The Monday Morning Mirth

Author: Grime

  • Queen Elizabeth and Dolly Parton

    Queen Elizabeth and Dolly Parton die on the same day, and they both go before St. Peter to find out if they’ll be admitted to heaven.

    Unfortunately, there’s only one space left that day, so St. Peter must decide which of them gets in.

    St. Peter asks Dolly if there’s some particular reason why she should go to heaven, so she takes off her top and says, "Look at these. They’re the most perfect ones God ever created, and I’m sure it will please him to be able to see them every day for eternity."

    St. Peter thanks Dolly, and asks Queen Liz the same question. She then drops her skirt and panties, takes a bottle of Perrier out of her purse, shakes it up, and douches with it.

    St. Peter says, "OK, Your Majesty, you may go in".

    Dolly is outraged. She screams, "What was that all about? I show you two of God’s own creations, she performs a disgusting, hygiene act, and gets in and I don’t?!"

    "Sorry, Dolly," says St. Peter, "but a royal flush beats a pair any day."

  • Meyer’s Parrot

    Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home along Delancy Street one day wishing something wonderful would happen in his life, when he passed a pet store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish, "Quawwwwk…vus machts du?" (How’re ya doin’"Yeah, du." (Yeah, you.)

    Meyer rubbed his eyes and ears. Couldn’t believe it. Perfect Yiddish. The proprietor urged him, "Come in here, fella, and check out this parrot…"

    Meyer did. An African Grey cocked his little head and said: "Vus? Kenst sprechen Yiddish?" (What? Can you speak Yiddish? In a matter of moments, Meyer had placed five hundred dollars on the counter and carried the parrot in his cage away with him. All night he talked with the parrot. In Yiddish. He told the parrot about his father’s adventures coming to America. About how beautiful his late wife, Sarah, was when she was a young bride. About his family. About his years of working in thegarment district. About Florida. The parrot listened and commented. They shared some walnuts. The parrot told him of living in the pet store, how lonely he would get on the weekends. They both went to sleep.

    Next morning, Meyer began to put on his Tfillin, all the while saying his prayers. The parrot demanded to know what he was doing and when Meyer explained, the parrot wanted to do the same. Meyer went out and had a miniature set of tfillin hand made for the parrot. The parrot wanted to learn to daven, and learned every prayer. He wanted to learn to read Hebrew. So Meyer spent weeks and months, sitting and teaching the parrot teaching him Torah. In time, Meyer came to love and count on the parrot as a friend and fellow Jew.

    One morning, on Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose and got dressed and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him. Meyer explained that Shul was not a place for a bird, but the parrot made a terrific argument, so Meyer relented and carried the bird to Shul on his shoulder. Needless to say, they made quite a spectacle, and Meyer was questioned by everyone, including the Rabbi and the Cantor. They refused to allow a bird into the building on the High Holy Days, but Meyer persuaded them to let him in this one time, swearing that parrot could daven. Wagers were made with Meyer. Thousands of dollars were bet that the parrot could NOT daven, could not speak Yiddish or Hebrew, etc.

    All eyes were on the African Grey during services. The parrot perched on Meyer’s shoulder as one after another prayer and song passed – Meyer heard not a peep from the bird. He began to become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and mumbling under his breath, "Daven!" Nothing. "Daven…parrot, you can daven, so daven…come on, everyone is looking at you!" Nothing. After Rosh Hashanah services were concluded, Meyer found that he owed his Shul buddies and the Rabbi over four thousand dollars..

    He marched home, so upset he said nothing to the parrot. Finally several blocks from the Temple the Parrot began to sing an old Yiddish song, as happy as a lark. Meyer stopped and looked at him. "Why? After I had tfillin made for you and taught you the morning prayers, and taught you to read Hebrew and the Torah. And after you begged me to bring you to Shul on Rosh Hashana, why? WHY?!? Why did you do this to me?"

    "Meyer, don’t be a schmuck," the parrot replied. "Think of the odds we’ll get on Yom Kippur!"

  • 3 Brazilian Soldiers Killed

    Donald Rumsfeld is giving the President Bush his daily briefing. He concludes by saying: "Yesterday, 3 Brazilian soldiers were killed."

