Discussion in 'GatorTail Pub' started by g8orbill, Jan 20, 2016.
What do Harry Potter and Kermit the Frog's penis have in common?
Anti vaxxer asks a stupid question & gets a stupid answer
not really a joke and definitely NSFW but funny as hell
Lawyers should never ask a Georgia grandma a question if they aren't prepared for the answer.
In a trial, a Southern small-town prosecuting attorney called his first witness, a grandmotherly, elderly woman to the stand. He approached her and asked, 'Mrs. Jones, do you know me?' She responded, 'Why, yes, I do know you, Mr. Williams. I've known you since you were a boy, and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife, and you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains to realize you'll never amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you.'
The lawyer was stunned. Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, 'Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?'
She again replied, 'Why yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He's lazy, bigoted, and he has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone, and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. One of them was your wife. Yes, I know him.'
The defense attorney nearly died.
The judge asked both counselors to approach the bench and, in a very quiet voice, said, 'If either of you idiots asks her if she knows me, I'll send you both to the electric chair.
A cowboy, who just moved to Wyoming from Texas, walks into a bar and orders three mugs of Bud.
He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn.
When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The bartender approaches and tells the cowboy, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time..."
The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is an Airborne Ranger, the other is a Navy Seal, both serving overseas
When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.
So I'm drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself."
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.
The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way.
He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.
One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs. (I know, a tear is coming to my eye too)
All the regulars take notice and fall silent.
When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss."
The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs.
"Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains, "It's just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking."
"Hasn't affected my brothers though...."
I had one of those and kept my middle school students going for like twenty minutes. It was epic
Art Donovan was a beauty! Funny as all get out!
Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl."
The priest asks, "Is that you, little Joey Pagano?"
"Yes, Father, it is."
"And who was the girl you were with?"
"I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation."
"Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?"
"I cannot say."
"Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?"
"I'll never tell."
"Was it Nina Capelli?"
"I'm sorry, but I cannot name her."
"Was it Cathy Piriano?"
"My lips are sealed."
"Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?"
"Please, Father! I cannot tell you."
The priest sighs in frustration. "You're very tight lipped, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now you go and behave yourself."
Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend Franco slides over and whispers, "What'd you get?"
"Four months vacation and five good leads..."
For several years, a man was having an affair with an Italian woman.
One night, she confided in him that she was pregnant.
Not wanting to ruin his reputation or his marriage, he said he would pay her a large sum of money if she would go to Italy to secretly have the child.
If she stayed in Italy to raise the child, he would also provide child support until the child turned 18.
She agreed, but asked how he would know when the baby was born…
To keep it discreet, he told her to simply mail him a post card, and write 'Spaghetti' on the back. He would then arrange for the child support payments to begin.
One day, about 9 months later, he came home to his wife looking very confused. “Honey,” she said, “you received a very strange post card today.”
“Oh, just give it to me and I'll explain it later,” he said. The wife handed him the postcard and watched as her husband read it, turned white, and fainted.
On the card was written:
Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti!
Three with meatballs, two without.
Send extra sauce.
by Sean Dietrich
The things I could write about pound cake. I could go on and on and bore you to death, but I won’t.
After my father died, I remember visiting a Methodist church with my boyhood friend, and he was introducing me to people. He was raised Methodist, I was not. My people were Baptist.
The Methodists were cheerful. My people didn’t believe in cheer. Our pastor preached hard against alcoholism, promiscuity, and narcotics because these things could lead to cigarette smoking.
My friend pointed to one lady in the congregation. She was slight, with gray hair, and a blue skirt suit.
There are some people you don’t forget. She was one of those people.
She had a heavenly glow. People smiled when they passed by her like she was unique.
“Who’s that woman?” I asked.
“That is the Pound Cake Lady,” my pal said in reverence.
After the Methodist service, my friend led me to a downstairs fellowship hall. The Methodists put out a bigger spread than any I’d ever seen. There was even a special table dedicated to cornbread and biscuits.
It was too much. Overwhelming. I even saw people standing outside the fellowship hall, smoking cigarettes after their meal. It was as though they were unwinding after sin.
