The local District Judge had given the defendant a lecture on the evils of drink. But in view of the fact that this was the first time the man had been drunk and incapable, the case was dismissed on payment of ten shillings costs. “Now don’t let me ever see your face again,” said the Justice sternly as the defendant turned to go. “I’m afraid I can’t promise that, sir,” said the released man. “And why not?
” “Because I’m the barman at your regular pub!”
The local courtroom was packed as testimony began in thesentencing hearing of a woman convicted of murdering herhusband of 20 years by poisoning his coffee.The defense attorney knew he had his work cut out for himtrying to make his client appear more sympathetic to theJudge, especially since she had been so “matter-of-fact”about the whole thing all during the trial.”Mrs. Roth,” he began, “was there any point that morningwhere you felt pity for your husband ?
“”Well… yeah… I guess…” she replied.”And when was that?
” pressed the attorney.”Well…,” she replied, “when he asked for his third cup.”
The local bar was so sure that its bartender was the strongest man around that they offered a standing $1000 bet. The bartender would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass, and hand the lemon to a patron. Anyone who could squeeze one more drop of juice out would win the money. Many people had tried over time (weight-lifters, longshoremen, etc.) but nobody could do it. One day this scrawny little man came into the bar, wearing thick glasses and a polyester suit, and said in a tiny squeaky voice ” I’d like to try the bet” After the laughter had died down, the bartender said OK, grabbed a lemon, and squeezed away. Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the rind to the little man. But the crowd’s laughter turned to total silence as the man clenched his fist around the lemon and six drops fell into the glass!! As the crowd cheered, the bartend er paid the $1000, and asked the little man “what do you do for a living?
Are you a lumberjack, a weight-lifter, or what?
” The scrawny little man replied “I work for the IRS.”
The man was in no shape to drive, so he wisely left his car parked and walked home. As he was walking unsteadily along, he was stopped by a policeman.”What are you doing out here at 2 A.M.?
” said the officer.”I’m going to a lecture.” the man said.”And who is going to give a lecture at this hour?
” the cop asked.”My wife.” said the man.
The man told his doctor that he wasn’t able to do all the things around the house that he used to do. The doctor started a long and thorough examination, but finally found nothing wrong with the man. When the examination was complete, he said, “Now, Doc, I can take it. Tell me in plain English what is wrong with me.” “Well, in plain English,” the doctor replied, “you’re just lazy.” “Okay,” said the man. “Now give me the medical term so I can tell my wife”.
The man passed out in a dead faint as he came out of his front door onto the porch. Someone dialed 911. When the paramedics arrived, they helped him regain consciousness and asked if he knew what caused him to faint. “It was enough to make anybody faint,” he said. “My son asked me for the keys to the garage, and instead of driving the car out, he came out with the lawn mower.”
The man approached the very beautiful woman in the large supermarket and asked, “You know, I’ve lost my wife here in the supermarket. Can you talk to me for a couple of minutes?
” “Why?
” “Because every time I talk to a beautiful woman my wife appears out of nowhere.”
The major difference between death and taxes is that Congress can’t make death any worse than it is.
The Mafia was looking for a new man to make weekly collections fromall the private businesses that they were ‘protecting’. Feeling the heat from the police force, they decided to use a deafperson for this job. If he were to get caught, he wouldn’t be able tocommunicate to the police what he was doing. Well, on his first week, the deaf collector picks up over $50,000. He gets greedy, decides to keep the money and stashes it in a safe place. The Mafia soon realizes that their collection is late, and sends someof their hoods after the deaf collector. The hoods find the deafcollector and ask him where the money is. The deaf collector can’tcommunicate with them, so the Mafia drags the guy to an interpreter.The Mafia hood says to the interpreter, “Ask him where the money is.”The interpreter signs, “Where’s the money?
” rThe deaf replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Theinterpreter tells the hood, “He says he doesn’t know what you’retalking about.” The hood pulls out a large gun and places it in the ear of the deafcollector. “NOW ask him where the money is.” The interpreter signs, “Where is the money?
” The deaf man replies, “The $50,000 is in Central Park, hidden in thethird tree stump on the left from the West 78th Street gate .” The interpreter says to the hood, “He says he still doesn’t know whatyou’re talking about, and doesn’t think you have the guts to pull thetrigger.”
The Mafia was looking for a new man to make weekly collections from all the private businesses that they were ‘protecting.’ Feeling the heat from the police force, they decide to use a deaf person for this job, figuring if he were to get caught, he wouldn’t be able to communicate to the police what he was doing. In his first week, the deaf collector picks up more than $40,000. He gets greedy, decides to keep the money, and stashes it in a safe place. The Mafia boss soon realizes the collection is late and sends some of his thugs after the deaf collector. The thugs drag the guy to an interpreter. The right-hand man says to the interpreter, “Ask him where da money is.” The interpreter signs, “Where’s the money?
” The deaf collector signs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The interpreter tells the main man, “He says he doesn’t know what you’re talking abo ut.” The main man pulls out a .38 and places it in the ear of the deaf collector. “NOW ask him where da money is.” The interpreter signs, “Where is the money?
” The deaf collector signs, “The $40,000 is in a tree stump in Central Park just east of the big fountain.” The interpreter’s eyes light up, and he says to the thug, “He says he still doesn’t know what you’re talking about, and doesn’t think you have the guts to pull the trigger.”