St. Peter is questioning three married co…
St. Peter is questioning three married couples to see if they qualify for admittance to heaven.
“Why do you deserve to pass the Pearly Gates?” he asks one of the men, who had been a butler.
“I was a good father,” he answers.
“Yes, but you were a drunk all your life. In fact, you were so bad you even married a woman named Sherry. No admittance.”
St. Peter then turned to the next man, a carpenter, and asked him the same question.
The carpenter replied that he had worked hard and taken good care of his family.
But St. Peter also rejected him, pointing out that he had been an impossible glutton, so much so that he married a woman named BonBon.
At this point the third man, who had been a lawyer, stood up and said, “Come on, Penny, let抯 get out of here.”
It’s a good thing we have gravity, or else when birds died they’d just stay right up there. Hunters would be all confused.
When I die, I’m leaving my body to science fiction.
I went to the bank and asked to borrow a cup of money. They said, “What for?” I said, “I’m going to buy some sugar.”
I saw a bank that said “24 Hour Banking”, but I don’t have that much time.
I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums.
I like to go to art museums and name the untitled paintings . . . Boy With Pail . . . Kitten On Fire.
One time I went to a museum where all the work in the museum had been done by children. They had all the paintings up on refrigerators.
Last time I went to the movies I was thrown out for bringing my own food. My argument was that the concession stand prices are outrageous. Besides, I haven’t had a Bar-B-Que in a long time.
One time I went to a drive-in in a taxi cab. The movie cost me $95.
If the Vikings were around today, they would probably be amazed at how much glow-in-the-dark stuff we have, and how we take so much of it for granted. We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients. But we can’t scoff at them personally, to their faces, and this is what annoys me.
I wish scientists would come up with a way to make dogs a lot bigger, but with a smaller head. That way, they’d still be good as watchdogs, but they wouldn’t eat as much.
If you had a school for professional fireworks people, I don’t think you could cover fuses in just one class. It’s just too rich a subject.
People think it would be fun to be a bird because you could fly. But they forget the negative side, which is the preening.
If I live in the Wild West days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I’d carry a soldering iron. That was if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like, “Hey look. He’s carrying a soldering iron!” and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, “That’s right, it’s a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice.” Then everyone would get real quiet and ashamed, because they made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink.
When I think back on all the blessings I have been given in my life, I can’t think of a single one, unless you count that rattlesnake that granted me all those wishes.
I hope in the future Americans are thought of as a warlike, vicious people, because I bet a lot of high schools would pick ‘Americans’ as their mascot.
Sometimes I think the world has gone completely mad. And then I think, “Aw, who cares?” And then I think, “Hey, what’s for supper?”
Twas the night before crisis,
And all through the house,
Not a program was working,
Not even a browse.
Programmers were wrung out,
Too mindless to care,
Knowing chances of cutover
Hadn’t a prayer.
The users were nestled
All snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries
Danced in their heads.
When out in the lobby
There arose such a clatter,
That I sprang from my tube
To see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a Super Programmer,
Oblivious to fear.
More rapid than eagles,
His programs they came
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name.
On Update! On Add!
On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closing!
On Functions Complete!
His eyes were glazed over,
His fingers were lean,
From weekends and nights
Spent in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye,
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code,
Then he turned with a jerk.
And laying his fingers
Upon the ENTER key,
The system came up,
And worked perfectly!
The updates updated;
The deletes they deleted;
The inquiries inquired;
And the closing completed.
He tested each whistle,
He tested each bell,
With nary an abend,
And all had gone well.
The system was finished,
The tests were concluded,
The client’s last changes
Were even included!
And the client exclaimed,
With a snarl and a taunt,
“It’s just what I asked for,
But it’s not what I want!”
A young man who was also an avid golfer found himself with a few hours to spare one afternoon. He figured if he hurried and played very fast, he could get in nine holes before he had to head home. Just as he was about to tee off an old gentleman shuffled onto the tee and asked if he could accompany the young man as he was golfing alone. Not being able to say no, he allowed the old gent to join him.
To his surprise the old man played fairly quickly. He didn’t hit the ball far, but plodded along consistently and didn’t waste much time. Finally, they reached the 9th fairway and the young man found himself with a tough shot. There was a large pine tree right in front of his ball - and directly between his ball and the green.
After several minutes of debating how to hit the shot the old man finally said, “You know, when I was your age I’d hit the ball right over that tree.”
With that challenge placed before him, the youngster swung hard, hit the ball up, right smack into the top of the tree trunk and it thudded back on the ground not a foot from where it had originally lay.
The old man offered one more comment, “Of course, when I was your age that pine tree was only three feet tall.”
he golf jokes page
St. Peter is questioning three married couples to see if they qualify for admittance to heaven.
