Clem and Flem were sitting on their porch in Appalachia, trying to pass the time.
Clem says, "How 'bout we play 20 questions?"
Flem asks, "How d'ya play that?"
Clem says, " Well, I think of somethin' and ya have to guess what it is by askin' me questions. Ya get 20."
Flem says, "Awright, let's go."
Clem thinks for a minute, then writes down "Horse Dick." "Go ahead," he says.
Flem asks, "Can ya eat it?"
Clem says, "Well....I guess so.. sure, you could eat it."
Flem says, "Uh...is it horse dick?"
On his birthday, a man got a gift certificate from his wife.
The certificate paid for a visit to a wise man in the Himalayas who was rumored to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction.
After being persuaded, he traveled across the world for four months and hiked and climed mountains and handed his certificate to the wise man and wondered how this would all pan out.
The wise man handed a potion to him, and with a grip on his shoulder warned, "This is a powerful medicine. You take only a teaspoonful and then say '1-2-3.' When you do, you will become more potent than you have ever been in your life and you can perform as long as you want."
The man was encouraged, but skeptical. As he walked away, he turned and asked, "How do I stop the medicine from working?"
"Your partner must say '1-2-3-4,'" he responded, "but when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon."
He was very eager to see if it worked so he traveled home, showered, shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine and then invited his wife to join him in the bedroom.
When she came in, he took off his clothes and said, "1-2-3!" Immediately, he was the manliest of men.
His wife was excited and began throwing off her clothes and then she asked "What was the 1-2-3 for?"
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition, because we could end up with a dangling participle.
An elderly Irish gentleman named John Shaughnessey is lying on his death bed, awaiting the end. He smells the aroma of chocolate chip cookies -- his favorite.
He decides that, if he must die, he's going to die with the taste of chocolate chip cookies in his mouth. He slowly and painfully drags himself from his bed. With tremendous effort, he crawls down the stairs and into the kitchen, following the delicious aroma. He enters the kitchen, and spies a plate of chocolate chip cookies on top of the refrigerator.
Summoning the last of his strength, he claws his way up the side of the fridge and takes a cookie. Just as he's about to put it in his mouth, his wife appears and whacks him over the head with a big soup ladle.
"You get away from those cookies, John Shaughnessey!" cries his wife. "Those are for the funeral!"
One day, Farmer Bob is in town picking up supplies for his farm. He stops by the hardware store and picks up a bucket and an anvil, then stops by the livestock dealer to buy a couple of chickens and a goose.
Farmer Bob, realizing he must find a way to carry all of his purchases home, asks the livestock clerk for advice.
The livestock clerk says, "Why don't you put the anvil in the bucket, carry the bucket in one hand, put a chicken under each arm and carry the goose in your other hand?"
"Hey, thanks!" says Farmer Bob, and off he goes.
While walking he meets a young girl. She tells him she is lost, and asks, "Can you tell me how to get to 1515 Mockingbird Lane?"
Farmer Bob says, "Well, as a matter of fact, I'm going to visit my brother at 1616 Mockingbird Lane. Let's take a short cut and go down this alley. We'll save half the time to get there."
The girl says, "How do I know that when we get into the alley you won't hold me up against the wall and ravish me?"
Farmer Bob says, "I am carrying a bucket, an anvil, two chickens and a goose. How in the world could I possibly hold you up against the wall and do that?"
The girl replies, "Set the goose down, put the bucket over the goose, put the anvil on top of the bucket, and I'll hold the chickens."