A vacationing penguin is driving through Arizona when he notices that the oil-pressure light is on. He gets out to look and sees oil dripping out of the motor. He drives to the nearest town and stops at the first gas station. After dropping the car off, the penguin goes for a walk around town. He sees an ice-cream shop and, being a penguin in Arizona, decides that something cold would really hit the spot. He gets a big bowl of vanilla ice cream and sits down to eat. Having no hands, he makes a real mess trying to eat with his little flippers. After finishing his ice cream, he goes back to the gas station and asks the mechanic if he's found the problem. The mechanic looks up and says, "It looks like you blew a seal." "No, no," the penguin replies, "it's just ice cream."

While eating in an expensive restaurant, a patron overhead the gentleman at the next table ask the waitress t pack the leftovers for their dog. It was then that his young son exclaimed loudly, "Whoopee! We`re going to get a dog..

Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

Try harder Becky is having lunch with Hannah, the world’s most perfect ‘Princess’. Becky says, "My Moshe is just impossible. Absolutely nothing pleases him. Tell me, Hannah, is your Hymie hard to please?" Hannah shrugs and replies, "I wouldn`t know. I`ve never tried."

A young woman asked her mom if she could go out for some fries and eat them with friends for 2 hours. Her mom said, "Sure." However, the daughter went to her boyfriends and had sex with him for 2 hours. When she came back home, her mom asked her how the fries were. The daughter replied, "Nice!" The mom said, "I can tell you enjoyed them; there's still mayonnaise dripping from your face."

It is illegal to take more than three sips of beer at a time while standing.

After attending the funeral of a Texas mouse killed by an eighty year old lady with a broom, three mice, one from Minnesota, one from Iowa and one from Wisconsin, are sitting at a bar trying to impress each other with how tough they are. The Minnesota mouse throws down a shot of bourbon, slams the empty glass onto the bar, turns to the Iowa mouse and says, "When I see a mousetrap, I lie on my back and set it off with my foot. When the bar comes down, I catch it in my teeth, bench press it twenty times to work up an appetite, and then make off with the cheese." The Iowa mouse orders up two shots of tequila, drinks them down one after the other, slams both glasses onto the bar, turns to the Minnesota mouse and replies, "Oh yeah? When I see rat poison, I collect as much as I can, take it home, grind it up to a powder, and add it to my coffee each morning so I can get a good buzz going for the rest of the day." The Minnesota mouse and the Iowa mouse then turn to the Wisconsin mouse. The Wisconsin mouse finishes the beer he has in front of him, lets out a long sigh and says to the two, "I don't have time for this bullshit. I gotta go home and have sex with the cat."

What do they serve at birthday parties in heaven? Angel food cake, of course!

On the fourth day of their honeymoon, the 21 year old bride was begging for mercy from her 75 year old husband. Rather than endure yet another lovemaking session, she slipped out of the room while he was showering and went to the hotel coffee shop. The waitress, who had served the couple breakfast each day, was shocked at the woman's appearance. "Honey, you're just a young thing," she remarked, "but you look like hell. What's up?" "I've been double-crossed," the miserable bride moaned. "When he said he'd been saving up for 50 years, I thought he meant CASH!"

Every night after dinner, Harry took off for the local watering hole. He would spend the whole evening there and always arrive home, well inebriated, around midnight each night. He usually had trouble getting his key to fit the keyhole and couldn't get the door open. And, every time this happened, his wife would go to the door and let him in. Then, she would proceed to yell and scream at him for his constant nights out and coming home in a drunken state. But, Harry still continued his nightly routine. One day, the distraught wife was talking to a friend about her husband's behavior. The friend listened and suggested, "Why don't you treat him a little differently when he comes home? Instead of berating him, why don't you give him some loving words and welcome him home with a kiss? Then, he might change his ways." The wife thought that this might be a good idea. That night, Harry took off again after dinner. And, at about midnight, he arrived home in his usual condition. His wife heard him at the door. She quickly opened it and let Harry in. Instead of berating him as she had always done, this time she took his arm and led him into the living room. She sat Harry down in an easy chair, put his feet up on the foot stool, and took his shoes off. Then, she went behind him and started to cuddle him a little. After a short while, she whispered to Harry, "It's pretty late, dear. I think we should go upstairs to bed now, don't you think?" Harry replied in his inebriated state, "Heck, I guess we might as well. I'll get in trouble when I get home anyway!"

