wonderful.
sorry, folks. my last post was a response to FNRFR’s post.
damn slow typing.
jb
dec 25 = oct 31?
I don’t get it. Explanation please?
The number 25 in decimal (base ten) is equal to 31 in octal (base eight–31 = 38+11). Thus dec(ember/imal) 25 = oct(ober/al) 31.
A guy goes to the Santiago Zoo, and after checking out the kangaroos and the baboons, he wanders along to the llama enclosure.
On the fence was a sign, “Beware, this llama spits”.
And he was.
P.S. This only works as a spoken joke…say it out loud and you might get it.
Except it’s not really a joke.
Which, of course, translates as: “My vicar’s tiny assistant douldn’t find a Lexus knockoff.”
I didn’t preview that last post because I was sure I douldn’t make a typo in such a short post! 
I’d just like to thank jb_farley for a fabulous deconstruction of the OP. That’s exactly how my brain worked on it, and why I found it funny (I’m fairly sure that this kind of analysis could only happen on the SDMB).
Now for an encore - the limeraiku:
There’s an old man of Japan
Who roars at the whores
“Where the hell’s your bloody fan?”
I’m sooo glad my favorite wasn’t already taken…
–
A woman walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a double entendre.
So he gave it to her.
–
While I’m here…
Actually saw this bumper sticker one day,
“Dyslexics Untie!”
A neutron walks into a bar and asks.
“How much for a gin and tonic?”
“For you?”, answers the bartender, “no charge.”
e to the power of x, and a constant, were walking down the street.
…
a bumper sticker and a shaggy dog:
Actually seen on the bumper of a friend who worked for the National Science Foundation:
| Reunite Gonwandaland! |
|---|
A young man joins the monestary, and is assigned to the scriptorium. He is doing well, but after six months or so of copying texts he goes to the monk in charge and asks a question:
“Reverend Brother, I know that I must make every effort to ensure that the text I am copying is accurate, but how do I know the source I am using is also correct?”
“Do not worry my son, the text you are working on is accurate.”
“But, excuse my impudence, I cannot see how that can be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am creating a new copy of this text from a copy that was itself copied from still another copy, and so on down the line. Is it possible that some small error may have crept in over the years?”
“My son, the work we do is divinely inspired, but to show you the power of our faith, I will take the copy you are working from, and bring it down to the locked vaults. There I will compare it to the original, and they will be the same. Will that not prove the power of Our Lord?”
So, the brother takes the copy down to the vaults, where no-one but he and the abbott are allowed. He’s gone for days. The other brothers in the scriptorium, and eventually the entire monestary become concerned. But they dare not disturb the vaults. Finally, they go to the abbot and explain the situation. he leads the group down to the vaults. They knock several times but receive no answer. Finally, the abbott unlocks the vault. They find the brother sitting at a reading desk, the two versions open in front of him. He is emaciated and hollow-eyed, there are obvious tear streaks on this cheeks, the text closest to him has become water-damaged, his habit is rent and torn, and there are clumps of hair on the floor.
“Brother, brother, what is the matter? What is the meaning of this? What has happened?”
He looks up with an expresion of utter dispair and futility…
(wait for it)
“The word was ‘celebrate’!”
Gloria the bus driver didn’t feel like going back to work one Monday, so she called in sick. She felt a little guilty at first about deceiving her boss at the Transit Authority, but as the week wore on, she thought this method of getting a three-day weekend was a pretty good idea after all.
The following Monday she called in sick again, and took off for the beach. The next week it was a picnic in the mountains, followed a week later by an extra day in Las Vegas.
Her boss at the Transit Authority was getting suspicious and losing patience with Gloria’s behavior. So much so that the first of the week became known in the supervisor’s office as sick
Transit Gloria Monday.
“Hello, I must be going.” --Groucho Marx
Spanish composer Manuel de Falla once had a Scottish neighbor named Mac Alister. De Falla and Mac Alister were often seen in a local cantina, drinking copious amounts of wine and carousing with the serving girls. This irked Señora de Falla greatly, and every time the Maestro returned from one of his escapades she would scream at him and demand his promise that he never do it again.
One evening the composer was particularly late. The Señora charged into the cantina, prepared to do battle, but her husband was not there. She went to Mac Alister’s house and pounded on the front door. Mac Alister came to the door, puzzled at the noisy intrusion.
“All right, Mac,” screamed the enraged woman, “where’s de Falla?”
Let’s hope his rest will be long and placid
He added water to the acid
He didn’t do what he oughter
Add the acid to the water
Programmer’s joke :
What goes “Pieces of seven! pieces of seven!”
A parity bit error.
Physicist’s joke :
Two Heisenbergian particles were walking down the road together when one turned to the other and said “Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched”.
This isn’t really a joke, but a story I once heard about the importance of local economies…
It seems that after his exile in 1956, Juan Peron resettled in Mexico City where he bought a house. While it wasn’t the granduer he had grown accostumed to, it was comfortable and he lived there for many years before leaving to resume his presidency of Argentina in 1973.
The house sat empty for a few years as an economic downturn in Mexico devestated the real estate market. As a result, the house fell into slight disrepair.
Then in 1975, with the collape of Saigon, then Cambodian President Nguyen Van Thieu fled his country and turned up in Mexico City looking for a place to live. He discover the Peron house and made plans to buy it.
Because the house was in poor shape and the market was much softer than when Peron bought the place. Thieu was able to get a great deal and bought the house for almost 50% of its original selling price.
Which just goes to show…
(wait for it)
Thieu can live cheaper than Juan.
(my advance apologies to any historians for butchering events of the past century!)
So the OP joke was actually just two puns? I thought it was a joke, and the setup and punchline don’t really work together as such, hence my 
Oh well, puns never did it for me anyway…
Yet another bad pun…
What do you get when you cross an insomniac with a dyslexic and an agnostic?
Someone who stays up all night wondering if there’s a dog.
Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?