It's Almost Friday Humor Thread

[Cold Lake Kid, SASS # 51474]

[Subdeacon Joe]

[Cold Lake Kid, SASS # 51474]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Eyesa Horg]

1 minute ago, Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485 said:

It's too late

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Subdeacon Joe]

15 minutes ago, Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485 said:

 

 

Oh!!! OH!!!!   I hurt myself laughing!

[Alpo]

 On the Congressional Limited a passenger who, to judge from the visible evidences, had been patronizing a bootlegger, hailed the Pullman conductor as the latter passed through the car.

“Shay, conductor,” he inquired rather thickly, “how far is it from Wilmington to Baltimore?”

The conductor told him the distance, and passed on. On his next appearance the inebriated one halted him again:

“How far is it,” he asked, “from Baltimore to Wilmington?”

“I told you just a few minutes ago,” said the Pullman man.

“No, you didn’t,” said the traveler. “You told me how far it was from Wilmington to Baltimore. What I want to know now is how far is it from Baltimore to Wilmington.”

 

“Say, listen,” said the irate conductor. “What are you trying to do—make a goat of me? If it’s so many miles from Wilmington to Baltimore, isn’t it necessarily bound to be the same number of miles from Baltimore to Wilmington?”

“Not nesheshar’ly,” said the other. “It’s only a week from Christmas to New Year’s, but look what a devil of a distance it is from New Year’s to Christmas.”

[Alpo]

“Now, then, children,” said the Sunday school teacher in her best Sunday school teacher’s manner, “the lesson for to-day is about the Prophet Elisha. Can any little boy or little girl here tell us anything about Elisha?”

“Me,” answered a ten-year-old urchin, holding up his hand.

“Very well, then, Eddie,” answered the teacher. “Now, then, all the rest of you be nice and quiet while Eddie, here, tells us about the Prophet Elisha.”

“Well,” said Eddie, “Elisha was an old bald-headed preacher. One day he was goin’ along the big road and he came past where some children were playin’ in the sand, and they laughed at him and poked fun at him and called him names and hollered, ‘Oh, look at that old bald-headed man!’ That made Elisha hoppin’ mad and he stopped and turned around and shook his fist at ’em and he said: ‘Don’t you kids make fun of me any more! If you do I’ll call some bears out of them woods yonder and they’ll shore eat you up.’

“And they did and he did and the bears did.”

[Subdeacon Joe]

I went to the gas station to get a drink and as I walk up, I noticed these 2 Sheriff Deputies watching a woman smoking while pumping her gas. I saw her and thought, is this lady stupid, crazy, or tweaking, especially with the Officers standing RIGHT there. Being that this was a gas station a sure bet she was Tweaking. Anyway, I minded my own business and went in for a drink...As I was paying I heard someone screaming!! Man, I’m talking violent death screams!! I looked up and saw the woman's arm was on fire!! She was swinging her arm, running around going nuts!! When I got my drink and walked out the door the Officers had the woman on the ground putting the fire out!! Then they put handcuffs on her and threw her in the patrol car....I was thinking, arrested?? I was thinking, Shouldn’t she be in an ambulance, not a patrol car?? Being the nosey person I am, I asked the Officer what they were arresting her for....The Officer looked at me, dead serious, and said, "WAVING A FIRE ARM IN PUBLIC!"

[Alpo]

 Jimmie and Arthur, aged respectively six and ten, were spending a week with their grandmother, who was wealthy and generous, while their parents were away from home on a visit.

A few nights before Christmas the youngsters were getting ready for bed. Their grandmother was in an adjoining room waiting for them to retire so she might turn out the light.

Arthur said his prayers and crawled under the covers. Jimmie, still on his knees, proceeded to petition Heaven for an extensive line of Christmas presents. As he progressed, his voice rose louder and louder. Also he began to repeat himself. He spoke somewhat after this fashion:

“And, Oh, Lord, please send me a soldier-suit, and a tool-chest—a big tool-chest, Lord—and a watch and a drum and a horn and a toy wagon and——”

Annoyed, the older brother raised up and interrupted:

“Say,” he demanded, “you needn’t be praying so loud; the Lord ain’t deaf.”

“I know he ain’t,” said Jimmie, “but Grandma is.”

[LawMan Mark, SASS #57095L]

[Subdeacon Joe]

[Cold Lake Kid, SASS # 51474]

And as the Christmas bills start rolling in..........

[Subdeacon Joe]

An Irishman was once interviewed by a journalist on his 101st birthday and asked what was his secret of a long life.  He said ‘A pint of Guinness a day’ and after a short pause added, ‘and I got off the Titanic at Southampton’.

