Monthly Archives: May 2016

Whenever I come home from playing golf, my son always asks me excitedly, “Did you win, Dad?”

I have explained to him time and time again that you’re really just playing against yourself.

We were on vacation and I had gone out to play a round. When I returned, the kids were swimming in the hotel pool, which was full of kids and surrounded by dozens of parents.

From across the pool, at the top of his lungs, my son yelled, “Hey Dad! Did you have fun playing with yourself?”

We checked out that night.

Bill told his wife, “I’ve got a problem…”

She stopped him right there. “No, dear, WE have a problem. We’re in this together. We married for better or for worse, therefore, your problem is our problem.”

Bill sighed in relief. “Well, now it’s hardly worth mentioning.”

But his wife was insistent, “Go ahead, Bill. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Bill answered, “Somehow, we got your sister pregnant!”

Pat O’Leary left Cork for Philadelphia where he found a job on a building site.

When payday rolled around on Friday, Pat went out on the town, got drunk as a goat and spent the night with a prostitute.

The following day (Saturday) Pat decided to go to confession and tell all.

When the priest heard his confession he told Pat to say twenty ‘Our Fathers’, twenty ‘Hail Marys’, and twenty ‘Decades of the Rosary’, and to put $20 in the poor box.

Two weeks later Pat’s mate, Rory O’Brien, told Pat he was leaving for San Francisco because there was tons of work there and the money to be made was more than twice what could be made in Philly.

After a little coaxing Pat decides to go with Rory.

At the end of his first week on his new job Pat’s wages were more than double anything he’d made before.

Off he goes for a night on the town, gets drunk as a lord, and spends the night with a prostitute.

Come morning remorse sets in and Pat goes to Mission Dolores for confession.

After hearing Pat’s confession, the priest tells him to say a couple of ‘Our Father’s’ and drop a dollar in the poor box.

“But, Father. I did the same thing in Philly and had to say twenty ‘Our fathers’, twenty ‘Hail Marys’, twenty ‘Decades of the Rosary’, and I had to fork over $20 into the poor box.”

“Ah, sure,” the priest responded, “But, what do they know aboout drinkin’ and fuckin’ in Philadelphia.”

A farmer walked into a tavern and saw the local tractor salesman sitting there, head hung low, obviously upset, drowning his sorrows in his beer.

“What’s up, John?” asked the farmer.

“Gosh Bob, I’ll tell you what. If I don’t sell a tractor soon, I’m gonna have to close my shop.”

“Now John, things could be worse,” said Bob.

“How do you figure?” asked John.

“Well, John – you know my ornery cow, Bessie? I went to milk her this morning and she just kept flicking her tail in my face. So I grabbed a piece of rope and tied it up to the rafter.”

“Then, the nasty thing went and kicked the bucket away! So I tied her leg to the wall.”

“Then she kicked my stool right out from underneath me! But I was out of rope.”

“So I took my belt off and used it to tie her other leg to the other side of the stall.”

“Well wouldn’t you just know it, my darn pants fell down.”

“And John, if you can convince my wife that I was in there to milk that cow, I’ll buy a tractor from you today!”