Tag: my favorite joke

Hey, happy Veterans Day!  Thank you, veterans.  Thank you veterans’ families.  We pray for you every day.

We have the day off school, and we just got home from the doctor, where I got mini lectures because (a) my son only has two servings of milk a day, not three; (b) when I said, “I didn’t realize they offer the meningitis vaccine to kids this age.  I’d like to read up on it first, ” she took it to mean, “I can only hope that my entire family will get some o’ that fantastic meningitis ASAP”; (c) my son, who is 79 pounds, doesn’t ride in a booster seat. Gugh.  It wasn’t our regular doctor, thank goodness.  Our regular doctor thinks we’re hilarious, and lets us do whatever we want.

Also this morning, I was rude to some poor, earnest Bible thumpers — well, really they were so mild, they were more like Bible strokers — who came to the door when I was still in my PJ’s and the baby was naked and covered with yogurt.  WHY did I have to tell them we’re Catholic?  It was probably fairly obvious.  And then, attempting to spruce up a little, I reached for my eyeliner, only to discover that it was actually an X-Acto knife.  Yipes!  Well, now I’m awake!

Oh, so to make up for this post being late and about nothing, here is a joke.  I was doing a “My Favorite Joke” feature for a while, but I guess rather than emailing jokes to me, just put ‘em in the comment box.  This is the joke my daughter told me yesterday:

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Three guys are working on some scaffolding way up at the top of a skyscraper.  They take a lunch break.  The first guy opens his lunchbox and goes, “Aw, man, meatloaf again.”  Second guy opens his lunchbox and goes, “Aw, man, baloney again.”  Third guy opens his lunchbox and goes, “Aw, man, tuna salad again.”  They eat their lunches.

The next day, it’s lunch time again, and the first guy opens his lunchbox, and goes, “Aw man, meatloaf again.  You know, if I get meatloaf tomorrow, too, I’m going to jump off this skyscraper!”  Second guys opens his lunchbox and goes, “Aw man, baloney again.  You know, if I get baloney tomorrow, I’m going to jump off this skyscraper!”  Third guy opens his lunchbox and goes, “Aw man, tuna salad again.  You know, if I get tuna salad tomorrow, I’m going to jump off this skyscraper!”

Next day.  Lunchtime again.  First guy opens his lunchbox, cries, “Meatloaf!”  and leaps to his death.  Second guy opens his lunchbox, howls, “Baloney!” and leaps to his death.  Third guy opens his lunchbox, screams, “Tuna salad!” and leaps to his death.

Next day, at the funeral.  The widow of the first guy wails, “Oh, why oh why did I give him meatloaf in his lunch?”  The widow of the second guy moans, “Why oh why did I give him baloney?”

And the widow of the third guy says, “Don’t look at me!  He packs his own lunch.”

Today, I’m really glad to have a Monday joke lined up, because I’m going to do something kind of awful first, and I don’t want you to be mad at me.

Here is this video.  I guess it’s a local TV station that gives political candidates a minute or so to make their case directly to the voter.  So here’s what one guy came up with:

Now, being a kind and generous person, I thought to myself, “Wellllllll . . . maybe he just has super duper stage fright.  Maybe he actually does have something to say, but he is just extra, extra, unbelievably bad at conveying ideas.

So what if he forgot to brush his hair?  So what if he sounds like a combination of Sylvester the Cat and Homestar Runner?   Who cares that he introduces himself in a somewhat less-than-gubernatorial fashion by saying, “Hi, I’m Basil Marceaux Dot Com”? It is still possible that he has a good idea in there somewhere.

That is what motherhood does to your power of  discernment.  If mothers weren’t able to say “shush” to what reason is screaming in our ears, then our six-year-old sons would be in big, big trouble.

So, half in charity and half in morbid curiosity, I checked out his website.

Okay, so it turns out that . . . well, whatever conclusion you jumped to when you saw his video, you were right.

My favorite part is that there is the homepage, and then there is a link to page four.  Pages two and three?  What are you, some kind of elitist?

This, my friends, is disorderly thinking on a heroic scale.  Other information that Ithink I gathered from reading the least informative prose ever (and I once saw a book report that went:  “The Littel Airplane.  It is about a littel airplane”):

• He definitely got arrested at some point.
• He doesn’t like the flag?  Or it’s the wrong flag, or something.  I believe he is saying there is a goldfish on one flag, but he wants the one with three stripes to come back.  In the service of this goal, he was hit many times with a stun gun.
• He seems to be proposing that, in order to save money in gassing up public vehicles, we should plant corn in the medians of highways, and convert the harvest into biofuel.

