Dad Jokes

• If at first you don't succeed, then skydiving is not for you.

• What rock group has four men, but none of them sing? Mount Rushmore.

• Why are ghosts such bad liars? Because you can see right through them.

• (This one is for Maggie) What did one cannibal say to the other while they were eating a clown? “Does this taste funny to you?”

• How do you stop a bull from charging? Take away its credit card.

• What do attorneys wear to court? Law suits.

• What did the sink say to the toilet? “You look a little flushed.”

• What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire? Frostbite.

• What happened when a red ship and a blue ship collided at sea? Their crews were marooned.

• Why don't ghosts like to go out in the rain? Because it dampens their spirits.

• Why do bees have sticky hair? Because they use honeycombs.

• What do you call a detective who accidentally solves a case? Sheer Luck Holmes.

• I'm writing a book on reverse psychology. Don't buy it.

• Why couldn't the pony sing? Because he was a little horse.

• What happens to an illegally-parked frog? It gets toad away.

• I just found out I'm color blind. The news came out of the purple.

• Which months of the year have 28 days? All of them.

• Why was the painting sent to jail? Because it was framed.

• How do you fix a broken pumpkin? With a pumpkin patch.

• Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field.

• Why was the bottle of ketchup arrested? Because he was watching the salad dressing.

• Why don't pirates take showers before they walk the plank? They just wash up on shore.

• What's worse than raining cats and dogs? Hailing taxis.

• Why don't eggs tell jokes? Because they might crack up.

• Where do pirates buy their hooks? At second-hand shops.

• * We hope for peace on earth and goodwill to all.

Waiting at the Doctor's Office

 Waiting at the Doctor’s Office

A few days ago, I made an appointment to see my doctor. The receptionist suggested that I eat nothing on the day of the appointment until I was seen by the doctor, just in case he wanted to do some blood tests. So the night before, I enjoyed a big meal and prepared myself mentally for the next day’s “starvation.”

The wait in the outer office was only about ten minutes, which was quite tolerable. In the examination room, the nurse checked my blood pressure and pulse rate, and then asked a few general questions. Then she informed me that the doctor would see me soon and exited the room.

She left me one of those gowns that leave one’s backside exposed. So there I sat, with goose bumps on my posterior, waiting for the doctor to arrive. For some unknown reason, the gowns are made in such a fashion that one has to reach behind his back to tie the strings, but unfortunately, I’m not very good with that maneuver.

The first fifteen minutes, I played a baseball game in my mind, but after the Yankees took a ten-run lead, I lost interest. No magazines were available, but there were several brochures about the room. For the next twenty minutes or so, I learned a great deal about constipation, diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, and cancer as well as other assorted medical problems. Of course, after reading the brochures, I began thinking that I might be suffering from all these diseases. No wonder the doctor wanted to see me!

Next, just for something to do, I recalled several “doctor” jokes:

“The doctor promised that he’d have me on my feet in a week,” the old man said. “Did he keep that promise?” the man’s friend asked. “He sure did. I had to sell my car to pay the doctor’s bill!”

A middle-aged man recently had surgery on both hands. He asked the doctor if, after healing, he would be able to play the piano. “Of course you will,” the doctor assured him. “That’s great!” the patient exclaimed. “I couldn’t play any musical instrument before the surgery.”

An elderly, somewhat deaf lady was being examined by the doctor. Placing the stethoscope on her chest, the doctor said, “Big breaths.” “Well, they were many years ago,” the patient replied.

A young man felt intellectually inferior to all his friends and acquaintances. Going to the doctor, the distraught man said, “Doc, I feel really stupid. Is there anything you can do for me?” The doctor replied, “Take one of these orange pills each morning and see me in a month.” By the end of the month, the poor guy still felt stupid, so he went back to see the doctor. The doctor gave him some purple pills and told the patient to see him when the pills were gone. At the end of the month, the young man saw no progress, so the doctor gave him a supply of giant green pills. A month later, the man stormed into the doctor’s office. Grabbing the physician by the throat, he exclaimed, “I think your pills are worthless! You just gave them to me to make money!” “Now you’re getting smart!“ the doctor said.

