Family Fun/Family Fun.iso/joke1/jokes_j/jokes.05

Internet Message Format | 1992-01-07 | 104KB

From [e-mail] Thu Nov  3 05:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Mitchell Wyle)
Subject: Do I know you?
Keywords: sexual, gross, chuckle, rot13
Date: 3 Nov 88 11:30:03 GMT

A Frenchman, a Russian, and an Italian are in heaven discussing their
respective deaths; they realize they all died because of cars.  The
Frenchman was making love to his girlfriend while on the highway and
died in a fatal accident.  The Italian drove his Ferrari so fast, he
wiped out, crashed into a tree, died.  The Russian saved all his
rubles for a year to buy a Lada, and starved to death.

-----------------

A mexican bandito asked his friend if he knows Pancho Villa.
"Do I know Pancho Villa? Do _I_ know Pancho Villa??  One day after I rob bank,
my pistollo is yanked from my holstero.  Behind me stand Pancho Villa.
He take my money, say 'Eat my doodoo.'  Rather than to die, I eat his doodoo.
While I eat his doodoo, I yank his pistollo.  I say, 'Eat _MY_
doodoo.'  Rather than to die, he eat my doodoo.  You ask me if I
know Pancho Villa?  We had lunch together!"

--
-Mitchell F. Wyle            [e-mail]

From [e-mail] Thu Nov  3 10:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Bruce Roberson)
Subject: Scottish Fashion
Keywords: smirk, heard it
Date: 3 Nov 88 16:30:03 GMT
Organization: U of Washington, Computer Science, Seattle

Heard this from a friend - he doesn't remember where it came from, but
it isn't recent.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

   A Scotsman was strolling across High Street one day wearing his kilt.
As he neared the far curb, he noticed two young blondes in a red convertible
eyeing him and giggling.  One of them called out, "Hey, Scotty!  What's worn
under the kilt?"

   He strolled over to the side of the car and asked, "Ach, lass, are you
*sure* you want to know?"  Somewhat nervously, the blonde said yes, she did
want to know.

   The Scotsman leaned closer and confided, "Why, lass, nothing's worn under
the kilt, everything's in perfect working order."

                    Bruce Roberson
                    [e-mail]

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Thu Nov  3 21:30:10 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Mario O. Bourgoin)
Subject: Death and the Doctor
Keywords: heard it, smirk
Date: 4 Nov 88 03:30:10 GMT
Organization: MIT Media Lab, Cambridge MA


At the hospital, a doctor is training an intern on how to announce bad
news to the patients.  The doctor tells the intern ``This man in 305
is going to die in six months.  Go in and tell him.''  The intern
boldly walk into the room and up to the man and tells him ``You're
gonna die!''  The man has a heart attack and dies on the spot.  The
doctor quickly takes the intern aside and cautions him ``You were much
too abrupt in announcing the news to that man.  You've got to take it
easy, work your way up to the subject.  Now this man in 310 has but a
week to live.  Go in and tell him, but gently now!''  The intern goes
softly into the room, humming to himself, cheerily opens the drapes to
let the sun in, walks up to the man and tells him ``Good morning!
What a wonderful day, no?  Say...  Guess who's going to die soon?''

--Mario

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Fri Nov  4 10:30:06 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Marc Lavine)
Subject: You've gotta speak the language
Keywords: chuckle
Date: 4 Nov 88 16:30:06 GMT

(From an ancient cartoon)

A missionary and his African guide have been captured by nasty-looking
cannibals, who are stoking up a fire near to them.
The missionary says to the guide, "Makumba, you speak this dialect.
What does 'jive-ass honky' mean?"
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Sat Nov  5 02:20:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Lightning Strikes)
Subject: King Bentsen
Keywords: topical, smirk
Date: 5 Nov 88 08:20:04 GMT

>From Margie Boule's column ( Portland _Oregonian_).

What do Elvis Presley and Lloyd Bentsen have in common?

They've both been reported alive recently.
--
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From [e-mail] Sun Nov  6 02:20:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Ken Kaufman)
Subject: Timely variation on a Dangerfield one-liner
Keywords: topical, chuckle
Date: 6 Nov 88 08:20:03 GMT

I went to a fight the other night, and an episode of Geraldo broke out.

--
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From [e-mail] Sun Nov  6 02:42:53 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Dave Goldblatt)
Subject: Net makes SNL
Keywords: topical, chuckle
Date: 6 Nov 88 08:42:53 GMT


>From Dennis Miller on Saturday Night Live:

``In the wake of all these computer viruses running around lately,
remember that when you link your computer up with another computer
you're actually linking up with every computer that the computer
you've linked to has ever linked with.''


--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Sun Nov  6 10:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Mark Hall)
Subject: Heavenly achievement
Keywords: smirk, heard it, sexual
Date: 6 Nov 88 16:30:04 GMT

Heard this joke from a friend's Dad who (as far as I know) never
used a computer in his life.

So St. Peter was questioning a certain black fellow at the Pearly Gates:

``So, what achievements have you made in your lifetime?''
``Well, I once won a basketball game with a slam dunk in the last second!''
``Hey, that's pretty good!  When did this happen?''
``Well, for that one you hafta go back `bout ten years''.
``Hmmm, that's kind of a long time ago.  Have you done anything of merit
  more recently?''
``Well, I once ran 100 meters in less than 10 seconds!''
``Wow, no one up here has done that before!  When did this happen?''
``That was 5 years ago, back in high school.  It was wind-aided.''
``Hmmm, that's still very impressive.  One more thing and you're in.
  Anything at all more recent?''
``Well, OK, how about this.  I once made love to a white woman under the
  bleachers at a Klu-Klux-Klan rally.''
``Holy Smokes!  That takes real courage!  Few men have done that before!
  When did this happen?''
``Oh, jus' about 10 minutes ago. . .''

---
Mark Hall
Disclaimer: I hate racist, offensive jokes as much as the next person.

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Sun Nov  6 21:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Robert Del Favero)
Subject: BRAINDUMP
Keywords: original, smirk
Date: 7 Nov 88 03:30:04 GMT

This is something I made up after my boss told me to give a braindump
on our products to the new guy. It's based on the unix strings package.
nroff source is available for those that want the underlines and all.
Unfortunately, the source code was lost and the executable only exists
for NCR Decision Mate V machines running CP/M 1.19 with 8" floppies.
Otherwise, I'd have sent it to comp.sources.misc.


BRAIN(3)            UNIX Programmer's Manual             BRAIN(3)



NAME
     braindump, braincat, braincmp, brainlen - brain operations

SYNOPSIS
     #include <brain.h>

     void braindump(b1, b2)
     brain b1, b2;

     void braincat(b1, b2)
     brain b1, b2;

     int braincmp(b1, b2, s)
     brain b1, b2;
     subject s;

     long brainlen(b1);
     brain b1;

DESCRIPTION
     These functions work on null-terminated brains.  They do not
     check for overflow of the receiving brain.

     braindump copies brain b2 to b1, stopping after the null
     axon has been moved.

     braincat appends a copy of brain b1 to the end of brain b2.

     braincmp compares its arguments and returns an integer
     greater than, equal to, or less than 0, according as
     knowledge about subject s in brain b1 is objectively greater
     than, equal to, or less than that in b2.

     brainlen returns the number of usable, non-null axons in b1.

BUGS
     We tried to write a brainndump but you just can't shut some
     people up.

SEE ALSO
     return_of_the_living_dead(1)
     return_of_the_living_dead(2)
     scanners(1) - effects of overflow
     brain-a-matic(4) - Ronco device driver











Printed 10/19/88        January 18, 1988                        1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Robert Del Favero, Jr.  [e-mail]

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Mon Nov  7 02:20:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Leo 'Bols Ewhac' Schwab)
Subject: More on J. Danforth Pigeon
Keywords: topical, smirk
Date: 7 Nov 88 08:20:03 GMT
Organization: The mideast nation of Sehwuht


    More observations by Mark Russel:

    Quayle said during the vice-presidential debate that, if the
President were to become incapacitated, the first thing he would do would be
to say a prayer.

    OH, WOULDN'T WE ALL??!!
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Mon Nov  7 10:30:05 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Mosur Mohan)
Subject: Tired and complaining
Keywords: laugh, swearing
Date: 7 Nov 88 16:30:05 GMT

The following is an actual letter of complaint which I grabbed off the
net many years ago (when it used to be called net.jokes, if you can
remember that long ago!)  Unfortunately, I don't have the original
source anymore.  Note the date sent and the prices quoted.
******************************************************************

                                          Atlanta, Georgia
                                          September 13, 1970

Director
Billing Department
Shell Oil Company
P.O. Box XXXX
Tulsa, Oklahoma 74102

Dear Sir:

I have been a regular customer of the Shell Oil Company for several
years now, and spend approximately $40.00 per month on Shell products.
Until recently, I have been completely satisfied with the quality of
Shell products and with the service of Shell employees.

Included in my most recent statement from your department was a bill
for $12.00 for a tire which I purchased at the Lowell I. Reels Shell
station in McAdenville, N.C.  I stopped at this station for gasoline
and to have a timing malfunction corrected.  The gasoline cost $5.15;
eight new plugs cost $9.36; labor on the points $2.50.  All well and
good.

Earlier in the day I had a flat tire, which the attendant at the
Lowell I.  Reels station informed me that he was unable to fix. He
suggested that I purchase a tire from him in order that I have a spare
for the remainder of my journey to Atlanta. I told him that I
preferred to buy tires from home station in Atlanta, but he continued
to stress the risk of driving without a spare.  My reluctance to trade
with an unknown dealer, even a Shell dealer, did not discourage him
and finally, as I was leaving, he said that out of concern for my
safety (my spare was not new) and because I had made a substantial
expenditure at his station, he would make me a special deal.  He
produced a tire ("Hits a good one.  Still has the tits on it.  See
them tits.  Hits a twenty dollar tar.") which I purchased for twelve
dollars and which he installed on the front left side for sixty-five
cents.  Fifty miles further down the highway, I had a blowout.

Not a puncture which brought a slow, flapping flat, nor a polite
ladyfinger firecracker rubberburpple rupture (pop); but a howitzer
blowout, which reared the the hood of my car up into my face, a
blowout, sir, which tore a flap of rubber from this "tire" large
enough to make soles for both sandals of a medium sized hippie.  In a
twinkling, then, I was driving down Interstate 85 at sixty miles per
hour on three tires and one rim with rubber clinging to it in
desparate shreds and patches, an instrument with a bent, revolving,
steel-then-rubber-then-steel rim, whose sound can be approximated by
the simultaneous placing of a handful of gravel and a young duck into
a Waring Blender.

