The Monday Morning Mirth

Tag: God No

  • The Vegas Pro

    A guy is walking along the strip in Las Vegas and a knockout looking hooker catches his eye. He strikes up a conversation and eventually asks the hooker, "How much do you charge?"

    Hooker replies, "It starts at $500 for a hand-job."

    Guy says, "$500 dollars! For a hand-job! Jesus Christ! No hand-job is worth that kind of money!"

    The hooker says, "Do you see that Denny’s on the corner?"

    "Yes."

    "Do you see the Denny’s about a block further down?"

    "Yes."

    "And beyond that, do you see that third Denny’s?"

    "Yes."

    "Well," says the hooker, smiling invitingly, "I own those. And, I own them because I give a hand-job that’s worth $500."

    Guy says, "What the hell? You only live once. I’ll give it a try." They retire to a nearby motel.

    A short time later, the guy is sitting on the bed realizing that he just experienced the hand-job of a lifetime, worth every bit of $500. He is so amazed, he says, "I suppose a blow-job is $1,000?"

    The hooker replies, "$1,500."

    "$1,500? My God! No blow-job could be worth that. A televangelist wouldn’t pay that for a blow-job!"

    The hooker replies, "Step over here to the window, big boy. Do you see that casino just across the street? I own that casino outright. And I own it because I give a blow-job that’s worth every cent of $1,500."

    The guy, basking in the afterglow of that terrific hand-job, decides to put off the new car for another year or so, and says, "Sign me up."

    Ten minutes later, he is sitting on the bed more amazed than before. He can scarcely believe it but he feels he truly got his money’s worth. He decides to dip into the retirement savings for one glorious and unforgettable experience. He asks the hooker, "How much for some pussy?"

    The hooker says, "Come over here to the window, I want to show you something. Do you see how the whole city of Las Vegas is laid out before us, all those beautiful lights, gambling palaces, and showplaces?"

    "Damn!" the guy says, in awe, "You own the whole city?"

    "No," the hooker replies, "but I would if I had a pussy."

  • God and Saint Francis

    (overheard in a conversation between God and St. Francis):

    God: Francis, you know all about gardens and nature; what in the world is going on down there in the U.S.? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistles and the stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought, and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honeybees, and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colour by now. All I see are patches of green.

    St. Francis: It’s the tribes that settled there, Lord. They are called the Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

    God: Grass? But it is so boring, it’s not colourful. It doesn’t attract butterflies, bees or birds, only grubs and sod worms. It’s temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want grass growing there?

    St. Francis: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it has grown a little, they cut it….sometimes two times a week.

    God: They cut it? Do they bale it like hay?

    St. Francis: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

    God: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

    St. Francis: No sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

    God: Now let me get this straight…they fertilize it to make it grow and when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

    St. Francis: Yes, sir.

    God: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

    St. Francis: You aren’t going to believe this Lord, but when the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

    God: What nonsense! At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep the moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves become compost to enhance the soil. It’s a natural circle of life.

    St. Francis: You’d better sit down, Lord. As soon as the leaves fall, the Suburbanites rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

    God: No way! What do they do to protect the shrubs and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?

    St Francis: After throwing the leaves away, they go out and buy something called mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

    God: And where do they get this mulch?

    St. Francis: They cut down the trees and grind them up to make mulch.

    God: Enough! I don’t want to think about this anymore. Saint Catherine, you’re in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

    St. Catherine: "Dumb and Dumber," Lord. It’s a really stupid movie about….

    God: Never mind–I think I just heard the whole story from Saint Francis!