The two buddies had been out drinking for hours when their money finally ran out.
“I have an idea,” mumbled Al. “Lesh go over to my housh and borrow shum money from my wife.”
The two of them reeled into Al’s living room, snapped on the light, and, lo and behold, there was Al’s wife on the sofa screwing another man. This state of affairs considerably unnerved Al’s friend, but didn’t seem to affect the husband.
“Shay, dear, you have any money for your ever- lovin’ hushban?” he asked.
“Yes, yes,” she snapped. “Take my purse from the mantel and, for Pete’s sake, turn off those lights.”
Outside, they examined the purse, and Al proudly announced, “There’s enough here for a beer for you and a beer for me. Pretty good eh, old buddy?”
“But, Al,” protested his friend somewhat sobered by the spectacle he’d just witnessed, “what about that fellow back there screwing your wife?”
“Fuck him,” replied Al. “Let him buy his own godam beer.”

Three old geezers were on the nursing home porch exchanging confidences.
Maurice started complaining: “You know, I’m getting so old. Yesterday I tried to take a stroll through the halls, but my knees gave way again. I’m just not up to it.”
Paul chimed in: “I know what you mean, but with me, it’s my stomach. There was a great meal last night, but I couldn’t eat a thing. I’m just not up to it.”
Then old George wanted to join in the conversation: “Yep. Let me tell you, Nurse Kidman came in to my room just before dinner and said, ‘I want you to do to me what you did at breakfast and lunch, George. That felt SO good.’ Nope, I’m just not up to it.”
Maurice and Paul looked at him in disbelief. “Just what did you do before breakfast and lunch?” one of them asked.
“That’s why I wasn’t up to it,” said George. “I couldn’t remember what she was talking about.”

Bob and his wife, were driving home one very cold night when she asks her husband to stop the car.
There was a baby skunk lying at the side of the road, and she got out to see if it was still alive.
It was, and she said to Bob, ‘It’s nearly frozen to death. Can we take it with us, get it warm, and let it go in the morning?’
He says, ‘O. K., Get in the car with it.’
‘Where shall I put it to get it warm?’
Bob says, ‘Put it in between your legs. It’s nice and warm there.’
‘But what about the smell?’
‘Just hold its little nose.’

Jon’s worked for a blonde man. One day his boss angrily forced a photo into his face, “Just what the hell is this?”
“Well,” Jon calmly replied, “It looks like a picture of me having sex with your wife.”
“Oh you’ve got some nerve you son of a bitch!” shouted the boss.
“Now wait just a minute,” said Jon. “This picture has clearly been Photoshopped.”
“What?” came the surprised boss. “How can you tell?”
“Just look right there. Your wife’s tits aren’t that big, and they’ve air-brushed out the mole by her fanny,” explained Jon.
“Well I’ll be damned! You’re right. Sorry, Jon. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusion.”

Tom, suffering from impotence, went to see a specialist. The doctor gave him a prescription for medication to take faithfully three times a day, always with food.
Two days later Tom was at a formal banquet and didn’t want any of the other guests to spot and possibly identify his blue medication. So he instructed the waiter to stir the little blue pill into his soup.
He was thinking he could eat his soup openly with everyone else, take his medication that way, and preserve his privacy all at the same time.
However, when soup was served everyone received a bowl except Tom – who began feeling conspicuous and angry. He confronted the waiter and asked why he hadn’t been served his “special” soup.
“Well, sir, I stirred your medication into your bowl as instructed. Since then, I’ve been waiting for the noodles and carrots to lie down.”

The eight-year old boy had never spoken a word. Doctors were completely baffled and felt it was unlikely the boy would ever be able to speak.
One afternoon, as he sat eating his lunch he turned to his mother and said, “Soup’s cold.”
His astonished mother exclaimed, “Son, I’ve waited so long to hear you speak. But all these years you’ve never said a thing. Why haven’t you spoken before?”
The boy looked at her and replied, “Up until now, everything’s been okay.”