    "OH NO!" the President exclaims. "That’s terrible!"

    His staff sits stunned at this display of emotion, nervously watching as the President sits, head in hands. Finally, the President looks up and asks, "Tell me, just how many are in a "brazillion" anyhow?"

  • Female Crew

    As the airliner pushed back from the gate, the flight attendant gave the passengers the usual information regarding seat belts, etc.

    Finally, she said, "Now sit back and enjoy your trip while your captain, Judith Campbell, and crew take you safely to your destination."

    Ed sitting in the eighth row thought to himself, "Did I hear her right? Is the captain a woman?"

    When the attendants came by with the drink cart, he said, "Did I understand you right? Is the captain a woman?"

    Yes," said the attendant, "In fact, this entire crew is female."

    My God," said Ed, "I’d better have two scotch and sodas. I don’t know what to think of all those women up there in the cockpit."

    That’s another thing sir," said the attendant, "We no longer call it the cock pit.

    Now it’s the box office!

  • The Little Indian Boy

    A little Indian boy asked his father, the big chief and witch doctor of the tribe, "Papa, why is it that we always have long names, while the white men have shorter names like Bill, Tex or Sam?"

    His father replied, "Look, son, our names represent a symbol, a sign, or a poem for our culture not like the white men, who live all together and repeat their names from generation to generation. Also, it is part of our makeup that in spite of everything, we survive.

    For example, your sister’s name is Small Romantic Moon Over The Lake, because on the night she was born, there was a beautiful moon reflected in the lake.

    Then there’s your brother, Big White Horse of the Prairies, because he was born on a day that the big white horse who gallops over the prairies of the world appeared near our camp and is a symbol of our capacity to live and the life force of our people.

    It’s very simple and easy to understand.

    Do you have any other questions, Little Broken Condom Made in China?

  • Childbirth Explained

    I’ve been teaching now for about fifteen years. I have two kids myself, but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second-grade classroom a few years back.

    When I was a kid, I loved show-and-tell. So I always have a few sessions with my students. It helps them get over shyness and usually, show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never, ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it to school and talk a bout it, they’re welcome.

    Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very outgoing kid, takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater. She holds up a snapshot of an infant. "This is Luke, my baby brother, and I’m going to tell you about his birthday.

    First, Mom and Dad made him as a symbol of their love, and then Dad put a seed in my Mom’s stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for nine months through an umbrella cord."

    She’s standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I’m trying not to laugh and wishing I had my camcorder with me. The kids are watching her in amazement. "Then, about two Saturdays ago, my Mom starts saying and going, ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans. "She walked around the house for, like an hour, ‘Oh, oh, oh!

    Now the kid’s doing this hysterical duck walk, holding her back and groaning. "My Dad called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn’t have a sign on the car like the Domino’s man."
    "They got my Mom to lie down in bed like this." Then Erica lies down with her back against the wall.

    "And then, pop! My Mom had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like psshhheew!" This kid has her legs spread and with her little hands are miming water flowing away. It was too much!

    "Then the middle wife starts saying ‘push, push, and breathe, breathe.’" "They started counting, but never even got past ten."
    "Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff, they all said was from Mom’s play-center! , so there must be a lot of stuff inside there."

    Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat. I’m sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, if it’s show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder, just in case another Erica comes along.

    Sometimes children help us see the world as it is meant to be.

  • “Will You Marry Me?”

    Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?".

    The girl said, "NO!".

    And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing, hunting and played golf a lot and drank beer and farted whenever he wanted.

  • Ron and Julie

    Dear Editor,

    It is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive and there’s nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.

    My name is Ron. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Julie. When I took "early retirement" last year, it became necessary for Julie to get a full-time job, both for the extra income and the health benefits that needed, because I had ceased to be the main bread-winner. Shortly after she started working, I noticed that she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home in the evening from the golf course at about the same time that she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says that she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don’t yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men’s Grill at the club, so eating out at night is not reasonable. I’m ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door.