The word "careen" does no justice whatever to the movement that the
car then performed.  According to the highway patrolman's report, the
driver in the adjoining lane, the left hand-- who, incidentally, was
attempting to pass me at the time-- ejaculated adrenalin all over the
ceiling of his car.  My own passengers were fused into a featureless
quiver in the key of "G" in the back seat of my car.  The rim was
bent; the tits were gone; and you can f--k yourself with a cream
cheese dildo if you entertain for one moment the delusion that I
intend to pay the twelve dollars.

                                       Sincerely yours,
                                       /s/ T.B.T.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- Mohan.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Tue Nov  8 02:20:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Joe Talmadge)
Subject: Voting Time Again
Keywords: original, smirk, topical
Date: 8 Nov 88 08:20:03 GMT


Well, there's a chill in the air, a frost on the ground, and a large
steaming pile of bullshit on the television.  Yes, that's
right, it's election time.  Voting in CA should be an absolute
blast this year, as we have the pleasure of voting on approximately
12,000 new "propositions."  For those of you who don't live in
California, a "proposition" is a way for us California slimes to
participate directly in the democratic process, by allowing anyone who
has the brains of a lima bean to spend billions of dollars on
television commercials.  My personal favorite is the commercial
sponsored by the insurance companies, which states that if we don't
vote for their proposition, all of Western Civilization will collapse.
(A prospect which concerns me greatly, as then it will certainly be
much harder to buy beer, and they might even cancel Professional
Wrestling)

This year, most of our propositions are funded by "General Obligation
Bonds," which really means "We have no idea how we're going to pay for
this proposition."  Lately, it's become an all-too-frequent occurrence
to see the Proposition Funding Team searching through California
streets in search of lost quarters and stuff.  (I read an interview of
Horace Gumley, chairman of the Proposition Funding Committee, who was
in a particularly ecstatic mood because a Funding Team Member found a
5-dollar bill that morning.)

Which brings me to my reason for writing this.  Next year, I'd like to
get my very own "proposition" on the ballot.  This proposition would
state that if you go to a nightclub and some dumb idiot puts out a
cigarette in your beer, you can legally make that person drink it,
without having the bouncers throw you out.  Not that I've ever done
anything like that.

If you would like to vote on this proposition next year, write an
extremely concerned letter to:

    Guverner Dukemajuhn
    The Big House in Sacramento
    Sacramento, CA

Thank you
--
Joe Talmadge        Trust me.  I know what I'm doing.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Tue Nov  8 10:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Brian Glendenning)
Subject: I wonder whodunnit?
Keywords: rec.humor, rec_humor_cull, racist (mildly), chuckle
Date: 8 Nov 88 16:30:03 GMT
Organization: Radio Astronomy, University of Toronto


>From prabhu@mitisft Tue Oct  4 16:00:31 1988

A Scotsman and a Jew went to a restaurant. After a hearty meal,
the waitress came by with the inevitable check. To the amazement
of all, the Scotsman was heard to say, "I'll pay it!", and he actually
did.

The next morning's newspaper carried the news item:

    "JEWISH VENTRILOQUIST FOUND MURDERED IN BLIND ALLEY".
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Tue Nov  8 21:30:08 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Raffie Tordil)
Subject: Birthday Gift
Keywords: smirk
Date: 9 Nov 88 03:30:08 GMT
Organization: Purdue University Computing Center



    A young man wished to purchase a present for his sweetheart and after
    careful consideration, he decided to buy her a pair of gloves.
    Accompanied by his sister, he went to a women's wear shop and bought a
    pair of expensive gloves. Meanwhile, his sister bought a pair of panties.
    In the delivery, the packages got mixed up; his sister got the gloves and
    he got the panties. Without checking the contents of the package, he sent
    it to his sweetheart with the following note:


    Dearest One,

    This little gift is to show you I have not forgotten your birthday. I
    chose them because I noticed you were not in the habit of wearing any
    when you went out in the evenings. I it hadn't been for my sister, who
    was with me when I bought them, I would have picked out long ones with
    buttons, but she said the latest style is to wear them unbuttoned, and
    hanging down. I had her try them on for me and she looked very smart in
    them.

    How I wish I could put them on for you the first time, but no doubt
    many other hands will touch them before I have a chance. I did not know
    what size to get, yet I should be capable of judging better than anyone
    else. When you take them off, blow in them as they will be a little damp
    from wearing them. Be sure to keep them on while cleaning them; otherwise
    they will shrink.

                        With my fondest love,

    P.S.  Just think of the number of times I will kiss the back of them in
    the coming year.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
If you MUST reply to a rejection, include a description of your joke
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From [e-mail] Wed Nov  9 10:30:06 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Bob Jewett)
Subject: Trees
Keywords: chuckle
Date: 9 Nov 88 16:30:06 GMT

From: Burton Hillis

You have to admire trees.  Even though they start to lose their leaves,
they never consider growing a beard.

--
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From [e-mail] Wed Nov  9 21:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: The Coolidge Effect
Date: 10 Nov 88 03:30:04 GMT

a supposedly true story from:

Bermant, G. (1976).  Sexual behavior: Hard times with the Coolidge
    Effect.  In  M. H. Siegel & H. P. Zeigler (Eds.), /Psychological
    Research: The inside story/ (pp. 76-103).  New York: Harper & Row.


One day the President and Mrs. Coolidge were visiting a government
farm.  Soon after their arrival they were taken off on separate tours.
When Mrs. Coolidge passed the chicken pens she paused to ask the man in
charge if the rooster copulates more than once each day.  "Dozens of
times," was the reply.  "Please tell that to the President," Mrs.
Coolidge requested.

When the President passed the pens and was told about the
roosters, he asked "Same hen every time?" "Oh no, Mr.
President, a different one each time."  The President nodded
slowly, then said, "Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge."
--
Matthew Bradburn; [e-mail]
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Thu Nov 10 21:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Joe Dakes)
Subject: Two Hunters in Canada
Keywords: funny
Date: 11 Nov 88 03:30:03 GMT
Organization: AT&T Bell Laboratories, Reading, PA

Two hunters hire a small plane to take them to a remote area of Canada.
Upon dropping off the hunters, the pilot tells them, "Remember only one
moose, because the plane wouldn't be able to take off with more weight
than that."  The hunters go off.  A week later when the plane returns to
pick them up the two hunters are standing by the lake with two moose.

The pilot fumes, "I told you guys only one moose, you'll have to leave one
because we won't be able to take off with that much weight."  "Oh, c'mon,"
beg the two hunters, "Last year the pilot let us take two moose on, you're
just a chicken."

Not wanting to be accused of being a coward, the pilot allows the two to
bring both moose on the craft.  The plane starts across the lake,
straining to take off.  The pilot tries and tries to no avail as
they run out of room and the plane crashes into the trees at the end of the
lake.  A while later after coming to one of the hunters gets up and looks
at all the scatterd debris of the wreck and says, "Where are we?"  To which
the other hunter replies, "Oh, I'd say about a hundred yards farther than
last year."
--
Joe Dakes
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Fri Nov 11 10:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: Cow joke
Keywords: smirk, sexual
Date: 11 Nov 88 16:30:04 GMT

Heard from a friend, some years ago:

Three bulls -- a big bull, a medium sized bull, and a small bull -- were
standing by a fence one day, chewing grass and looking out over the
fields.  The big one says, "See all of them cows out there?   Half of
'em are mine."  The medium sized one responds, "See all them cows?  A
third of them are MINE."   The little bull pipes up, "Hey, all the rest
of them cows are mine."

    After a while the bulls notice the farmer drive up with a
truck and unload another bull -- the hugest Brahma bull these other
bulls have ever seen.  The big bull stops chewing and says, with a wide-
eyed look, "He...he can have a third of my cows if he wants 'em."   The
medium sized bull trembles a bit when he says "He can have HALF of my
cows if he wants them."

    Then the two bigger bulls notice that the small bull is
snorting, bucking, pawing the ground, and putting on a ferocious act.
"What are you doing, fool !?" they say.  The small bull replies, "I
want to make sure he knows I'm a bull!"
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: PLEASE spell check and proofread your jokes.


From [e-mail] Sat Nov 12 01:36:05 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Brad Templeton)
Subject: Regarding the Jew/Scotsman Joke
Keywords: administrivia, apology
Date: 12 Nov 88 07:36:05 GMT
Organization: Looking Glass Software, Waterloo Ont.

Let me apologize for not making that joke rot13.  It should have been,
but I goofed up, as sometimes happens, even to pfrect guys like me.

Rest assured that I'm not unaware of the Holocaust.  Part of my heritage
is Jewish, enough that Hitler would have put me into the camps had I been
in Nazi Germany.

Also rest assured that the posting of the joke near the 50th anniversary of
the start of Hitler's pogroms was literally random chance.  The jokes
are posted by the cron, which selects a random joke from the joke queues.
That joke was actually received a while ago, and the decision to post on
that date was that of my system's rand(), srand() and time() routines.

Sorry.
--
Brad Templeton, Looking Glass Software Ltd.  --  Waterloo, Ontario 519/884-7473


From [e-mail] Sun Nov 13 02:20:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Dr. Snuggles)
Subject: My God, it's full of...
Keywords: topical, funny
Date: 13 Nov 88 08:20:04 GMT
Organization: Crash TS, El Cajon, CA


What do you see in one of Vice-President Quayle's ears when you shine a
flashlight in the other?

A thousand points of light.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: Only ONE joke per submission.  Extra jokes may be rejected.


From [e-mail] Sun Nov 13 21:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Rick Smith)
Subject: I found my thrill on Huckleberry hill
Keywords: smirk, sexual
Date: 14 Nov 88 03:30:04 GMT


A fellow went to work one day and was met at the door by his boss. "You're
fired, and there may be a summons for your arrest out of this!" the boss
exclaimed.

The fellow then started to drive home when the steering went out
on his car and he ran into a carload of nuns. After the policeman let him
go with the collection of tickets, he called his insurance company, only to
find out that his wife forgot to send in the premium payment and that his
insurance ran out last week.

On his way home, he stopped into the bank to get some money and found
out that his wife had been there earlier with his best friend and
emptied the accounts. After leaving the bank, he was on his way home and
saw the fire engines heading down his street. Upon arriving
at his house, he discovered that it was indeed his house on fire. The fire
chief was sure that it was going to be a total loss. Again, calling the
insurance company, he found that the homeowners insurance also had been
cancelled.