After forty-five minutes of waiting, I was bored, but most of all, I was hungry. My stomach began to growl as I obsessed about cheeseburgers, French fries, pizza, and hot dogs. How long could a person go without food? I’d not eaten anything for over eighteen hours, so surely I was at death’s door.

The doctor cannot be blamed for this long wait. It’s not as if he’d been sitting in the next room watching TV or taking a nap on one of the exam tables. No doubt one of his patients just took more time to deal with than the doc had expected..

I’ve already learned everything that I want to know about various medical problems, so I don’t need to read any more brochures. On the next visit, I’ll bring a book.

It was just a few minutes short of an hour’s wait before the doctor came into the room. After apologizing for making me wait so long, he asked a few questions, looked at a chart, and told me to continue doing what I had been doing for the last few months. While walking out the door, he stated that he’d see me in six months. Our session lasted somewhere between three and four minutes.

After making the appointment for my next visit, I rushed to my automobile. No doubt using the last ounce of energy left in my ravaged body, I grabbed a bag of potato chips from the passenger seat of the car. Within two minutes, I had devoured every tasty morsel. Hey, high cholesterol trumps starvation any time!

A Football Fanatic

1.     

“Fred, supper’s ready,” yelled his wife, Sue, from the kitchen. “We’re having spaghetti and meatballs.”

“The Central-Smith game begins in five minutes. I can’t miss the kickoff.”

“We’ll hurry, dear, but it’s important that the family takes time to eat together,” she replied.

Under his breath, Fred grumbled, “It’s important that I see my Central Bulldogs squash those idiotic Titans.”

“As head of the family, it’s your place to say a prayer,” stated Sue.

“Dear Lord, please fire up the Bulldogs. Make them stronger, faster, and more ferocious. Give them the strength to pulverize our enemies. Please give Coach Jones the wisdom to open up his offense and give those nincompoops from the North the beating of their lives. And thank you, Lord, for always being so merciful and caring. Amen.”

As the husband stuffed his face with food, Sue pleaded, “Fred, slow down. Wolfing down your food can’t be good for your indigestion, and it’s not a good example for our son. This is also a time to communicate, to share information.”

“OK, I get it,” the harried husband conceded. Todd, do you know what the average Titan football player gets on his ACT?”

“Maybe a twenty-five?” guessed the son.

“No, drool,” the football nut of a father answered.

Between clenched teeth, the wife stated, “Let’s not talk sports. Did you hear that old Mr. Creamer is getting married?”

While demolishing a meatball, the husband asked, “Isn’t he pretty old to be getting married?”

“He’s 95,” said Sue. “You know his bride, Shirley Jenkins.”

Dropping a meatball onto the floor, Fred exclaimed, “She’s only twenty-five years old! She’s after his money! This sounds like a football wedding to me.”

“What’s a football wedding?” the son inquired.

While washing off the dropped meatball, Fred replied, “It’s when a young thing marries an old dude for his money and then waits for him to KICK OFF.”

“Dad, I know that you’ve always been a football fan, but Mom hardly knows the difference between a football and a hockey puck. Why haven’t you taught her about the fine points of the game?”

“Looking up to his son, Fred explained: “I’ve been trying. Your mother is extremely intelligent, but she learns only those things that hold her interest. Just last week, I took her to a football game. Afterwards, I asked how she liked it.

‘I liked it OK,’ your mom said, ‘but I couldn’t understand why the fans were so excited about getting back 25 cents. Everyone kept yelling to get the quarter back.’ “

Exasperated, Sue responded, “That’s not true. Your dad is just sticking in an old, tired football joke. In an attempt to change the subject, Sue asked, “Fred, did you go to confession?”

“Yes, dear. As you know, the boys and I are in a Sunday afternoon football league. I asked Father Smith if it was a sin for me to play on Sundays.”

“What did he say?” the dutiful son asked.

“He said, ‘ Fred, I’ve seen you in action; it’s a sin any day that you play.”

Trying to change the subject, Sue asked, “Have you seen old Mr. Jones lately?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I saw him at a football game about three weeks ago,” the husband affirmed. “He had the best seat in the house at the fifty-yard line. Since the five seats on either side of him were empty, I asked if I could sit there.

“Help yourself,” he replied. “Normally, this seat next to me would be used by my wife, but she died.”

