The NFL has been downsizing recently. Just ten years ago the Superbowl was XL, but next year is predicted to be L. However, forecasters predict it will take another 950 years for the Superbowl to get to M.
Coughed up from my own personal brain and onto your screens. You’re welcome!
Have you heard the story of how the angel got on top of the Christmas tree?
Long ago, Santa Claus was having his worst Christmas ever. The elves were on strike. The toys he had outsourced to China were of such poor quality, they had to be returned. Rudolph had a sinus infection, and three other reindeer had been arrested for drinking eggnog while driving an unlicensed sleigh. Worst of all, Mrs. Claus had just told Santa that she was having an affair with the Easter Bunny, and she wanted a separation. It was all too much to take, and Santa was so angry that he was about to hit the roof.
At that exact moment, the angel walked into the workshop, carrying the Christmas tree. The angel said: “Hey, Santa! I’ve got the Christmas tree. Where do you want me to stick it?”
…and that’s how the angel got on top of the Christmas tree.
M E R R Y | C H R I S T M A S | E V E R Y O N E ! ! !
I want you to know that I read this yesterday morning, walked into the The Fella’s home office to tell this joke…
And we ended up in a conversation about something else for a few minutes. Then I said, “Oh, I was just reading some article about a mathematician…”
Told the joke. Paused. Started cracking up. He got it. He cracked up.
I just heard this on a Craig Ferguson concert show:
Two elderly men are having a nasty, brutal game of golf–cheating, cursing, you name it, they hate each other. It’s down to the winning putt on 18, when the first gent looks up and sees a funeral procession heading up the street outside the course. He calls time-out, doffs his cap and explains to his opponent that he would like to say a few words of respect. He delivers a heart-felt, touching Bible verse, wiping away tears in the process, then dons his cap and lines up his winning putt. Pardon me, the other fellow says, softly, despite every nasty thing that has gone between us, that was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard anyone say in me whole life. Truly. Well, says his nemesis, we were married thirty-five year, after all, and sinks the putt.
A pianist and a singer are rehearsing “Autumn Leaves” for a concert, and the pianist says:
“OK. We will start in G minor and then on the third bar, modulate to B major and go into 5/4. When you get to the bridge, modulate back down to F Sharp minor and alternate a 4/4 bar with a 7/4 bar. On the last A section go into double time and slowly modulate back to G minor.”
The singer says:
“Wow, I don’t think I can remember all of that.”
The pianist says:
“Well, that’s how you did it last time.”