    She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now, it’s not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her a couple of times each evening that they won’t clean themselves. I know she appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed. I really think my experience as a teacher helps a lot. I feel that telling people what they ought to do is one of my motivational strong points…

    And speaking of bed, her age really shows up there. I go out and play golf all day, come in dead tired and, after a two-hour nap and a good meal, I’m ready, if you know what I mean. Age has made her so bad that she actually dozes off during lovemaking. But that’s okay, I’m not complaining. Her satisfaction in that area is so important to a sensitive guy like me and, if she enjoys sleeping during our little trysts, what the heck… Now that she is older, she does seem to get tired so much more quickly. >Our washer and dryer are in the basement. Sometimes she says that she just can’t make another trip down those steps. I don’t make a big issue of this; as long as she finishes up the laundry the next evening, I’m willing to overlook it.
    Not only that, but unless I need something ironed to wear to the Monday lodge meeting, or to Wednesday’s and Saturday’s poker club, or to Tuesday’s and Thursday’s bowling, I tell her kindly to wait until the next evening to do the ironing. This gives her a little more time to do some of those odds and ends, like shampooing the dog, vacuuming or dusting.

    If I have had a really good day on the golf course and it has been wet and muddy, my clubs are often in a mess, so I let her clean them. You know…..get the grit off the grips and apply a little light Brillo on the club faces at a casual pace. My golf bag is very heavy, so I lift it out of the trunk of the car for her. Women are delicate, have weak wrists and can’t lift heavy stuff as well as men. But I tell her that I don’t like to be wakened during my after-golf nap so, rather than bother me, she can put them back in the boot when she’s finished. I think that another symptom of ageing is complaining. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But boys, we take them "for better or worse", so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won’t have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn’t hurt her (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is another of my strong points. When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. Last Sunday, she had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the lawns. I tried not to make a scene. I’m a fair man. I told her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she was making one for herself, she might as well make one for me too and then take her break by my hammock. That way, she could talk with me until I fell asleep.

    I know that I probably look like a saint in the way that I support Julie.
    I’m not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult.

    Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your ageing wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.

    Yours, Ron

    EDITOR’S NOTE: Ron died suddenly on Thursday, February 6. He was found with a Galloway extra-long, 50-inch Big Bertha Driver rammed up his posterior with only 2 inches of grip showing. His wife Julie was arrested, but the all-woman Grand Jury accepted her defence that he accidentally sat on it.
    She was released without charge on Friday, February 7.

  • God and Adam

    God said, "Go down into that valley."
    And Adam said, "What’s a valley?"
    And God explained it to him.
    Then God said, "Cross the river."
    And Adam said, "What’s a river?"
    And God explained it to him.
    And then God said, "Go over the hill."
    And Adam said, "What’s a hill?"
    And God explained it to him.
    Then God told Adam, "On the other side of the hill, you will find a cave."
    And Adam said, "What’s a cave?"
    And God explained that to him.
    "In the cave you will find a woman. Her name is Eve."
    And Adam said, "What’s a woman?"
    So God explained that to him, and said, "I want you to reproduce."
    And Adam said, "How do I do that?"
    So God explained it to him.
    So off went Adam, down into the valley, across the river, and over the hill, and into the cave, and found the woman, and after about five minutes he went back.
    God said angrily, "What is it now?"
    And Adam said, "What’s a headache?"

  • The Whipping

    Steve and Fiona were making passionate love in Steve’s Sandman Panel Van when suddenly Fiona, being a bit on the kinky side, yells out "Oh fat boy, whip me, whip me!" Steve, not wanting to pass up this unique opportunity, obviously did not have any whips to hand, but in a flash of inspiration, he opens the window, snaps the antenna off his van and proceeds to whip Fiona until they both collapse in sado-masochistic ecstasy.

    About a week later, Fiona notices that the marks left by the whipping session are starting to fester a bit so she goes to the doctor. The doctor takes one look at the wounds and asks "Did you get these marks having sex?"

    Fiona, a little embarrassed that she has slept with Steve (let alone that she allowed the kinky bastard to whip her) eventually admits that, yes, she did.

    Nodding his head knowingly, the doctor exclaims, "I thought so, because in all my years of doctoring you’ve got the worst case of van aerial disease that I’ve ever seen."