epoxy cement.

Pipes, in an addition or remodel, are frequently crammed into tight

places. A crawl space under the house comes to mind. You must venture

into this space to complete the plumbing for your new bathroom. (How
do

you get yourself into these situations?)

Under the old floors, the world is dark and musty. It is a forbidding

place where the monsters of our childhood run rampant and there lurks

the real possibility of a mouse, snake or wolf spider waiting for an

opportunity to run up your pant leg.

You are not afraid, but you go armed into that netherworld with a can

of Raid, a measuring tape and a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun.
Your

wife refuses to go farther than the door. However, she consents to
hold

the flashlight.

It is a short scramble over the layer of plastic to where the pipes
are

meant to run. As you move, you keep your shotgun trained on a big

shadow in the corner with beady eyes. At your destination, the tape

measure flashes and you relay the measurements to your wife. She

briefly illuminates the thing in the corner as she writes. You are
not

sure, but you think that it might be a dead body. You do not say

anything to your wife, you don’t want to alarm her, or worse, have
her

think you are scared.

A few more measurements, and you get out of there. “Whew.” You wipe

your brow and set to work cutting pipes and arranging corners. The
time

of your labor is all too brief; for when all is arranged, you must
make

another foray into the darkness. You place your precut pipe and your

pot of glue in a bag, and call your wife back to the scene.

It’s back to the hole. You get to the corner and fit the pipes

together. Amazingly, in spite of your hasty measurements, they fit.

It is now that the plumbing trap is sprung. You open the glue can and

are confronted with a smell reminiscent of model airplanes. It is

pungent, but not unpleasant. You spread the glue on the first joint.

Push the pipe into the hub. Don’t forget that half twist so the glue

sets properly.

Everything seems to be going fine as you glue one joint after
another.

Wait, did you get that last one? Better check it. How did you miss

that? Must be getting lightheaded. Or maybe you got a little rushed

because of the dead body in the corner. Maybe it’s not a dead body.

Maybe it’s a live one.

You giggle. Your wife wants to know what is so funny.

“Aw nuthin'”

Boy, that glue smell is really coming on strong all of a sudden. You

shake your head. For some strange reason, your brains seem to jiggle.

You fumble with a pipe. It drops from your hand and rolls down a
little

slope to lie at the feet of the strange man in the corner.

“Pssshh,” you say in disgust.

Now you must crawl across the floor to get it.

“Shine the light on the dead guy,” you mumble to your wife.

“What are you talking about?” your wife queries.

“Shine it on the dead guy!” you insist incoherently.

Your wife wants to know what is going on, but she doesn’t have the
guts

to come see for herself. You scoff at her lack of daring. You grip
your

shot gun and advance.

You get to the pipe. You could just grab it, but you are more

interested in poking the man with your shot gun. The thing moves, you

are not sure if it’s just bunched up plastic or if it is one of your

old friends from high school.

“Jimmy! What are you doing under here?” you ask.

“Same thing you are, just trying to find a place to rest and maybe do
a

little plumbing.”

It sounds reasonable.

“Maybe you can give me a hand.”

“Sure,” Jimmy smiles, “but did you bring any beer with you?”

You hear a voice in the recesses of your mind. It is your wife
calling

you back to the light in the corner. “Honey, I think you’ve breathed
in

a little too much of that glue. Why don’t you come out of there and

take a break?”

She may be right. You say good-bye to Jimmy and crawl back to the
door

of the crawl space. It seems like a trip to eternity. Suddenly your

heart is pounding in your head, and nausea sweeps over your chest.

Your wife helps you to the open air. “Jimmy’s under there,” you tell

her.

“Definitely too much glue,” she says. “Did you finish installing the

pipes?”

You think about this question. It is a tough one. If you answer this

correctly they might let you on Jeopardy. “Yeah, it’s done.”

“We’ll let you and the pipes dry out, and then we’ll test out the

system.”

“Tomorrow.”

That night you have the biggest headache of your life. You think you

recover your sanity at about one in the morning. Thank God the job is

done. You do not relish the idea of again opening that glue pot while

you are under the house. Still, to test the system you must crawl
back

with the flashlight and observe while your wife fills the pipes with

water. You must test for leaks.

Under the house, the smell of model glue has dissipated. Water
gurgles

in the pipes as they fill. “Stop! Stop!” you shout to your wife.
Water

spurts from three unions, and a pipe leading to nowhere splashes
water

on a heat duct. You crawl out of the hole to inform your wife of the

bad news.

You will need to open the glue can in that confined space again. Only

this time you are going to rent an air breather, or better yet, bring

down a six-pack of beer for Jimmy. Maybe he can help you straighten
out

that mess.

[hpdog259962]

A precious little girl walks into a pet shop and asks, in the sweetest
little lisp, between two missing teeth, “Excuthe me, mithter, do you
keep widdle wabbits?”

