Irreverent Jokes – Issue #103

The Irreverent Joke Page

From Issue #103



The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment: Get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it.

The next day the kids came back and one-by-one began to tell their stories.

“Johnny, do you have a story to share?”, the teacher asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Johnny replied. “My daddy told me a story about my Aunt Nancy.

“She was a pilot in Desert Storm and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a small flask of whiskey, a pistol, and a survival knife. She drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn’t break, and then her parachute landed right in the middle of 20 enemy troops. She shot 15 of them with the gun until she ran out of bullets, killed 4 more with the knife till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands.”

“Good heavens,” cried the horrified teacher. “What kind of moral did your daddy give you from this horrible story?”

“Stay the hell away from Aunt Nancy when she’s drinking.”


Stocks

If you had invested $1000 in Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49.

With Enron, you would have had $16.50 left of the original $1,000.

With WorldCom, you would have less than $5 left.

With Delta Airlines, you would have nothing.

But, if you had purchased $1,000 worth of beer one year ago, drank all that beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum recycling REFUND, you would have had $134.

Based on the above, the best current investment advice I can give you is to drink heavily and recycle.


Two elderly ladies had been friends for many decades. Over the years they had shared all kinds of activities and adventures. Lately, their activities had been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards.

One day they were playing cards when one looked at the other and said, “Now don’t get mad at me"I know we’ve been friends for a long time"but I just can’t think of your name! I’ve thought and thought, but I just can’t remember it. Please tell me what your name is.”

Her friend glared at her. For at least three minutes she just stared and glared at her. Finally she said, “How soon do you need to know?”

Cowboys and Muslims

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights.

One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer. Another is a cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show, and the third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University from the Middle East.

Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull.

The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table, and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is flapping, but still no plane comes.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks, “At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few.”

The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward, “Once my people were few,” he sneers, “and now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?”

The Montana cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl, “That’s ’cause we ain’t played cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe it’s a-comin.”

Comments are closed.