Jokes of the Day

After twenty-five years in the liquor business, Tom was worn out and ready for some peace. He walked away from the bars, the clinking glasses, and the neon signs and bought himself 50 acres in the Alaskan wilderness, about as far from other people as a man could get.

The only interruptions were the mail carrier once a week and a supply run into town once a month, and Tom loved every quiet minute of it. Then, about six months in, someone knocked on his door.

Standing there was a giant of a man with a beard big enough for a family of squirrels to move into. “Name’s Lars,” he said in a booming voice. “I live about forty miles north. I’m throwing a Christmas party Friday at 5. Figured you could use some company.”

Tom was thrilled at the thought of seeing another human being. “Count me in,” he said with a grin. “It’s been way too quiet out here.”

Lars nodded and started to go, then stopped. “Fair warning, there’ll be some drinking.”

Tom laughed. “I spent twenty-five years in the liquor trade. My liver’s had plenty of practice. I’ll fit right in.”

Lars nodded again, his beard swaying like a pine tree in the wind. “And there’ll be fighting,” he said.

“No problem,” said Tom. “I’m a peaceful guy, but I can handle myself if it comes to that.”

“And, uh,” Lars went on, a twinkle in his eye, “there might be some pretty wild lovemaking.”

Now Tom’s eyes lit up too. “Well, now, that’s the best news I’ve heard since I moved out here! It’s been a lonely six months. I’ll be there with bells on. Speaking of which, what should I wear?”

Lars shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Whatever you like,” he said, casting a final glance over his shoulder. “It’s just gonna be you and me, anyway.”

An Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman were having a few drinks at a bar.

“This place is fine,” said the Scotsman, “but I’d still take a pub back home any day. In Glasgow there’s a wee spot called McTavish’s.”

“The landlord there really looks after his regulars. Buy four drinks and he buys you the fifth.”

“That’s nothing, Angus,” said the Englishman. “At the Red Lion, my local in London, the barman stands you your third drink once you’ve bought the first two.”

The Irishman waved them both off. “Ahhh, dat’s nothin’. At my favorite pub back home, the second you walk in the door, they buy you a drink. Then another. As many as you want, really.”

“And when you’ve had your fill, they take you upstairs and make sure you get laid, all on the house!”

The other two didn’t believe a word of it, but the Irishman swore it was the honest truth.

“So has this actually happened to you?” they asked.

“Well, not to meself, no,” the Irishman admitted.

“But it did happen to me sister quite a few times.“

A married man with a guilty conscience steps into the confessional.

“Father, I have to confess. I very nearly committed adultery with another woman.”

The priest leans in. “What do you mean, ‘nearly’?”

The man sighs. “We took our clothes off, got into bed, and our bodies... rubbed together. But I stopped it before it went any further.”

The priest shakes his head. “My son, rubbing together is just as sinful as going all the way. You must promise to stay away from that woman from now on.”

“For your penance,” he adds, “say five Hail Marys and put $50 in the poor box.”

The man nods, solemnly says his Hail Marys, and walks over to the poor box. But instead of putting money in, he stands there a moment, hesitates, and then turns to go.

The priest, who has been watching the whole time, hurries over. “I saw that. You didn’t put anything in the poor box!”

The man grins. “True, Father. But I rubbed the $50 bill against the box. And like you said,” he adds with a wink,

“…that’s just as good as putting it in!”

Two leprechauns walk up to a convent in Ireland one day and knock on the door.

The mother superior answers and finds the two little green men standing there.

“What can I do for you?” she asks.

The younger leprechaun speaks up. “Mother superior, are there any leprechaun nuns in your convent?”

She thinks it over and says, “No, there are no leprechaun nuns here.”

“Well, miss, do ye know of any leprechaun nuns in the county?”

After a moment she says, “Not that I know of. There aren’t any in the county.”

“Well, do ye know of any leprechaun nuns in all of Ireland then?”

She considers it carefully and answers,

“As far as I know, there aren’t any in this convent, this county or this country.”

“Why all these questions about leprechaun nuns?”