“Why do you deserve to pass the Pearly Gates?” he asks one of the men, who had been a butler.
“I was a good father,” he answers.
“Yes, but you were a drunk all your life. In fact, you were so bad you even married a woman named Sherry. No admittance.”
St. Peter then turned to the next man, a carpenter, and asked him the same question.
The carpenter replied that he had worked hard and taken good care of his family.
But St. Peter also rejected him, pointing out that he had been an impossible glutton, so much so that he married a woman named BonBon.
At this point the third man, who had been a lawyer, stood up and said, “Come on, Penny, let抯 get out of here.”
It’s a good thing we have gravity, or else when birds died they’d just stay right up there. Hunters would be all confused.
When I die, I’m leaving my body to science fiction.
I went to the bank and asked to borrow a cup of money. They said, “What for?” I said, “I’m going to buy some sugar.”
I saw a bank that said “24 Hour Banking”, but I don’t have that much time.
I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums.
I like to go to art museums and name the untitled paintings . . . Boy With Pail . . . Kitten On Fire.
One time I went to a museum where all the work in the museum had been done by children. They had all the paintings up on refrigerators.
Last time I went to the movies I was thrown out cheap wow gold for bringing my own food. My argument was that the concession stand prices are outrageous. Besides, I haven’t had a Bar-B-Que in a long time.
One time wow gold I went to a drive-in in wow gold a taxi cab. The wow gold movie cost me $95.
wow power leveling />
If the Vikings were around today, they would probably be amazed at how much cheap wow gold glow-in-the-dark stuff we have, and how we take so much of it for granted. We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients. But we can’t scoff at them personally, to their faces, and this is what annoys me.
I wish scientists would come up with a way to wow power leveling make dogs a lot bigger, but with a smaller head. That way, they’d still be good as watchdogs, but they wouldn’t eat as much.
If you had a school for professional fireworks people, I don’t think you could cover fuses in just one class. It’s just too rich a subject.
People think it would be fun to be a bird because you could fly. But they forget the negative side, which is the preening.
If I live in the Wild West days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I’d carry a soldering iron. That was if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like, “Hey look. He’s carrying a soldering iron!” and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, “That’s right, it’s a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice.” Then everyone would get real quiet and ashamed, because they made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink.
When I think back on all the blessings I have been given in my life, I can’t think of a single one, unless you count that rattlesnake that granted me all those wishes.
I hope in the future Americans are thought of as a warlike, vicious wow gold people, because I bet a lot of high schools would pick ‘Americans’ as their mascot.
Sometimes I think the world has gone completely mad. And then buy gold wow I think, “Aw, who cares?” And then I think, “Hey, what’s for supper?”
Twas the night before crisis,
And all through the house,
Not a program was working,
Not even a browse.
Programmers were wrung out,
Too mindless to care,
Knowing chances of cutover
Hadn’t a prayer.
The users were nestled
All snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries
Danced in their heads.
When out in the lobby
There arose such a clatter,
That wow gold I sprang from my tube
To see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a Super Programmer,
Oblivious to fear.
More rapid than cheap wow gold eagles,
His programs they came
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name.
On Update! On Add!
On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closing!
On Functions Complete!
His eyes were glazed over,
His fingers were lean,
From weekends and nights
Spent in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye,
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code,
Then he turned with a jerk.
And laying his fingers
Upon the ENTER key,
The system came up,
And worked perfectly!
The updates updated;
The deletes they deleted;
The inquiries inquired;
And the closing completed.
He tested each whistle,
He tested each bell,
With nary an abend,
And all had gone well.
The system was finished,
The tests were concluded,
The client’s wow gold last changes
Were even included!
And the client exclaimed,
With a snarl and a taunt,
“It’s just what I asked for,
But it’s not what I want!”
A young man who was also an avid golfer found himself with a few hours to spare one afternoon. He figured if he hurried and played very fast, he could get in nine holes before he had to head home. Just as he was about to tee off an old gentleman shuffled onto the tee and asked if he could accompany the young man as he was golfing alone. Not being able to say no, he allowed the old gent to join him.
To his surprise the old man played fairly quickly. He didn’t hit the ball far, but plodded along consistently and didn’t waste much time. Finally, they reached the 9th fairway and the world of warcraft gold young man found himself with a tough shot. There was a large pine tree right in front of his ball - and directly between his ball and the green.
After several minutes of debating how to hit the shot the old man finally said, “You know, when I was your wow power leveling age I’d hit the ball right over that tree.”
With that challenge placed before him, the youngster swung hard, buy gold wow hit the ball up, right smack into the top of the tree trunk and it thudded back on the ground not a foot from where it had originally lay.
The old man offered one more comment, “Of course, when I was your age that pine tree was only three feet tall.”
he golf jokes page
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