By now the fellow was somewhat depressed and went into the local
bar. As he was telling his troubles to the bartender the bartender said,
"You've got the chance of a lifetime. All your obligations are gone and you
can start all over. Why don't you take this bucket, go up to Huckleberry Hill,
pick huckleberries, and go door to door selling them."

Well, this sounded O.K. to the fellow, so off he went. After picking
most of the day he finally had enough berries to sell. At the first house he
stopped at the woman said that she would indeed take all his huckleberries
but would he mind coming around to the back door. As the fellow got to the
back door the woman opened it and was totally nude. (and not hard on the eyes)

The fellow just broke down and was weeping hysterically. The woman was quite
beside herself and asked what the problem was. The fellow answered "I've lost
my job, my car is ruined, my wife ran off with my best friend taking all my
money, my house burned down, all my insurance has been cancelled, and now
I'm going to be screwed out of my huckleberries."

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: Only ONE joke per submission.  Extra jokes may be rejected.


From [e-mail] Mon Nov 14 02:20:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Brad Templeton)
Subject: Watch your rear
Keywords: topical, chuckle
Date: 14 Nov 88 08:20:04 GMT

What's the difference between John Turner and Liberace?

John Turner's aides haven't killed him yet.

{ed Source Unknown}
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: If you POST your joke instead of mailing it, I will not reply.


From [e-mail] Mon Nov 14 10:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: newlyweds
Keywords: sexual, chuckle, heard it
Date: 14 Nov 88 16:30:04 GMT

It  was the wedding night for a young couple and the groom wanted everything
to be just perfect.  He arranged to stay in the Honeymoon Suite of a plush
hotel, and he and his new bride eagerly jumped into the heart-shaped bed
to make love for the first time (at least for him).  After making wild and
passionate love for a considerate length of time, they both reached the
climactic momement simultaneously, slipping into a state of utmost
relaxation.  At this point, the groom reaches for the telephone.

"What on earth do you think you are doing?" asks the young bride

"Well, I wanted everything to be perfect, so I thought I should call room
service for a bottle of their finest champagne," came the reply

"Well, I used to date Arnold Palmer, and when Arnold and I finished making love
we would wait 10 minutes and make love again," the young groom was informed.

"If that's what you are used to, I will  be glad to comply..."  And 10 minutes
or so later the young couple was making wild and passionate love again.  At
the culmination of this second lovemaking session,  the young groom reaches
for the phone once again...

"What on earth do you think you are doing?"  asks the young bride.

"Like I said before, I want this to be a special occasion, so I was going to
call room service for that bottle of champagne."

"Well, Arnold and I used to relax for 15 minutes or so, and then make love a
third time,"  came her reply.

So, once again, not wanting to disappoint  his young bride, the groom relaxed
a bit and finally was capable of making love a third time.  After this third
wild and passionate and somewhat time consuming session, the couple finally
reaches the climactic momement and returns to a relaxed state.  Once again,
the groom reaches for the phone....

"What on earth do you think you are doing?"  asks the young bride.

"Calling Arnold Palmer to find out what's par for this hole!"
--
< Keith R. Nauman >  from my memory of jokes heard from friends and in bars

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: If you POST your joke instead of mailing it, I will not reply.


From [e-mail] Mon Nov 14 21:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: Would you like to see my new dress?
Keywords: smirk
Date: 15 Nov 88 03:30:03 GMT

Heard in the office...

    She: Would you like to see my new dress?

    He:  I'd like nothing better.
--
    [e-mail]

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: If you POST your joke instead of mailing it, I will not reply.


From [e-mail] Tue Nov 15 02:20:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Matt Fichtenbaum)
Subject: Going on Tour
Keywords: topical, chuckle
Date: 15 Nov 88 08:20:03 GMT

George Bush has announced that his Vice-President's
   first official assignment will be to travel to Lebanon
   to get firsthand information on the hostage situation.

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
If you MUST reply to a rejection, include a description of your joke
because there is 0 chance I will remember which one it was.


From [e-mail] Tue Nov 15 05:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: Guy and gorilla go into bar, etc
Keywords: racist, chuckle, rot13
Date: 15 Nov 88 11:30:04 GMT

A black guy and a gorilla go into a bar together.  He says to the
bartender, "I'd like a beer, and a gin and tonic for my girlfriend here."

The bartender says, "Oh come on, pal, we don't serve no gorillas in here."

So the guy figures he'll fix them, he takes the gorilla home, shaves off all
her hair, gives her a nice wig, lipstick, red dress, etc. He takes her back to
the bar and says, "I'd like a beer, and a gin and tonic for my girlfriend here."
The bartender gives them the drinks and they go off and sit down and
chat.  The bartender turns to his buddy at the bar and says, "You know, that
drives me crazy, it seems like every time a good looking Italian girl comes
in here, she's with a black guy."

From [e-mail] Tue Nov 15 10:30:05 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: The Dying of Ember
Keywords: original, chuckle
Date: 15 Nov 88 16:30:05 GMT


                THE DYING OF EMBER
        (A Parody of Amber, with Apologies to Roger Zelazny)
                   Kevin Knight
                      c 1988
                     Reproduced with Permission

                                        III

    My destination: Ember.  My goal: the crown and the throne.  My mode of
transportation: walking in Shade.  My name: Lord Corbin.
    First stop, Revlon.
    Ah, fair Revlon.  A Shade world I once knew so well.  I had ruled there
for many years in the Old Times.  Revlon was my home away from Ember, and
through my presence there, I had built it into a mighty power.  Rolling
hills, deep forests, men of honor, fair maidens . . .
    Fair maidens with heavy makeup.  Strange as it may sound, the makeup
of Revlon would enable me to launch a massive attack on Ember and win back what
was rightfully mine.  Years before, you see, I had brought a case of Revlon
rouge to Ember, as a gift for my sister Didi.  She didn't like the stuff,
and in my anger I threw it into the fireplace.  It exploded, very prettily and
very noisily.  My first thought was: I was lucky that Didi had spurned the
gift, for she sometimes smokes.  My second thought was: wait a minute, nothing
explodes in Ember!  And so I formulated a plan to build weapons based on
this chemical, weapons which would one day make me the most powerful man in
Ember.
    Unfortunately, this plan had slipped my mind last time around.  Blaise
fell off a cliff and I got four years in the slammer because of it.  Not this
time, brother.
    I shifted Shade for Revlon.