The younger leprechaun turns to his buddy and says,

“I told you you were screwing a penguin!”

At the grocery store, a woman notices a grandfather trying to shop with his badly behaved 3-year-old grandson.

The old man clearly has his hands full. The kid shrieks for candy in the candy aisle, for cookies in the cookie aisle, and so on. Through it all, Gramps keeps moving, saying in a steady voice, “Easy, Albert, we won’t be long. Easy, boy.”

After another meltdown, she hears him say calmly, “It’s okay, Albert. Just a couple more minutes and we’ll be out of here. Hang in there, boy.”

At the register, the little terror starts hurling things out of the cart, and once again Gramps keeps his voice even: “Albert, Albert, relax, buddy. Don’t get upset. We’ll be home in five minutes. Stay cool, Albert.”

Thoroughly impressed, the woman follows him out to the parking lot, where he’s loading the groceries and the boy into the car.

“Sir, I know it’s none of my business, but you were amazing in there. I don’t know how you did it.”

“You kept your cool the whole time. No matter how loud and wild he got, you just calmly told him everything would be okay. Albert is very lucky to have you for a grandpa.”

“Thanks, lady,” Gramps says,

“But, I’m Albert – that little brat’s name is Carl, and I’m going to drink a lot of whiskey when I get home.”

On a long flight, a lawyer finds himself seated beside a blonde.

Figuring blondes are easy marks, he decides he can take her for a ride and asks if she’d like to play a fun game.

She’s exhausted and only wants a nap, so she says no thanks, turns toward the window, and closes her eyes.

The lawyer won’t let it go. He insists the game is a blast.

“Here’s how it works. I ask you a question, and if you don’t know the answer, you pay me just $5.00. Then you ask me one, and if I can’t answer it, I’ll pay you $500.00.”

That gets her attention, and mostly to shut him up, she agrees.

He goes first. “What’s the distance from the Earth to the Moon?”

Without a word, the blonde digs a five-dollar bill out of her pocket and hands it over.

Then it’s her turn. “What goes up a hill with three legs, and comes down with four?”

The lawyer opens his laptop and searches every reference he can find online. He emails every smart friend he has. Nothing.

After an hour he gives up, wakes the blonde, and hands her $500.00.

She tucks the money away and drifts right back to sleep.

Not knowing the answer is driving the lawyer crazy. Finally he nudges her awake again. “Well, so what goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four?”

The blonde reaches into her pocket, hands the lawyer $5.00, and goes back to sleep.

It was a Sunday morning in December, and a blizzard was raging. The pastor crept along the roads to his country church and got there with only five minutes to spare.

He unlocked the doors, flipped on the lights, and found the place completely empty.

Just as he was about to shut everything down and head home, an old farmer came in, dusted with snow.

“Well, hello, Joe,” said the pastor. “Seems nobody else could get here. I suppose we’ll skip the service today.”

The old man studied him for a moment. “Reverend, I’m only an old farmer, but I know this much.

“If I haul a load of hay out to the field to feed my cattle, and only one cow shows up, I still feed it.”

Embarrassed, the pastor said, “You’re absolutely right. Let me go get ready.”

Moved by the farmer’s devotion, he launched into the service and preached with fire for two full hours.

Afterward, he walked over to the farmer. “So, Joe, I hope you enjoyed the sermon.”

The old farmer gave him a long look, shook his head, and said,

“Reverend, if I go out to feed the cattle, and only one cow shows up, I still feed it.

“But I sure don’t give it the whole bloomin’ load.”

It’s an ordinary day at the bar when the door flies open and four excited blondes come bouncing in.

They walk up and order five bottles of champagne and ten glasses, then carry everything to a big table and sit down.

Corks pop, glasses get filled, and they start toasting and chanting,

“51 days, 51 days, 51 days!”

Three more blondes come in, grab their drinks, and the chant gets louder,

“51 days, 51 days, 51 days!”

Then two more arrive and join right in,

“51 days, 51 days, 51 days!”

At last the tenth blonde walks in carrying a picture under her arm.

