Moriarty )) walks into the confessional Man: 'I am 92 years old, have a wonderful wife of 70 years, many children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Yesterday, I picked up two college girls, hitchhiking. We went to a motel, where I had sex with each of them three times.' Priest: 'Are you sorry for your sins?' Man: 'What sins?' Priest: 'What kind of a Catholic are you?' Man: 'I'm Jewish.' Priest: 'Why are you telling me all this?' Man: 'I'm 92 years old ... I'm telling everybody..'
received from a mate in NZ : On a tour of NZ, the Pope took a couple of days off to visit the ocean for some sightseeing. He was cruising along the beach at Wanganui in his car, when there was a frantic commotion just off the shore. A helpless man wearing a green and gold Aussie rugby jersey was struggling frantically to free himself, from the jaws of a 5-metre shark. As the Pope watched horrified, a Waka cruised up alongside with two men wearing All Black jerseys. Rangi quickly threw a harpoon into the shark's side. Hohepa reached out and pulled the mauled, bleeding and semi-conscious Aussie from the water. Then, using long clubs, Rangi and Hohepa killed the shark and hauled it into the boat. Immediately the Pope summoned them to the beach, 'I give you my blessing for your brave actions,' he told them. 'I heard that there was some bitter rivalry between New Zealand and Australia, but now I have seen with my own eyes that this is not true.' As the Pope drove off, Rangi asked Hohepa 'Who the hell was that, bro?' 'That was the Pope cuz' Hohepa replied. 'He's in direct contact with God bro, and has access to all of God's wisdom.' 'Well' Rangi said, 'he may have access to God's wisdom, but he don't know bugger all about shark fishing ......... Is the bait holding up okay, or do we need to get another Aussie?
Scene 102, later in the same lesson. JM : Class, this is our student teacher, Miss Glamour, who will take the rest of the English lesson. Miss G : Right class, please give me a word with three syllables in it and then put that word into a sentence. Aircon : Beautiful. Miss G : Beau ti ful, very good Aircon, now can you put it in a sentence? Aircon : Its a beautiful day. Miss G : Thats lovely Aircon, Yes, BlackJag? Blackjag: Pickle. Miss G : Ahh, No BlackJag, next? Yes, Horse? Horse: Urinate! Miss G : Well OK Horse, it is three syllables, dare I ask you to put it in a sentence? Horse : Ur in ate Miss, but if you had bigger tits, youd be a 10! Class erupts into laughter once again at Horses incredible sense of humour.
A drunk man who smelled like whiskey sat down on a bench in a subway station, next to a priest. The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick and a half empty bottle of Jim Beam was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked, 'What causes arthritis?' The priest replies, 'My Son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and a lack of bathing.' The drunk muttered in response, 'Well, I'll be damned,' then returned to his paper. The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologised. 'I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?' The drunk answered, 'I don't have arthritis, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.'
The story behind the letter below is that there is this nutball in Newport, RI, named Scott Williams who digs things out of his backyard and sends the stuff he finds to the Smithsonian Institute, labeling them with scientific names, insisting that they are actual archaeological finds. This guy really exists and does this in his spare time! Here's the actual response from the Smithsonian Institute. Bear this in mind next time you think you are challenged in your duty to respond to a difficult situation in writing. Smithsonian Institution 207 Pennsylvania Avenue Washington, DC 20078 Dear Mr. Williams: Thank you for your latest submission to the Institute, labeled "93211-D, layer seven, next to the clothesline post . . .Hominid skull". We have given this specimen a careful and detailed examination, and regret to inform you that we disagree with your theory that it represents conclusive proof of the presence of Early Man in Charleston County two million years ago. Rather, it appears that what you have found is the head of a Barbie Doll, of the variety that one of our staff, who has small children, believes to be "Malibu Barbie". It is evident that you have given a great deal of thought to the analysis of this specimen, and you may be quite certain that those of us who are familiar with your prior work in the field were loathe to come to contradiction with your findings. However, we do feel there are a number of physical attributes of the specimen which might have tipped you off to its modern origin: 1. The material is molded plastic. Ancient hominid remains are typically fossilized bone. 2. The cranial capacity of the specimen is approximately 9 cubic centimeters, well below the threshold of even the earliest identified proto-homonids. 3. The dentition pattern evident on the skull is more consistent with the common domesticated dog than it is with the ravenous man-eating Pliocene clams you speculate roamed the wetlands during that time. This latter finding is certainly one of the most intriguing hypotheses you have submitted in your history with this institution, but the evidence seems to weigh rather heavily against it. Without going into too much detail, let us say that: A. The specimen looks like the head of a Barbie doll that a dog has chewed on. B. Clams don't have teeth. It is with feelings tinged with melancholy that we must deny your request to have the specimen carbon-dated. This is partially due to the heavy load our lab must bear in its normal operation, and partly due to carbon-dating's notorious inaccuracy in fossils of recent geologic record. To the best of our knowledge, no Barbie dolls were produced prior to 1956 AD, and carbon-dating is likely to produce wildly inaccurate results. Sadly, we must also deny your request that we approach the National Science Foundation Phylogeny Department with the concept of assigning your specimen the scientific name Australopithecus