A 911 operator gets a call from a hunter, who’s called from the middle of the woods on his cellphone.
The hunter, very panicky, says, “Omigod, I was hunting with my friend Al, and he tripped and shot himself, and I think he’s dead!”
“Calm down, sir,” says the operator. “He might just be wounded. First, make sure he’s actually dead.”
“OK, hang on,” says the hunter. The operator hears a loud BANG, then, “Yeah, he’s dead for sure. What should I do now?”
Another 911 operator gets a call from a guy who says he’s just hit a pig with his pick-up truck…
“What condition is the pig in?” says the operator.
“Bad,” says the man. “He’s bleeding a lot and squealing all the time.”
“All right,” says the operator. “Are you carrying a gun? If so, you’d better shoot him now.”
The operator hears a loud BANG then “All right, that’s done. Front of the truck’s all bent up though, I’ll be needing a tow.”
“Understood,” says the operator. “Can you get your truck off the road?”
“Naw,” says the driver, “the pig got his handlebars wrapped round my fender.”
I was driving home on a country rode a week ago and a pig ran out in front of my car. I was unable to avoid it and I did a pretty good job of smashing it up during the collision. I wasn’t sure what to do and I didn’t see any farm houses nearby, so I ended up just driving home. I sure was in for a surprise when I saw the cops there waiting for me.
Yep, the pig squealed.
Not recently heard:
I was out for a drive in my new convertible, enjoying a beautiful fall day with the top down. As I was motoring along, a lady appeared suddenly from around a curve, passing me from the other direction. Eyes wide open, she leaned halfway out of her window and screamed, “PIG!”
Incensed by this unprovoked assault on my humanity and my manhood, I regret to say that I screamed back at her, “COW!”
Then I rounded the curve and hit the pig square-on with my car.
A guy is walking down the street when he sees a big dyke walking toward him with a duck under her arm.
“Hey!” says the guy. “Where’d you get the pig?”
“It’s not a pig, stupid!” growls the dyke. “It’s a duck.”
The guy says “I was talking to the duck!”
Did you hear about the little Dutch boy who stuck his finger in a dyke and got his face slapped?
Bill Clinton flew in Air Force One back to Arkansas and went to the state fair. He returned to his plane with a small pig under each arm, and said to the Air Force lieutenant at the foot of the jet’s stairs, “Do you like 'em? I got one for Hillary and one for Chelsea.”
The lieutenant, still standing rigidly at attention, said, “Good trade, sir!”
One day on Old MacDonald’s farm, while a mother hen was scratching for food in the barnyard, her three little chicks fell down a well, and were peeping for help.
A pig, thinking quickly, grabbed a rope and tied one end to the rear bumper of the farmer’s new convertible, then dropped the other end of the rope down the well. “Grab on,” he told the chicks. Then he drove the farmer’s convertible down the driveway and pulled the little chicks out.
But the little chicks didn’t learn their lesson, because a few days later, they fell into the well again. This time, a cow grabbed a rope, tied it to the bumper of the farmer’s convertible, dropped the rope down the well to the chicks, and drove away, pulling them them to safety.
These little chicks weren’t very smart, however, and a few days later, they fell down into the well again. But never fear- the dog grabbed a rope, tied it to the convertible, threw the other end of the rope to the chicks, and saved the day.
A few days later, the farmer took his car for a spin, and while he was away, the chicks fell into the well again. The other animals had no idea what to do. But luckily, the stallion galloped up, dropped his enormous penis down the well, and told the little birds, “Hold on to this.” He pulled them out of the well, and took them back to Mama hen.
There is, of course, a moral to this story: if you’re hung like a horse, you don’t need a convertible to pick up chicks.
One summer day in Paris, a mama kitty had a litter of three kittens. Whimsically, she named the little furballs Une, Deux, and Trois.
Summer flew by, and the kittens grew up playing on the banks of the Seine. However, mama was always careful to admonish the kittens not to venture too near the water, as it was very dangerous to do so.
Imagine their delight when they awoke one frosty November morning to find a film of ice had formed on the river! Ignoring mama’s warnings, they gamboled out onto the frozen surface, slipping and sliding as they went, going farther and farther out into the channel, blissfully unaware how thin the ice was … until the inevitable happened.
The ice broke…
and Une, Deux, Trois cats sank!
IDGI.
“une deux trois quatre cinq” are the first five numbers in French (1,2,3,4,5). “quatre cinq” sounds like “cats sank”.
And another language gag…
At band practice last night (and this is really true) I did ask if the room in general knew how to say “horses” in Dutch.
First Flute: Paarden.
Me: How do you say “horses” in Dutch?
First Flute: Paarden!
Me: How! Do! You! Say!..?
Conductor: Go home now! :mad: 
Why is Six afraid of Seven? Because Seven ate Nine.
Back in the bad old days,* Brezhnev is working in his office in the Kremlin when an aide comes rushing in.
“Comrade Brezhnev!” he says, gasping for breath. “A military convoy has just pulled up in Red Square! There must be at least 5,000 dismounted soldiers out there having their evening meal!”
“So?” says Brezhnev. “They’re good lads, they deserve a decent dinner after a long march.”
“But, Comrade Brezhnev!” says the aide. “They’re eating with chopsticks!”
*When relations between Moscow and Beijing were particularly strained.
Joseph Luns, Dutch minister of foreign affairs, once tried to tell John F. Kennedy he breeds horses as a hobby. Since breeding is known in Dutch as “fokken” it came out as “I fok horses”.
Kennedy then replied “Pardon?”, to which Luns responded “Yes, paarden!” (Dutch for horses.)
That’s pretty much what I reverse-engineered the above gag from - it was just happy circumstance that led to a straight man being present for the set-up. 
Meanwhile:
Q: How many members of an ethnic, religious or cultural out-group does it take to perform a routine task?
A: An arbitrary number; zero or more to accomplish the task, and the remainder to behave in an absurd fashion consistent with a humorous stereotype.
I was told this is a true story, and I like to think it is:
At the gala ceremony held to honor Charles de Gaulle upon his retirement, a British journalist asked Madame de Gaulle what she wanted most now that her husband was free from the duties of public life.
She smiled and replied “A penis!”
The journalist was completely taken aback until the General stepped in and said “My dear, I believe in English it is pronounced ‘happiness.’”
A Johnny Carson joke from the time of the Los Angeles Olympics: “Have you heard? China is sending its rifle team. The bad news is, there’s half a million members.”
Q: What do you get when you cross an atheist and a Jehovah’s Witness?
A: Someone who goes around knocking on people’s doors for no reason.
What goes clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop. BANG! Clip-clop, clip-clop?An Amish drive-by shooting