The woman in the blue skirt suit placed something on the end of the table. It was golden, fat, hulking, sacred pound cake.
“Hurry and get some,” said my friend, “before it’s all gone.”
He was right. The cake didn’t last four seconds among those chain-smoking Methodists. But when it disappeared, the old woman replaced it with another.
People blessed her name forevermore. Hallelujah. And so did I.
So every church has a pound cake lady. They are young, middle-aged, or elderly, and they are holy. These ladies are messengers, sent to humanity as proof that God is not gluten-free. He loves white flour, sugar, and butter, no matter what diet books say.
If you have doubts whether your congregation has a pound cake lady, just ask your church secretary. She knows their phone number by heart.
Years later, I met a young woman at a similar potluck. She was brunette, Baptist, with brown eyes. She and I became friendly and spent time together.
One summer, she invited me to go with her family on their annual vacation.
Her family rented a house in Indian Pass, Florida, on the Gulf. When I arrived, I found the place filled with people. They were crammed in that little house, eating raw oysters, laughing, and carrying on. There were so many that some had to sleep on coffee tables and in bathtubs. I felt out of place.
The girl’s mother showed me to my bedroom, which was down the hall from the brunette’s room.
The woman said, “This is where you sleep. I’m right across the hall. And remember, I can hear whenever your door opens.”
And I knew that if I tried to exit my room past curfew—even to visit the little boys’ room—I would wake up graveyard dead.
I fell asleep that night wondering why I was there, on vacation with a happy family. I didn’t belong to these people. I’d never belonged anywhere. Ever since boyhood, I had a hard time fitting in.
My family was nothing like this family. We were broken, and about as unstable as rickety stool.
The next morning I awoke to a pleasant smell that flooded the house. It was a familiar aroma. I followed it down stairs.
There, I found everyone awake. A big man dressed in seersucker, a woman wearing pearls, a lady with a big sun hat, and several others. They were all singing, “In the Garden.”
They asked me to join the singing, so we all sang together and I wondered if these people were fugitives from the Searcy nuthouse.
Then some lady said, “We’re so glad to have you here, Sean.”
Everyone agreed with her. And I don’t know why, but I nearly cried.
And that smell. It was so strong. It smelled like being hugged. Like vanilla. Like prayer meetings on warm Saturday evenings. Like looking at a midnight sky over the Gulf of Mexico.
From the kitchen came the brunette. Young. Smiling. She carried a plate. On the dish was the source of the smell. A slice of warm, yellow, dense pound cake.
Everyone stopped singing. They behaved reverently when she passed by. Boys removed their hats and held them over their hearts.
And the family watched me take my first bite. A bite that would change my life forever.
I told you, I could go on and on about pound cake and bore you to death. But I won’t.
I just wanted to tell you how I came to marry the Pound Cake Lady.
Several days after President Obama was re-elected president, he
went over to see Bill and Hillary Clinton for dinner at their spacious
home. After drinking several glasses of beer, he asked his host if he could use
His personal bathroom.
When he entered Bill Clinton's private toilet, he was astonished to see
that Clinton had a golden urinal! Wow!
The next day, Obama told his wife, Michelle, about the urinal in Clinton's
private lavatory. "Just think,' he said, 'maybe I should get a gold urinal too.
But on the other hand I think that it may be just a bit too self-indulgent...even for a guy like me!"
Later in the week, when Michelle had lunch with Hillary, she told Hillary how
impressed her husband had been when he discovered that Bill had a gold
urinal in his private bathroom.
Later that day, when Bill got home, Hillary smiled and said to Bill:
I found out who pissed in your saxophone."
If you ain't laughing, you ain't alive.
On the first day, God created the dog and said:
'Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years.'
The dog said: 'That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?'
So God agreed.
On the second day, God created the monkey and said:
'Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span.'
The monkey said: 'Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?'
And God agreed.
On the third day, God created the cow and said:
'You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.'
The cow said: 'That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years.. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?'
And God agreed again.
On the fourth day, God created humans and said:
'Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years.'
But the human said: 'Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?'
'Okay,' said God, 'You asked for it.'
So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family.. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren.. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.
Life has now been explained to you.