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Irreverent Jokes

Issue #82

      (Believing it is important for people to be able to laugh at themselves, this is a continuing feature in Backwoods Home Magazine. We invite readers to submit any jokes they’d like to share to BHM, P.O. Box 712, Gold Beach, OR 97444. Jokes may also be submitted online to editor@backwoodshome.com Subject=Irreverent_Jokes. There is no payment for jokes used.)


  
A young man asked an old rich man how he made his money.

The old guy fingered his worsted wool vest and said, "Well, son, it was 1932. The depth of the Great Depression. I was down to my last nickel.

I invested that nickel in an apple. I spent the entire day polishing the apple and, at the end of the day, I sold the apple for ten cents. The next morning, I invested those ten cents in two apples. I spent the entire day polishing them and sold them at 5:00 pm for 20 cents. I continued this system for a month, by the end of which I'd accumulated a fortune of $1.37.

Then my wife's father died and left us two million dollars..."

Two confirmed bachelors sat talking. Their conversation drifted from politics to cooking.

"I got a cookbook once," said one, "but I could never do anything with it."

"Too much fancy work in it, eh?" asked the other.

"You said it. Every one of the recipes began the same way, ‘'Take a clean dish...'"

A motorist, driving by a Texas ranch, hit and killed a calf that was crossing the road. The driver went to the owner of the calf and explained what had happened. He then asked what the animal was worth.

“Oh, about $200 today,” said the rancher. “But in six years it would have been worth $900. So $900 is what I’m out.”

The motorist sat down, wrote out a check, and handing it to the farmer he said, “Here is the check for $900. It’s post-dated six years from now.”

Coming out of church, Mrs. Smith asked her husband, “Do you think that Johnson girl is tinting her hair?”

“I didn’t even see her,” admitted Mr. Smith.

“And that dress Mrs. Davis was wearing,” continued Mrs. Smith, “Really, don’t tell me you think that’s the proper outfit for a mother of two.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t notice that either,” said Mr. Smith.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” snapped Mrs. Smith. “A lot of good it does you to go to church.”

A New York lawyer went duck hunting in rural Down East Maine. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer’s field on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing.

The litigator responded, “I shot a duck and it fell in this field, and now I’m going to retrieve it.”

The old farmer replied, “This is my property and you are not coming over here.”

The indignant lawyer said, “I am one of the best trial attorneys in the United States and, if you don’t let me get that duck, I’ll sue you and take everything you own.

The old farmer smiled and said, “Apparently, you don’t know how we settle disputes Down East. We settle small disagreements like this with the Down East Three Kick Rule.”

The lawyer asked, “What is the Down East Three Kick Rule?”

The Farmer replied, “Well, because the dispute occurs on my land, first I kick you three times and then you kick me three times and so on back and forth until someone gives up.”

The attorney quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom.

The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the attorney. His first kick planted the toe of his heavy steel toed work boot into the lawyer’s groin and dropped him to his knees. His second kick to the midriff sent the lawyer’s last meal gushing from his mouth. The barrister was on all fours when the farmer’s third kick to his rear end sent him face-first into a fresh cow pie.

The lawyer summoned every bit of his will and managed to get to his feet. Wiping his face with the arm of his jacket, he said, “Okay, you old coot. Now it’s my turn.”

The old farmer smiled and said, “Naw, I give up. You can have the duck.”

On a wall in a ladies room . . . “My husband follows me everywhere.”

Written just below it . . . “I do not.”

A husband said to his wife, "No, I don't hate your relatives. In fact, I like your mother-in-law better than I like mine.




Read More Irreverent Jokes


Comments regarding this page may be addressed to editor@backwoodshome.com. Comments may appear online in "Feedback" or in the "Letters" section of Backwoods Home Magazine. Although every email is read, busy schedules generally do not permit a personal response to each one.









 
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