A factory worker, a fervent Democrat dressed in overalls, sat down to have his lunch in a park across from his office. The he noticed a very distinguished and dignified man sit down a few feet away on the grass; he was extremely well dressed in a tailored Hickey Freeman pinstriped suit, silk tie, starched white shirt, cuff links, tiepin, Rolex, highly polished black leather shoes and silk socks. He placed his expensive briefcase next to him and prepares for lunch. “One of those Republicans, I’ll bet” thought the factory worker, and after introducing himself, he found out he was right – not only a Republican, but an investment banker. The factory worker glanced at the banker’s shoes, glistening in the sunlight. "You have those polished every day, don’t you?" he asked. The Investment Banker nodded "Just about. I have to look good for the clients. These were handmade for me. The first thing people notice are your shoes, at least in my line of work…." The factory worker snapped "What about the poor? A few shoeshines would pay for a lot food. You “suits” are all alike! Tell me something. How much money did you pay for those fancy shoes?” The Investment Banker looked surprised and said calmly "Eight hundred dollars” The factory worker yelled “Just for ONE pair of shoes! How are you helping out other people? Never trust a suit! And how much was that suit?” The banker said quietly: “Two thousand for the suit. I help them through taxes, but we all have a personal responsibility." The factory worker said "I'm telling you, the poor only need a chance! You should be GIVING them money; they haven't had your advantages!" The Investment Banker shrugged and said "We all have to work for what we have. I have worked hard for what I have." The factory worker said "Look, poverty can happen to anyone! There's no way you can know that from where you sit with your high and mighty job and your car and your hotshot clothes! If you were not a SUIT, you would KNOW that!" The Investment Banker said "Keep talking if you want to. When I sleep, nothing wakes me - and I mean NOTHING!" The investment banker sighs, relaxes onn the grass and falls into a deep sleep. Then a barefoot homeless man appeared, and asked the factory worker for change. The factory worker apologized, and said he had nothing, but then he saw the investment banker's wallet in his suit pocket. He has an idea. He slips the wallet out, and hands it to the homeless man, ID, credit cards and all. Then he had another idea - a riskier one. Why not! This is a Republican who needs to give to society! The homeless man needs shoes, and the banker needs to be humbled. He looked over at the feet of the sleeping investment banker. "Wait! I'm sure you need these more than he does." He then started to slowly untie the investment banker's polished $800 shoes and very carefully pulled them off his feet. "You have to have socks to go with these shoes!" he said, and even more carefully, he peeled the black dress socks off the banker’s feet, and held them up like trophies. He handed both shoes and socks to the homeless man, who grinned. The factory worker said: "With my compliments! They are handmade and they were just polished! Somebody told me that the first thing people notice are your shoes!" The investment banker, now barefoot, yawned, stretched, but continues to sleep; soon he started to snore again, while the bum walked off in the banker's shoes. "I guess he won't be seeing any more clients today, and he'll have to miss that board meeting", said the factory worker to himself, "but he'll be a much better person now that he's humbled!" An old man walks by and stares at the sleeping banker and the contrast between the tailored suit and his bare feet; he laughed out loud and walks on. Then a mugger ran by, holding on to money he has just stolen. "A victim of society!" thought the factory worker. He slid the keys to the BMW out of the banker's pocket, threw them to the mugger, and points to the car. The mugger doesn't stop to ask questions - he just drove off. Then the factory worker saw a sad woman with a baby walking by. "Can I help you?" he asked her. When he found out that she needed money for her rent, the factory worker again approached the snoring investment banker and removed his cuff links; then he slipped the tiepin out of the silk tie and the Rolex wristwatch off his manicured hand. He handed them all to the delighted woman. "Sell these!" the factory worker cried. “Oh, thank you sir" said the woman, and ran off. “It's the least I can do!” said the factory worker. He then thought: “Well, he has no more fancy shoes, no socks, no car, no ID or credit cards or license or money. I guess I’m turning him from a suit into something much better! I might as well finish the job!” The factory worker then noticed the banker's cell phone and the password on a piece of paper. He called the number and sold all of the banker's stocks, and gave the money to a charity. Next, a man in a janitor's uniform walked by, looking dejected. "What's the matter, my friend?" said the factory worker sympathetically. "I..lost my job. I have a chance for a better one, but I don't have the clothes! This is all I have!" and he held up a pair of old polyester pants. The factory worker sighed, and then looked at the banker's navy blue pinstriped business suit. "Would this help? It's a two thousand dollar suit!" he asked the man, after carefully removing the jacket. "Sure!" cries the man. "You could use a briefcase, too!" said the factory worker and opened up the investment banker's briefcase. He removed the contents and handed it to the joyful man. He also gives him the banker's cell phone. Then he looks at the investment banker's expensive silk tie and white shirt. Could he manage it? He had to move the investment banker a few times, but he only snored and slept. Then he undid the banker's suspenders and pulled them off. Triumphantly he handed the starched white shirt, suspenders and necktie to the man, leaving their formerly well-dressed owner in his t-shirt. “Wait” the factory worker said. “You really need the full suit. Give me a hand and I'll need those polyester pants. I'm getting good at this” and with great care and trouble, set to work. Ten minutes later, the man was holding up the pinstriped suit with admiration while its former owner was reduced to wearing the polyester trousers. He thanked the factory worker profusely and ran off, who brushes off his words: “I'm always glad to help those who need it! I've always been generous!” "How good it is to help people!" he said to himself. “And mister hotshot isn’t a “suit” anymore!” Twenty minutes later, a policeman walks up to the formerly impeccably dressed investment banker, and snapped: "Hey buddy, wake up, no loitering! We don't allow bums to sleep here" Finally the investment banker woke up with a start and looked down at himself with astonishment. There is nothing left of the perfectly dressed banker he had been when he left his office. He was barefoot, and wearing only cheap trousers and a t-shirt. It took him a moment to realize that his suit, shoes, socks, tie, shirt, watch, jewelry, money, credit cards, ID and briefcase have all been stripped from him. He turned to the factory worker in astonished fury. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHERE IS MY SUIT, MY TIE, MY SHIRT! WHERE ARE MY SHOES AND SOCKS!? MY BRIEFCASE! MY WALLET! HOW CAN I GO BACK TO MY OFFICE LIKE THIS!? I LOOK LIKE A BUM!” The factory worker then told him about his car and stocks. The banker began to yell. The policeman then turned to the factory worker and said “Is this bum disturbing you?” and grabbed the struggling investment banker by the arm and says: “You can sleep it off in the tank, buddy! Vagrancy, disturbing the peace, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, harassment!” At that moment, his boss walked by on a stroll, saw his bedraggled employee being dragged away and cried out, “You're fired!” Three months later, the factory worker wandered into the park, and saw the homeless man on the corner, as usual, wearing the gleaming black shoes and socks, but now there is a new panhandler with him, barefoot with matted hair and a grizzled face, wearing polyester pants and a T-shirt. "It can't be!" he says, as he walked up to him. But it is. The homeless man looked up and winked: "He's one of us now!" he said laughing “And I’m even wearing HIS fancy shoes!” The expensive haircut and the manicure are gone, along with everything else, and the former investment banker is now an unemployed homeless bum with a criminal record; he has been thrown out of his condo and his wife has left him. It's hard to believe this was the same confident man in the expensive suit and the polished shoes he had seen that day in the park. “Spare change, sir?” said the banker-turned-panhandler, without looking up. “Forget it!” snapped the factory worker. “Get a job! Those republicans! They never think it will happen to them!

