Just for fun, I’ll include one of my Dad’s dirtiest jokes:
Q: Who discovered fuzz on peaches?
A; Peaches’ boyfriend.
Aside to J Flash Cadillac: Any relation to the Continental Kids?
Kind of in the spirit of the blowing bubbles joke.
Something along the line of do you remember blowing bubbles as a kid? (Wait for affirmative answer.) He says thanks.
The “whore house” joke is one of my favorite types. To accommodate political correctness, I should point out that the choice of an Arab from central casting for this joke was arbitrary, although the Arabs I have known have had large noses–but this is a NOSTRIL joke, not a NOSE joke. It originated in an era when Arabs were exotic, not demonized (at least not in America). These days, I use “person of unspecified ethnic origin” in jokes instead, then whoever re-tells the jokes can insert whatever minority they choose to belittle.
The “Bubbles” joke that I know has 3 ducks walking into a bar (to be honest, I started using “Two Corinthians” for all “walk into a bar” jokes this year). In short, the bartender asks what they’ve been doing all day: the first duck smiles and says, “I’ve been blowing bubbles”; the second duck smiles and says, “I’ve been blowing bubbles”; the third duck frowns and says, “I’m Bubbles.”
Now, I’ve been telling the Bubbles joke since I first heard it in 6th grade from Sandy Reilly, who was in 10th, long before I understood the mechanics of blowing, and have heard it many times since, always with the same expression on the third duck. I cannot explain why the third duck is frowning instead of smiling, given what I since have learned about oral sex. I think it confirms Johnny Carson’s theory that if you buy the premise, you’ll buy the joke. All analogues to the “walk into a bar” joke are popular, and everybody likes ducks because they are cute little animals, so what’s NOT to like about the underlying premise here? Once you cross that fictional suspension of disbelief, you’ll buy any punchline the third duck delivers, especially since the image of a mad duck is funnier because it congers up memories of Donald throwing a tantrum.
Although they can’t be dirty (because you’ll lose your Evangelical audience), I also like “Pearly Gate” jokes with St. Peter (and Gabriel, if I can find a part for him). Again, this year I had lots of substitute Corinthians showing up in heaven, but I could not work them into the following, especially since I needed God instead of St. Peter:
Obama, Hillary, and Trump are knocking on the pearly gates. God looks out at them and says, “Before granting you a place at my side, I must ask about your beliefs.”
God then asks Obama, “Obama, what do you believe?"
Obama thinks long and hard, looks God in the eye, and says, "I believe in hard work, and in staying true to family and friends. I believe in Christian giving. I was lucky, but I always tried to do right by my countrymen…
God can’t help but see the essential goodness of Obama, and offers him a seat to His left.
God turns to Hillary and says, “Hillary, what do you believe?”
Hillary says, “I believe that passion, discipline, courage, and honor are the fundamentals of life. Like Obama, I believe in hard work. I, too, have been lucky, but, win or lose, I’ve always tried to be a good Christian and a loyal American.”
God is greatly moved by Hillary’s eloquence, and offers her a seat to His right.
Finally, God turns to Trump and says, “And you, Trump, what do you believe?”
Trump replies, “I believe you’re in my seat.”
The way The Amazing Johnathan tells it is:
TAJ to audience volunteer (AV): “Did you ever blow bubbles when you were a kid?”
AV: “Yes.”
TAJ: “Well, he’s back in town and wants your number.”
While you’re at it, ask about The Ballad of Big-Ass Lil and Yukon Pete (very NSFW):
And in the interest of completeness, The Revenge of Big-Ass Lil:
And the candy bar poem:
I was given the name “J. Flash Cadillac” by a friend who had just started at the U. of Colorado in Boulder. I went out to see her while I was visiting friends in Denver for a week in 1970, and we went to a frat party where there was an obscure band named “Flash Cadillac & the Continental Kids” playing. She matched the name to my initials–jFC–and it stuck as an alter-ego. (I added the character to my repertoire: Joe Shit, an over-the-hill pro baseball player after Joe Garagiola, and J. Wad, a porn star, after the John Holmes character Johnny Wadd.)
The band appeared in the film “American Graffiti” (and later on the TV show “Happy Days” and in the film “Apocalypse Now”). By then, I had grown a beard and was teaching high school English. A student learned of the pseudonym from her older cousin, a friend of mine, and was convinced that I was the disguised lead singer, who also had reddish hair. Normally not one to avoid claiming other people’s credit, I vehemently denied it because it would reveal my total lack of musical talent.