    I came upon seven men, six dead and one slouched against a thick oak.
I hated to see so many dead men, so using my power as Prince of the Blood, I
walked to a nearby Shade where there were also seven men, but only one was
dead.  The other six stood laughing.  They noticed me as I approached.
    "Wot's this then?" said one.
    Their shirts were thin and ragged, probably from the battle that had
resulted in the death of the one who lay plastered on the ground.
    "Warriors," I said.  "Does any of your number know the way to Revlon?"
    They looked at each other quizzically.
    "For whom do you fight?" I asked.
    "?" they tried.
    "Who . . . is . . . your . . . leader?"
    "Tha' would be me, bloke," said one of the tall ones.  "You innerested
in joinin' us?  Headin' for Revlon, we are."
    "Fine, fine!" I said.
    "What instrument do you play?" he asked.
    "I play some guitar, but why do you ask?"
    "We're a Heavy Metal Band, boy!  And Lord knows we need another
guitarist!"
    "We only got three," piped one of the short ones.
    "You're in!" said the leader, and he slapped me on the back.  I wasn't
really interested in hanging around with a burned out metal band, but I had
to admit I was out of practice, and a few jam sessions would be just the thing
to get me back into top form.  I would travel with these men to Revlon.
    "I've been in the slammer," I explained.
    They murmured to each other in their heavy foreign accents.  I could
only pick out the words "pigs" and "drugs".
    I slept, and in the morning I found that my sword Graceland had
transmuted itself into a silver Stratocaster.  I picked it up and played a
C chord.  Then a G.  The guitar was in tune.  I cradled the neck and pulled
up on the distortion bar.  Yes, I knew how to use the thing.
    Outside, the men in the band were tuning their instruments.  The
two drummers were dueling.  The bassist/vocalist was running through some
scales.  I stepped out and roared into a Stones riff.  The other guitarists
were taken aback.  They jumped in with some rhythm, and one of them contested
me for the lead.  I was able to squeeze in more notes per second, however,
and he quickly conceded.  I switched to some of the heavier stuff.  After
an hour, two of the guitarists put down their weapons and had a smoke.  The
other one played with me for another hour, but he too grew tired.  I was just
starting to feel back in shape, though, and I wanted to push myself.  I played
a few songs with the drummers, then engaged the bassist/vocalist in an
extended version of Stairway to Heaven.  That night, I ate a huge meal and
slept for ten hours.
    I repeated the same routine for the next few days, as we drew closer
to Revlon.
    On the fourth night I met Lauren.  I would like to tell you that we
met an a patio overlooking a lake, with the full moon highlighting her hair
and her silvery dress.  But that would be crap.  I had seen her several times
before, first with the bassist/vocalist, then with one of the guitarists, and
later with the two drummers.  The first time I ever spoke with her, though,
was after a gig.  She came by my dressing room and asked me if I wanted to
do it.  I said, yeah, sure.  She said she loved me.  I said, crap.  But she
started hanging around me anyway.  We spent several nights together, and she
told me many things.
    "I've seen you play.  You're good," she said.
    "I've seen better," I replied.
    "The guys in the band respect you.  They also fear you."
    "Why?  Because I can squeeze a few more notes out of my Strat?"
    "They think there is something supernatural involved.  They're
Devil Worshippers, you know."
    I had not known this, but as I reflected upon the human skeletons, the
pyrotechnics, and the hell-inspired lyrics that made up our show, pieces
of the puzzle began to fall together.  Perhaps it was no accident that I, a
man who had been called a demon more than once, should fall in with such a
crowd.  I laughed aloud to hide my thoughts.
    "I'm no demon," I said. " I'm just the second best guitarist around,
that's all."
    "Who's the best?
    "Benedictus of Ember, if he is still alive," I replied.  Benedictus had
once upstaged the Moonpeople of Ghinesh by doing four encores in a single
night.  We are a very musical family.
    "Wanna do it?" she asked.
    "Yeah, sure," I replied.
    "I love you."
    "Crap."
    There was something sad about Lauren, though I enjoyed my time with
her, and vice-versa.  One night she told me that she was going to die.  I
asked her why.  She said that soon the band would break up, and without us,
she was nothing.  I was silent, for I knew that the band would indeed break
up.  I would be the first to leave once we reached Revlon.  I had no choice.
My destiny was to become King of Ember, not Bandleader of Devil-people.
    With a few gigs under my belt, I felt better than ever.  I no longer
felt the physical and psychological strains of my four years in the Big House.
    Lauren lay next to me, sleeping.  Suddenly, her eyes grew wide.
    "You are in trouble," she said flatly.
    Before I could formulate an answer, the door to my hotel room flew
open.  On the threshold stood an inhuman beast, six feet tall, gray and
unclothed.  It wore a fake arrow through its head, in a low grade imitation
of the Comedians of Ember.  In its right hand was a long silver blade
that I liked not at all.
    "My name is Strygalldwinnirdrillbinir.  Conjure with it, and I shall
eat your spleen."
    "Conjure with it?  I can't even say it," I lied.
    "Who are you?" it demanded.
    "Misli, gammi gra'dil, Strygalldwinnnirdrinbillir," I said.
    "No, it's 'Strygalldwinnirdrillbinir'," it said.
    "Sorry.  Misli, gammi gra'dil, Strygalldwinnirdribblnir."
    "No, not '--dribblnir'.  It's '--drillbinir'."
    I never was very good at foreign names.  One more try:
    "Misli, gammi gra'dil, Strygalldwinnirdrillbinir."
    "You seek to drive me away with such a simple spell?  I am not one of
the wimpier ones.  I must ask you again, who are you?"
    "This isn't fair.  My name is much easier to pronounce."
    "Three times I must ask you--"
    Those were its last words, for just then, a man slid up behind the
beast and put a dagger through its throat.  The thing died silently.  The
man entered the room.
    "Lose the bitch," he said.  Lauren pulled the sheet around herself and
left quickly.
    "My thanks, sir," I said.  "What is your name?"
    He hesitated.
    "Look, I won't conjure with it, I promise," I promised.
    "The name is Galenon, and if I may offer you some paternal advice, I
would transmute that guitar back into a sword.  The times they are
a-changin'."
    I chuckled and snorted and did this thing, and we stayed up most of
the night talked of our respective travels.  Galenon was also on the road to
Revlon, as it turned out, and I decided to split the band and join him.  I
packed my things and left in the night.
    I was forthright with Galenon, for I trusted him.  I told him of Ember
and of my plans to take the throne.  He had heard of Ember and asked to be
my lieutenant in the upcoming battle.  I accepted his offer.
    We reached Revlon at last.  I wondered if its inhabitants would still
remember me, their ruler of five hundred years past.  At the border, a guard
stopped us.
    "You look familiar," he told me.  "You look just like that guy on
the old coins."
    "George Washington?" I tried.
    "No, no, that other guy."
    "Lincoln?"
    "No."
    "Kennedy?  He's on the half-dollar," I suggested.
    "Forget it.  You may pass."
    "Was it Jefferson?  Thomas Jefferson?"
    Galenon nudged me.  "I don't mean to sound like your father," he said,
"but don't you think we ought to be getting the explosive rouge?"
    "Right," I said.
    We made it to the city, where we were approached by the local cops.
They insisted that we see a man known as the Defender, in City Hall.  We
travelled to this place.  Inside, I was surprised to see that the man behind
the desk was my own brother, Benedictus of Ember.  My eyes widened, and so
did his.
    "Brother!" said he.
    "Brother!" replied I.
    "How fare thee?" he asked.
    I dared not tell him of my plans.
    "Fine, and you?" I said.
    "I am tired, and as you can see, I have no arms."
    This was true, he had no arms.
    "This is true, you have no arms.  How did this thing come about?"
    "It is a long story.  But at last I have re-united Revlon and driven
the demon creatures out."
    "Demon creatures?  DEMONS OF EMBER?"
    "No, demons of Revlon.  A particularly nasty race of beings known
as Housemaids.  Cold, icy, stubborn beasts, they refuse to do windows, and
worse, they always put stuff back in the wrong drawers.  Their attacks began
three years ago.  As you can imagine, they caused great confusion in the
land.  In an effort to resolve the conflict, I met with their leader, a woman
called Linda.  Unfortunately, I was forced to kill her after she lopped off
my arms.  Much later, I made love to her and then began counterattacking her
troops.  Only in the past month have we driven them from the city.  I will
continue the patrols for the next two hundred years, however, for we may have
missed one or two of them."
    "Prudent," said I.
    "But enough about me.  I hear you escaped Erik's dungeons.  I would
like to know more about this."
    "Tunnels," I said.
    He raised his eyebrows.  He knew I was lying, but he dared not accuse
me.  Had he accused me, though, I would have been forced to challenge him to
a duel of the blades, and this was a thing I did not want to do.
    For even without arms, he could still outfence any of us.  I feared
him, properly.
    "You are free to stay in my house, Corbin, of course.  But if you are
planning to use Revlon as a staging area for an attack on Ember, then you have
come at the wrong time.  I will not permit such a thing."
    "No problem," I said.  "I appreciate your hospitality, Benedictus.
Live long and prosper."  I wanted to ask him more about Revlon, and about the
Housemaids and their leader Linda, whom he slew and later loved.  But there
was no time.
    I sent Galenon to search for the explosive rouge.  For my own part, I
began to mentally organize the weaponry and personnel I would require.  As I
walked through the forest, I decided where and how I would gather the
necessary materiel for my war against Erik.
    Suddenly, a woman appeared.  She was thin and freckled, and she held
a thin and freckled blade in her right hand.
    "Wanna do it?" she asked.
    Not again, I thought.
    "Let's fence first," I said.  Her blade rose.
    She was good.  Very good.  I came on strong and aggressive at first,
but she deflected my advances with ease.  I decided to be more formal.  We
went through a series of standard exercises, after which I felt I knew her
style.  I closed with her.  Our blades met at eye level, our faces nearly
touching.  I grazed her cheek with my sword.  She pulled away, but I advanced.
I forced her back into a thicket.  She gasped.  I lunged.  She did not parry.
I lunged again.  Again.  Again.  She screamed, and so did I.  We both fell
to the ground.
    "So you wanna do it?" she asked again.
    "Give me a little break here."
    She gave me a break, and then we did it.  I asked her name.  It was
Darla.  I told her everything about Ember.  Why?  I do not know, for I am not
a trusting person by nature.  What was the reason for my loose tongue of late?
Perhaps it was that annoying character change of mine . . .
    "Will you take me to Ember?" she asked.
    "No."
    "Please, please, please?" she pleaded.
    "I don't think you understand the danger involved.  Awaiting my
coming are the DEMONS OF EMBER."
    "What DEMONS OF EMBER?" she asked, but I did not answer.  I did not
know myself.  I bade her farewell, and promised to look her up.
    I found Galenon in a department store, haggling with the woman behind
the perfume counter.  He held a knife to her throat.
    "Hello, sonny," he said to me.  "The bitch says she doesn't know
anything about any exploding makeup.  Should I kill her?"
    I saw the fear in the woman's eyes, and I called my partner off.
    "It doesn't explode *here*, Galenon, it explodes in Ember.  Look, I
see some of it over there."
    We bought two hundred and twelve compacts of the stuff.
    Galenon and I departed into Shade that day.  I found a Shade close to
the Earth I had inhabited for so many years, but one which was subtly
different from my old home.  To wit, the ground was littered with automatic
weapons.  We collected these weapons and took them to a more familiar Shade,
the place where I had collected my army so many years before.  You might
think that the inhabitants would be angry with me, for I *had* taken their
youth from them and caused them to die uselessly in a foreign war.  But
these people revered me as a god, and thousands of them would volunteer
again.  I had only to ask.
    Galenon and I arrived.  A multitude waited below us.  An old man with a
crown came to greet us.
    "I have returned!" I boomed.
    The man look displeased.  His eyes went back to the multitude.
    "Don't take it wrong," quoth he, "but, uh, you *did* take our youth
>From us and cause them to die uselessly in a foreign war.  What do
you, uh, want this time?"
    "Soldiers!" I boomed again.
    "Soldiers," muttered the man.  "Are we going to, uh, win this time?"
    "Of course!  But it won't be easy, for awaiting my coming are the
DEMONS OF EMBER!"
    "DEMONS OF EMBER?"
    "Indeed!  But I have brought new weapons!"  I took an automatic
rifle laced the crowd with bullets.  Many fell, my friend, but the rest
cheered and cheered.  Their god was back.
    Recruitment went smoothly.  I only needed twenty men this time.  I
picked the best and trained them well.  Before we left, I inspected the troops.
    "Who is Erik?" I asked one of the men.
    "Beats me," he replied.
    I ran him through with my sword.  There was much blood.
    "Who is Erik?" I asked the next one, who began to sweat.
    "Erik is the Lord of . . . Lord of . . ."
    "Yes?  Yes?" I provoked.
    "Lord of . . . Ember?" he tried.
    "NO!  NO!  LORD OF EVIL!  LORD OF EVIL!"  I ran him through.  "Who
is Erik?" I screamed.
    "THE LORD OF EVIL!" they all exclaimed, elated that I hadn't run
them through.
    Galenon and I made some final arrangements, and then we set off
for Ember.  By now, I had mastered the Axioms of Ember.  I knew that
All Roads Lead to Ember, for instance, so I picked a road and followed it,
and my men followed me.  Erik did not notice us this time.  I figured this
was due to the small size of our force.
    "Corbin?" Galenon said.
    "Yes?" I answered.
    "Often you have mentioned the DEMONS OF EMBER which await your
coming, but I myself know nothing of such beings.  How do you *know* they
await us?"
    "It's on the cover of the paperback," I replied.
    "What paperback?"
    "THE GUNS OF REVLON.  The one with the goofy picture on the front."
    "But book covers are notoriously unrelated to the the text that
lay between the pages.  I would wager that there *are* no DEMONS OF EMBER,"
he wagered.
    "Hmm, you may have a point.  But if you are right, then it is quite
possible that THE GUNS OF REVLON is neither a HUGO nor a NEBULA AWARD
WINNER.  Good God, Galenon!  I might not be a ROGER ZELAZNY hero -- I might be
living in a MICHAEL MORCOCK book!"
    "Get hold of yourself, son!" said Galenon.  "Maybe there *are* DEMONS
OF EMBER after all.  And maybe, just maybe, there is also A MYSTERIOUS FEMALE
IN THE PERFECT KINGDOM who PORTENDS TREASON, TREACHERY -- AND OBLIVION!"
    "What does that mean, 'TREASON, TREACHERY -- AND OBLIVION'?  Never
mind.  I agree with you.  I feel we must trust The Man Who Writes Book Cover
Blurbs, for even though he probably hasn't read this book, his is the only
information we have to go on.  I only hope that bullets will be enough to stop
the DEMONS OF EMBER.  Come, let us hie."
    And hie we did, until Ember was within sight.
    "Ember is within sight," I announced.
    "I know, I can see it," said Galenon.
    "You act as though you have been here before," I accused.
    "So do you, kid," he replied.
    "I *have* been here.  You've never been here.  Got that?  And why do
you keep calling me 'kid' and 'sonny'?  I'm starting to get perturbed with
you."
    "Sorry," he said.  Then, "Look!"
    I looked.  There was a battle already in progress.  Erik's men were
fighting hand to hand with a large force of Shade creatures.  The creatures
were pouring in across a huge expanse of darkness, some kind of black road
that led from deep inside Shade right up to the foot of Rivlok.  I had planned
to take Ember by killing Erik, but now . . .
    In one of those split-second decisions you usually wind up regretting,
I ordered my men to attack the Shade beasts rather than Erik's men.  Confused,
they carried out their orders.  O, how they died that day!  The creatures
burned and died and heaved, and I chuckled.  I diverted my attention from the
battle in order to find my brother Erik.  At last, I spotted him on the far
mountainside.  I left Galenon in charge of the battle.
    After negotiating the crags and crevices, I reached Erik.  He was lying
on his back, bleeding.  Around his neck was the Jewel of the Judge, a magical
pendant often worn by our father.
    "I . . . am . . . dying," he announced.
    "Oh yeah?" I stuttered.  "That's, uh, too bad, Erik.  Listen, about
your Death Curse, I mean, you're not going to, I mean, well . . . you don't
even *have* to have a Death Curse.  Not if you don't want to.  It's not like a
law or anything.  Even if it was, what could they do to you?  I mean, you're
dead, and if you didn't use your Death Curse, too bad--"
    "Enough!" he sputtered, spitting blood all over me.
    "Jesus Christ, that's disgusting," I observed.
    "I reserve my Death Curse for the creatures from the Black Freeway.
And I give you this Jewel.  With it, you can control the weather.  You must
attune yourself to it by wearing it and walking the Design.  You're in command
now."  He coughed up a lung.  "You'll find that things are not what you
expected.  Ember is in deep trouble.  Deep . . ."  He gasped for air.
    "Can I get you some water or something?" I asked.
    He mumbled his Death Curse, a horrible thing to hear.  It had an
immediate effect on the battle.  The creatures began retreating.  Erik heaved
his last breath then.
    I took the Jewel from about his neck.  It pulsed curiously in my hands.
He had said to take it to the Design.  I signalled Galenon to pursue the
creatures.  I headed for the castle myself.  Just inside, I ran into Randy.
    "Corbin!" he said.  "Downstairs!  Something's happening!"
    We both ran down to the Design room.  Someone was walking the Design
already!  Who was it?  I squinted, but could not make out the face.
    "Some chick," said Randy.  "Never seen her."
    I looked again.  It was Darla.
    "What do you think it means?" Randy asked.
    "It portends TREASON, TREACHERY -- AND OBLIVION!" I said.
    "What does that mean, 'TREASON, TREACHERY -- AND OBLIVION!'?"
    "Shut up for a second."  I turned to the girl and yelled, "Darla!
What the hell are you doing?"
    She looked up at me and continued walking.  She was almost finished.
    Randy said, "So she must be of the Blood of Ember.  I thought there
were only thirteen of us."
    "There must be countless others.  You're not counting Delwyn and
Sandy, for instance.  That makes fifteen right there."
    "Oh yeah.  How come we never talk about them?" he asked.
    "We're supposed to pretend like they don't exist."
    "For how long?" he asked.
    "Until the sixth book or so," I said.  I raised my hand.  "Wait!"
    Darla had reached the center of the Design.  She raised her hands into
the air and said:
    "Ember will be destroyed!"
    Shit, I thought.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
If you MUST reply to a rejection, include a description of your joke
because there is 0 chance I will remember which one it was.


