Four old retired guys are walking down a street in Yuma , Arizona . They turn a corner and see a sign that says, "Old Timers Bar - ALL drinks 10 cents."
They look at each other and then go in, thinking, This is too good to be true.
The old bartender says in a voice that carries across the room "Come on in and let me pour one for you! What'll it be, gentlemen?"
There's a fully stocked bar, so each of the men orders a martini. In no time the bartender serves up four iced martinis - shaken, not stirred - and says, "That'll be 10 cents each, please."
The four guys stare at the bartender for a moment, then at each other. They can't believe their good luck. They pay the 40 cents, finish their martinis, and order another round. Again, four excellent martinis are produced, with the bartender again saying, "That's 40 cents, please." They pay the 40 cents, but their curiosity gets the better of them. They've each had two martinis and haven't even spent a dollar yet.
Finally one of them says, "How can you afford to serve martinis as good as these for a dime apiece?"
"I'm a retired tailor from Phoenix ," the bartender says, "and I always wanted to own a bar. Last year I hit the Lottery jackpot for $125 million and decided to open this place. Every drink costs a dime. Wine, liquor, beer - it's all the same.."
"Wow! That's some story!" one of the men says.
As the four of them sip at their martinis, they can't help noticing seven other people at the end of the bar who don't have any drinks in front of them and haven't ordered anything the whole time they've been there.
Nodding at the seven at the end of the bar, one
of the men asks the bartender, "What's with them?"
The bartender says, "They're retired Norwegians from Stoughton, Wisconsin. They're waiting for Happy Hour when drinks are half-price
Lyle was hunting geese up in the Northern Minnesota woods. He leaned the old 16 gauge against the corner of the blind to take a leak.
As luck would have it, his foolish dog Ginger knocked the gun over, it went off and Lyle took most of an ounce of #4 shot in the groin .
Several hours later, lying in a Duluth hospital bed, he came to, and there was his doctor, Sven. "Vell Lyle, I got some good noos and some bad noos. Da good noos is dat you’re going to be OK. Da damage vas local to your groin, dere was very little internal damage, and I vas able to remove all of da buckshot."
"What's the bad news?", asks Lyle.
"The bad noos is dat dere vas some pretty extensive buckshot damage done to your pecker. I'm going to have to refer you to my sister, Lena.
"Well, I guess the news could be worse," says Lyle. “Your sister's a plastic surgeon?"
“Well, not exactly," Sven says. "She's a flute player in da Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, and since all you got is Obamacare, she's going to teach you where to put your fingers so you don't piss in your eye."
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way:
I'm the head of the family, so call me The President.
Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we
call her the Government.
We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you
The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class.
And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now
think about that and see if it makes sense."
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what
Dad has said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so
he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has
severely soiled his diaper.
So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds
his mother sound sleep. Not wanting to wake her, he
goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked,
he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed
with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.
The next morning, the little boy says to his father,
"Dad, I think
I understand the concept of politics now."
The father says, "Good, son, tell me in your own words
what you think politics is all about."
The little boy replies, "The President is screwing the
Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People
are being ignored and the Future is in deep ****."
Saint Peter is seeing all of the new arrivals trying to go through the pearly gates in Heaven.
The first applicant of the day explains that his last day was not a good one.
“I came home early and found my wife lying naked in bed. She claimed she had just gotten out of the shower.
Well, her hair was dry and I checked the shower and it was completely dry too.
I knew she was into some hanky-panky and I began to look for her lover.
I went onto the balcony of our 9th-floor apartment and found the guy clinging to the rail by his fingertips.
I was so angry that I began bashing his fingers with a flower pot. He let go and fell, but his fall was broken by some awnings and bushes.
On seeing he was still alive I found super human strength to drag our antique cedar chest to the balcony and throw it over. It hit the man and killed him.
At this point the stress got to me and I suffered a massive heart attack and died.” Saint Peter thanked him and sent him on to the waiting room.
The second applicant said that his last day was his worst…”I was on the roof of an apartment building working on the AC equipment and I stumbled over my tools and toppled off the building.
I managed to grab onto the balcony rail of a 9th-floor apartment but some idiot came rushing out on the balcony and bashed my hands with a flower pot.
I fell but hit some awnings and bushes and survived, but as I looked up I saw a huge chest falling toward me. I tried to crawl out of the way but failed and was hit and killed by the chest.”
Saint Peter couldn’t help but chuckle as he directs the man to the waiting room.
Saint Peter is still giggling when his third customer of the day enters.
He apologizes and says “I doubt that your last day was as interesting as the two fellows that arrived here just before you.”
I don’t know” replies the man. “Picture this, I’m naked, hiding in this cedar chest…..
Tiger Woods & Stevie Wonder are in a bar...
Tiger turns to Stevie and says, "How's the singing career going?"
Stevie replies, "Not too bad. How's the golf?"
Woods replies, "Not too bad, I've had some problems with my swing, but I think I've got that right, now."
Stevie: "I always find that when my swing goes wrong, I need to stop playing for a while and not think about it. Then, the next time I play, it seems to be all right."
Incredulous, Tiger says, "You play GOLF?"
Stevie: "Yes, I've been playing for years."
Tiger: "But -- you're blind! How can you play golf if you can't see?"
Stevie: "Well, I get my caddy to stand in the middle of the fairway and call to me. I listen for the sound of his voice and play the ball towards him. Then, when I get to where the ball lands, the caddy moves to the green or farther down the fairway and again I play the ball towards his voice."
"But, how do you putt" asks Tiger.
"Well", says Stevie, "I get my caddy to lean down in front of the hole and call to me with his head on the ground and I just play the ball towards his voice."
Tiger: "What's your handicap?"
Stevie: "Well, actually -- I'm a scratch golfer."
Woods, incredulous, says to Stevie, "We've got to play a round sometime."
Stevie: "Well, people don't take me seriously, so I only play for money, and, never play for less than $10,000 a hole. Is that a problem?"
Woods thinks about it and says, "I can afford that; OK, I'm game for that. $10,000 a hole is fine with me. When would you like to play?"
Stevie: "Pick a night."