“I ‘m so sorry to hear about your loss,” I stated sincerely. “Where are all the other people who usually sit at these seats?” I inquired.

After taking a few swigs from his beer, Mr. Jones said, “They’re at my wife’s funeral. ”

Laughing, Todd spit out a mouthful of spaghetti. Sue gave Fred a look that could stop a clock. Frowning, she retorted, “Sports in general and football in particular are silly. I know a little something about sports. I quote Ebert Hubbard: ‘College football is a sport that bears the same relation to education that bullfighting does to agriculture.’ “

“Here’s a better quote,” said the husband: ‘Football is not a matter of life and death. It’s much more serious than that.’ That’s from a guy by the name of Bill Shankly.”

Now, rather angry, the wife argued, “You men are a bunch of Neanderthals. You always have to beat down the other guy. Females are more mature. We stress cooperation over cutthroat competition. No wonder the average guy doesn’t have any friends. You men should play your silly games just for the fun of it. Why even keep score?”

Excitedly, Fred erupted: “The great coach, Vince Lombardi, may God rest his soul, said, ‘If winning isn’t everything, why do they keep score?’ How would you know which teams to send to the Super Bowl if you didn’t keep score? How could we embarrass the Smith Titans if the world couldn’t see that the score was 55-0?”

Exasperated, Sue shrieked: “If doctors cut into a man’s brain, they’d find nothing but a bunch of sports trivia.”

Fred countered, “I’m not so sure that they’d find anything in a typical woman’s head! Besides, sports make the world go around. Todd, do you know how many Titans it takes to change a light bulb? It takes the entire team, but each player gets a semester’s credit for it! Say, I’m missing the most important game of the season! Time is wasting!”

After grabbing a cold beer and making a sandwich, Fred ran to the family room and turned on the game.

“Gosh, it’s already in the second quarter!” the husband moaned.

“What’s the score?” asked Sue.

“It’s nothing to nothing,” he replied.

“Good. See, you didn’t miss a thing!” Sue said as she walked out of the room.

Fred threw his sandwich at the departing figure, but fortunately, for his sake, like most weekend quarterbacks, his accuracy left much to be desired.  

We are Creatures of Habit

We are Creatures of Habit

A few years ago, I read about an employee who was “turned in” to management by his fellow workers for a despicable crime he had repeatedly committed. Did he beat up someone? Burn down the factory? Key the boss's car? (Only if it were a Tesla.) His crime was worse than any of these scenarios. This horrible person, this fiend, dared to eat his dessert before devouring the rest of his meal! Didn't his parents teach him right from wrong? It's a wonder the world did not come to an end!

Whether we admit it or not, most of us are creatures of habit. Repeatedly doing things the same way gives us the illusion that we can bring order and thus some control to this chaotic world.

Our minister alluded to the tendency of human beings to do things the same way even when long-held practices no longer make sense. A little girl watched as her mother chopped both ends off the meatloaf before putting it into a pan. “Why do you chop the ends off?” she asked. Mom replied: “That's the way your grandma taught me. You will have to ask her.” Grandma explained, “I have always done it that way because my mother did it.” While the little girl was visiting her great-grandmother, who was living in an assisted living unit, the elderly lady explained, “Your great-grandfather and I were poor. We had only one pan, but the meatloaf was too big for it.”

Speaking of the church, although there are no nameplates, each attendant has chosen their seat. Occasionally, the minister will ask us to move to new areas to meet and greet others. Grudgingly, we do so, but the next week we once again occupy our chosen spots.

I remember in school the teacher usually assigned seats, which was probably a good idea. Whenever the students could sit wherever they pleased, they tended to pick seats next to their buddies, which led to more talking and goofing off.

There were two old guys on an Andy Griffith program who were continuing a feud between their families that had gone on for several generations. When asked why the families were feuding, neither man knew. It was just something every generation did.

Unfortunately, the first house in which I lived had neither a shower nor a bathtub. (The toilet was located in a little building at the end of the property.) Every Saturday night, whether we were dirty or not, Mom heated water on the stove and then poured it into a large tub. As I remember, Dad, the king of the house, had the honor of bathing first, followed by Mom, my brother, the older of my two sisters, my younger sister, and finally, myself. After bathing in water that had been used five times previously, I was probably dirtier than I was before the bath!