From [e-mail] Tue Nov 15 21:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: An essay for .funny consideration
Keywords: original, laugh
Date: 16 Nov 88 03:30:03 GMT


(This was posted a week ago in talk.pol.misc, but thought I'd let you
mull it over.  It is original writing, and is typical of my callous mode
of social thought which I occasionally fall into.)

Like many people, I have been thinking about the problem of homelessness in
America's cities.  Besides the obvious suffering of the homeless people, the
spectacle of raggedly dressed people bent for warmth in the subways and bus
stations of the cities greets visitors with a pronouncedly negative image.
I have struck upon a means of eliminating the privation of the homeless while
lessening the adverse impact they have on the surrounding neighborhoods.

  At a cost of about $250 per individual, each can be outfitted with a friendly
Disney character costume.  Generous insulation and bright, stain resistant
colors would help to insure that the occupant remains warm inside and cheerful
outside.  As there are so many different characters, each participant would be
able to choose which outfit most closely fits his style.

  This landmark project would have manifold beneficial effects.  Travelers
arriving at the bus and train terminals would no longer comment on how awful
it is to be met with wave attacks of unkempt panhandlers.  Instead, their kids
could laugh and feel safe and recall fondly how Mickey greeted them upon their
arrival to the Big City.  Replace the heart-rending image of a woman swaddled
in torn clothes crouching for shelter in a shop doorway with that of a warm
and sweetly blushing Snow White settled snugly down with her pullcart of
possessions in the same alcove.  A societal blemish has been instantly
transformed into a fantasy attraction!

  The boost this program could provide to the participants' sense of self-image
would be tremendous.  They would enjoy a strong sense of camraderie.  Instead
of facing a bleak street existence alone, they would belong to a happy family
of playful ducks, dogs and chipmunks.   This would give everybody something to
be proud of.  The necessity of keeping one's uniform spiffy and one's antics
competitively endearing (to bolster handout revenues) would be easy and fun.
And, as George Bush has observed, many of the homeless people on our streets
already identify with popular cartoon figures.  The transition would be
painless for most everyone.

  Expensive and marginally effective substance abuse recovery programs could
be avoided by the simple expedient of dressing addicts and drunks as either
pink elephants or Dopey the dwarf.  A person suffering from a nervous tic could
become Pinnochio the dancing puppet boy.  Persons who habitually argue with
demons or devils could be suited up with muffled headpieces to squelch the
sudden shouts.  Creative application of the basics outlined here would enable
the adminstrators of this plan to massage away almost ANY obstacle, and allow
them to artfully blend these people back into society.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
If you MUST reply to a rejection, include a description of your joke
because there is 0 chance I will remember which one it was.


From desmarai%iros1.UUCP%mcgill-vision.UUCP Wed Nov 16 10:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: desmarai%iros1.UUCP%mcgill-vision.UUCP (Stephane Desmarais)
Subject: Some black mail
Keywords: maybe
Date: 16 Nov 88 16:30:04 GMT

(I was first exposed to this joke when a friend of mine
put it in comic strip form for a french course homework.
I don't think he invented it himself.)

A small boy is wandering in a hotel, and hearing some noises
decides to open a door.  He says "Wow, it's dark here!"
You can imagine that there's a man with a woman in that room...
The man asks, "What do you want?  Here's a buck, leave us alone."
A bit latter, the boy goes back again, opens the door, and says:
"Wow, it's dark here!"  "Not you again!  Here, take this and
go buy yourself something."  And the boy goes out with 2 bucks.

The following morning, the boy feels some remorse, and tells what happened
to his mother.  She says: "That's wrong.  You should go to the church,
and confess yourself."

So there he goes.  Entering the boot, he says: "Wow, it's dark here!".
To which the priest says: "Are you following me around?"
--
Stephane M. Desmarais

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
I reply to all submissions, but about 30% of the replies bounce.


From [e-mail] Wed Nov 16 21:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: What <ethnics> do best...
Keywords: ethnic, chuckle, sexual
Date: 17 Nov 88 03:30:04 GMT



My grandmother (age 70) told me this joke, original source unknown...

For a long time, Mary had a fantasy of making love with an <ethnic> man.
One night, when she was in a bar, she met a handsome <ethnic> who appeared
to be well-hung, so she figured, what the hell, she'd go for it.  So Mary asked
the fellow to come home with her.

When the two got to Mary's apartment, Mary told the <ethnic> about her fantasy,
and asked if he would be a part of it.  Well, the <ethnic>, of course, agreed,
so the two headed for Mary's bedroom.  When they got there, Mary said, "Ok,
first, I want you to undress me and tie me to the bed!"  So the <ethnic> did
so.  By this time, Mary was worked into a passionate frenzy.  She looked up
at the <ethnic> and said, "Now, big boy, do what you do best!"

So the <ethnic> picked up her VCR and left.

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
I reply to all submissions, but about 30% of the replies bounce.


From [e-mail] Thu Nov 17 10:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Woodhouse)
Subject: Pastoral Visits
Keywords: gross, smirk
Date: 17 Nov 88 16:30:03 GMT
Organization: The MITRE Corporation, Bedford, Mass.

A pastor was visiting an elderly lady who was a "shut in."  Since she didn't
get very many visitors, she went on incessantly about her problems while the
pastor nibbled on some peanuts on the coffee table in front of him.  After
about a half hour, and with his endurance almost expended, he politely
interrupted, explaining that he had other appointments that afternoon and
said, "I'm afraid I've eaten most of your peanuts while I was listening and I
would like to leave you a couple of dollars so that you can get some more."

"No," replied the woman, "With my dentures I can't chew them.  It's all I can
do just to suck the chocolate off them."
--
 G. Mark Woodhouse
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Thu Nov 17 21:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000001
From: [e-mail] (Ranjit Bhatnagar)
Subject: Jewish Mothers - from Leo Rosten
Keywords: smirk
Date: 18 Nov 88 03:30:03 GMT


One of my favorite jokes, a telling commentary on Jewish mothers'
capacity to lay on guilt, involves the mother who gave her son two
neckties on Chanuka.

    "The boy hurried into his bedroom, ripped off the tie he was
wearing, put on one of the ties his mother had brought him, and hurried
back.  "Look, Mama! Isn't it gorgeous?"