When Ole quit farming, he discovered that he was the only Lutheran in his new little town of Catholics. That was okay, but the neighbors had a problem with his barbequing beef every Friday. Since they couldn`t eat meat on Friday, the tempting aroma was getting the best of them. Hoping they could do something to stop this, the neighbors got together and went over to talk to Ole. "Ole," they said, "since you are the only Lutheran in this whole town and there`s not a Lutheran church for many miles, we think you should join our church and become a Catholic." Ole thought about it for a minute and decided they were probably right. Ole talked to the priest, and they arranged it.The big day came and the priest had Ole kneel. He put his hand on Ole`s head and said, "Ole, you were born a Lutheran, you were raised a Lutheran, and now," he said as he sprinkled some incense over Ole`s head, "now you are a Catholic!"Ole was happy and the neighbors were happy. But the following Friday evening at suppertime, there was again the aroma of grilled beef coming from Ole`s yard. The neighbors went to talk to him about this and as they approached the fence, they heard Ole saying to the steak: "You were born a beef, you were raised a beef", and as he sprinkled salt over the meat he said, "and NOW you are a FISH!"

Because they had no reservations at a busy restaurant, my elderly neighbor and his wife were told there would be a 45-minute wait for a table. "Young man, we're both 90 years old," the husband said. "We may not have 45 minutes." They were seated immediately.

Why did the wizard wear a yellow robe to the Halloween party? He was going as a banana.

I tried not to be biased in hiring a handicapped person, but his placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. I had never had a mentally-handicapped employee, and I wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy, and had the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Down Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ;" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was convincing him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus the dishes and glasses onto a cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met. Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie had missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Down Syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine. Frannie, my head waitress, let out a war whoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked. "We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay." "I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?" Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed. "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said, "but I don't know how he and his mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getti.

Chuck Norris can break every rule made by the Soup Nazzi, and he would still get soup, or beef jerky if he feels like it.

