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guys named Hambone and Flipper, which one would you think liked
dolphins the most? I'd say Flipper, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong, though. It's
Hambone.
Laurie got offended that I used the word "puke." But to me, that's what her
dinner tasted like.
We used to laugh at Grandpa when he'd head off and go fishing. But we wouldn't
be laughing that evening when he'd come back with some whore he picked up in
town.
I wish a robot would get elected president. That way, when he came to town, we
could all take a shot at him and not feel too bad.
As the evening sky faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I
thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how
I named him Flint.
If you're a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it's real
embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.
Whenever I see an old lady slip and fall on a wet sidewalk, my first instinct
is to laugh. But then I think, what if I was an ant, and she fell on me. Then
it wouldn't seem quite so funny.
If you go parachuting, and your parachute doesn't open, and you friends are
all watching you fall, I think a funny gag would be to pretend you were
swimming.
When I was a kid my favorite relative was Uncle Caveman. After school we'd all
go play in his cave, and every once in a while he would eat one of us. It
wasn't until later that I found out that Uncle Caveman was a bear.
I wonder if Dracula ever has ticks.
When this girl at the art museum asked me whom I liked better, Monet or Manet,
I said, "I like mayonnaise." She just stared at me, so I said it again,
louder. Then she left. I guess she went to try to find some mayonnaise for me.
He was a spy, all right, and he knew it. He would walk into a room and people
would go, "Who the **** is that guy, a spy?" He'd laugh to himself, maybe pull
out his gun and show it to the person, to kind of impress him (but not to show
off).
Sometimes spying was dirty work. Sometimes he'd kill a guy, then paint a
clown face on his face. Nobody said he had to do that, but he did it anyway.
So, dirty work.
I bet it's hard to break farmers of the old superstitions like "Tornado got
Old Yeller, stay in the cellar."
Blow ye winds,
Like the trumpet blows;
But without that noise.
I don't guess I've ever been as scared as when I was waiting in the
principal's office. Finally he came in and sat down. He didn't say anything,
he just looked at me. Then he pulled a copy of Playboy out. "Is this yours?"
he said.
"No," I said, "is this yours?" And I pulled out my penis.
I guess I wasn't as scared as I thought.
If Alien was my friend, I'd like to be with him when he went to the dentist.
When they started drilling, he'd probably go nuts and start eating everybody.
That Alien!
Why do there have to be rules for everything? It's gotten to the point that
rules dominate just about every aspect of our lives. In fact, it might be said
that rules have become the foot-long sticks of mankind.
I hate it when people say somebody has a "speech impediment", even if he does,
because it could hurt his feelings. So instead, I call it a "speech
improvement", and I go up to the guy and say, "Hey, Bob, I like your speech
improvement." I think this makes him feel better.
Many people think that history is a dull subject. Dull? Is it "dull" that
Jesse James once got bitten on the forehead by an ant, and at first it didn't
seem like anything, but then the bite got worse and worse, so he went to a
doctor in town, and the secretary told him to wait, so he sat down and waited,
and waited, and waited, and waited, and then finally he got to see the doctor,
and the doctor put some salve on it? You call that dull?
Some folks say it was a miracle. St. Francis suddenly appeared and knocked the
next pitch clean over the fence. Other folks say it was just a lucky swing.
I think one reason I could be a good playboy is I would be willing to spend
the time required to really fix up my "pad".
To me, it's always a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you
walk around. That way, if anybody says, "Hey, can you give me a hand?," you
can say, "Sorry, got these sacks."
I think a good gift for the president would be a chocolate revolver. And since
he's so busy, you'd probably have to run up to him and hand it to him.
Of all the tall tales, I think my favorite is the one about Eli Whitney and
the interchangeable parts.
If there was a terrible storm outside, but somehow this dog lived through the
storm, and he showed up at your door when the storm was finally over, I think
a good name for him would be Carl.
If I had a mine shaft, I don't think I would just abandon it. There's got to
be a better way.
I think man invented the car by instinct.
I guess I kinda lost control, because in the middle of the play I ran up and
lit the evil puppet villain on fire.
No, I didn't. Just kidding. I just said that to help illustrate one of the
human emotions, which is freaking out. Another emotion is greed, as when you
kill someone for money, or something like that. Another emotion is generosity,
as when you pay someone double what he paid for his stupid puppet.
I think there should be something in science called the "reindeer effect." I
don't know what it would be, but I think it'd be good to hear someone say,
"Gentlemen, what we have here is a terrifying example of the reindeer effect."
I saw on this nature show how the male elk douses himself with urine to smell
sweeter to the opposite sex. What a coincidence!
It makes me mad when I go to all the trouble of having Marta cook up about a
hundred drumsticks, then the guy at Marineland says, "You can't throw that
chicken to the dolphins. They eat fish."
Sure they eat fish, if that's all you give them! Man, wise up.