As the shopkeeper’s heart melts, he gets down on his knees so that he’s
on her level and asks, “Do you want a widdle white wabbit, or a thoft
and fuwwy bwack wabbit, or maybe one like that cute widdle bwown wabbit
over there?”

She, in turn, blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands on her knees,
leans forward and says, in a tiny quiet voice, “I don’t think my python
weally gives a (Lisp saying for S**T) .”

[hpdog259962]

Complaints from your Local Dog:
1. Blaming your farts on me…not funny…not funny at all.

2. Yelling at me for barking. I’m a dog you idiot!

3. Taking me for a walk, then not letting me check stuff out. Exactly
whose walk is it anyway?

4. Any trick that involves balancing food on my nose… stop it!

5. Any haircut that involves bows and ribbons. Now you know why we
chew your stuff up when you are not home.

6. The sleight of hand, the fake-fetch throw. You fooled a dog! What
a proud moment for the top of the food chain.

7. Taking me to the vet for the big snip, then acting surprised when
I freak out every time we go back.

8. Getting upset when I sniff the crotches of your guests. Sorry, but
I haven’t quite mastered the hand shake thing yet.

9. How you act disgusted when I lick myself. Look, we both know the
truth, you’re just jealous!

10. Dog sweaters. Hello!!! Haven’t you noticed the fur???

[hpdog259962]

Hi Folks
In the year 2005, the Lord came unto Noah, who was now living in the
United
States, and said, “Once again, the earth has become wicked and
over-populated and I see the end of all flesh before me. Build
another Ark
and save two of every living thing along with a few good humans.”

He gave Noah the blueprints, saying, “You have six months to build
the Ark
before I will start the unending rain for 40 days and 40 nights”.

Six months later, the Lord looked down and saw Noah weeping in his
yard
…..
but no ark.

“Noah”, He roared, “I’m about to start the rain! Where is the Ark?”

“Forgive me, Lord,” begged Noah. “But things have changed.

I needed a building permit. I’ve been arguing with the inspector
about the
need for a sprinkler system. My neighbors claim that I’ve violated
the
neighborhood zoning laws by building the Ark in my yard and exceeding
the
height limitations. We had to go to the Development Appeal Board for
a
decision. Then the Department of Transportation demanded a bond be
posted
for the future costs of moving power lines and other overhead
obstructions,
to clear the passage for the Ark’s move to the sea. I argued that the
sea
would be coming to us, but they would hear nothing of it.

Getting the wood was another problem : There’s a ban on cutting local
trees
in order to save the spotted owl. I tried to convince the
environmentalists
that I needed the wood to save the owls. But no go!

When I started gathering the animals, I got sued by an animal rights
group.
They insisted that I was confining wild animals against their will.
As
well, they argued the accommodation was too restrictive and it was
cruel
and inhumane to put so many animals in a confined space.

Then the EPA ruled that: I couldn’t build the Ark until they’d
conducted an
environmental impact study on your proposed flood. Then to top that,
they
want me to bury all the waste materials six feet under ( You know
what they
mean ) and cover it with dirt. Now that takes the cake. I told them
there
wont be any dirt to work with.

I’m still trying to resolve a complaint with the Human Rights
Commission :

On how many minorities I’m supposed to hire for my building crew.

Also, the trades unions say : I can’t use my sons. They insist I have
to
hire only Union workers with Ark building experience.

To make matters worse, the IRS : Have seized all my assets, claiming
I’m
trying to leave the country illegally with endangered species.

So, forgive me, Lord, but it would take at least ten years for me to
finish
this Ark.”

Suddenly the skies cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow
stretched
across the sky.

Noah looked up in wonder and asked, “You mean, You’re not going to
destroy
the world?”.

“No,” said the Lord. “The government beat me to it.”

[hpdog259962]

A mechanic was removing cylinder heads from a car when he spotted a
famous heart surgeon in his shop who was standing off to the side,
waiting for the service manager to come take a look at his car. The
mechanic shouted across the garage, “Hello Doctor, please come over
here for a minute.” The famous surgeon, a bit surprised, walked over
to the mechanic. The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a
rag and asked argumentatively. “So doctor, look at this, I also open
hearts, take valves out, grind’em, put in new parts, and when I
finish this will work as a new one. So how come you get the big
money, when you and me is doing basically the same work?” The doctor
leaned over and whispered to the mechanic “Try to do it when the
engine is running.”

[hpdog259962]

Madkat, this is for you.

What if GM & Microsoft Merged
1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash twice a day.

2. Every time they repainted the lines on the road, you would have to buy a new car.

3. Occasionally, your car would die on the freeway for no reason, and you would accept this, restart, and drive on.

4. Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down and refuse to restart;
in which case you would have to reinstall the engine.

5. Only one person at a time could use the car, unless you bought ‘Car95’ or ‘CarNT.’ Then you would have to buy
more seats.

6. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was more reliable, five times as fast, and twice as easy to drive, but would only run on five percent of the roads.

7. The oil, water, temperature and alternator warning lights would be replaced by a single ‘general car fault’ warning light.

8. New seats would force everyone to have the same butt size.

9. The airbag system would say ‘Are you sure?’ before going off.

10. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna.

11. GM would require all car buyers to also purchase a deluxe set of Rand McNally road maps (now a GM subsidiary), even though they neither need them nor want them. Attempting to delete this option would immediately cause the car’s performance to diminish by 50 per cent or more.

12. Every time GM introduced a new model, car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car.

13. You’d press the ‘Start’ button to shut off the engine

[hpdog259962]

Farmer John lived on a quiet rural highway. But,
> as time went by, the traffic slowly built up at an
> alarming rate. The traffic was so heavy and so fast
> that his chickens were being run over at a rate of
> three to six a day.
>
> So one day Farmer John called the sheriff’s office
> and said, “You’ve got to do something about all of
> these people driving so fast and killing all of my
> chickens.”
>
> “What do you want me to do?” asked the sheriff.
>
> “I don’t care, just do something about those crazy
> drivers!” So the next day he had the county workers
> go out and erected a sign that said:
> SLOW–SCHOOL CROSSING
>
> Three days later Farmer John called the sheriff
> and said, “You’ve got to do something about these
> drivers. The ‘school crossing’ sign seems to make
> them go even faster.”
>
> So, again, the sheriff sends out the county
> workers and they put up a new sign: SLOW: CHILDREN
> AT PLAY
>
> That really sped them up. So Farmer John called
> and called and called every day for three weeks.
>
> Finally, he asked the sheriff, “Your signs are
> doing no good. Can I put up my own sign?”
>
> The sheriff told him, “Sure thing, put up your own
> sign.”
>
> He was going to let the Farmer John do just about
> anything in order to get him to stop calling
> everyday to complain.
>
> The sheriff got no more calls from Farmer John.
>
> Three weeks later, curiosity got the best of the
> sheriff and he decided to give Farmer John a call.
> “How’s the problem with those drivers. Did you put
> up your sign?”
>
> “Oh, I sure did. And not one chicken has been
> killed since then. I’ve got to go. I’m very busy.”
> He hung up the phone.
>
> The sheriff was really curious now and he thought
> to himself, “I’d better go out there and take a look
> at that sign… it might be something that WE could
> use to slow down drivers…”
>
> So the sheriff drove out to Farmer John’s house,
> and his jaw dropped the moment he saw the sign. It
> was spray-painted on a sheet of wood:
>
> NUDIST COLONY
>
> GO SLOW AND WATCH OUT FOR THE CHICKS

[hpdog259962]

A little old lady answered a knock on the door one day, only to be confronted by a well-dressed young man carrying a vacuum cleaner.
“Good morning,” said the young man. “If I could take a couple of minutes of your time, I would like to demonstrate the very latest in high-powered vacuum cleaners.”
“Go away!” said the old lady. I haven’t got any money!” and she proceeded to close the door.
Quick as a flash, the young man wedged his foot in the door and pushed it wide open. “Don’t be too hasty!” he said. “Not until you have at least seen my demonstration.” And with that, he emptied a bucket of horse manure onto her hallway carpet.
“If this vacuum cleaner does not remove all traces of this horse manure from your carpet, Madam, I will personally eat the remainder.”
The old lady stepped back and said, “Well I hope you’ve got a d*m*ed good appetite, because they cut off my electricity this morning!”

[hpdog259962]

The Internal Revenue Service sent an auditor to a
synagogue. As the auditor reviews all the paperwork,
he turns to the Rabbi and says, “I noticed that you
buy a lot of candles.”

“Yes, we do,” responded the Rabbi.

“Well, Rabbi, what do you do with the candle
drippings?” He asked.

“A good question,” noted the rabbi. “We actually save
them up and when we have enough, we send them back to
the candle maker and every now and then, they send us
a free box of candles.”

“Oh,” replied the auditor somewhat disappointed that
his unusual question actually had a practical answer.

“Rabbi, what about all these matzo purchases? What do
you do with all the crumbs from the matzo?”

“Ah, yes,” replied the rabbi calmly. “We actually collect
up all the crumbs from the matzo and when we have enough,
we send them in a box back to the manufacturer; and every
now and then they send us a box of matzo balls.”

“Oh,” replied the auditor, thinking hard how he could
fluster the rabbi.

“Well, Rabbi,” he continued, “what do you do with all the
foreskins from the circumcisions?”

“Yes, here too, we do not waste.” The rabbi answered.
What we do is save up all the foreskins, and when we have
enough we actually send them to the Internal Revenue Service.”

“Internal Revenue?” questioned the auditor in disbelief.

“Ah, yes,” replied the Rabbi, “Internal Revenue. And about
once a year, they send us a little p**** like you.”

[Author]

Replies