Jokes win money at San Antonio
After the Biloxi convention, Stewart Boone asked members to send in jokes for the Checkerboard chorus concert at San Antonio. He promised a prize of $50 for the best joke.
The task was tougher than he expected and he ended up declaring a five-way tie.
The winning jokes are shared here.
One day, three men were hiking and unexpectedly came upon a large, raging, violent river. They needed to get to the other side, but had no idea how to do so.
The first man prayed to God saying, "Please God, give me the strength to cross this river."
Poof! God gave him big arms and strong legs, and he was able to swim across the river in about two hours, after almost drowning a couple of times.
Seeing this, the second man prayed to God, saying, "Please God, give me the strength
Poof! God gave him a rowboat and he was able to row across the river in about an hour, after almost capsizing the boat a couple of times.
The third man had seen how this worked out for the other two, so he also prayed to God saying, "Please God, give me the strength and the tools
And poof! God turned him into a woman. She looked at the map, hiked upstream a couple hundred yards, then walked across the bridge.
— Submitted by Herb Knapp
Bricklayer letter (trying to do the job alone)
I am writing in response to your letter for more information concerning Block #11 on the insurance form which asks for "cause of injuries" wherein I put "trying to do the job alone." You said you needed more information so I trust the following will be sufficient.
I am a bricklayer by trade and on the date of injuries I was working alone laying brick around the top of a four-story building when I realized that I had about 500 pounds of brick left over. Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to put them into a barrel and lower them by a pulley which was fastened to the top of the building.
I secured the end of the rope at ground level and went up to the top of the building and loaded the bricks into the barrel and swung the barrel out with the bricks in it. I then went down and untied the rope, holding it securely to insure the slow descent of the barrel.
As you will note on Block #6 of the insurance form, I weigh 145 pounds. Due to my shock at being jerked off the ground so swiftly, I lost presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Between the second and third floor I met the barrel coming down. This accounts for the bruises and lacerations on my upper body.
Regaining my presence of mind again, I held tightly to the rope and proceeded rapidly up the side of the building not stopping until my right hand was jammed in the pulley. This accounts for the broken thumb.
Despite the pain, I retained my presence of mind and held tightly to the rope. At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel. Devoid of the weight of the bricks, the barrel now weighed about 58 pounds. I again refer you to Block #6 and my weight.
As you would guess, I began a rapid descent. In the vicinity of the second floor I met the barrel coming up. This explains the injuries to my legs and lower body. Slowed only slightly, I continued my descent landing on the pile of bricks. Fortunately my back was only sprained, and the internal injuries were minimal.
I am sorry to report however, that at this point, I again lost my presence of mind and let go of the rope, and as you can imagine, the empty barrel crashed down on me.
I trust this answers your concern. Please know that I am finished "trying to do the job alone."
— Submitted by Herb Netter
No Smoking Please
One of my bygone recollections
As I recall the days of yore,
Is the little house, behind the house
With the crescent on the door.
'Twas a place to sit and ponder
With your head bowed down low
Knowing that you wouldn't be there
If you didn't have to go.
Ours was a three-holer
With a size for everyone.
You left there feeling better
After your usual job was done.
You had to make these frequent trips
Whether snow, rain, sleet or fog —
To the little house where you usually
Found, the Sears-Roebuck catalog.
Oft times in dead of winter
The seat was covered with snow
'Twas then with much reluctance
To the little house you'd go.
With a swish you'd clear the seat,
Bend low with dreadful fear,
You'd blink your eyes and grit your teeth
As you settled on your rear.
I recall the day my granddad,
Who stayed with us one summer
Made a trip to the shanty,
Which proved to be a "hummer!"
'Twas the same day that Dad
Finished painting the kitchen green.
He'd just cleaned up the mess he'd made
With rags and gasoline.
He tossed the rags in the shanty hole,
And went on his usual way,
Not knowing that by doing so,
He would eventually rue the day.
Now Granddad had an urgent call,
I never will forget!
This trip he made to the little house,
Lingers in my memory yet!
He sat down on the shanty seat
With both feet on the floor,
Then filled his pipe with tobacco,
And struck a match on the outhouse door.
After the tobacco began to glow,
He slowly raised his rear
Tossed the flaming match in the open hole
With no sign of fear.
The blast that followed, I am sure
Was heard for miles around,
And there was poor old Granddad,
Just sitting on the ground.
The smoldering pipe was still in his
Mouth, His suspenders he held tight;
The celebrated three-holer
Was blown clear out of sight.
When we asked him what had happened
His answer I'll never forget
He thought it must be something
That he had recently "et."
Next day we had a new one
Which my dad built with ease,
With a sign on the entrance door
Which read: "No smoking please."
Now that's the end of the story,
With memories of long ago
Of the little house behind the house
Where we went 'cause we had to go!
— Submitted by Ernest Zolnai
A salesman was traveling through Texas when it was about time for lunch so he stopped at this little greasy spoon café in a small town and decided to have a sandwich.
He went in, sat down at a counter stool, and when the waitress came to take his order, he said, "I would like to have a B.L.T." You know what this is, don't you?
"Sure do," she said. "Bacon, lettuce and tomato."
"I'll have it W.W.B.," he said.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Whole wheat bread," he said.
"OK, that's no problem," she said.
"Make it L.O.M.," he said.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Lots of mayonnaise," he replied.
So with this rather detailed order, the waitress hustled off to the kitchen and soon came back with his sandwich.
She lingered nearby to get his reaction and she asked if everything was OK.
After one bite, he said, "S.O.B."
"What's that," she asked.
"Soggy on the bottom," he answered.
"S.H.I.T.," she said.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Shoulda had it toasted."
— Submitted by Joyce Boone
A fellow went to his doctor's office for his first rectal exam.
The nurse took him to the examining room and told him to get undressed and that the doctor would be with him in a few minutes.
He got on his gown and while he was waiting for the doctor, observed three things on the stand next to the exam table — a tube of petroleum jelly, a rubber glove, and a bottle of beer.
When the doctor came in, he said, "Doc, I know what the tube of petroleum jelly is for and the rubber glove, but what in the world is the bottle of beer for?"
Noticeably outraged, the doctor stormed to the door and hollered to the nurse, "I said a butt light!"
— Submitted by Stewart Boone