Each of us had our own chair at the breakfast table. If you stood at the entrance separating the kitchen from the dining room, you would see Dad at the head of the table on the right, washing down his meal with a gigantic mug of coffee. Mom was directly across the table from him. On the far side of the table, next to Mom, was the older of my two sisters; next to her was my brother. On the other side, next to Mom, was my other sister. The last seat left belonged to yours truly. Maybe the world would not have come to an end if we had occasionally changed the seating plans, but why take a chance?

Until my brother was old enough to drive, the seating arrangements in the car were: Dad behind the wheel; Mom in the front passenger seat; yours truly between them; brother behind Dad; younger of two sisters in the middle; other sister behind Mom. When big brother drove, Dad took Mom's spot; Mom took brother's spot in the backseat.

My wonderful wife and I have much in common, but I have noticed she does not put on her shoes and socks correctly. Everybody knows that God commands us to put on both socks before donning shoes, but she persists in doing sock-shoe-sock-shoe. I'm surprised her parents didn't deal with this aberration when she was a child.

Of course, I had my own strange habit. In order to protect my delicate digestive system, I refused to eat one end of a hot dog. By definition, the end I ate was the head, so the other end had to be the butt. Isn't that logical? Not even Dad, who could coerce me into swallowing slippery, slimy oysters and cornbread laced with chunks of fat, could get me to eat a hot dog's rear end. In my defense, at least I knew the proper way to put on my socks and shoes!  

'I've Learned a Lot from TV

I received a good education from our public schools. In fact, since I took two years of Latin, if the Roman Empire ever comes back, I can use my linguistic knowledge to get a job at the United Nations as an interpreter: “The new Julius Caesar says, 'All roads, except Interstate 70, still lead to Rome.'”

With that being said, my education has been enhanced tremendously by what I have learned from TV programs. Who needs a PHD when these sources of information are available?

Just the other day, I learned why we have never found the bones or even the waste materials of those creatures we call Bigfoot. Surprisingly, even my skeptical-by-nature wife believes such a creature exists. When I told her what I had learned about the creature from a recent TV show, she stated, “I saw one of those hairy, ugly creatures the other day.”

Wanting to know more, I asked: “Where did you see it?”

“It was getting out of our bathtub!”

“Very funny! That was me!” That's what I get for marrying a comedian.

Anyway, the aforementioned program explained why, except for some huge footprints and some blurry photographs, we have no hard evidence that these mysterious creatures actually exist. According to the recent TV program, whenever Bigfoot feels ill, he simply transports himself into another dimension. I suppose he does this out of respect for our ecosystem. Evidently, out of simple courtesy, he travels to another dimension whenever nature calls, or perhaps he goes to San Francisco. Who would notice a little extra pile of waste on top of the mess already there?

For a couple of thousand years, experts have tried to figure out how the Egyptians built their pyramids so precisely. We know they are constructed almost perfectly, but historians, archaeologists, and engineers tell us the ancient Egyptians did not have the technology to build them. Yet, there they are.

Thanks to watching a particular TV show, I've solved this mystery. True, the ancient Egyptians lacked the technology and the equipment to do the job, but they got some help. Long ago, aliens from a faraway galaxy came to Earth. Their technology level was way beyond what we have even today. Being some of the nicer guys in the universe, these dudes rolled up their sleeves (They might have had several arms, so we don't know how many sleeves) and built these lasting monuments.

Evidently, those ancient Egyptians lucked out, because I learned that some advanced aliens come here to do us harm. A TV program showed aliens who arrived on Earth and soon eradicated disease and starvation. They seemed like such nice fellows, so when they began free visits to their planet, thousands of Earthlings accepted their offer.

One skeptical human being was able to discover what the strange language in one of their books meant. Sadly, by this time, his girlfriend was on her way to their far-off planet. The book was a cookbook that listed various ways to prepare humans. Folks, these were one-way trips. My wife said this show was fictional, but I'm not so sure. I do know this: Some space aliens cannot be trusted.

Although Nostradamus lived long ago, many of his predictions have been spot-on. For example, he described the coming of Hitler and barely missed the demented dictator's actual name. How did he do this? Was it magic? Was he a good guesser? If you don't watch much TV, you probably don't know the answer to this puzzle.