spiff-arino. Speaking personally, I, for one, fought tenaciously for the acceptance of your proposed taxonomy, but was ultimately voted down because the species name you selected was hyphenated, and didn't really sound like it might be Latin. However, we gladly accept your generous donation of this fascinating specimen to the museum. While it is undoubtedly not a Hominid fossil, it is, nonetheless, yet another riveting example of the great body of work you seem to accumulate here so effortlessly. You should know that our Director has reserved a special shelf in his own office for the display of the specimens you have previously submitted to the Institution, and the entire staff speculates daily on what you will happen upon next in your digs at the site you have discovered in your Newport back yard. We eagerly anticipate your trip to our nation's capital that you proposed in your last letter, and several of us are pressing the Director to pay for it. We are particularly interested in hearing you expand on your theories surrounding the trans-positating fillifitation of ferrous ions in a structural matrix that makes the excellent juvenile Tyrannosaurus Rex femur you recently discovered take on the deceptive appearance of a rusty 9-mm Sears Craftsman automotive crescent wrench. Yours in Science, Harvey Rowe
An elderly couple, who were both widowed, had been going out with each other for a long time. Urged on by their friends, they decided it was finally time to get married. Before the wedding they went out to dinner and had a long conversation regarding how their marriage might work. They discussed finances, living arrangements, and so on. Finally, the old gentleman decided it was time to broach the subject of their physical relationship. 'How do you feel about sex?' he asked, rather tentatively. 'I would like it infrequently' she replied. The old gentleman sat quietly for a moment, adjusted his glasses, leaned over towards her and whispered '...Is that one word or two?'
A father watched his young daughter playing in the garden. He smiled as he reflected on how sweet and pure his little girl was. Tears formed in his eyes as he thought about her seeing the wonders of nature through such innocent eyes. Suddenly she just stopped and stared at the ground. He went over to her to see what work of God had captured her attention. He noticed she was looking at two spiders mating. 'Daddy, what are those two spiders doing?' she asked. 'They're mating,' her father replied. 'What do you call the spider on top?' she asked. 'That's a Daddy Longlegs,' her father answered. 'So, the other one is a Mommy Longlegs?' the little girl asked. As his heart soared with the joy of such a cute and innocent question he replied, 'No dear. Both of them are Daddy Longlegs.' 'The little girl, looking a little puzzled, thought for a moment, then lifted her foot and stomped them flat. 'Well, we're not having any of that poofter **** in our garden' she said. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
THE INDIAN WITH ONE TESTICLE There once was an Indian who had only one testicle, and whose given name was 'Onestone'. He hated that name and asked everyone not to call him Onestone. After years and years of torment, Onestone finally cracked and said, 'If anyone calls me Onestone again I will kill them!' The word got around and nobody called him that any more. Then one day a young woman named Blue Bird forgot and said, 'Good morning, Onestone.' He jumped up, grabbed her and took her deep into the forest where he made love to her all day and all night. He made love to her all the next day, until Blue Bird died from exhaustion. The word got around that Onestone meant what he promised he would do. Years went by and no one dared call him by his given name until a woman named Yellow Bird returned to the village after being away. Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird's cousin, was overjoyed when she saw Onestone. She hugged him and said, 'Good to see you, Onestone.' Onestone grabbed her, took her deep into the forest, then he made love to her all day, made love to her all night, made love to her all the next day, made love to her all the next night, but Yellow Bird wouldn't die! What is the moral of this story????? OH, Come on...take a guess! Think about it............ (You're going to love this!) Very simply, the moral is.................. YOU CAN'T KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE!!!!
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MAKES ME PROUD TO BE AN AUSSIE: 'Hello, is this the police?' 'Yes it is. How can we help you?' 'I'm calling to report about my neighbour, Wazza. He's hiding pot inside his firewood!' 'Thank you very much for the call.' The next day, police officers descend on Wazza's house in great numbers. They search the house and then go out to the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of firewood but they find no pot. They swear at Wazza and leave. The phone rings at Wazza's house. 'Hey, Wazz, Did the cops come?' 'Yeah!' 'Did they chop up your firewood?' 'Yep.' 'Happy Birthday, maaaaaaaaaate
A platoon of soldiers was marching north of Fallujah when they came upon an Iraqi terrorist, badly injured and unconscious. On the opposite side of the road was an Australian soldier in a similar but less serious state. The soldier was conscious and alert and as first aid was given to both men, the Platoon Leader asked the injured Australian what had happened. The soldier reported, 'I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway here, and coming south was a heavily armed insurgent.' We saw each other and both took cover in the ditches along the road. I yelled to him that Saddam Hussein was a miserable, lowlife scum bag who got what he deserved. He yelled back that Kevin Rudd is a bureaucratic, Good-for-nothing, left wing labour dickhead who knows bugger all about running the country.' 'So I said that Osama Bin Ladin dresses and acts like a frigid, mean-spirited lesbian!' He retaliated by yelling, 'Oh yeah? Well, so does Julia Gillard ! ' 'And, there we were, in the middle of the road, laughing, shaking hands, when a f---ing truck hit us.'
