I heard something similar, but the punchline was:
"While you preached, people slept. While he drove, people prayed!"
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I heard something similar, but the punchline was:
"While you preached, people slept. While he drove, people prayed!"
Having married a New York girl, this isn't far from the truth.
Quote:
New York Women
>
> Three men were sitting together bragging about how they had set their new
> wives straight on their duties.
>
> The first man had married a woman from Washington and bragged that he had
> told his wife she was going to do all the dishes and house cleaning that
> needed done at their house. He said that it took a couple of days, but on
> the third day he came home to a clean house and the dishes were all washed
> and put away.
>
> The second man had married a woman from Utah. He bragged that he had given
> his wife orders to do all the cleaning, dishes and the cooking. He told
> his
> buddies that the first day he didn't see any results, but the next day it
> was better. By the third day, his house was clean, the dishes were done
> and
> he had a huge dinner on the table.
>
> The third man had married a woman from New York. He boasted that he told
> her
> that her duties were to keep the house cleaned, dishes washed, lawn mowed,
> laundry washed and hot meals on the table three times a day. He said the
> first day he didn't see anything, the second day he didn't see anything,
> but
> by the third day most of the swelling had gone down and he could see a
> little out of his left eye. Enough to fix himself a bite to eat, load the
> dishwasher and telephone a lawn service.
>
> Gotta love those New York girls!!!!!
I needed to wait for my train so I decided to get a pint in the pub next to the station. It was a pokey little place; dimly dirty and smoke-filled. There weren't many customers this early and most had the look of fixtures and fittings. I swear that they were as thickly coated in dust, and as nicotine stained, as the mirror behind the bar and the prints of old steam locos that hung on every wall.
I bought a pint of "Old Dogleg" and found myself a table to sit at. I was rummaging in my bag for a book to read when I noticed the jukebox, tucked away by the side of the bar. I find it easier to read with music playing, so I felt in my pocket for some change and wandered across to the machine. I dropped a couple of pounds into the slot and started looking for songs that I liked. I'd selected a couple when a voice startled me; it was quiet enough but only a few inches from my right ear.
"'Ave yer picked owt by The King?" (The last two words were definitely capitalised.)
I started back and took a look at my interrogator. I remembered noticing him when I'd entered. He had been sitting at a table near the door, nursing a half of milk stout with a half-full ashtray of hand-rolled dog-ends in front of him. He was dressed in shades of grey, brown and uncertain, flat-capped and stubbled, smelling of Old Holborn tobacco, old (but regularly cleaned) clothes, and some kind of liniment (witch hazel?). He carried a stick, which made me wonder how he had manage to appear behind me so silently.
When I failed to reply immediately, he pressed his point, "Well, 'ave yer?"
"The king?, I mumbled, "I'm not really an Elvis fan..."
"Elvis!!", he interjected, "I'm not on about bloody Elvis. 'E weren't the King!" (that capital letter again) "I'm on about the greatest singer there's ever bin! Got all 'is records I 'ave. On proper records too - not that DVD rubbish! Bloody Elvis!!"
He snorted then, and rolled his eyes towards the once-white ceiling. For all his age and infirmity, I felt for some reason that I was on shaky ground here. Perhaps it was that I suspected him of being "not quite all there", a little bit of the "but for the grace of God..." syndrome, I don't know. I waited, but he seemed capable of outwaiting a tree, so eventually I muttered something like, "Mm yes, the king, right." This started him off again.
"The King, that's 'im. Got all 'is records I 'ave. 'E woz Rock'n'Roll. Nah nah nah na-nah na-nah nah." (To be honest, this could have been anything! He was as tone-deaf as he was patently deranged) "Best song ever that were! An' 'e wrote 'undreds like it. Not many o' these modern Nancy's can say that can they?"
"Erm, no. I suppose not."
"Course not! Not one of 'em!!" He shouted this last, spittle dotting my glasses. "So? Yer picked owt by 'Im?" (He even capitalised the pronoun, I swear!)
I had to ask him in the end who he was talking about. He gave me a look then, like I'd just crawled out of a swamp, and said, in a condescending and superior tone, "'Who? Who d'yer think? The greatest! THE KING!! The man 'imself! The Man In Black! Sunglassers! Best Singer! Best guitarist! There's only bin one like 'im!"