You see, advanced aliens, who no doubt had the ability to travel through time, gave Nostradamus his information. Of course, they would not have been the aliens who came here to fatten us up; they would have eaten the poor guy. Maybe it was the nice aliens who took the time to help the ancient Egyptians.

As you can see, one cannot obtain a full education from simply attending our public schools and universities. The real mysteries of life are solved by watching TV. Just today, for example, I learned from a commercial that food loaded with sugar is really good for you. You can take that information to the bank. 

The No-Frills Airline

 Against my better judgment, I decided to save a few bucks by flying on No Frills Airlines. The flight from New York City to San Francisco was almost $300 cheaper than that offered by any other airline. That was the good news. The bad news was that usually you get what you pay for.

As I stood in line at the ticket counter, the person in front had a request: “I would like you to send my blue suitcase to Los Angeles and my red one to Miami.”

“Sir, we couldn’t do that,” the airline representative replied.

“Why not?” the customer asked. “You did it on my trip to Dallas last year.”

The next customer approached the ticket agent. “Do you have reservations?” asked the young lady at the desk.

“Of course I have reservations about flying on this crummy airline, but I’ve gone through half a pint of whiskey to get up enough courage.”

Once at the front of the line, I bought a ticket and turned over my luggage. Oddly, although it was the middle of June, there was mistletoe hanging over the baggage counter. “Why do you have mistletoe hanging there?” I inquired.

“That’s so you can kiss your luggage goodbye,” was the ticket agent’s reply.

I paid a few extra bucks to fly first class because I do enjoy luxury. Before boarding, however, I was asked to turn the propeller while the co-pilot shooed several cows, pigs, and goats from the runway.

Once all were aboard, the head stewardess began speaking through a megaphone so that she could be heard (I told you this was a no-frills airline). She said, “As we prepare for takeoff, please make sure your seat backs are fully upright in their most uncomfortable position.” She continued: “Your seat cushions can be used for flotation, and in case of an emergency water landing, please take them with our compliments. If such an event occurs, an additional twenty dollars will be added to your bill.”

Then the second stewardess took over: “There may be fifty ways to leave your lover, but notice that there are only four ways to leave this airplane. Smoking in the restrooms is prohibited. Any person caught smoking will be asked to leave the plane immediately. In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will descend from the ceiling. Simply grab your mask and pull it over your face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your own mask before assisting the little one. If you are traveling with two small children, decide now which one you love more.”

While still in the airport, I had spotted the three pilots for this flight. I swear that the youngest of the group was at least ninety-five years old. The first pilot commented: “It’s windy today, isn’t it?”

The second one replied, “No, I think it’s Thursday.”

Then the third one spoke up: “I’m thirsty, too. Let’s have a beer before we try to fly this old tub.”

Once we were airborne, the captain spoke: “Welcome to Flight 128 from New York to San Francisco. The weather ahead is good, so we should have a smooth and uneventful flight. Now sit back and relax and….Oh no!”

A few minutes later, the captain once again spoke. He explained that while he was talking, a flight attendant accidentally spilled hot coffee onto his lap. ”You should see the front of my pants,” mused the pilot.

A gentleman sitting behind me said to no one in particular, “ You should see the back of mine!”

The pilot continued: “No Frills Airlines is pleased to announce that we have some of the best flight attendants in the industry. Unfortunately, none of them is on this flight.”

After about an hour into the flight, a stewardess asked each passenger in first class if he or she would like the deluxe meal. Ravished, I answered in the affirmative. About ten minutes later, I was handed a baloney sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of pop. “This is the deluxe meal?” I asked.

“It sure is, bub,” said the flight attendant closest to me. “You can count yourself lucky not to be in coach. Those folks can choose either bread and water or gruel.”

“Bread and water or gruel?” I asked. “That’s awful.”

“They’re getting the same accommodations that the folks in steerage got on the Titanic. You get what you pay for.”

One nervous lady spoke to a flight attendant: “The pilot will bring me down safely, won’t he?”

The stewardess answered: “He hasn’t left anybody up here yet.”