Sorry, folks.  Basil Marceaux is, of course, a child of God like the rest of us, and it’s not nice to make fun.  But I died laughing just the same.

Well, anyway, here’s the much more seemly joke I promised–no victim, no crime!  I got this one from my sister, again, who should have her own blog, or at least get royalties from mine.

Oh, and despite my flagrant nepotism, I’m still collecting jokes! Send your best joke to simchafisher at gmail dot com.  (Hi, I’m Simcha Fisher Dot Com.)

The philosophy department is having a meeting, and an angel appears and offers the department head one blessing: he may choose wisdom, beauty, or ten million dollars. He hesitates for just a moment and then chooses wisdom.

There’s a sound of trumpets and the guy becomes too bright to look at for a few seconds. Then silence. He is staring down at the table, and all the other professors say to him, “Say something!!”

He looks up at them and says, “I should have picked the money.”

Good morning!  Last week, I told you my favorite joke, and asked for yours.  (If you still want to send me yours for pubbloglication, don’t put it in the comments – mail it to simchafisher@gmail.com.)

So my second favorite joke was actually sent to me twice!  More coincidence:  it was sent to me by two sisters!  Furthermore, if you can believe it, they both happened to bymy sisters, which may explain why the joke hit that sweet spot for me.  Nepotism schmepotism, it made me laugh. (I also have twoadditional sisters, for a grand total of five people who liked the last joke) but one of them has six little kids and is in Arizona in July, is temporarily carless and husbandless, while she prepares to move; and the other is in her eleventieth month of pregnancy — so asking either of them to make with the ha ha seems a little rude.)

A man was searching for the meaning of life. He traveled all over the world, spending time with various spiritual masters of different religions. All of them had partial answers, but none of them was completely satisfying. But the more of these masters he spoke to, the more he kept hearing about one guru, on a mountain-top in the Himalayas, who really knew. But no one was exactly sure which mountain-top. So the man traveled on, gathering  information, tracing leads, making maps, until he had it narrowed down. It  took ten years. Then he hired a guide, and climbed the mountain. The guide died on the way. Finally, oxygen-deprived, starving and half frozen, he made it to the mountain-top and found the guru in a little cabin, sitting in front of his fire. He said,

“Oh master, I have dedicated my life to finding you! I have searched for you for ten years, and I have finally found you. Tell me: what is the meaning of life?”

The guru slowly turned towards him and gazed at him for a full minute. Then he said, “Life…is like a fountain.”

“Oh, thank you master, but please tell me: what do you mean? How is life like a fountain?”

The guru said, “You mean…life isn’t like a fountain?”

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Second order of business:  starting tomorrow, this blog will become a GROUP BLOG.  A very small group.  I invited some guy I met in the woods to join me, and he will be writing movie reviews for your reading pleasure (not to be confused with reviewing movies you would watch for your viewing pleasure.  Not).  If you are going to read his work while eating hot dogs, I suggest cutting them up.  Not into disks!  What kind of a mother are you.  Cut them into spears, then dice them.

photo source

So please join us tomorrow to give a warm and hearty welcome to . . .

When he gets finished, there won’t be a dry seat in the house.

In a world where Jay Leno asks people where Illinois is, and people don’t know, and then that’s considered funny, I think it’s our duty to bring back The Joke.

So I’ll tell you my favorite joke, and then you send me yours.  If it makes me laugh, I’ll post it next time, so you can grab a piece of my rapidly-dwindling traffic before it disappears completely due to people realizing that, although I talk more when I’m tired, I say much, much less,  ha ha ha!

Don’t put your joke in the comments — email me at simchafisher@gmail.com.  Oh, and if I choose your joke, I will do my best to waste a good chunk of family time hunting for an appropriate illustration, too.

Okay, here it is:

A professor is wrapping up his scholarly lecture on the structure of the universe.  He asks for questions, and an old man in the back row raises his hand and says, “I hate to tell you this, but you’re all wrong.  You’ve got all these fancy theories about gravitational pull and retrograde motion and orbital influences and I don’t know what all, but you know what’s really holding the world up?”

“Please enlighten us, ” sneers the lecturer.

“A turtle!  Yep, a big ol’ turtle, with the world on his back.”

When the laughter dies down, the lecturer says, “And sir, perhaps you could explain to the audience what this impressive turtle is standing on?”

“Sure!  Another turtle.”

“Another turtle.  And perhaps you could tell us–”

“Mister,” says the old man, “You’re wasting your time.  It’s turtles allllll the way down.”