One Sunday morning George burst into the living room and said, "Dad! Mom! I have some great news for you! I am getting married to the most beautiful girl in town. She lives a block away and her name is Susan. After dinner, George's dad took him aside, "Son, I have to talk with you. Look at your mother, George. She and I have been married 30 years, she's a wonderful wife and mother, but, she has never offered much excitement in the bedroom, so I used to fool around with women a lot." "Susan is actually your half sister, and I'm afraid you can't marry her." George was brokenhearted. After eight months he eventually started dating girls again. A year later he came home and very proudly announced, "Diane said yes! We're getting married in June." Again his father insisted on another private conversation and broke the sad news. "Diane is your half sister too, George." "I'm awfully sorry about this." George was livid! He finally decided to go to his mother with the news his father had shared. "Dad has done so much harm. I guess I'm never going to get married," he complained. "Every time I fall in love, Dad tells me the girl is my half sister." "Hee hee," his mother chuckled, shaking her head, "Don't pay any attention to what he says. He's not really your father."

1. Golfers don't spit and scratch their privates on national television. 2. Golfers don't kick dirt on other people. 3. Golf is an honorable game played by an overwhelming majority of honorable people who don't need referees. 4. Golfers don't have big muscles and therefore are able to walk past a mirror without looking into it. 5. Golfers are compensated in direct proportion to how well they play. 6. The PGA Tour raises more money for charity in one year than the National Football League does in two. 7. Albert Belle doesn't play pro golf. 8. Pro golfers can answer a question without having to wait till they see the videotape. 9. When pro golfers hit a foul ball, they don't get another chance. They either are penalized or they have to go find it and hit it again. 10. Pro golfers throw things to fans, not at them. 11. People don't ruin their lives betting on the outcome of golf tournaments. 12. Baseball, basketball and football players play golf when they retire. Pro golfers don't play baseball, basketball and football when they retire. 13. You can play golf by yourself. 14. George Steinbrenner doesn't have a team on the PGA Tour. 15. No golfer has ever told a reporter or a group of reporters that he or she is the greatest ever to play the game. 16. Golf doesn't have training camp and overpriced exhibition games. 17. It is virtually impossible to "fix'' a pro golf tournament. 18. Golf fans don't throw things at the players. 19. When pro golfers make a mistake, there is nobody there to cover for them or back them up. 20. Michael Jordan wishes he were a pro golfer. 21. Kids are never murdered over a pair of golf shoes. 22. Golfers call their own plays. 23. You can see the best golfers in the world up close at the U.S. Open all day, every day, for $25 or $30. It'll cost you $275 for a ticket in the nosebleed section of the Super Bowl. 24. Pro golfers don't charge $20 or more for an autograph. 25. In pro golf, you can't fail 70 percent of the time and make $9 million per season. 26. Golf lessons don't include tips on how to break the rules and get away with it. 27. Golfers don't hold out for more money, or demand new contracts. 28. Golfers don't get a per diem and two seats on a chartered airplane when they travel from one tournament to the next. 29. Golfers don't do everything possible to disrupt the play of their opponents. 30. Golfers do their own laundry. 31. Golf doesn't have a 3-stroke shot. 32. Golfers don't lobby to get something they haven't earned with their clubs. 33. Golfers don't claim that it takes exceptional intelligence to play their game well. 34. Golf doesn't change its rules to attract more fans. 35. Pro golfers don't have bodyguards or entourages. 36. Pro golfers don't have closed practices. 37. Pro golfers keep their clothes on while they're being interviewed. 38. Greg Norman shakes your hand and says he is happy to meet you; Jose Canseco wears T-shirts that say "Leave me alone.'' 39. Pro golfers don't get in fights in bars. 40. Pro golfers never say "I just want some respect.'' 41. Children don't have to "take it like a man'' to play golf. 42. Pro golfers don't feel cheated because the game owes them something. 43. Pro golfers can't substitute for themselves when they're having a bad day. 44. Pro golfers don't taunt or punch each other. 45. Not only does nobody levy fines against pro golfers who choose not to practice, but nobody cares. 46. Pro golf doesn't have free agency. 47. Pro golfers don't try to renegotiate their earnings. 48. Fat people and skinny people can play golf. 49. Pro golfers can't abuse alcohol and drugs and be successful. 50. You can hear birds chirping at a pro golf tournament. You hear a steady stream of four-letter words and nasty name-calling in stadiums and arenas while you're hoping nobody spills beer on you.

God creates dinosaurs, God destroys dinosaurs, God creates man, man destroys God, Chuck Norris drinks beer and fucks strippers and shit.

I told my wife I was going to make a bike out of spaghetti. She couldn't believe it when I rode pasta.