Eventually, we were ready to land in San Francisco. To say that we had a rough landing is an understatement. Despite being roped to our seats (remember, this was a no-frills airline), we bounced around like ten pins. One poor lady ended up three rows from her assigned seat. Then the head flight attendant spoke: “Please remain in your seats with your ropes fastened while the captain taxis what’s left of the airplane to the gate. Please be sure to take all of your belongings. If you’re going to leave anything, please make sure it’s something we’d like to have. Please take care when opening the overhead compartments because, after a landing like that, sure as heck, everything has shifted. The next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you’ll think of us here at No Frills Airlines. Thank you for giving us the business while we took you for a ride.”

As we departed, the three pilots stood at the exit to say goodbye. I heard one of them say, “That was the shortest runway I’ve ever landed on.”

The second pilot replied: “Yeah, but it was also the widest.”

Before exiting the plane, a lady asked the pilots if that was a normal landing or if we had been shot down. The passengers pushed and shoved one another in an effort to quickly exit. The head attendant had announced that the last person off had to stay and clean the plane.

After three wonderful days in San Francisco, I had a safe and serene trip home. I took a train.

Jack the Cat is a Thief

It's an understatement to say my wife and I are cat lovers. Indeed, we are the proud “parents” of five previously-homeless felines. We have learned that, just like human beings, each furry kid has its own distinct personality. Our oldest cat, Kelly, enjoys snuggling with a human whenever they nap or go to bed. Annie is grumpy but absolutely loves Mom (and only Mom.) Zorro likes to sleep in the cat carrier! Our baby, Little Zorro, has never met a stranger. Jack, our “tuxedo” cat, loves nothing more than stealing his Mom's slippers. He seems to take great joy in seeing how long it takes her to find the missing objects.

When our senior cat died, we decided to give another orphan a home. Jack had been rescued from the streets of a northern Ohio town.  His front claws had been removed, and he had been neutered, so at one time he must have belonged to someone. Perhaps he escaped from his home, or, much worse, perhaps his humans tired of their cat and therefore dumped

him. Several times I've asked Jack about this, but he refuses to talk about it.

After paying various fees, we attempted to put Jack into a carrier, but it would have been easier to break into Fort Knox. Evidently, Jack thought we were going to dump him in a cornfield or turn him into a roast. He thrashed around in his portable prison during the long trip to his new home.

Upon our arrival, we unzipped the carrier; Jack took off like a bat out of you-know-where. He dashed under a bed, with our other cats in pursuit. Our other boys were simply wondering from where this stranger had come, but our crabby female, Annie, reached a paw under the bed and commenced to smack the poor guy around.

Jack stayed under the bed for two days. We had to bring him food, water, and a litter box. Occasionally, I'd reach under the bed to pet him while telling him about his new home. At least he didn't hiss at me.

On day three, Jack garnered enough courage to leave the relative safety of the bed to explore his new domain. For the most part, the male cats ignored him, but Annie hissed at him several times and, on a few occasions, attempted to rearrange his face.

Soon, Jack found a cat bed in the family room shaped like a tent. The other cats had occasionally used it, but the newcomer claimed it for his own. That's where he sleeps, and that's where he plans his game of stealing Mom's slippers. His favorite ones are blue, but now Mom puts them in the closet because you-know-who leaves teeth marks in them as he carries them to various hiding places.

She does, however, leave out her black slippers, so they are fair game. Jack operates from a sense of fairness; he only takes one slipper. He feels that leaving one for Mom is more than fair.

Unlike our senior cat, Jack is a “mommy's boy.” He tolerates me but absolutely loves her. When she arrives home, it is usually Jack who greets her first. He will sit on Mom's lap, but prefers I do no more than pet him.

Evidently, he misses Mom when she is away. I've watched in fascination while he scratches his chin on a slipper before sticking his head inside it to get a good whiff of her scent. Next, he picks the slipper up in his mouth and hides it! Then he goes to his tent to await Mom's arrival.

This has become a game for Jack. He likes to watch as Mom searches from one room to another. The longer it takes her to find the prize, the happier he seems to be.

 I'm being left out of the action. He never swipes my shoes. I even smelled them to make certain they weren't too gross. I didn't faint, so they must be okay.

I just have to accept the fact that Jack is indeed a “Mommy's boy.” But the good news is this: He seems perfectly happy and relaxed in his new forever home. Now, if only his crabby sister would stop threatening to rearrange his face.