I think it's high time we started questioning the old cliches like "Grunt big
for Daddy."
Anybody who has an identity problem had better wise up and get with the
program!
I think a good way to get into a movie is to show up where they're making the
movie, then stick a big cactus plant onto your buttocks and start yowling and
running around. Everyone would think it was funny, and the head movie guy
would say, :Hey, let's put him in the movie."
Tonight, when we were eating dinner, Marta said something that really knocked
me for a loop. She said, "I love carrots."
"Good," I said as I gritted my teeth real hard. "Then maybe you and carrots
would like to go into the bedroom and have sex!"
They didn't, but maybe they will sometime, and I can watch.
I can still recall old Mr. Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a
fresh load of tadpoles to that old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and
round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he'd yell out,
"Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!"
We all thought he was crazy. But then, we had some growing up to do.
I think they should continue the policy of not giving a Nobel Prize for
paneling.
Here's a good joke to do during an earthquake: Straddle a big crack in the
earth, and if it opens wider, go, "Whoa! Whoa!" and flail your arms around, as
if you're going to fall in.
One question that's never been answered to my satisfaction by the "Playboy
Advisor" is "What kind of stereo system works best in hell?"
A funny thing to do is, if you're out hiking and your friend gets bitten by a
poisonous snake, tell him you're going to go for help, then go about ten feet
and pretend that *you* got bit by a snake. Then start an argument with him
about who's going to go get help. A lot of guys will start crying. That's why
it makes you feel good when you tell them it was just a joke.
Folks still remember the day ole Bob Riley came bouncing down that dirt road
in his pickup. Pretty soon, it was bouncing higher and higher. The tires
popped, and the shocks broke, but that truck kept bouncing. Some say it
bounced clean over the moon, but whoever says that is a goddamn liar.
Just as irrigation is the lifeblood of the Southwest, lifeblood is the soup of
cannibals.
In some places it's known as a tornado. In others, a cyclone. And in still
others, the Idiot's Merry-go-round. But around here they'll always be known as
screw-boys.
I wish I lived back in the old west days, because I'd save up my money for
about twenty years so I could buy a solid-gold pick. Then I'd go out West and
start digging for gold. When someone came up and asked what I was doing, I'd
say, "Looking for gold, ya durn fool." He'd say, "Your pick is gold," and I'd
say, "Well, that was easy."
Good joke, huh.
I think somebody should come up with a way to breed a very large shrimp. That
way, you could ride him, then, after you camped at night, you could eat him.
How about it, science?
I think a good product would be "Baby Duck Hat". It's a fake baby duck, which
you strap on top of your head. Then you go swimming underwater until you find
a mommy duck and her babies, and you join them. Then, all of a sudden, you
stand up out of the water and roar like Godzilla. Man, those ducks really take
off!
Also, Baby Duck Hat is good for parties.
Laugh, clown, laugh. This is what I tell myself whenever I dress up like Bozo.
Any man, in the right situation, is capable of murder. But not any man is
capable of being a good camper. So, murder and camping are not as similar as
you might think.
The prince decided he would learn anger. So he gathered his subjects together
outside his balcony. :Who would teach me anger?" he said.
"**** you!" somebody yelled.
"Okay, how about algebra?" said the prince.
If you go to a party, and you want to be the popular one at the party, do
this: Wait until no one is looking, then kick a burning log out of the
fireplace onto the carpet. Then jump on top of it with your body and yell,
"Log o' fire! Log o' fire!"
I've never done this, but I think it'd work.
As the snow started to fall, he tugged his coat tighter around himself. Too
tight, as it turned out.
"This is the fourth coat crushing this year", said the sergeant as he
outlined the body with a special pencil that writes on snow.
I read that when the archaeologists dug down into the ancient cemetary, they
found fragments of *human bones*! What kind of barbarians were these people,
anyway?
I'll be the first to admit that my idea of God is pretty different. I believe
in a God with a long white beard, a gold crown, and a long robe with lots of
shiny jewels on it. He sits on a big throne in the clouds, and He's about five
hundred feet tall. He talks in a real deep voice like "I...AM...GOD!" He can
blow up stuff just by looking at it.
This is my own, personal idea of God.
Marta says the interesting thing about fly-fishing is that it's two lives
connected by a thin strand.
Come on, Marta. Grow up.
Here's a good trick: Get a job as a judge at the Olympics. Then, if some guy
sets a world record, pretend that you didn't see it and go, "Okay, is
everybody ready to start now?"
Too bad when I was a kid there wasn't a guy in our class that everybody called
the "Cricket Boy", because I would have liked to stand up in class and tell
everybody, "You can make fun of the Cricket Boy if you want to, but to me he's
just like everybody else." Then everybody would leave the Cricket Boy alone,
and I'd invite him over to spend the night at my house, but after about five
minutes of that loud chirping I'd have to kick him out.
Maybe later we could get up a petition to get the Cricket Family run out of
town.
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