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

Quasimodo has been ringing the bells of the cathedral for fifty years,
and finally the priest decides to give him a vacation. Quasi says he
will go, but only after he gets his brother to take over for him. The
next morning, Quasi's brother rings the bell for the first time and is
struck out of the tower by the swinging bell. The townspeople see
this and gather around the dead body. They all ask the priest, "Is
this the Quasimodo that we have all heard about?" The priest replies,
"No, but he is a dead ringer for his brother."

[Sedalia Dave]

15 minutes ago, Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485 said:

Quasimodo has been ringing the bells of the cathedral for fifty years,
and finally the priest decides to give him a vacation. Quasi says he
will go, but only after he gets his brother to take over for him. The
next morning, Quasi's brother rings the bell for the first time and is
struck out of the tower by the swinging bell. The townspeople see
this and gather around the dead body. They all ask the priest, "Is
this the Quasimodo that we have all heard about?" The priest replies,
"No, but he is a dead ringer for his brother."

 

 

 

Edited December 20, 2022 by Sedalia Dave

[Sedalia Dave]

 

 

[Sedalia Dave]

 

[Smuteye John SASS#24774]

On 12/18/2022 at 8:21 PM, Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485 said:

That's the 'Bless Your Heart' light.

 

The exact meaning varies depending on circumstances.

[Alpo]

 There was a Scotchman who had a wife and she had strong views upon the subject of strong drink. One night he came home late and badly befuddled. He managed to get inside the house without awakening her, but, in order to reach his own sleeping quarters, it was necessary for him to pass through her room.

On its threshold he had an inspiration. He got down on his hands and knees and started to crawl across the intervening floor-space. But when he was just alongside of her bed he chanced to brush against the coverlids and the lady was aroused.

In the darkness, mistaking the dark bulk that was in arm’s reach of her for the family house-dog, she said, “Come, Jocko, Jocko!”

“Whereupon, at that verra moment,” said the husband next day when recounting the event to a crony, “I had the rare intelligence to lick her hand.”

[Alpo]

 Dr. Jones, a young physician with a growing practice, had been going night and day for the better part of a week. If it wasn’t the stork busy in one part of the town it was the malaria microbe busy in another. He kept up his round of visits until exhausted nature demanded a respite.

He staggered into his house in the evening completely fagged out, and tumbled into bed, telling his wife that, excepting upon a matter of life and death, he was not to be called.

At two o’clock in the morning she came to his bedside, shook him, pinched him, slapped him in the face with a wet washrag and finally roused him to a state of semi-consciousness. Mrs. Smith, physically the biggest woman in town, had been seized with a heart attack at her home on the next street and he was wanted immediately.

He struggled to his feet, threw a few garments on over his night-clothes, caught up his emergency kit and in a sort of walking trance made his way to the Smith residence. A frightened member of the household led him to the sick-room. There the patient lay, a great mountain of flesh, her features congested and her breath coming in laborious panting. Dr. Jones took her pulse and her temperature and examined her eyes, her lips and her tongue. Then he perched himself in a half recumbent attitude upon the side of the bed, put his right ear against her left breast and said:

“Madam, will you kindly start counting very slowly? Now then, one-two-three and so on. Go on until I tell you to stop.”

Obediently the sufferer began.

 

The next thing Dr. Jones knew was when a shaft of bright morning sunlight fell upon his face, and, drowsily, he heard a faint, weak female voice saying: “Nine-thousand-seven-hundred and one, nine-thousand-seven-hundred and two——!”

[Alpo]

 Little Florence was inclined to over-exaggeration; also she was overly timid in some regards. Her mother was striving to rid her of both faults.

One afternoon Florence was playing in the front yard. A fox-terrier, belonging to a neighbor, darted at her playfully. With a shriek of fright Florence fled indoors and never stopped running until she had reached the room upstairs where her mother sat.

“What’s the matter?” asked Mrs. Marshall.

“Mamma,” said Florence, “a great big bear came through a crack in the fence and chased me in the house; he almost caught me, too.”

“Florence,” said the mother sternly, “aren’t you ashamed of yourself to be so frightened of Mr. James’ little pet dog and then to tell a deliberate falsehood? I was sitting here at the window and I saw the whole thing. Now I’m going to punish you. You go in your own room and get down on your knees and confess to the Lord that you’re a naughty little girl and that you told your mother a deliberate lie. I want you to stay there, too, until you feel sure that you have obtained forgiveness for your sin.”

 

The sunshine outside was alluring and there was a mud-pie in a half finished state in the yard. Florence reluctantly withdrew herself to the privacy of the nursery. In a surprisingly short time she opened the door and poked her head out.

 

“It’s all right, mother,” she said. “I told God all about it and He says He didn’t blame me a bit. He thought it was a bear, too, when He first saw it.”