She sets it down in the middle of the table, and the place goes wild.

Everybody jumps up, dancing around the table and trading high-fives, still chanting,

“51 days, 51 days, 51 days!”

The bartender can’t stand it anymore and heads over to the table.

In the middle sits a beautifully framed children’s puzzle of the Cookie Monster.

Once things settle down a bit, he asks one of them, “So what’s the big celebration?”

The blonde who brought the picture speaks up. “Everybody thinks blondes are dumb and they make fun of us. So we decided to set the record straight. Ten of us got together, bought that puzzle, and put it together.”

“The side of the box said 2-4 years, but we put it together in 51 days!”

The mafia has an accountant who happens to be deaf.

One day the big boss is going over the books and spots that a million dollars has gone missing.

He calls in the accountant, along with a sign language interpreter.

“A million dollars is missing. Where is it?” the boss demands.

The interpreter signs, “A million dollars is missing. The boss wants to know where it is.”

The accountant signs back, “What? I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“Boss, he says he has no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll ask one more time,” the boss says. “Where is the money?”

The interpreter signs, “He’s asking one more time. Where’s the money?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what he’s talking about!” the accountant signs.

“He says he honestly doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

Now the boss is livid. He pounds the table, pulls out a gun, and presses it to the accountant’s head.

“Tell this weasel that if he doesn’t tell me where the money is right now, I’m going to blow his brains all over this desk!”

The interpreter signs, “Okay, he means it. Tell him where the money is or he’s going to kill you right here.”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you!” the accountant signs frantically. “It’s in a briefcase under my desk!”

“Well?” the boss shouts. “What did he say?”

The interpreter says,

“Well, boss, he said go screw yourself.”

A mom flew all the way across the country because her only son was graduating from the Air Force and getting married, both on the very same day.

Her son hugged her and told her how much it meant that she’d made the trip.

“Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away,” she said.

“It’s not every day a mom watches her son get his wings and have them clipped all in one day.”

* * *

While shopping at an upscale store, Sarah’s mother is modeling a fur coat with a huge price tag.

Sarah frowns. “You know some poor, dumb animal had to suffer just so you could wear that thing, right?”

Her mother spins to face her. “Think about how much I’ve suffered!”

“And don’t call your father an animal.”

One day Dave was boasting to his boss, “You know, I know everybody worth knowing. Name anyone you like, and I know them.”

His boss had heard enough of this and decided to call him on it. “OK, Dave. What about Elon Musk?”

“Easy, boss! Elon and I go way back. I’ll prove it.” So the two of them fly to Austin and knock on the door at Tesla headquarters. Elon Musk opens it himself and yells,

“Dave! My man! Long time no see! Come on in for a coffee!”

The boss is impressed but not convinced. Once they’ve left Musk’s office, he tells Dave he figures that was just a fluke.

“No, no, name somebody else,” Dave says.

“King Charles III,” the boss shoots back.

“Of course,” says Dave. “We’re old pals! Let’s fly to London.” And away they go.

They’re on the tour at Buckingham Palace when the King spots Dave and waves the two of them over. “Dave, old chap! How marvelous to see you! Come in for some tea, and let’s catch up.”

By now the boss is rattled, but he still isn’t fully sold. Outside the palace he tells Dave he has his doubts, and once again Dave tells him to pick anyone at all.

“The Pope,” says the boss.

“No problem!” says Dave. “The Pope and I go back years.” So off they fly to Vatican City.

They’re standing in the huge crowd in St. Peter’s Square when Dave says, “This won’t work. There’s no way the Pope will spot me with all these people around. Tell you what, I know all the guards, so I’ll just pop upstairs and come out on the balcony with the Pope.”

And he vanishes into the crowd, heading for the Vatican.

Sure enough, half an hour later Dave steps out onto the balcony beside the Pope. But when he makes his way back, he finds his boss on the ground having a heart attack, with paramedics all around him.

Dave pushes through to his side. “What happened?”

His boss looks up at him. “That was the last straw. You and the Pope came out on the balcony, and the guy standing next to me said,

‘Who the heck is on the balcony with Dave?’”

