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Sailor walks into a bar . . .

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Sailor walks into a bar . . .

Postby klondike » February 7th, 2008, 8:26 pm

. . and spots a pirate sitting alone in the far corner; noting that the old corsair has a wooden leg, an eye patch and a hook in place of his right hand, he figures he must be ripe with great, roaring tales of the high seas, and so starts plying him with drinks.
"Lost me leg to sharks," claims the pirate, "nearly died before they pulled me back aboard!"
"So what about yer hand?", asks the sailor.
"Was boardin' a British sloop off the Seychelles - Limey swab with a cutlass hacked me clear through at the wrist!", the pirate mutters; "Bo'sun sewed me up, sealed the stump with cooper's tar, an' I got fitted for this hook in Singapore!"
"And your eye?"
"Seagull crapped in it."
The sailor guffaws: "You lost yer eye to some gull poop?!"
The old pirate angrily thumps the table with his one good fist: "Arr, well, y'know, it were my first day with the hook!!"

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Postby knitwit45 » February 7th, 2008, 10:26 pm

yeeeeeouch!!!!!!! :shock: :shock: :shock: :shock: :shock:

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Postby MissGoddess » February 8th, 2008, 11:23 am


Keep them coming! I just love jokes! I'm the world's worst joke-teller but I love hearing them!

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Postby Sue Sue Applegate » February 8th, 2008, 11:37 pm

Good one!
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Pig with a wooden leg?

Postby Hollis » March 27th, 2008, 2:34 am

Two farmers are talking in the barnyard when a pig walks by with a wooden leg. One farmer aks the other, "Why does that pig have a wooden leg?" "Well, let me tell you about it. That there is the world's smartest pig!" "That's all well and good" says the friend, "but why does he have the wooden leg?" "Two weeks ago, me and the Mrs were taking that pig to the butcher to be slaughtered. As we started to cross the street to the butcher shop, a pickup truck came speeding around the corner aimed right for my wife. That pig jumped out of my arms, grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her back onto the sidewalk. Saved her life!" "That's quite a story" says the friend,"But why the wooden leg?" "I've only told you half the story" says the pig's owner. "Last week, I was plowing the south field when my tractor hit an old tree stump and knocked me out of the seat and I fell under the tractor. Before the blades of the tiller could cut me to ribbons, that pig leaped out of its' pen, raced 100 yards across the field, grabbed me by the collar, and pulled me to safety. Saved my life!" "Wow" said the friend, "That must be the world's smartest pig! But why does he have the wooden leg?" "Well" said the farmer, "If you had a pig like that, would you eat him all at once?"

I thought it was funny! Twisted to be sure, but funny nonetheless...

As always,


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Postby MissGoddess » March 27th, 2008, 8:12 am

Lol! I loved it!

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Postby moira finnie » March 27th, 2008, 8:29 am

Good one Hollis! Keep 'em comin', please. :lol:
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Postby klondike » March 27th, 2008, 11:58 am

moirafinnie wrote:Good one Hollis! Keep 'em comin', please. :lol:

I'll second that vote, mi hermano; days like today, I'll take every laugh I can get!!

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Postby charliechaplinfan » March 27th, 2008, 2:41 pm

Funny, I wish I could tell them that well :lol:
Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself - Charlie Chaplin

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Postby SSO Admins » March 29th, 2008, 9:42 pm

A neutron walks into a bar and orders a beer. He pulls out his wallet but the bartender waves at him and says "For you, no charge."

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Postby CharlieT » March 30th, 2008, 8:19 am

My favorite:

As happens to all, Death comes to Quasimodo, the bellringer of Notre Dame. The Archbishop of Paris is charged with finding a replacement, so he holds open auditions for the position. At the end of a particularly grueling day of listening to ringing bells, he is approached by a man who had no arms.

"I would like to apply for the position of bellringer," the man says.

"How can you, with no arms?" queried the Archbishop.

"I've had to make do without arms all my life and I always find a way." he said. "Please let me try!"

The passion of his plea was touching to the Archbishop, so he let him take his turn at the bell.

The man turned and ran at the biggest bell at full speed and struck the bell with his face. Suprisingly, a beautiful tone rang from the bell and resonated all over the city. The man repeate the routine, running into several of the bells and hitting them with his face. People from all around Paris starting coming to the church and gathering in the piazza below, drawn by the beautiful sound the bells were making.

Just as the man was making his final run at the biggest bell, he caught a toe on an uneven stone in the floor and pitched headfirst out of the bell tower and fell to his death in the piazza.

Horrified, the Archbishop ran down the stairs and out into the crowd. As the crowd parted, bowing to the Archbishop, one of the gathered multitude approached the Archbishop and said, "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but he's dead. Who was he?"

The Archbishop replied, "I don't know his name, but his face rings a bell."

No, wait... it gets worse.

The next day, the Archbishop was sitting in the bell tower, sadly contemplating the events of the previous day, when he is approached by another man.

"Who are you?" asked the Archbishop.

"The man who fell to his death yesterday was my brother, Your Holiness. I loved him very much and wanted to ask if I could ring the bell in his honor to remember him and his wonderful talent." said the brother.

