Fooling ’em twice, maybe
OMG, it doesn’t end. The oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, that gosh-awful vuvuzela horn at the World Cup soccer matches and Amish potato salad. You know the kind. It comes with big potatoes. Really big potatoes the size of small rocks. Give me Mrs. Gerry’s Original any time.
Add to that list: tornadoes. I don’t know what’s more frightening: The thunder, lightning and sirens or those TV weathercasters in the midst of a panic attack on camera.
If you’re like me, it’s times such as this when a good blonde joke can ease the stress. Read on:
A man who has just died is delivered to a local mortuary wearing an expensive, expertly tailored black suit.
The female, blonde mortician asks the deceased’s wife how she would like the body dressed. She points out that the man does look good in the black suit he is already wearing.
The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked his best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit. She gives the blonde mortician a blank check and says, “I don’t care what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.”
The woman returns the next day for the wake. To her delight, she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly.
She says to the mortician, “Whatever this cost, I’m very satisfied. You did an excellent job and I’m very grateful. How much did you spend?”
To her astonishment, the blonde mortician presents her with the blank check.
”There’s no charge,” she says.
”No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit!” the wife says.
“Honestly, ma’am,” the blonde says, “it cost nothing. You see, a deceased gentleman of about your husband’s size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked nice.”
“So I just switched the heads.”
GOTCHA By now, Readers, you should remember to pay attention when reading this column.
Three men were hiking through a forest. Soon they came upon a large, raging, violent river.
They needed to get to the other side.
The first man prayed: “God, please give me the strength to cross the river.”
Poof! God gave him big arms and strong legs. Then he was able to swim across in two hours, having almost drowned twice.
After witnessing that, the second man prayed: “God, please give me strength, and the tools to cross the river.”
Poof! God gave him strong arms, strong legs and a rowboat. Then he was able to row across in about an hour after almost capsizing once.
Having seen what happened to the first two men, the third man prayed:
“God, please give me the strength, the tools and the intelligence to cross the river.”
Poof! He was turned into a woman!
She checked the map, hiked 100 yards upstream and walked across the bridge.
GOTCHA again, Readers!
You know the saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice ….
Maybe you should switch to columns by Dr. Alcorn or Bob Vilt or Al Batt or the Publisher for awhile. This column ain’t for the faint-hearted.