Three statisticians go hunting one fine autumn day. A deer runs in front of them.
One statistician shoots ahead of it.
The second shoots behind it.
The third shouts, “We got it!”
Joe retires and builds his dream house on a mountain in West Virginia. He’s just settling in when there’s a loud knock at the door. He opens it to see a huge, unkempt man in a torn red plaid shirt, jeans with suspenders, beer belly and an enormous bushy beard.
“The name’s Big Earl,” the man booms. “I live on the next hill over. I guess we’re neighbors now, huh?”
“Hello, Big Earl,” Joe says. “Won’t you come in?”
“No, thanks. Just wanted to invite you to my party on Saturday.”
“Oh, uh… thanks. Sure, I’ll come.”
“Great. Six o’clock; don’t be late.” Big Earl is about to go, then turns back and says, “You know, I guess I should warn ya… there’s usually a lot of weird drugs at my parties.”
“That’s OK,” says Joe. “I’ve been known to partake.”
Big Earl grunts. “I guess I should also warn you, there’s a lot of drinkin’ at my parties. I mean, a LOT of drinking.”
“No problem.”
Big Earl nods. “And, just so y’know… there’s a lot of wild, kinky sex at my parties.”
Joe wonders what he’s agreed to, but says, “That’s OK, too. I’ll be there. But tell me, would you like me to bring anything? What should I wear?”
Big Earl shrugs. “Won’t matter none. Just gonna be the two of us, anyway.”
Isaac, a nice little old Jewish man, is walking through a Berlin park in 1934. Suddenly a big limousine pulls up beside him, and Heinrich Himmler jumps out. He points a Luger pistol at Isaac and barks, “Jewish swine! Eat that dogshit on the sidewalk!” The man sees the Gestapo chief is dead serious, so he reluctantly gets down on his hands and knees and starts eating the dogshit.
Himmler laughs so hard he drops his gun. Isaac immediately picks up the gun, and says, “OK, Mr. Big Shot, now YOU eat the dogshit!”
Himmler swears a blue streak but gets down on his hands and knees and starts eating the dogshit. Isaac waits until Himmler’s finished, then knocks him out with the butt of the gun and runs back home.
His wife lets him in. “So, how was your day?” she asks.
“I’ve had better. But you’ll never believe who I had lunch with…”
The Pope dies and goes to Heaven. St. Peter welcomes him and shows him to his quarters: a dingy apartment with a lumpy bed and a leaky faucet in the bathroom. The Pope grumbles to himself a little but settles in.
The next day he goes for a walk and sees a huge mansion. He can see a pool in back with six beautiful women sunning themselves. A limo pulls up, the chaffeur leaps out and runs around to open the door, and a well-dressed man gets out and is greeted by the butler and a platoon of servants.
The Pope is fuming. He goes straight to St. Peter and says, “Look, I don’t mean to complain or anything, but I just saw this guy who lives in a mansion. I was Christ’s Vicar on Earth, Bishop of Rome, Supreme Pontiff, and all I get is a crappy apartment? Why should that guy - who I don’t even recognize - get such better treatment than me?”
St. Peter nods understandingly. “I know, I know. But we’ve got a lot of Popes up here… and he’s the first lawyer.”
A woman is walking along the beach. She finds a brass lamp in the sand, picks it up and rubs it. A genie pops out and says, “Hey, thanks, lady. I was in there a long time, and my magic has waned a bit over the centuries. Tell you what, for freeing me, I’ll give you one wish.”
“Just one?” she asks. “Hmmm. Let’s see.” She takes him to the library and shows him a map of the Middle East. “Here’s Israel, here’s Syria, here’s Egypt, Iran, Iraq, here’s the West Bank… my wish is, I want you to bring peace to the Middle East. They’ve been hurting and killing each other for far too long, and I want you to fix it all so that they can live in harmony and mutual understanding with one another.”
The genie is aghast. “Lady, come on. I’m just one genie. You’re asking for the impossible! Sorry, no can do.”
The woman shrugs. “OK, then… what should I wish for instead?” She gets an idea. “I know! I want you to introduce me to the perfect man, and make him fall madly in love with me. I want a man who’ll remember my birthday, take me to romantic movies, not watch sports all the time, not fart in bed, really listen to me, try to understand my feelings, and get along with my mom.”
The genie stares at her and then says, “Let me see that fucking map again…”
It’s Christmas time. A mail carrier knocks on a door to deliver a package, and the door is opened by the lady of the house, a beautiful woman wearing a revealing negligee. She pulls him inside, leads him upstairs, and makes love to him for hours. The mail carrier has never had a better day! He’s lying in bed, utterly spent, when the lady takes her purse from the bedside table. She pulls out a dollar bill and hands it to him.
“What’s this for?” he asks, puzzled.
The lady explains, “My husband and I were talking about what Christmas bonuses we should give to the barber, the paperboy, and so on. We worked our way down through the list and got to you. I asked him what he thought I should give you and he said, ‘Fuck him. Give him a dollar.’”
Jesus is walking through the countryside one day when he comes across a mob about to stone an adultress. Jesus calmly says, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” Then he begins drawing in the sand as the mob drifts away, one or two at a time. He finally looks up to see one person still standing there, stone in hand.
Jesus says warningly, “Mom…”
And the single most disgusting joke I’ve ever heard…
Q: How does a hillbilly mom know when her daughter’s having her period?
A: Her son’s dick tastes different.
