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Hans Strelow

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Subject: Mating Call


Two Red Indians and an Irishman were walking through the woods.

All of a sudden one of the Red Indians ran up a hill to the mouth of a small cave.

'Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!' he called into the cave, and listened closely until he heard an answering, 'Wooooo! Wooooo! Woooooo!

He then tore off his clothes and ran into the cave.


The Irishman was puzzled and asked the remaining Indian what it was all about,

'Was the other Indian crazy or what?'

The Indian replied: 'No, It is our custom during mating season when Indian men see cave, they holler, 'Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!' into the opening. If they get an answer back, it means there's a beautiful squaw in there waiting for us.


Just then they came upon another cave.

The second Indian ran up to the cave, stopped, and hollered, 'Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!'

Immediately, there was the answer.

'Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!' from deep inside.

He also tore off his clothes and ran into the opening.


The Irishman wandered around in the woods alone for a while, and then spied a third large cave.

As he looked in amazement at the size of the huge opening, he was thinking,

'Hoo, man! Look at the size of this cave! It is bigger than those the Indians found.

There must be some really big, fine women in this cave!'

He stood in front of the opening, and hollered with all his might, 'Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!'


Like the others, he then heard an answering call, 'WOOOOOOOOO, WOOOOOOOOO WOOOOOOOOO!'

With a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face, he raced into the cave, tearing off his clothes as he ran.







The following day, the headline of the local newspaper read ..............




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As for the notion that lunar mining will impact the "delicate gravitational interplay" between the Earth and its "only satellite," well, that's not true either. (If I'm not mistaken, this idea appears to have come from the recent movie "The Time Machine.") Actually, the "gravitational balance' isn't all that "delicate." The Earth and the Moon weigh (well, technically they don't "weigh," but "mass") as much as, well, planets, and the few hundred pounds involved in Transorbital's plans - or even the larger quantities from long-term plans for Helium3 mining - won't disturb anything. The Earth and Moon each experience substantial influxes of mass on a regular basis - the Earth receives about 100 tonnes of interplanetary dust per day. Yet somehow, the "delicate balance" remains intact.


Sadly, this isn't the only space-related lunacy. The Berkeley City Council has endorsed Rep. Dennis Kucinich's (D-Ohio) "Space Preservation Act," which bans any sort of military presence in space (including satellite-based "mind control" devices). But on Earth First! email lists, some environmentalists aren't happy with Kucinich's bill, because it would still allow commercial activity in outer space: they want to see space kept as a "wilderness" area, completely off limits to human activity.

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For all of us who are married, were married, wish you were married, or wish you weren't married, this is something to smile about the next time you see a bottle of wine:


Sam was driving home from one of his business trips in Northern Arizona when he saw an elderly Navajo man walking on the side of the road.


As the trip was a long and quiet one, he stopped the car and asked the Navajo man if he would like a ride.


With a silent nod of thanks, the man got into the car.


Resuming the journey, Sam tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo man. The old man just sat silently, looking intently at everything he saw, studying every little detail, until he noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sam.


'What in bag?' asked the old man.


Sam looked down at the brown bag and said, 'It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my wife.'


The Navajo man was silent for another moment or two. Then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, he said:


'Good trade.'

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From the "I'm not making this up!" files;




In a letter to U. of C. President Robert Zimmer, 101 professors—about 8 percent of the university's full-time faculty—said they feared that having a center named after the conservative, free-market economist could "reinforce among the public a perception that the university's faculty lacks intellectual and ideological diversity."




"It is a right-wing think tank being put in place," said Bruce Lincoln, a professor of the history of religions and one of the faculty members who met with the administration Tuesday. "The long-term consequences will be very severe. This will be a flagship entity and it will attract a lot of money and a lot of attention, and I think work at the university and the university's reputation will take a serious rightward turn to the detriment of all."




"For many people who travel around the word, the university has had a pretty bad reputation that is tied to the Chicago School and economic principles that Milton Friedman advocated," said Yali Amit, a U. of C. statistics and computer science professor. "We don't think it's a great idea to strengthen this reputation."

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A husband emerged from the bathroom naked and

was climbing into bed when his wife complained, as

usual, 'I have a headache.'


'Perfect,' her husband said, 'I was just in the bath-

room powdering my penis with crushed aspirin. You

can take it orally or as a suppository; it's up to you.'

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I wrote this:


Phrases for Employee Evaluations


• He has the boorish appearance of an apprentice who has kept his head above water only because wood floats.