    "Mama asked, 'What's the matter?  You don't like the other one?'"

        from {ul Hooray For Yiddish} by Leo Rosten

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Fri Nov 18 10:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Karen B. Johnson)
Subject: Pausing to honour a funeral
Keywords: smirk
Date: 18 Nov 88 16:30:04 GMT

This guy's wife was always wanting to go golfing with him and he
said he didn't think she would enjoy it.  She kept pressuring
him and finally he gave in.

So they're on the golf course and on the first hole the guy hits
one 300 yards down the middle of the fairway, hits his second
shot three feet from the pin, and putts for a birdie.  This
lucky streak continues and he birdies 5 straight holes.
Then they get to the 6th hole.  He takes his driver and hooks
one way out into the left rough behind a barn.  They search and
search and find the ball, and he says to his wife, "I'll just
take a penalty and drop the ball out in the fairway."

His wife says, "Wait a minute!"  She walks over to the barn and
opens the door on one end and then goes to the other end and
opens that door too.  She says, "Look, honey, you can see the
hole from here!  The way you've been playing, just hit through
the barn and you'll do okay."

So he grabs a 3 iron and takes a healthy swat, and it ricochets
off the barn and hits his wife right between the eyes, killing
her instantly.

The grief-stricken man didn't play golf for several years after
his wife's death.  Until one day, his friends finally talk him
into a foursome.  They go to the same course, and amazingly,
he again birdies the first 5 holes.  They get to the 6th tee and
he hits another vicious hook behind the same barn!  They finally
find the ball and the guy says he will take a penalty drop in
the fairway.  One of his buddies says, "Wait a minute!" and runs
and opens the barn doors.

The guy screams at him, "You dirty SOB, the last time I tried
that, I took a 9 on this hole!!"
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: PLEASE spell check and proofread your jokes.


From [e-mail] Sat Nov 19 19:47:32 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Brian Glendenning)
Subject: Updated Version of joke recently made famous
Keywords: original (sort of)
Date: 20 Nov 88 01:47:32 GMT
Followup-To: news.misc


A member of an ethnic group reputed to have a stingy reputation and a
member of an ethnic group often stereotyped as having a miserly cunning
went to a restaurant.  After a hearty meal, the table waiting attendant came
by with the inevitable bill. To the amazement of all, the member of the
ethnic group reputed to have a stingy reputation was heard to say,
"I'll pay it," which he actually did.

The next morning's newspaper carried the news item:

    "VENTRILOQUIST FROM ETHNIC GROUP OFTEN STEREOTYPED AS HAVING A
    MISERLY CUNNING FOUND SEVERELY CHASTISED IN BLIND ALLEY."



[ If you don't understand why I posted this, check out the flamefest raging
in soc.culture.jewish over the original version of this joke.  In that
group, [e-mail] and [e-mail] are demanding my
removal as moderator because I posted the original version of this joke.
Mr. J. Richmond has even intimated he will take action against me and Looking
Glass Software.  Respond to them, not to me. ]
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: Always give your jokes a descriptive "Subject:" line.  Not "joke."


From [e-mail] Sun Nov 20 02:20:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Mike Godfrey)
Subject: Since it's election time...
Keywords: topical, chuckle, ever so mildly sexist
Date: 20 Nov 88 08:20:03 GMT


Q. Are there any historical precedents for the Soviet system of elections?

A. Yes, in the story of the creation. God made Eve, put her in the Garden of
   Eden, and said to Adam: "Now choose a woman."
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: Only ONE joke per submission.  Extra jokes may be rejected.


From [e-mail] Sun Nov 20 10:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Jim Gardner)
Subject: Think of the team from a few years ago
Keywords: funny
Date: 20 Nov 88 16:30:03 GMT

Heard on CBC Radio "Prime Time":

Why won't the NHL let Hamilton have a hockey franchise?

Because then Toronto would want one too.

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Sun Nov 20 21:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: gaggle me with a spoon...
Keywords: chuckle, heard it, mildly sexual
Date: 21 Nov 88 03:30:04 GMT

Four Oxford professors (dons, whatever...) were taking their evening walk
together and as usual, were engaged in casual but learned conversation.
On this particular evening, their conversation was about the names given
to groups of animals, such as a "pride of lions" or a "gaggle of geese."

One of the professors noticed a group of prostitutes down the block, and
posed the question, "What name would be given to that group?"  The four
fell into silence for a moment, as they pondered the possibilities...

At last, one spoke: "How about 'a Jam of Tarts'?"  The others nodded in
acknowledgement as they continued to consider the problem.  A second
professor spoke: "I'd suggest 'an Essay of Trollops.'"  Again, the
others nodded.  A third spoke: "I propose 'a Flourish of Strumpets.'"

They continued their walk in silence, until the first professor remarked
to the remaining professor, who was the most senior and learned of the
four, "You haven't suggested a name for our ladies.  What are your thoughts?"
The fourth professor replied, "'An Anthology of Prose.'"
--
-Brian Smithson
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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Remember: Only ONE joke per submission.  Extra jokes may be rejected.


From [e-mail] Mon Nov 21 02:20:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Susan Hammond)
Subject: A Quail in my voice
Keywords: topical, funny
Date: 21 Nov 88 08:20:04 GMT

(From:    Miriam Lezak)

 Don't know much about history
 Don't know much foreign policy
 Don't remember how I got through school
 I'm sure I didn't break the rules
 But what's it matter 'cause my granny says
 "Boy, if you want to you can be vice prez
 And what a wonderful world this will be"

 Don't know much about the women's vote
 Don't know much about the bill I wrote
 Don't know much about the foreign vets
 I've never voted for 'em yet
 But I do know if your dad tries hard
 He can get you in the National Guard
 And what a wonderful place that can be


 Now I never claimed to be an A student
 But what's wrong with C's?
 And maybe by knowing the names of my cabinet
 I can win their love for me

 Don't know much about air pollution
 Don't know much about the constitution
 Don't know much about th'economy
 It never much affected me
 But there's one thing that I know for sure
 If the rich stay rich and the poor stay poor
 What a wonderful world this will be

Don't know much about the national debt
 I've never had to pay one yet
 If we need to we can sell the States
 To the Japanese at discount rates
 But I do know if things get bad
 George and I can always call my dad
 And what a wonderful world this will be...
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: If you POST your joke instead of mailing it, I will not reply.


From [e-mail] Mon Nov 21 02:43:12 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Funny Guy)
Subject: "1988 REC.HUMOR.FUNNY Computer Network Humour Annual" Jokebook Announcement
Keywords: administrivia, COMMERCIAL MESSAGE
Date: 21 Nov 88 08:43:12 GMT
Followup-To: rec.humor.d
Organization: Looking Glass Software, Waterloo Ont.

Announcing the:


                      1988

                 REC.HUMOR.FUNNY

             Computer Network Humour
                     Annual


I often get requests for back-jokes out of rec.humor.funny, so I have
gathered together over 600 of the better submissions from the last year
and a half, along with some unposted stuff and original cartoons, into a
compendium of this newsgroup's history.  It's laser-typeset and takes up
around 160 full sized pages.

People ask me, "Why go to all the work of editing all those jokes for
typesetting if everybody's already read them?"  Of course, they only
asked me this *after* I'd done all the work.  I did this last year as
Christmas gifts for family and friends. (Somehow I don't think they meant
books when they said, "The best Christmas gifts are the ones you make
yourself.")  Everybody really liked it, so this year I'm making them
available to net people too, for real cheap.

I think many people might want this book as a Christmas gift for their
own friends, or perhaps their enemies.  (If you give it to your mother,
I advise you rip out the ROT13 section.)  In light of this I am writing
introductory sections that explain USENET and the newsgroup to outsiders.

I have also isolated the Computer/Science/Math jokes and the USENET jokes
into their own chapters.  Non-computer folks can avoid them, and you can
read these chapters in front of your friends while laughing riotously,
allowing you to feel superior.

If you started reading the group after it began, you'll find the jokes
that you missed in this book.  (Many have said the early months had the
best submissions.)  If you're looking for a back-joke, you should find
it in here, too.   I don't relish being a joke-server, and I never re-post,
so this is now a route to get all the back-jokes at once.  (It may even
keep repeats out of rec.humor.)

I have included a "Joka-Cola Classic" section, which contains most of
the good jokes that I rejected as "too well known to the net."  When
I say that, it means I think about 50% of the readers will be tired of
the joke, but there are still many who can enjoy these.

I am also including about a dozen original cartoons and strips by world
famous comic artist Ty Templeton. (No relation.) (Ok. We share the same
parents.)  Ty currently draws the Justice League for D.C. Comics and
has foolishly turned down offers to do syndicated strips for the L.A.
Times syndicate.  Perhaps some of his fans from rec.arts.comics can
post reviews of his material to rec.humor.d.

And, of course, if far more people buy this book than I expect, I'll
actually recover the costs and effort of making it!  Aside from the
hundreds of hours I have spent moderating this group for the last 15 months,
I have also put in about 60 hours of work making several *thousand* edits and
corrections (I'm not kidding) to the jokes to make them suitable for
typesetting.  Have you ever tried to edit things typed by 500 different
people, 95% of whom can't spell or punctuate, into a common form for
typesetting?  Don't try.  (I'll explain in rec.humor.d why the net
postings aren't so carefully edited, if anybody wants to know.)

The book will cost $9.95 in U.S. funds.  Shipping costs vary on where you
are.  You can order it by mail, or via an 800 number with a major credit
card.  Details on ordering are in a follow-up posting to this one. (RHF ONLY)
(If you think this price is high, go to your local instant printer and
ask how much to do a 160 page book with binding and cover in small quantities
You will get quotes OVER the price I'm asking.)   Order soon if you want
your copy or copies in time for Christmas.

NOTE:  The discussion of issues concerning copyright and book-ordering
on USENET already took place in rec.humor.d.  That is the place if others
want to discuss those matters again.  Do not send this message over the
ARPANET.

P.P.S: This book contains jokes with swearing, sexual references and sick
or offensive themes.  Some jokes involve racism or sexism and are in a
special section that can be removed.  This book is not suitable for children.


From [e-mail] Mon Nov 21 02:46:12 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Funny Guy)
Subject: USA and overseas ordering information for the "1988 R.H.F Annual"
Keywords: administivia, COMMERCIAL MESSAGE
Date: 21 Nov 88 08:46:12 GMT
Followup-To: rec.humor.d
Organization: Looking Glass Software, Waterloo Ont.

