General Jokes
Things You Don't Want to Hear During Surgery
Better save that. We'll need it for the autopsy.
Someone call the janitor. We're going to need a mop.
Accept this sacrifice, O Great Lord of Darkness
Bo! Bo! Come back with that! Bad Dog!
Wait a minute, if this is his spleen, then what's that?
Hand me that...uh...that uh.....thingie.
Could you stop that thing from beating? It's throwing my concentration off.
What's this doing here?
What do you mean, he wasn't in for a sex change!
Damn! Page 47 of the manual is missing!
Ten Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd
better be delivering a package, because you're
sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me.
You may glance at her, so long as you do not
peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot
keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable
for boys of your age to wear their trousers so
loosely that they appear to be falling off
their hips. Please don't take this as an insult,
but you and all of your friends are complete idiots.
Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this
issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to
the door with your underwear showing and your pants
ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However,
In order to ensure that your clothes do not, in
fact, come off during the course of your date with
my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and
fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world,
sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some
kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes
to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
In order for us to get to know each other, we
should talk about sports, politics, and other
issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only
information I require from you is an indication of
when you expect to have my daughter safely back at
my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many
opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with
me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise,
once you have gone out with my little girl, you will
continue to date no one but her until she is finished
with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my
daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by,
do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time
for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter
is putting on her makeup, a process that can take
longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead
of just standing there, why don't you do something
useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date
with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas,
or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where
there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within
eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where
there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places
where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce
my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts,
or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose
down parka zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong
romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which
features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old
folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied,
balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues
relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless
god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going
and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a
shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house.
Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me
to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a
chopper coming in over a rice paddy outside of Hanoi.
When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my
head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for
you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into
the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in
plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a
clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely
and early, then return to your car - there is no
need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
The Morning Song, I know it's evil but......
I woke early one morning,
The earth lay cool and still
When suddenly a tiny bird
Perch on my window sill,
He sang a song so lovely
So carefree and so gay,
That slowly all my troubles
Began to slip away.
He sang of far off places
Of laughter and of fun,
It seemed his very trilling,
Brought up the morning sun.
I stirred beneath the covers
Crept slowly out of bed,
And gently lowered the window
And crushed his freakin' head.
A Song For When You're Feeling Depressed
So your daughter's a hooker
And spoiled your day
Look at the bright side
She can make a good lay.
You totaled your car
And can't remember why
Could it have been
That case of Bud Dry?
Heard your wife left you
How upset you must be.
But don't fret about it
She moved in with me.
My tire was thumping
I thought it was a flat
When I looked at the tire
I noticed your cat...Sorry.
Happy Vasectomy!
Hope you feel zippy!
'Cause when I had mine
I felt snippy.
Fruitcake Recipe
1 cup water
1 cup sugar
4 large eggs
2 cups dried fruit
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup brown sugar
lemon juice
nuts
1 gallon whiskey
Sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Take a large bowl.
Check the whiskey again to be sure it is of the highest quality.
Pour one level cup and drink.
Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer; beat 1 cup butter in a large, fluffy bowl.
Add 1 teaspoon sugar and beat again.
Make sure the whiskey is still OK. Cry another tup. Turn off mixer.
Break 2 legs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a
drewscriver.
Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift 2 cups of salt. Or something. Who cares?
Check the whiskey.
Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.
Grease the oven.
Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees.
Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Throw the bowl out of the window.
Check the whiskey again.
Go to bed.
Who the hell likes fruitcake anyway?
What Doctors Say and What They Really Mean
Actual words are followed by translations:
"This should be taken care of right away."
I'd planned a trip to Hawaii next month, but this is so easy and profitable that I want to fix it before it cures itself.
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"Welllllll, what have we here..."
Since he hasn't the foggiest notion of what it is, the doctor is hoping you will give him a clue.
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"We'll see."
First I have to check my malpractice insurance.
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"Let me check your medical history."
I want to see if you paid your last bill before spending any more time with you.
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"Why don't we make another appointment for later in the week."
I need the money, so I'm charging you for another office visit.
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"I really can't recommend seeing a chiropractor."
I hate those guys mooching in on our fees.
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"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."
Since he hasn't the faintest idea of what to do, he is trying to appear thoughtful while hoping the nurse will interrupt. (Proctologists also say this a lot.)
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