After watching sales falling off for three straight months at Kentucky Fried Chicken, the Colonel calls up the Pope to ask for a favor.
The Pope says, “What can I do?”
The Colonel says, “I need you to change the daily prayer from, ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ to ‘Give us this day our daily chicken’. If you do it, I’ll donate $10 Million to the Vatican.”
The Pope replies, “I am sorry. That is the Lord’s Prayer and I cannot change the words.”
So the Colonel hangs up.
After another month of dismal sales, the Colonel panics, and calls again. “Listen your Excellency, I really need your help. I’ll give you $50 million if you change the words of the daily prayer from ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ to ‘Give us this day our daily chicken.'”
And the Pope responds, “It is very tempting, Colonel Sanders. The church could do a lot of good with that much money. It would help us support many charities. But, again, I must decline. It is the Lord’s Prayer, and I can’t change the words.”
So the Colonel gives up again. After two more months of terrible sales the Colonel gets desperate. “This is my final offer, your Excellency. If you change the words of the daily prayer from, ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ to ‘Give us this day our daily chicken’ I will donate $100 million to the Vatican.”
“Let me get back to you,” says the Pope.
So the next day, the Pope calls together all of his bishops and he says, “I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news is that KFC is going to donate $100 million to the Vatican.”
The bishops rejoice at the news. Then one asks about the bad news.
The Pope replies, “The bad news is that we lost the Wonder Bread account.”

A young man named Chuck bought a horse from a farmer for $250.
The farmer agreed to deliver the horse the next day.
The next day, the farmer drove up to Chucks house and said, ‘Sorry son, but I have some bad news, the horse died.’
Chuck replied, ‘Well, then just give me my money back.’
The farmer said, ‘Can’t do that. I went and spent it already.’
Chuck said, ‘Ok, then, just bring me the dead horse.’
The farmer asked, ‘What ya gonna do with him?”
Chuck said, ‘I’m going to raffle him off.’
The farmer said, ‘You can’t raffle off a dead horse!’
Chuck said, ‘Sure I can. Just watch me. I just won’t tell anybody he’s dead.’
A month later, the farmer met up with Chuck and asked, ‘What happened with that dead horse?’
Chuck said, ‘I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at five dollars apiece and made a profit of $2495.’
The farmer said, ‘Didn’t anyone complain?’
Chuck said, ‘Just the guy who won. So I gave him his five dollars back.’
Chuck grew up and works now for the government.

Mrs.Donovan was walking down O’Connell Street in Dublin when she met up with Father Flaherty.
The Father said, ‘Top o’ the mornin’ to ye! Aren’t ye, Mrs. Donovan. Didn’t I marry ye and yer hoosband two years ago?’
She replied, ‘Aye, that ye did, Father.’
The Father asked, ‘And be there any wee little ones yet?’
She replied, ‘No, not yet, Father.’
The Father said, ‘Well now, I’m going to Rome next week, nd I’ll light a fertility candle for ye and yer hoosband.’
She replied, ‘Oh, thank ye, Father.’
They then parted ways.
Some years later they met again. The Father asked, ‘Well now, Mrs. Donovan, how are ye these days?’
She replied, ‘Oh, very well, Father!’
The Father asked, ‘And tell me, have ye any wee ones yet?’
She replied, ‘Oh yes, Father! Two sets of twins and six singles,
Ten in all!’
The Father said, ‘That’s wonderful! And how is yer loving hoosband doing?’
She replied, ‘E’s gone to Rome.’
‘And why is that?’ asked Father Flaherty.
‘To blow out yer fookin’ candle.’

Bob was sitting on the plane, waiting to fly to Detroit, when a guy took the seat beside him.
The guy was an emotional wreck, pale, hands shaking, obviously in fear.
“What’s the matter,” Bob asked, “flying bother you?”
“No, I’ve been transferred to Detroit. I’ve heard things are terrible there. They’ve got lots of shootings, gangs, race riots, drugs, poor public schools, and the highest crime rate in the nation.”
Bob replied, “I’ve lived in Detroit all my life. It’s not as bad as the media say. Find a nice home, go to work, mind your own business, and enroll your kids in a nice private school. It’s as safe a place as you want to make it.”
The guy relaxed and stopped shaking. He said, “Oh, thank you! I’ve been worried to death. But if you live there, and say it’s OK, I’ll take your word for it. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a tail-gunner on a Budweiser truck.”