(This posting is a companion to the announcement of the 1988 annual, which
should have come first.)

How to order the 1988 rec.humor.funny annual from inside the USA and overseas:
(Instructions for Canada will be posted with "can" distribution.)

You can use the mail, or order using my toll free 800 number with a
major credit card.   I can send the book to you either by surface
mail (about 2 weeks) or air mail (just over 1 week) as you choose.

If you order by mail, mail a check or money order for $9.95 (US Funds)
per copy, plus the shipping/handling charges (see below) to:

    Jokebook
    c/o Looking Glass Software Ltd.
    124 King St. N.
    Waterloo, ON
    N2J 2X8

    Canada

Please include a mailing label for the return package.  A stick on label
would be great, but a plain cut piece of paper would be fine.  In your
order, include the number of copies you want, how you want them shipped,
and your EMAIL address in case there's any trouble.

        Toll Free Ordering

You can dial 1-800-265-2782 from within the continental USA to order.
(Outside, dial 1-519-884-7473)  This 800 number does not exist just for the
jokebook, so please try to keep it short so I can keep my costs down.
When you call, between 10 AM and 5 PM Eastern Standard Time, please have
ready with you:

    The type, card number and expiry date of your credit card.
    (MasterCard, Visa or American Express) Also give your name here
    if it's being mailed to a different person.

    The name and address to ship the book to.

    The number of books and type of shipping.

    Your EMAIL address in case there's any problem.


Here's the tricky part.  If you order by credit card, you will be billed
in Canadian dollars.  Your bank will do an exchange for you and bill you
in U.S. dollars.  The current rate in the paper is around $0.81 USD = $1 CAN.
We will bill you at this rate ($12.25 CDN for the book), but your bank's
rate will vary.

You can also order by E-MAIL if you are crazy enough to include your
credit card information in non-secure USENET mail.  Mail to
[e-mail].

Sorry, we can't C.O.D. over the border.

        SHIPPING/HANDLING CHARGES TO THE USA

    Surface (Book) Rate            Air Mail (1st Class)

    1  -  $2                1  -  $4
    2-4 - $4                2  -  $7
    5-6 - $6                3  -  $9
                        4  - $10

If you order by credit card, the above prices will be converted to
Canadian dollars and charged as such on your credit card bill, to be
converted back to U.S. dollars by your bank as described above.

        OVERSEAS SHIPPING CHARGES (U.S. Dollars)

    1 Book Air Mail - $7
    1 Book Surface - $4
    2 Books Surface - $6


I won't bill your credit card or cash your check until we send the
book to you!

If a group wants to get together and order 20 or more, I can do a
discount and arrange cheaper or faster shipping, like UPS.

Yes, this is advertising on the net.  With luck, it will cut down
joke duplications and calls for old jokes, saving the net money.
If you want to discuss this again, go to rec.humor.d.  Do not send this
message over the ARPANET.

(NO, I didn't set all this up just to order books.  I run a software
company, so all the mechanism for this is already in place.)


From "Henry_Cate_III.PA"@XEROX.COM Mon Nov 21 10:30:07 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: "Henry_Cate_III.PA"@XEROX.COM
Subject: More soviet jokes
Keywords: rec_humor_cull, funny
Date: 21 Nov 88 16:30:07 GMT
Organization: Xerox, Sunnyvale, CA



    Czech walks into police station in 1968 during the Fraternal
    Assistance.

    Czech:  Hey, out there in the street, a Swiss soldier knocked
        me down and took my Russian watch.

    Desk Sergeant: Come again?

    Czech:  Are you deaf?  Out there in the street, a Swiss soldier
        knocked me down and took my Russian watch.

    Desk Sergeant: You're confused.   It was a Russian soldier who
        knocked you down and took your Swiss watch.

    Czech:  Well, maybe, but you said it, not me.

--
Henry Cate III
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: If you POST your joke instead of mailing it, I will not reply.


From [e-mail] Mon Nov 21 21:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Bill Kennedy)
Subject: Submission - Talking to Fish
Keywords: original, smirk
Date: 22 Nov 88 03:30:04 GMT

This was published in The South Texas Fisherman, sometime 1972.  I'd
like to take credit for it but the "Bill Kennedy" author is Sr, I'm Jr.

TALKING TO FISH
by Bill Kennedy

A character in one of Shakespeare's plays, boasting of his accomplishments
said "I can call up monsters from the vasty deep."  Any fisherman could have
given the answer: "So can I and so can any man, but will they come?"  Men
and women have been calling to fish, pleading with them and swearing at them
without response since the beginning of time.  A federally supported research
project may change that situation.

Working with the whale family (porpoise or dolphin), scientists in Florida
have set out to translate fish language.  They are not far along yet but
have made some headway.  Various clicks and whistles have been recorded
that indicate, at least in the whale family, one fish has a way to commun-
icating what is on his mind to another fish.  If the research continues as
planned, it should be only a matter of time until man will be able to
reporoduce fish noises and communicate what is on his mind to bass, perch,
and catfish.

All right-minded fishermen agree that fish-talk research projects should
be cancelled and the scientists in it forced to seek other employment.
The reasoning behind this point of view is simple and sound.  If the
research continues to its logical conclusion, fishing will cease to be
the pleasant and relaxing sport that it now is.  Fishing will become a
business of bellowing speeches in fish language designed to convince fish
that they would be better off on the bank or in the boat than they are in
the water.  In such circumstances any fool knows who the men that will
catch all the fish will be.  They will be politicians!
--
Bill Kennedy

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
Remember: If you POST your joke instead of mailing it, I will not reply.


From [e-mail] Tue Nov 22 02:20:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Ronald J. Notarius)
Subject: Elvis
Keywords: rec_humor_cull, topical, funny
Date: 22 Nov 88 08:20:04 GMT
Organization: Carnegie Mellon

Sorry guys, but there is now definitive, undeniable proof that Elvis is, indeed,
dead.

He was registered to vote in Chicago.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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because there is 0 chance I will remember which one it was.


From [e-mail] Tue Nov 22 10:30:06 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Product Acoustics Group*MLO6-2/T13*223-8744)
Subject: Difference between US & UK...
Keywords: rec_humor_cull, smirk
Date: 22 Nov 88 16:30:06 GMT
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation


    UK - 100 miles is a long distance.

    US - 100 years is a long time.


--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
If you MUST reply to a rejection, include a description of your joke
because there is 0 chance I will remember which one it was.


From "Henry_Cate_III.PA"@XEROX.COM Wed Nov 23 00:02:00 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: "Henry_Cate_III.PA"@XEROX.COM
Subject: DATA statements...
Keywords: rec_humor_cull, true, chuckle
Date: 23 Nov 88 06:02:00 GMT
Organization: Xerox, Sunnyvale, CA


The primary purpose of the DATA statement is to give names to
constants; instead of referring to pi as 3.141592653589793 at every
appearance, the variable PI can be given that value with a DATA
statement and used instead of the longer form of the constant.  This
also simplifies modifying the program, should the value of pi change.

        -- FORTRAN manual for Xerox Computers

[ 3 Last minute additions to the R.H.F. 1988 Annual:
    The Purity Test
    Emily Postnews
    A Joke Index.
  This weekend is not a Holiday in Canada, BTW, so we'll be around
  if you call. -ed ]
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
I reply to all submissions, but about 30% of the replies bounce.


From [e-mail] Wed Nov 23 01:54:33 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Pete Apple)
Subject: Top 10 reasons not to remove me as moderator
Keywords: topical, racist, rot13, laugh, offense=people with no sense of humour
Date: 23 Nov 88 07:54:33 GMT
Organization: Sequent Computer Systems, Inc.

This joke was not written by me, but complete rights in it have been
transferred to me by the author.  I declare it Copyright 1988 B. Templeton.
Under this copyright, the following licence is granted to most
participants in USENET to decrypt and read this joke.  USENET readers
not on the list below may decrypt and read this joke.  Any attempt by
a person whose name appears on the list below to decrypt or read this
joke, and any attempt by any other person to forward a copy of this
joke in decrypted form is a violation of copyright and expressly prohibited
by law.  Those not licenced to read this joke are:
    Jonathan E.D. Richmond
    David Makowsky
    Nancy M. Gould
    Betsy R. Schwartz

This joke contains offensive material.  Even those licenced to decrypt this
joke and read it do so at their own risk.  Members of the Jewish religion
and semitic races may not wish to read this joke.  This joke makes fun of
racism and people with no sense of humour.

Note also that person #2 on the list, David Makowsky, has claimed that
I was innacurate in stating that he, like J. Richmond, was demanding my
removal.  I apologize.  He did not "demand" it.  He merely said, "how does
one go about removing a moderator," "maybe the moderator should be removed"
and that "[Templeton] is either an equal opportunity bigot or an
equal opportunity ignoramus."  I apologize most sincerely.

Here it comes: (You really have to wade through a lot of disclaimers to get
to a joke these days!)


    Sebz Qnivq Arggrezna:

    Gbc 10 Ernfbaf gb abg ercynpr Oenq nf zbqrengbe:

    10.  N Erny Anmv pbhyq or chg va punetr.
    9.  Jr arrq whfg n srj zber Qna Dhnlyr wbxrf Erny Fbba Abj.
    8.  N erny Cnafl-Qb-Tbbqre-Aba-Bssrafvir glcr pbhyq or chg va punetr.
    7.  Ur'q ybfr uvf XXX xvpxonpx shaq.
    6.  Zl Zbz ynhturq ng guvf wbxr, ln pnyyva zl zbz n enpvfg, ohqql?
    5.  Xvyy 6 zvyyvba bs 'rz, naq gur erfg ybfr gurve frafr bs uhzbe. Wrrm.
    4.  Jurer ner lbh tbvat gb svaq nabgure sbby jub bjaf uvf bja pbzcnal?
    3.  Guvf vf nyy pnhfr bs Jne naq Erzrzorenapr, nva'g vg?
    2.  Prafbe Prafbefuvc!

Naq gur #1 ernfba:
    1.  erp.uhzbe.shaal:  Fbzr crbcyr Whfg Qba'g Trg Vg.

