Posted on 09/28/2012 6:05:00 AM PDT by Lucky9teen
The economy is so bad that:
I got a pre-declined credit card in the mail.
I ordered a burger at McDonald’s and the kid behind the counter asked, “Can you afford fries with that?”
CEO’s are now playing miniature golf.
If the bank returns your check marked “Insufficient Funds,” you call them and ask if they meant you or them.
Hot Wheels and Matchbox stocks are trading higher than GM.
McDonald’s is selling the 1/4 ouncer.
Parents in Beverly Hills fired their nannies and learned their children’s names.
A truckload of Americans was caught sneaking into Mexico .
Dick Cheney took his stockbroker hunting.
Motel Six won’t leave the light on anymore.
The Mafia is laying off judges.
Congress says they are looking into this Bernard Madoff scandal. Oh Great!! The guy who made $50 Billion disappear is being investigated by the people who made $1.5 Trillion disappear!
I was so depressed last night thinking about the economy, wars, jobs, my savings, Social Security, retirement funds, etc., I called the Suicide Lifeline. I got a call center in Pakistan , and when I told them I was suicidal, they got all excited, and asked if I could drive a truck.
An elderly couple, Margaret and Bert, moved to Texas. Bert always wanted a pair of authentic cowboy boots, so, seeing some on sale, he bought them and wore them home. Walking proudly, he sauntered into the kitchen and said to his wife, ‘Notice anything different about me?’
Margaret looked him over. ‘Nope.’
Frustrated, Bert stormed off into the bathroom, undressed and walked back into the kitchen completely naked except for the boots.
Again he asked Margaret, a little louder this time, ‘Notice anything different NOW?’
Margaret looked up and exclaimed, ‘Bert, what’s different? It’s hanging down today, it was hanging down yesterday, it’ll be hanging down again tomorrow!’
Furious, Bert yelled, ‘AND DO YOU KNOW WHY IT’S HANGING DOWN, MARGARET?’
‘Nope’, she replied.
‘IT’S HANGING DOWN, BECAUSE IT’S LOOKING AT MY NEW BOOTS!!!!’
Without changing her expression, Margaret replied, “Shoulda bought a hat, Bert. Shoulda bought a hat.”
Apparently, Bert had some big foots to bill.
That one came out pretty stupid in print.
Why don’t foot and boot rhyme?
T’was the night before elections,
And all thru’ the town,
Tempers were flaring
Emotions ran up and down.
I, in my bathrobe
With a cat in my lap,
Had shut off the TV,
tired of political crap.
When all of a sudden,
There arose such a noise,
I peered out my window,
Saw Obama and his boys
They had come for my wallet,
They wanted my pay
To hand out to others
Who had not worked a day!
He snatched up my money,
And quick as a wink,
Jumped back on his bandwagon
As I gagged from the stink.
He then rallied his henchmen
Who were pulling his cart.
I could tell they were out
To tear my country apart!
‘On Fannie, on Freddie,
On Biden and Ayers!
On Acorn, on Pelosi’
He screamed at the pairs!
They took off for his cause,
And as they flew out of sight,
I heard him laugh at a nation
Who wouldn’t stand up and fight!
So I leave you to think on this one final note...
IF YOU DON’T WANT SOCIALISM GET OUT AND VOTE !!!!
Author unknown
A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted
wife. She was a very good-looking woman and determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand..
Two cowboys applied for the job. One was gay and the other a drunk.
She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the house than the drunk.
He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot about ranching. For weeks, the two of them worked, and the ranch was doing very well.
Then one day, the rancher’s widow said to the hired hand, “You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great. You should go into town and kick up your heels.” The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one Saturday night.
One o’clock came, however, and he didn’t return.
Two o’clock and no hired hand.
Finally he returned around two-thirty, and upon entering the room, he found the rancher’s widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him.
She quietly called him over to her..
“Unbutton my blouse and take it off,” she said.
Trembling, he did as she directed. “Now take off my boots.”
He did as she asked, ever so slowly. “Now take off my socks.”
He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.
“Now take off my skirt.”
He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the fire light.
“Now take off my bra..”
Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.
Then she looked at him and said, “If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you’re fired.”
Mr. Smoketoomuch: Yes, that’s right. I saw your advert in the blassified ads.
Mr. Bounder: The what?
Mr. Smoketoomuch: In The Times Blassified Ads.
Mr. Bounder: Ah, The Times Classified Ads.
Mr. Smoketoomuch: Yes, that’s right. I’m afraid I have a speech impediment. I can’t pronounce the letter B.
Mr. Bounder: Uh, C.
Mr. Smoketoomuch: Yes, that’s right, B. It’s all due to a trauma I suffered when I was a sboolboy. I was attacked by a Siamese bat.
Mr. Bounder: Uh, ah, a Siamese cat.
Mr. Smoketoomuch: No, a Siamese bat. They’re more dangerous.
Mr. Bounder: Listen, can you say the letter K?
Mr. Smoketoomuch: Oh, yes. Khaki, kettle, Kipling, Khomeini, Kellog’s Born Flakes.
Mr. Bounder: Well, why don’t you say the letter K instead of the letter C?
Mr. Smoketoomuch: What, you mean, pronounce “blassified” with a K?
Mr. Bounder: Yes, absolutely!
Mr. Smoketoomuch: Klassified!
Mr. Bounder: Good!
Mr. Smoketoomuch: Oh, it’s very good! I never thought of that before. What a silly bunt.
Truth in advertising.
Obama: Listen, Joe, I built this economy up from nothing. All I had when I started was swamp ... other leaders said I was daft to build an economy on a swamp, but I built it all the same ... just to show ‘em. It sank into the swamp. So I built another one ... that sank into the swamp. I built another one ... That fell over and THEN sank into the swamp ....
Touche!
(Or should that be “Touche the ceiling!”? )
some Spooner-fied church hymns:
“Shall we Rather at the Giver”
“How Theat Grou Art”
“Fut Wha Reiend Jee have in Eesus”
“It Nis oh Whecret...Gut Whod Dan Coo”
LOL!!
SO GOOD! Thanks! Brings mack bemories.
Aye-yi-yi!
No coffee, no food, to grace the screen or keyboard, but oh MY! WHAT A HOOT!
That must be the Midnight Ride of Muhammed the Rapist. “Ill make a Muslim of you if I have to kill you to do it!” Yep. Sounds about right.
Without words it speaks for itself!
That was honest enough to steal...
Wait. That didn’t sound right. ???
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