I was beginning to get the idea from his clues and interrupted, "Oh, of course, you mean R..."
"That's right!" he exclaimed, "The one and only. Best there's ever bin and ever will be. That Ray Orbinson!!!!!"
"No", I said, "I've not picked anything by him yet. But I will."
He patted my upper arm with an old twig of a hand, the angle between the first two fingers was ochre from the decades of cigarettes that had rested there, he turned and walked back to his table, the hint of a smile playing with the edges of his mouth. "The King." he muttered.
Was that just too subtle for me, or is there more to it?
In a small town there were only two churches, whose pastors were constantly feuding. It didn't help that the churches were side by side and only seperated by a narrow alley. One Sunday, the pastor in one church heard the other church's choir singing "Will There Be Any Stars In My Crown?" He immediately motioned to his own choral director. Their next hymn was sung as loudly as possible: "No Not One."
Yeah, I've heard it that way as well, Robin. Funny either way. :lol: :lol:Quote:
Originally Posted by RobinHood3000
So a week later another armless man shows up at the elder's door. "My brother had worked here and died. I was unable to get here in time for the funeral but I'm here now. I also can ring the bells the way my late brother could and would really like to have his job as a kind of tribute to him." After a brief demonstration the Elders approved and said he could start the next Sunday. Sunday comes and the bells are heard for miles around. The elders are impressed with the wonderful music. This continues for several weeks and the crouds at the church become larger every week. Then one Sunday at the regular time the bell ringer begins running at and colliding with the bells and the beautiful music begins. He continues back and forth and as he move out of the corner of his eye he spots something yellow. Alas, another banana peel. He tries to miss it but slips and goes flying out over the edge and falls over the edge and plummets to his death. Again the crowd begins to congregate and again someone asks,"who is he?" This time one of the elders says " I never knew his name but he's a dead ringer for his brother."Quote:
Originally Posted by papayahed
Ba doom boom.
I'm gonna have to add that to my repetoire.Quote:
Originally Posted by steve12553
:lol: I've heard both and they both make me laugh.
I got this from an article addressing the validity of IQ tests.
Mensa
A few years ago, there was a Mensa convention in San Francisco and a bunch of Mensa members were lunching at a local café. They discovered that their salt shaker contained pepper and their pepper shaker was full of salt. How could they swap the contents of the bottles without spilling, and using only the implements at hand? Clearly this was a job for Mensa! The group debated and presented ideas, and finally came up with a brilliant solution involving a napkin, a straw, and an empty saucer. They called the waitress over to dazzle her with their solution.
"Ma'am," they said, "We couldn't help but notice that pepper shaker contains salt and the salt shaker..."
"Oh," the waitress interrupted. "Sorry about that." She unscrewed the caps of both bottles, switched them, and said, "Will that be one check or separate?"
Hahaha, that's a good one. It's like the one about the astrophysicists screwing in the light bulb.
I have always passed by this thread because to me, contrived jokes are mainly base and low class and embarrasing. But I was feeling terribly stressed and thought I would take a peek. Still don't like them, I like spontaneous wit like Em and M'Lord always exhibit.
But I really did love the Mensa thing.It was the best!
This isn't a joke but it reminds me of the frasier episode where he takes his father's dog Eddie to be fixed and Eddie escapes into that large park in Seattle.
Niles has gotten lost in the park and ran from a racoon and a twisted scarey old man that turned out to be a hedge. Frasier tries to help him realize where he is. So he remembers back to his boyscout days and tells Niles to look up into the heavens and try to find Orion's belt. He is talking about degrees this way and that and his father in utter exasperation says"Oh for God's sake just follow the honking of the horn.' He honks and Niles comes right away. Sometimes those Mensa guys are so smart they are dumb.
Haha, I LOVE Frasier. So intellectual, and yet so lost.
What's The Difference Between Roast Beef And Pea Soup?
Anyone Can Roast Beef.
How many Rebels does it take to kill a Stormtrooper?
None--head trauma will kill the Trooper for them. (Episode IV inside joke...:D)