[ Abgr, ol gur jnl, gung guvf wbxr pbagnvaf na napvrag uhzbhe grpuavdhr
xabja nf *fnepnfz* juvpu znl be znl abg or haqrefgbbq ol gur crbcyr ba
guvf yvfg.  (Bs pbhefr, gurl'er abg ernqvat guvf.) -rq]
[ Abgr2: V bayl cbfgrq guvf nsgre cnffvat vg ol frireny bgure crbcyr, zbfg
bs jubz tnir vg uvtu engvatf.  Anghenyyl V pna'g gehfg zl bja whqtrzrag ba
n gbcvp fb pybfr gb zlfrys. -rq]
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
I reply to all submissions, but about 30% of the replies bounce.


From leonard%iros1.UUCP Wed Nov 23 02:20:05 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: leonard%iros1.UUCP (Nicolas Leonard)
Subject: American and Canadian Senate.
Keywords: topical, smirk
Date: 23 Nov 88 08:20:05 GMT

You know the difference between the American and the
Canadian Senate?

In the US, you have to win an election to get in.

In Canada, you have to lose one.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Wed Nov 23 02:22:38 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Brad Templeton)
Subject: Important Item missing from Book order information
Keywords: administrivia
Date: 23 Nov 88 08:22:38 GMT
Followup-To: rec.humor.d
Organization: Looking Glass Software, Waterloo Ont.

I left out one very important thing from the ordering information.  If
you want to order by mail, make the cheque payable to Looking Glass Software
Limited, or to Brad Templeton.   Not to "jokebook" as one person asked!
Also, as I noted in an earlier joke posting, my office is open Thursday &
Friday.   Sorry to clog up the group like this.  I usually try to keep the
volume nice and low, and based on what I've had to accept recently to keep
it at 60/month, perhaps I should keep it lower.   Oh yeah, in the USA, it's
OK if you write a check instead of a cheque.  I'll accept either.
--
Brad Templeton, Looking Glass Software Ltd.  --  Waterloo, Ontario 519/884-7473


From [e-mail] Wed Nov 23 10:30:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (David Chesler)
Subject: Toiletiquette
Keywords: rec_humor_cull, original, chuckle
Date: 23 Nov 88 16:30:04 GMT
Organization: Mirror Systems, Cambridge Mass.

In article <[e-mail]> [e-mail] writes:

  I never did understand why it was supposed to be MEN that were responsible
  for the keeping of the toilet seat!  Some women consistently complain (note
  the SOME) when men leave the seat up, and also complain when men don't put
  the seat up to begin with.  Now I find the second disgusting, no one wants
  to sit on a wet toilet seat.  But if the last person in the bathroom was
  female, the men are expected to lift the seat.

  OK, I didn't post this last time it came around, but here is the
sign I have in my bathroom.

  As an historical note, I left a military sub-contractor (which is why
the notice is cast in Milspeak) and lived for 3 weeks with a friend of
the female persuasion, who constantly got on my case to keep the seat
down.  I vowed revenge when I got my own apartment, so

----------------------------------------

                  NOTICE TO USERS

  The Water Closet Site Administrator (WCSITADMIN) for this
commode equipment unit has elected a Most Recently Used (MRU)
protocol with regard to the seat placement for the equipments
at this site.

  All users are requested to make determination as to their
gender and intended use before attempting to use these equipments.
Users should then determine the desired seat placement, based on
this information, and chart 1, attached.  Having made this deter-
mination, users should compare the actual seat placement, as
determined by direct observation, with the desired seat placement
determined above, and take the appropriate action, based on chart
2, attached.

  It should be noted that the MRU protocol confers the following
advantages vice the more commonly attempted INTHAMITH protocol:

       Worst-case turn-around is improved, as in no case are
        two seat-adjustments required.

       Worst-case throughput is improved, for above reasons.

       Average-case throughput (random gender and use) is
        improved, as no compensating adjustments are performed.

       Average-case throughput as measured is improved due to
        uneven gender distribution among users of a given equipment.

       Wear and tear on the adjustment mechanism is reduced,
        yielding a greater MTBF.

       User feedback is immediate and automatic, yielding a
        higher compliance rate.

  Comments should be addressed to the WCSITADMIN.
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
I reply to all submissions, but about 30% of the replies bounce.


From @MCC.COM:[e-mail] Wed Nov 23 12:29:15 1988
Flags: 000000000201
From: [e-mail] (Pete Cook)
Subject: Nationalities
To: werner
Date: 21 Nov 88 15:30:30 GMT
Organization: MCC, Austin, TX

>From WSJ - 11/21/1988, quoted without permission

NAPLES, Italy - In heaven, the old joke goes, the police are British,
the cooks French, the lovers Italian, and it's all organized by the
Germans.  In hell, the police are French, the cooks British, the
lovers German, and it's all organized by the Italians.

--
           ...Pete  Cook      Motorola Liaison Representative
[e-mail]                   MCC-Software Technology Program
im4u!milano!pcook              512-338-3348



From [e-mail] Wed Nov 23 21:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Roger Mach)
Subject: Three rodents with defective visual perception
Keywords: heard it, chuckle
Date: 24 Nov 88 03:30:03 GMT



(sung to the tune of Three Blind Mice)


   Three rodents with defective visual perception,
      three rodents with defective visual perception.

     Visualize how they perambulate,
        Visualize how they perambulate.


   They all perambulated after the agriculturalist's spouse,
      she severed their spinal columns with a kitchen utensil.

     Have you ever seen such a spectacle in your existence,
        as three rodents with defective visual perception?


--
< Roger Mach >                   Heard around a campfire a long time ago...

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Thu Nov 24 02:20:04 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Maurice E. Suhre)
Subject: Odds and Ends
Keywords: rec_humor_cull, true, chuckle, topical
Date: 24 Nov 88 08:20:04 GMT
Organization: TRW Space and Defense Sector, Redondo Beach, CA


A local throwaway paper has a column called News of the Weird which
may be syndicated.  Excerpting...

George Bush's August message attempting to woo the support of the
National Letter Carriers missed its mark because campaign officials
sent the message by Federal Express, whose deliveries the union refuses
to accept.
--
Maurice Suhre
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Thu Nov 24 10:30:05 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Grant Robinson)
Subject: Vaseline salesman
Keywords: sexual, chuckle
Date: 24 Nov 88 16:30:05 GMT

A Vaseline salesman is driving through the country, when his car starts
leaking and loses all its oil.  Not knowing what to do, he fills the
engine with Vaseline, thinking that it is similar to oil, and drives away.
It works fine until about half an hour later, when the engine gets real
warm, and the Vaseline melts, and runs out through the same hole as the
oil did.  This time there is a farm nearby, so he decides to look for a
phone.

    Meanwhile, inside the farmhouse, the farmer, his wife, and daughter
are having a fight about who's going to do the dishes.  "I did them this
morning," complains the farmer.  "Well I did them at lunch," says his wife.
"And I'm tired from doing all the farmwork," says the daughter.  So the
farmer, in a stroke of brilliance, decides that they will settle it by all
taking off their clothes, lying on the floor, and declaring that the first
one to speak gets to do the dishes.

    The Vaseline saleman gets to the front door, and rings the bell.
No one answers so he goes in and looks for a phone.  He eventually stumbles
into the kitchen, and ignoring the odd sight, asks for a phone.  No one
answers, so he goes and looks some more.  Still no luck, so he goes back to
the kitchen.  They still won't answer, so he decides to see what else he
can get away with.  He has sex with the daughter several times, bemused by
her silence, then finally goes and looks for the phone again.  A while
later, he comes back, looks at the wife, and says, "Why not?"  After having
sex with the farmer's wife, he is getting tired and exasperated.  He
thinks, maybe if they have some Vaseline, I can drive my car for another
half-hour.  So he asks, "Do you have any Vaseline?" at which the farmer
jumps up and yells, "I'll do the dishes!"
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
Attribute the joke's source if at all possible.  I will reply, mailers willing.
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From [e-mail] Thu Nov 24 21:30:05 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Tim Mitchell)
Subject: A Modern Idea
Keywords: rec_humor_cull, smirk
Date: 25 Nov 88 03:30:05 GMT
Organization: People-Net [pnet51], Minneapolis, MN.

Guy walks into a restaurant. Orders eggs.

The waitress asks "How would you like those eggs cooked?"

The guy says "Hey, that would be great."
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Fri Nov 25 02:20:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail]
Subject: Topical trick
Keywords: smirk, topical
Date: 25 Nov 88 08:20:03 GMT

This week is a perfect opportunity to find out the true age of those individuals
who are always evasive on the point. Just ask them what they were doing when
they heard about president Kennedy's assassination! They will be telling you
long before they realise that you can add 25 to what you can easily surmise
to be their age at the time of the said activity.

--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Fri Nov 25 10:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000000
From: [e-mail] (Mike Godfrey)
Subject: cleanliness is next to ...
Keywords: smirk
Date: 25 Nov 88 16:30:03 GMT


   A great Soviet general was once asked by his adjutant, "Comrade General,
what is the meaning of Marxist dialectic?"

   The general replied, "I will explain it to you with an example. A filthy
man is standing outside a bath house. Will he go in?"

   "Of course," replied the adjutant.

   "No, you're wrong," said the general.  "A filthy man is filthy by his nature,
and will not go in to the bath house. Only clean men, knowing the virtues of
cleanliness, will bathe."

   "I understand, comrade general."

   "Now, let me give you another example.  A filthy man is standing outside
a bath house.  Will he go in?"

   "Absolutely not," replied the adjutant immediately.

   "You're wrong again," said the general.  "Why should a filthy man not
enter a bath house? He is dirty, the bath house is there to enable him to
become clean, and he will use it."

   "I think I understand, comrade."

   "Now, one last example.  A filthy man is standing outside a bath house.
Will he go in?"

   "How the hell should I know?"

   "Now, comrade, you truly understand the meaning of Marxist dialectic."


(A very similar joke from Leo Rosten's _The_Joys_Of_Yiddish_ (If you haven't
got a copy of this book, then drop everything and go out and buy a copy--it's
full of jokes, folk sayings and other assorted witticisms.))
--
Edited by Brad Templeton.  MAIL, yes MAIL your jokes to watmath!looking!funny .
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From [e-mail] Sun Nov 27 10:30:03 1988
Flags: 000000000001
From: [e-mail] (Larry Hardiman)
Subject: politics, dirty tricks
Keywords: swearing, true, chuckle
Date: 27 Nov 88 16:30:03 GMT

(Heard from a friend in New York in about 1970.)

When Lyndon Johnson was running for congress he called
his opponent a "pig fucker."

Lyndon's campaign manager said, "Lyndon, you know he doesn't do that!"

Johnson replied, "I know that, but I want to make him deny it."

--
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