A woman passed away and arrived at the pearly gates, where an angel stood waiting.

“What do I need to do to get in?” she asked.

“Just spell a word,” said the angel.

“That’s not so bad. Which word?”

“Love.”

Relieved, she rattled it right off: “L-O-V-E.”

The angel nodded and swung the gate open.

Months went by. Then one day the angel asked whether she’d mind covering the gate for the day.

She said yes and took up her post.

Before long, a man walked up to the gate — and it was her own husband!

“Oh, my love!” she cried. “What happened to you so soon?”

“My dear, I was a wreck the day I lost you,” he said. “After your accident I sank into a depression I couldn’t shake. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. All I could do was mourn you.”

“I hope you were eventually able to move on, and didn’t suffer too long,” she said gently.

“Well, actually,” he said, “there was a nurse who took wonderful care of you — and of me, too!”

“We grew very close, and she helped me so much that I eventually asked her to marry me. We were on our honeymoon when I had a terrible skiing accident. That’s why I’m here! So... what do I have to do to get in?”

“You just have to spell a word,” she told him.

“That’s it? What a relief! What’s the word?”

She replied,

“Baccalaureate.”

Susan’s washer quits on her, and she books a repair guy to come out.

She’ll be at her job when he comes, so she gives him instructions over the phone: “The key will be under the mat. Fix the washer, put the bill on the counter, and I’ll mail you a check.”

“Also, my bulldog Spike will be there. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you.”

“But whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, talk to my parrot! I mean it. Don’t talk to my parrot.”

When he shows up the following day, waiting inside is the hugest, meanest bulldog he’s ever seen in his life.

Sure enough, Spike just sprawls on the rug, keeping an eye on him while he works.

The parrot is another story. The whole time, it squawks, swears, and calls him every name in the book, until he’s ready to lose his mind.

At last he can’t take it anymore. “Shut up, you stupid, ugly bird!”

The parrot answers:

“Get him Spike!”

This country has a population of 327 million.

Of those, 76 million have retired.

So 251 million are left to carry the load.

Subtract the 48 million who are permanently disabled.

Now we’re down to 203 million doing the work.

Take away 74 million kids under the age of 6.

That brings it to 129 million workers.

Another 95.2 million are kids and young adults still in school.

So the workforce shrinks to 33.8 million.

On any given day, about 4 million people are off on vacation.

Down to 29.8 million.

Federal employees, not counting the military, account for 15 million of those.

So now it’s 14.8 million.

Then there are 2.8 million in the armed forces, busy with North Korea and the Middle East.

That leaves 12 million.

Knock off another 10.8 million who work for state and city governments.

Now it’s 1.2 million people doing the work.

At any moment, 188,000 people are in the hospital.

That leaves 1,012,000.

And there are 1,011,998 people sitting in prisons.

Which means only two people are left to do the work.

You and me.

And what are you doing?

Sitting on your ass...

At your computer, reading jokes.

Luigi and Maria have an appointment with a marriage counselor.

Maria takes the first session by herself, and the counselor asks what brought her in.

“Luigi is a great husband,” she begins. “There are only three things about him that drive me crazy.”

“Go ahead,” the counselor says.

“Number one, he never stops working. He’s at the job so much that the kids and I barely see him.”

“Number two… this sounds silly, I know, but he picks his nose in public all the time. I could die of embarrassment.”

“And number three?”

Maria lowers her voice. “It’s kind of private, but when we make love, he will never let me be on top.”

The counselor thanks her, sends her to the waiting room and brings Luigi in.

“So, Luigi, how are things at home?”

“It’sa good,” says Luigi.

“No complaints?”

“No complainta.”

“Well, your wife raised a few issues. She feels you work far too much. She says you’re always picking your nose when you’re out in public. And — forgive me, this is delicate — she says you never let her get on top in bed.”

Luigi nods. “When I comma to this country, my father tella me three things. Three things, he tella me, to make it big in America.

First: Worka hard. So I worka hard.