• He exhibits the malleability of thought of a fire-hardened brick. He adapts to new situations with geologic speed. His mind is like concrete, thoroughly mixed up and set forever.


• He is lacking only in intelligence and personal hygiene. He still thinks people are complimenting him when they ask where he gets his hair cut.


• He exhibits all the traits of a dog except loyalty.


• He has never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity.


• He shows the kind of loopy optimism normally associated with children and those who have no idea as to their surroundings. His silly grin is matched with vacant eyes that focus only briefly on trivialities before clouding over again with a myopia that is complimented by apathy.


• This man is an administrative tornado, moving huge amounts of paper in random directions until stopped by a direct order or lunch.


• His coworkers give him the quiet respect usually they reserve for potentially dangerous large animals such as oxen and water buffalo.


• His work area resembles the nest of a large incontinent bird.


• He files items in archaeological order; oldest items on the bottom.


• Never has a hotter wind blown from a more empty cave.


• His long-winded diatribes rarely address the subject at hand and instead wander from subject to subject in a continuous drone we now regard as simple background noise, ignored by employees although distracting to visitors and actually frightening to clients.


• He combines the curiosity of a child with a curiosity about children that is not altogether healthy.


• He has the cleanest “out” box of anyone in the organization.


• He never uses a sentence when a paragraph would suffice.


• He maintains extensive cross-referenced files on every real or imagined slight against him to maintain long-running feuds that on occasion have crossed generational lines.


• He sees enemies everywhere he looks but does not suffer from paranoia.


• By his own estimation, he excels at all tasks that are not observed, measured, evaluated or critical.


• Slow and stupid, but in an ingenious, scheming and sneaky way that bears constant watching and inspires both worry and dread.


• Although we have grown to hate the sound of his whining monotone; it is the silences when we cannot account for his location or his activities that frighten us the most.


• His output inspires a quiet confidence that things are much worse that they appear and in a new, unexpected way that will defy easy detection or correction.


• He lights up every room he leaves with energy and creativity.


• We think he may now understand that cigarette smoking and gasoline do not mix.


• He once submitted a claim for travel expenses complete with elaborate receipts a full two weeks before his departure. These remarkable documents included expenses of a person we later determined to be his “imaginary friend.”


• He was described as “sexual harassment personified” in a recent court ruling.


• We consider him to be as sharp as a bowling ball, but much denser and potentially more destructive.


• As near as we can figure, he is building a house from the office supplies that have turned up missing during his tenure.


• Usually slow and lethargic, surveillance video shows him putting six cases of white-out in his trunk with superhuman speed. He seems to have thought it was some sort of beverage.


• We have installed a key labeled “ANY” on his computer rather than continue to try to explain the concept to him.


• He has the highest “Minesweeper” score ever seen. He sometimes wears a T-shirt emblazoned with that fact.


• He knows all the words to the “Gilligan’s Island” song and was once found sharing them with a client in the waiting room. Sometimes he chants the words softly to himself over and over like some kind of crazed rabbinical student.


• Product Development uses him to check “idiot-proof” designs. He has not taken the hint.


• He could not lead people out a restroom. Even if it was on fire.


• Although he does not yet grasp the concept of regular weekly staff meetings, he has managed to schedule vacation in conjunction with every long weekend between now and his retirement.


• He has all the personality traits of a poker, except the occasional warmth.


• He is a contact man in dealing with coworkers. All “con,” no “tact.”


• He has the wisdom that comes from youth and the energy that is the gift of age.


• He is untroubled by the chaos around him, although it is not clear if his serenity is from indifference or inexperience.

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This is from the Washington Post's Weekly Challenge. In this episode, readers were asked to come up with Rodney Dangerfield-type lines.




Fourth Runner-Up: At home, I don't get no respect. My wife tells me she wants to make a kid. I says, "You're too old to make another kid." She says, "No, I mean the kid next door." (Chris Doyle, Burke)


Third Runner-Up: This lady, she's so ugly she don't get no respect. She has to hand out whistles to construction workers. (Jean Sorensen, Herndon)


Second Runner-Up: My wife don't give me no respect. I say, "Let's have sex like animals." She says, "Okay, I'll be a possum." (Chris Doyle, Burke)


First Runner-Up: I go out, I don't get no respect. I say to the bartender, "Gimme the strongest thing you got." His bouncer beats me up! (Mark Young, Washington)


And the winner of travel and face-lift books: In bed, I don't get no respect. My wife's favorite position is back-to-back. (Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)

Honorable Mentions:



As a kid, when I went trick-or-treating, our neighbors didn't bother with apples. They just handed me a razor blade. (Lawrence P. McGuire, Waldorf)


When I played cowboys and Indians as a kid, I always had to be the post the cowboys tied their horses to. (David Kleinbard, Jersey City)


When I called my OB-GYN for an appointment, he said, "How about you just describe yourself over the phone." (Judith E. Cottrill, New York)


I joined the Optimists Club and within a week they had all committed suicide. (Debra J. Gravelle, Cornwall-on-Hudson, N.Y.)