The Archbishop was touched by the man's plea and allowed him this one act of loving honor. The man picked up a hammer, struck the bell once, clutched his chest and fell down dead on the floor.

The Archbishop cried out in horror. Several of the lesser priests came running into the bell tower, and sizing up the situation, turned to the Archbishop and queried, "Who is this man, Your Grace?"

To which the Archbishop replied, "I don't know, but he's a dead ringer for his brother."

Now, wasn't that worth all of the time you spent reading it? :D

If not, here's a shorter one:

A skeleton walks into a bar and says to the bartender, "Give me a beer and a mop."
"I'm at my most serious when I'm joking." - Dudley

Don't sweat the petty things - don't pet the sweaty things.

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Postby knitwit45 » March 30th, 2008, 3:05 pm

An Irishman moves into a tiny hamlet in County Kerry walks into the pub and promptly orders three beers. The bartender raises his eyebrows, but serves the man three beers, which he drinks quietly at a table, alone.

An hour later, the man has finished the three beers and orders three more. This happens yet again. The next evening the man again orders and drinks three beers at a time, several times. Soon the entire town is whispering about the Man Who Orders Three Beers.

Finally, a week later, the bartender broaches the subject on behalf of the town. "I don't mean to pry, but folks around here are wondering why you always order three beers?"

"Tis odd, isn't it?" the man replies. "You see, I have two brothers, and one went to America , and the other to Australia . We promised each other that we would always order an extra two beers whenever we drank as a way of keeping up the family bond."

The bartender and the whole town were pleased with this answer, and soon the Man Who Orders Three Beers became a local celebrity and source of pride to the hamlet, even to the extent that out-of-towners would come to watch him drink.

Then, one day, the man comes in and orders only two
beers. The bartender pours them with a heavy heart. This continues for the rest of the evening. He orders only two beers. The word flies around town. Prayers are offered for the soul of one of the brothers.

The next day, the bartender says to the man, "Folks around here, me first of all, want to offer condolences to you for the death of your brother. You know - the two beers and all.

The man ponders this for a moment, then replies, "You'll be happy to hear that my two brothers are alive and well. It's just that I, meself, have decided to give up drinking for Lent."

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Postby ChiO » March 30th, 2008, 4:13 pm

The Chicago Cubs, after another dreadful season in the cellar, sign a hot young pitching prospect, Mel Famey.

In his first game, Famey pitches a perfect game -- no hits, no runs, no walks. In his second game, he pitches a shut-out and has perfect control, scattering a few hits and issuing no walks. His amazing pitching and control continues through the season. Even when an occasional run is surrendered, he pitches complete games and issues no walks.

Mel Famey's phenomenal pitching lifts the entire team and they hit and field like never before in Cubs history.

The Cubs zip through the National League play-offs and -- finally -- find themselves in the World Series facing -- who else? -- the hated Chicago White Sox.

Mel Famey wins the opening game by pitching a shut-out, issuing (as is now expected) no walks. The Cubs also win the second game in a slug-fest. The White Sox take Game 3. Famey pitches another shut-out in Game 4. Cubs up 3-1!

But the White Sox win Games 5 and 6. Down to the final game, the Cubs have Mel Famey on the mound. Cubs fans everywhere are smiling.

On this unseasonably hot October day in Chicago, the pitchers are in control at Sox Park. Hot, thirsty and having more than a little rookie nervousnes, Famey sneaks into the visitor's clubhouse during the top of the 7th inning and swigs a beer. He does the same during the top of the 8th inning. And, again, during the top of the 9th inning, this time absentmindedly leaving the can on the bench as he grabs his glove to take the mound in the bottom of the 9th inning, in a 0-0 game.

Famey looks at the first batter and pitches. "Ball one," cries the umpire. Next pitch, "Ball two." Two more pitches, two more balls and Famey gives up his first base-on-balls of the season.

The next two batters, eight balls -- bases loaded.

All eyes in the stands and the dugouts look at Mel Famey, then at the Cubs manager in the visitor's dugout, then back to Famey. The Cubs manager trots out to the mound, looks directly into Famey's eyes and says, "You got us here. We're sticking with you."

Next batter -- four pitches -- four balls. The batter walks, forcing in the winning run for the White Sox. As the Sox players storm onto the field to celebrate, the Cubs manager sees the beer can on the bench and screams, "What in the @%#* is that?!?!"

The White Sox manager hears him and says: Why, that's the beer that made Mel Famey walk us.
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Postby CharlieT » March 31st, 2008, 5:55 pm

Thanks, ChiO.

You brought back an old memory of when I was just a lad and heard my Dad tell that one at the supper table. That was the place where heard the tales of Oink Williams, Hugh (who prevented florist friars) and so many others. :lol:

A little person (formally called midget) was driving along, minding his own business, when his car was struck from behind at a stop sign. He got out of his car, stormed back to the car behind him, put his hands on his hips and scowled at the offending driver. As the other driver rolled down his window, the little person hollered, "I'm not happy!" - to which the other driver replied, "OK, which one are, then?" :D
"I'm at my most serious when I'm joking." - Dudley

Don't sweat the petty things - don't pet the sweaty things.

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