Purpee Jokes

What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhino?

El- if -i no

get it Hell If I know??

Ladies and gentlemen of so-called Y2K-compliant generation:Wear radiation suits.If I could offer you only one tip for the future, radiation suits would be it. Let’s face it: the ozone layer is being depleted at a rapid rate, and not even sunscreen can stop all the deadly waves. But the long-term benefits of heavy, lead-laden radiation suits have been proved in nuclear power plants everywhere, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering thoughts. I will dispense this advice…uh,…yeah, right about…now.Enjoy the power and beauty of other people’s youth. You will not understand the power and beauty of your OWN youth until it’s faded. But trust me, in 40 years, you’ll look back at young people and take great pleasure in asking them, “Help an old lady across the street, will ya?” or “Mind carrying my groceries, sonny?”You are not as fat as you imagine…you’r probably WAY worse.Don’t worry about the future. What am I, nuts? With India and Pakistan with nuclear bombs and Saddam Hussein having any and every kind of weapon possible because the inspectors weren’t there? You BETTER worry! WORRY A LOT!!!The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you on Main Street going running a red light at 65mph in a school zone into your side door at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.Do one thing every day that scares you…like leaving the house and joining the real world.Sing. Loudly. In the library. They’ll appreciate the change of pace.Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Destroy the lives of people who are reckless with yours.Sand-blast.Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re behind, sometimes you’re WAY behind. The race is long and, in the end, you’ll probably lose anyway.Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me where you live, because I’m going to kill you.Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old overdue car payment slips.Get an enema.Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t. Sure, they still live with their parents and download kiddie porn from the internet, but…can’t argue that they’re not interesting.Take plenty of Viagra.Be kind to your fertility. You’ll miss it when it’s gone.Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have a lover for every day of the week,…chances are you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll be wed with a shotgun to your back to a girl you had a “roll in the hay” with when you stopped by three months ago. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself at all; berate yourself constant. Your choices are all wrong. But so are everybody else’s.Enjoy your body. Touch it every way you can. Don’t be afraid to touch it or of what other people think of you touching it. It’s the greatest pleasure you’ll ever own.Dance, but, if you do tha Macarena, I’ll kill you.Read the directions, but only those in Japanese.Do not read beauty magazines…but rip off the free cologne and perfume inserts whenever you can.Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Make certain you get your part of the inheritance.Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to take you into their house in the future.Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to handcuff them to your wrists and ankles, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young, especially to remind you where you live…again.Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you gay.Stay home!Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise, Bill Gates is God, and you, too, will get senile. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, Bill Gates was a respectable businessman, and your boss was nice, responcible man, instead of the clueless, ladder-climbing, back-stabbing jerk he really is.Respect your boss…unless you LIKE being on unemployment.Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out on you and go to a more handsome person.Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will all be gone.Be careful whose advice you buy, but rent it whenever you can. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the toilet, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, spraying it with air freshener, and passing it to others even though they know it’s still just a big bunch of sh*t.But trust me on the radiation suits.

A young fellow at the state fair stood watching an old man. Above the old man was a sign that read, “$5.00 – If I can’t tell you where you’re from, I’ll pay you $50.00!”The young man watched a cowboy approach the old man and ask, “Is the sign right?”The man says, “Yes.” The cowboy hands him a five and says, “You’re on!”The old man looks the cowboy up and down, noticing some cow dung on his boots and flatly states, “You’re from Wyoming.”The cowboy shakes his head and says, “I’ll be darned! You’re right!” and strolls away.A second cowboy approaches the old man and goes through the same routine.Handing him the fiver, he stands and watches as the old man looks him up and down and notices a bit of straw and cow dung on his boots. The old man says, “You’re from Montana!”The cowboy, dejected, walks away.The young man decides he’s going to give the old man a run for the money. He goes into the mensroom, takes his boots off, scrubs them, dries them off and puts on a coat of polish. He walks up to the old man, hands over a five dollar bill and says, “Do your stuff!”The old man looks and looks, up and down, and appears to be befuddled. The young man is now thinking he’s gone one up on the old geezer. Finally, the old man says, “You’re from South Dakota!”The young man gets really upset and can’t for the life of him figure out how the old guy could know that, so he asks, “How in the world did you know I’m from South Dakota?”The old man replies, “By the wool on your zipper!”

You don’t know Jack Schitt!

When someone says “You don’t know Jack Schitt”, well, now you’ll know the entire story.

Jack Schitt was the only son of Owe Schitt and Awe Schitt. Owe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, married Awe Schitt, who later ran a country hotel.. The Kneedeep Inn.

Jack Schitt eventually married Noe Schitt and together they produced six children.

Sadly, their first child, Holy Schitt, passed away shortly after birth. Next came twin sons, Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt. Then they had twin daughters, Fulla Schitt and Givva Schitt. Their last child was a son, Bull.

As time went on, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school dropout. Deep Schitt’s twin brother, Dip Schitt, married Lotta schitt, who gave birth to a son, Chicken Schitt. Fulla Schitt and Givva Schitt married the Happens brothers.

The Schitt-Happens children are Dawg Schitt, Byrd Schitt and Hawse Schitt.

Bull Schitt recently married a spicy Italian number, Pisa Schitt and together they await the birth of their first child, Baby Schitt.

So the next time someone says, “You don’t know Jack Schitt!” you can say “Not only do I know Jack Schitt, but the whole damn family as well!”

A man stumbles up to the only other patron in a bar and asks if
he could buy him a drink.
“Why of course,” comes the reply.
The first man then asks: “Where are you from?”
“I’m from Ireland,” replies the second man.
The first man responds: “You don’t say, I’m from Ireland too!
Let’s have another round to Ireland.”
“Of Course,” replies the second man.
Curious, the first man then asks: “Where in Ireland are you
from?”
“Dublin,” comes the reply.
“I can’t believe it,” says the first man.
“I’m from Dublin too! Let’s have another drink to Dublin.”
“Of course,” replies the second man.
Curiosity again strikes and the first man asks: “What school did
you go to?”
“Saint Mary’s,” replies the second man. “I graduated in ’62.”
“This is unbelievable!” the first man says. “I went to Saint
Mary’s and I graduated in ’62, too!”
About that time in comes one of the regulars and sits down at
the bar.
“What’s been going on?” he asks the bartender.
“Nothing much,” replies the bartender. “The O’Malley twins are
drunk again.”