Melissa Etheridge passed up my sperm for David Crosby's. (Stephen Dudzik, Olney)


Even hookers want to know why7

I asked Kevorkian for help. He mailed me a noose. (Stephen Dudzik, Olney)


My wife and I tried group sex. The group had sex with my wife. (Chris Doyle, Burke)


My wife says I should get in touch with my feminine side. I guess that's because she won't let me get in touch with HER feminine side. (Chris Doyle, Burke)


Matt Drudge considers me unreliable. (Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)


My dog tries to roll in me. (Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)


When I turn on AOL it says, "Welcome. You've got a weak chin." (Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)


Lawyers tell jokes about me. (Bob Sorensen, Herndon)


When I was a kid, the crossing guard at my school gave me a blindfold and told me to Use the Force. (Stephen Dudzik, Silver Spring)


AOL wants its disk back. (Bob and Jean Sorensen, Herndon)


My wife told me to pick up condoms on the way home. I've had a vasectomy. (Art Grinath, Takoma Park)


Ray Romano called the other day. He doesn't want me to love him. (Jean Sorensen, Herndon)


When I go to restaurants, waiters make me spit in my own iced tea. (Jean Sorensen, Herndon)


I got a letter from Publishers Clearing House saying, "No way in hell you could be a winner." (Craig McGowan, Liverpool, N.Y.)


When my patients come into the examining room, they ask the nurse for rubber gloves. (Stephen Fahey, Kensington, Md.)


They only print my name in parentheses. (Russell Beland, Springfield)



© 2001 The Washington Post Company

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  • 1 month later...
  • 2 weeks later...

Found this joke on another forum :


Black hurricanes....


Well, it appears our African-American friends have found yet something else to be pissed about. A black congresswoman, from Florida , has complained that the names of hurricanes are all Caucasian sounding names.

She would prefer some names that reflect African-American culture such as Chamiqua, Tanisha, Woeisha, Shaqueal, and Jamal. I am NOT making this up!

She would also like the weather reports to be broadcast in 'language' that street people can understand because one of the problems that happened in New Orleans was, that black people couldn't understand the seriousness of the situation, due to the r racially biased language of the weather report.

I guess if the weather person says that the winds are going to blow at 140+ MPH, thats too hard to understand


I can hear it now: A weatherman in Miami and Tampa says...


Wazzup, mutha-fukkas! Hehr-i-cane Chamiqua be

headin' fo' yo ass like Leroy on a crotch rocket!

Bitch be a category fo'! So grab yo' chirren, yo'

Ho, be leavin yo crib, and head fo' da nearest

guv'ment office fo yo FREE sh.t!


Based on a true story : http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article....RTICLE_ID=33896


*If considered offensive in any way , please delete.

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The Iranian Airplane


The captain of an Iranian airliner broadcasts in a bind, "This is Iranian Airlines Flight 174 announcing we have lost an engine and wish to land at any airport in the Mideast OTHER than Israel."


No answer.


A short while later he announces, "This is Iranian Airlines Flight 174. We have lost TWO engines and ask permission to land at any airport in the Mideast OTHER than Israel."


No answer from anyone.


A while later the pilot announces, "This is Iranian Airlines Flight 174. We are in desperate need of help. We have lost three engines and need permission to land at any airport in the Mideast OTHER than Israel.


Still no answer.


Finally, the Captain calls, "Mayday, mayday! This is Iranian Airlines Flight 174, we have only one engine left and it is failing. Unless we can land we are going to crash. We need permission to land at ANY airport in the Mideast, INCLUDING Israel.


Immediately a voice is heard in the Iranian cockpit: "This is the Tel Aviv Airport Tower calling Iranian Airlines Flight 174. We would be delighted to help."


"God bless you," said the Iranian pilot, "what should we do sir?"


The Tel Aviv Airport control tower operator says, "Repeat after me: Yitgadal, v'yitgadash ...."



FYI: "Yitgadal, v'yitgadash..." are the beginning words of the Kaddish, the prayer for the dead.

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