Second, he says: Keepa your nose clean. So I keepa my nose clean.

And third, he says: Don’t fucka up.”

An attorney got home late one night after a brutal day spent fighting for a stay of execution.

His last-minute appeal to the governor for clemency had been turned down, and he was exhausted and miserable.

The second he stepped inside, his wife lit into him. ‘Do you know what time it is? Where have you been? Your dinner’s stone cold and I’m not warming it up again.’ On and on she went.

He was too wrecked to play his usual part in their nightly routine. He poured a shot of whiskey and trudged upstairs for a long, hot bath, her sarcastic comments following him every step of the way.

While he was soaking, the phone rang.

His wife picked up and learned that her husband’s client, James Wright, had been granted a stay of execution after all. Wright would not be hanged tonight.

It finally sank in what an awful day he must have had, so she went upstairs to tell him the good news.

She opened the bathroom door just as he was bent over, stark naked, toweling off his legs and feet.

‘They’re not hanging Wright tonight,’ she said.

He whirled around and screamed, ‘FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN, DON’T YOU EVER STOP F******’ COMPLAINING?!’

A rich young debutante has gotten engaged to a Mexican man from a poor background.

Shortly before the ceremony, her mother takes her aside. “I’ve done everything I can to change your mind about this man, and you’re still going ahead with it. So I’m asking for just one promise.”

“Those Mexicans want things in the bedroom that are unnatural, perverse and filthy. Swear to me that if he ever asks you to ‘roll over,’ you’ll say no.”

She swears it, and the wedding goes ahead. For about five years, all is well. Then one night, lying in bed, her husband says, “Honey, how about something new tonight? I want you to roll over.”

She’s horrified. “My mother warned me about you! That’s sick and disgusting! How dare you even ask?”

“But,” says her husband, “don’t you want to have children?”

Luigi walks the 20 blocks to work every day, which means he passes a certain shoe store twice a day.

Every time, he stops at the window to stare at the Armani leather shoes.

He wants them so badly... they’re all he thinks about.

It takes about 2 months, but he finally saves the $300 and buys them.

The Italian community holds a dance every Friday night down in the church basement.

Luigi grabs the chance to show off his new Armani leather shoes.

First he dances with Sophia, and partway through he asks, ‘Sophia, do you wear red panties tonight?’

Sophia is startled. ‘Why yes, Luigi, I do. But how do you know?’

‘I see the reflection in my new $300 Armani leather shoes,’ he says. ‘How do you like them?’

Then it’s Rosa’s turn. A few minutes into the dance he asks, ‘Rosa, do you wear white panties tonight?’

‘I do, Luigi,’ says Rosa. ‘But how can you tell?’

‘I see the reflection in my new $300 Armani leather shoes. How do you like them?’

By the end of the evening, as the band strikes up the last song, Luigi takes Carmela out onto the floor.

Partway through, his face goes bright red...

‘Carmela, be stilla my heart,’ he pleads, ‘please, please tell me you wear no panties tonight, please, please, tella me this true?!’

With a coy smile, Carmela says, ‘Yes Luigi, I wear no panties tonight...’

Luigi gasps, ‘Thank God! I thought I had a CRACK in my $300 Armani leather shoes!’

Yossel Zelkovitz had a job at a pickle factory in Poland.

For years he had been tormented by a powerful, almost irresistible urge to stick his penis in the pickle slicer.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he went to the factory psychologist for help.

Six months of intensive therapy later, the exasperated psychologist threw in the towel. His advice to Yossel was to just go ahead and do it, or he would probably never know a moment’s peace.

The very next day, Yossel came home from work hours early.

His wife, Sacha, was alarmed and demanded to know what was going on.

In tears, Yossel told her for the first time about his terrible urge to put his penis in the pickle slicer. Today, he explained, he had finally done it, and he was fired on the spot.

Sacha let out a gasp and rushed over. She yanked down his pants and shorts, only to find his penis completely intact.

She looked up at him, confused. “I don’t get it. What about the pickle slicer?”

