Revenge

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As most young, weak and smart kids are, Ken was picked on constantly by the bullies in school. They stole his lunch, they beat him up and just down right made his life miserable. It took him a couple of weeks to find a way to get back at these bullies and when he found out what would get them back, he went all out.

He was on the bus where he normally gets his lunch stolen when he brought out a bottle that had, what looked like, small brown balls in it. He then, making sure no one was looking, secretly took from his pocket some milk duds and started popping them in his mouth as obvious to the rest of the kids as possible making yum yum noises.

The bus bully without asking snatched the jar from Ken’s hand and asked “What’s in the bottle that you are making such a big deal of?”

“Well, they’re smart pills.”

“Smart pills?” the bully asked. They opened the jar and popped a couple of the foreign brown balls in his mouth. “Pweeuuweppblahhh!!” he reacted.

“What is this stuff? It tastes like rabbit poop!!”

“See, you’re getting smarter already.”

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Flying With the Pope!

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A shy gentleman was preparing to board a plane when he heard that
the Pope was on the same flight.

“This is exciting,” thought the gentleman. I’ve always been a big
fan of the Pope. Perhaps I’ll be able to see him in person.
Imagine his surprise when the Pope sat down in the seat next
to him for the flight. Still, the gentleman was too shy to speak
to the Pontiff.

Shortly after take-off, the Pope began a crossword puzzle. This
is fantastic, thought the gentleman. I’m really good at
crosswords. Perhaps, if the Pope gets stuck, he’ll ask me for
assistance.

Almost immediately, the Pope turned to the gentleman and said,
“Excuse me, but do you know a four letter word referring to a
woman that ends in ‘u-n-t’?”

Only one word leapt to mind…my goodness, thought the gentleman,
I can’t tell the Pope that. There must be another. The gentleman
thought for quite a while, then it hit him. Turning to the pope,
the gentleman said, “I think you’re looking for the word ‘aunt’.”

“Of course,” said the Pope. “Do you have an eraser?”

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A cultural comparison

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Aussies: Dislike being mistaken for Pommies (Brits) when abroad. Canadians:
Are rather indignant about being mistaken for Americans when abroad.

Americans: Encourage being mistaken for Canadians when abroad.

Brits: Can’t possibly be mistaken for anyone else when abroad.

Aussies: Believe you should look out for your mates.

Brits: Believe that you should look out for those people who belong to your
club.

Americans: Believe that people should look out for & take care of
themselves.

Canadians: Believe that that’s the government’s job.

Aussies: Are extremely patriotic to their beer.

Americans: Are flag-waving, anthem-singing, and obsessively patriotic to the
point of blindness.

Canadians: Can’t agree on the words to their anthem, when they can be bothered
to sing them.

Brits: Do not sing at all but prefer a large brass band to perform the
anthem.

Americans: Spend most of their lives glued to the idiot box.

Canadians: Don’t, but only because they can’t get more American channels.

Brits: Pay a tax just so they can watch four channels.

Aussies: Export all their crappy programs, which no-one there watches, to
Britain, where everybody loves them.

Americans: Will jabber on incessantly about football, baseball, and
basketball.

Brits: Will jabber on incessantly about cricket, soccer, and
rugby.

Canadians: Will jabber on incessantly about hockey, hockey, hockey,
hockey, and how they beat the Americans twice, playing baseball.

Aussies: Will jabber on incessantly about how they beat the Poms in every
sport they play them in.

Americans: Spell words differently, but still call it “English”.

Brits: Pronounce their words differently, but still call it “English”.

Canadians: Spell like the Brits, pronounce like Americans.

Aussies: Add “G’day”, “mate” and a heavy accent to everything they say in an
attempt to be cool.

Brits: Shop at home and have goods imported because they live on an island.

Aussies: Shop at home and have goods imported because they live on an island.

Americans: Cross the southern border for cheap shopping, gas, & liquor in a
backwards country.

Canadians: Cross the southern border for cheap shopping, gas, & liquor in a
backwards country.

Americans: Drink weak, bad-tasting beer.

Canadians: Drink strong, bad-tasting beer.

Brits: Drink warm, bad-tasting beer.

Aussies: Drink anything with alcohol in it.

Americans: Seem to think that poverty & failure are morally suspect.

Canadians: Seem to believe that wealth and success are morally suspect.

Brits: Seem to believe that wealth, poverty, success and failure are inherited
things.

Aussies: Seem to think that none of this matters after several
beers.

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Going to the Doctors

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There was this guy who was sick so he went to the doctor. The doc ran
some
tests and sent him home with some medicine. The next day the doctor
called
and the wife answered.

“I’m going to have to run a few more tests”, the doctor said “I’m going
to
need a semen, urine and a fecal sample”.

After she hung up the husband asked, “What did the doctor say?”

“Oh the doctor is going to need a pair of your underwear”.

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Young Gunslinger

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It’s 1880, the decade of gunslingers and gentlemen. This is a story of one such young man that wanted more than anything to be the fastest and most respected gunslinger in the west. The place was Dodge City, Kansas in the Sawdust Saloon.

The young man walked into the Sawdust Saloon and, to his surprise, saw Bat Masterson sitting at a table playing poker. The young man walked up to Bat and said, “Mr. Masterson, I would like to be a gunslinger just like you. Could you give me some tips?”

Bat Masterson put his cards down, looked up at the boy and said, “Son, I don’t usually give out tips like this cause it could someday be detrimental to my health, but step back and let me take a look at you.”

The boy stepped back and Mr. Masterson said, “You look good. You’re wearing black, you’ve got two ivory handled guns with waxed holsters, and you look like a gunslinger. But what’s more important, son, is: Can you shoot?”

The young man, happy to show how good he was, quickly drew his pistol from his right holster and without aiming shot the cuff link off of the piano player’s right sleeve.

Bat Masterson said, “That’s good shooting son, but can you shoot with your left hand?”

Before Masterson could even finish, the boy had already drawn the pistol from his left holster and shot the cuff link off of the piano player’s left shirt sleeve. Very proud of himself the young man blew the smoke away from his six shooter and holstered his gun.

“How was that?” the boy asked Masterson.

Bat Masterson smiled and looked up and the boy and said, “That was pretty good shooting son. I couldn’t do better than that myself, but I do have one good tip for you.”

“What’s that?” the boy asked.

“I suggest that you go to the kitchen and ask the cook for a large can of lard. Then take both guns of yours and stick them down deep in the lard.”

Puzzled the young gunslinger asked Masterson why he should do that. Masterson put his cards down again, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Well son, when Wyatt Earp gets done playing the piano over there, he’s going to take those two guns of yours and shove em up your ass . . “

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