[Alpo]

 This story may or may not be true, but in view of the drops in the currencies of certain European countries which suffered heavily in the Great War, I am inclined to think it at least has a plausible sound to it.

It is said that a Swiss hotel-keeper made an announcement which was calculated to bring him the patronage of refugee notables from other lands. He gave it out that at current rates of exchange, he would accept money of any Continental nation in settlement of accounts. As a consequence, his establishment was at once filled up with distinguished exiles.

An Austrian asked for his bill. He glanced at the figures and then heaved a heavy suitcase upon the desk of the proprietor. “You will find enough money in this bag to pay you,” he said.

 

Next to come was a German nobleman. Upon learning the amount of his indebtedness he produced a yellow slip and put it into the hand of the Swiss. “This,” he said, “is the bill of lading for a carload of marks which arrived yesterday, consigned to me. The car is now at the station. Go there and get as many bales as you need.”

 

The third patron was a Russian prince. After a glance at his bill he drew from an inner pocket a flat thin heavy package which gave off a metallic sound as he deposited it upon the desk-top.

 

“What’s this?” asked the hotel-keeper.

 

“These,” said the Russian, “are the engraver’s plates. Kindly take them and print as many million-ruble notes as may be required.”

[Alpo]

 It would seem that a person named George customarily patronized a certain bar wherein gathered nightly a group of men whose highest ambition was to be on their feet when all the others were under the table, and whose proudest boast was that they had never been known to “pass out of the picture.” To these ambitions George subscribed.

One night they missed George. Nor did he come the next evening, nor the next, nor the next. It was a month before he reappeared; and then he was so swathed in bandages, so painfully hopping on crutches, that they swarmed around him with excited questionings.

“How did I get this way?” said George. “Well, I’ll tell you. Y’ remember that las’ night I was here? Drinkin’ pretty heavy that night, but you know how it is with me. . . . When I left, the ol’ bean was as clear as a bell. Actually, I might just as well not a’ had anything. Well, somehow I knew the Brooklyn Boys were going to show up that night: I sort of felt it. And when I turned out the light an’ hopped into the ol’ bed, sure enough there was two of them—one on each corner, down by my feet.”

“The Brooklyn Boys?” somebody queried.

“Yeh, sure,” said George. “You know ’em, don’t you? Little men about so high”—with his hands he indicated a span of four or five inches—“in bright yellow shirts.

“Well, as I said, there they were, two of ’em. I laid still for awhile, pretendin’ I was asleep, an’ watched ’em lookin’ at me and then at each other, and noddin’ their heads an’ sayin’: ‘That’s him. That’s the guy.’ Then all of a sudden I made a spring at them. But they got away . . . one hopped over the transom and one oozed out through the keyhole.

“ ‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘that settles ’em for to-night.’ An’ I got back in bed.

“D’ye know, I hadn’t been there a minute when I looked around and saw, there in the middle of the floor, seven of those Brooklyn Boys, all lookin’ up at me and noddin’ among themselves and sayin’: ‘That’s the guy there—that’s him.’

“Well, I jumped out of bed like a flash but they were too quick for me. They all scooted—under the door, over the door, through the keyhole an’ everywheres.

“Well, I thought I’d sure finished ’em for a while. But I’d no sooner got back in bed when I heard a sound and I looked around and there was sixty Brooklyn Boys! I knew they was up to something because they’d look up at me and then nod among themselves and whisper: ‘That’s him, all right. Uh-huh, that’s him.’

“All this time, y’understand, the ol’ head was clear as a bell. I knew perfectly well what I was doing.

“So I jumped right at them—because that’s the best way to get rid of the Brooklyn Boys, y’know. But they all got away, every single one, and I got back in bed again, thinkin’ I was safe now for sure. Well, d’ye know what?”

“What?” asked somebody.

“Why, I hadn’t but barely got back in bed when I looked down and there on the floor was thirty-five thousand Brooklyn Boys! And this time each one had a little musket over his shoulder. Well, the leader he lines them all up and waved his sword up toward me in the bed and yelled: ‘That’s him, boys! That’s the guy, up there!’

“Then he yelled: ‘Ready!’ . . .

“Then he yelled: ‘Aim!’ . . .

“Well, now, as I said, all this time the ol’ bean was workin’ beautifully. I saw just what they was up to and before that Brooklyn Boy that had the sword could yell, ‘Fire!’ I’d jumped clean out of bed and through the window.”

George paused, and wetted his throat with an appropriate liquid.

“Of course,” he added, “my room is on the third floor an’ I got sort o’ banged up—as you fellas notice. But just think what might have happened if I’d been drunk and couldn’t a’ made that jump in time!”

[Sedalia Dave]

 

 

 

[Subdeacon Joe]

Texas Gingerbread House

 

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]

[Crooked River Pete, SASS 43485]