Yossel replied, “I think she got fired, too.”

A man joined a monastery with a strict rule: each monk could speak only two words every 10 years.

When his first decade was up, the head monk called him in.

“You have been here 10 years now. What are your two words?”

“I’m hungry,” the monk said.

So the head monk arranged for him to receive an extra portion every day.

Ten more years went by, and the head monk summoned him again.

“What two words would you like to say?”

“Too cold.”

So the head monk saw to it that he was given an extra blanket.

At the 30-year mark, he was called before the head monk once more.

“And what are your two words this time?”

“Wanna leave.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said the head monk.

“You’ve done nothing but complain since you got here!”

Three couples all want to be married at the same church.

One couple is young, one is middle-aged, and one is elderly.

They sit down together with the priest to talk about dates.

“Anyone who wants to be married in my church must first go a whole month without sex,” the priest tells them.

A month goes by, and all three couples come back to see him.

He starts with the elderly couple. “Did you make it through the month without sex?”

“We did. It was no trouble at all,” they say.

“And you?” he asks the middle-aged couple.

“It wasn’t easy, but we went the entire month without it,” they tell him.

“What about you two?” he asks the young couple.

“No, we didn’t make it,” the boyfriend admits.

“Explain,” says the priest.

“Well, we held out for three weeks. Then my girlfriend was holding a can of corn and dropped it by accident. When she bent down to pick it up, that’s when it happened.”

“You are not welcome in my church,” the priest informs them.

“We’re not welcome in the supermarket either,” says the boyfriend.

Lamaze class was underway in a crowded room of moms-to-be and their partners.

The instructor was coaching the women on proper breathing and explaining to the men how they could be supportive at this stage of things.

“Ladies, exercise is good for you,” the teacher said. “And walking is one of the best things you can do…

“…and gentlemen, it wouldn’t kill you to get out there and walk with your partner, too!”

The class fell silent.

After a moment, one guy sitting in the middle slowly raised his hand.

“Yes?” said the instructor.

“… Is it all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?”

Out on a lonely back road, miles from town, a young man and his date were parked in his car.

Things were just about to get going when she stopped him. “I probably should have told you sooner, but I’m actually a hooker. Sex costs $20.”

He wasn’t happy about it, but he paid her, and they carried on.

When it was over, he lit a cigarette and sat staring silently out the window.

“Why aren’t we moving?” she asked.

He turned to her. “Well, I probably should’ve told you sooner...”

“But I’m actually a taxi driver, and the fare back to town is $25.”

Last week my wife and I went to bed, and things started heating up.

Right in the middle of it, she stops and tells me, “I don’t feel like it, I just want you to hold me.”

“Excuse me?” I said. “So what was all that just now?”

And then she hit me with the sentence that strikes fear into the heart of every married man:

“You’re just not in touch enough with my emotional needs as a woman, for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man.”

I must have looked lost, because she followed up with, “Can’t you just love me for who I am and not for what I do in the bedroom?”

Clearly the night was over, so I went to sleep.

The following morning I called in and took a personal day so I could be with her. We had a fancy lunch, then spent the afternoon at an enormous department store.

She tried on outfit after outfit, all of them outrageously expensive, and couldn’t make up her mind. “Forget choosing,” I told her. “Let’s take every one.”

Then she needed shoes to match, so I said to pick out a pair for each outfit.

At the jewelry counter she fell in love with some diamond earrings.

You should have seen her. She was over the moon, probably wondering if I’d hit my head.

When she asked for a tennis bracelet, I figured it was a test, because the woman has never held a racket in her life. “Sure thing, honey,” I said, and I think that really caught her off guard. She was just about bursting with joy by then.

Glowing, she finally said, “Okay, dear, I think I’m done. Let’s head to the register.”

Trying not to crack up, I blurted, “No, honey, I don’t feel like it.”

She stared at me with a totally blank face, mouth hanging open. “WHAT?”

“I mean it, honey,” I said. “I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You’re just not in touch enough with my financial needs as a man, for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman.”

And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me I added, “Why can’t you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?”