Irish Jokes

An Irishman is struggling to find a parking space.

“Lord,” he prayed. “I can’t stand this. If you open a space up for me, I swear I’ll give up the Guinness and go to mass every Sunday.”

Suddenly, the clouds part and the sun shines on an empty parking spot. Without hesitation, the Irishman says: “Never mind, I found one!”

 

Paudie goes into a bar and orders seven shots of tequila and one Guinness.

The barman lines up shots and goes to get the Guinness.

When he comes back with the pint, all seven shots are gone.

The barman says: “Wow! You sure drank those fast.”

Paudie explains: “You would drink fast too if you had what I have.”

The barman asks: “What do you have?”

The guy reaches into his pocket and says: “Fifty cents!”

 

Seamus opens the newspaper and is shocked to see his OWN obituary.

In a panic, he phones his friend and asks: “Did you see the paper?! They say I died!”

The friend replies: “Yes, I saw it! So, where ya calling from?”

 

 

Great Men

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

After studying Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy, and Martin Luther KIng, Jr. , my little grandson came home pondering their stories.  He told his mother.  “I want to do great things and help people, but I don’t want to get killed.”  What a thing for a child to have to think!

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Drunk Jokes

The drunk was stumbling down the street with one foot on the curb and one foot in the gutter. A cop pulled up and said, “I’ve got to take you in, sir. You’re obviously drunk” The drunk asked, “Ociffer, are ya absolutely sure I’m drunk?” “Yeah, buddy, I’m sure,” said the copper. “Let’s go.” Obviously relieved, the wino said “That’s a relief – I thought I was a cripple.”

Dad was trying to teach Sonny the perils of alcohol. He put one worm in a glass of water and another worm in a glass of whiskey. The worm in the water lived, while the one in whiskey curled up and died. “All right, son.” asked Dad, “what does that show you?” “Well, Dad, it shows that if you drink alcohol, you will not have worms.”

 

Fool me once……..

Tommy and Betsy lived just across from us when our son, John, was a baby.  Betsy and I had coffee a couple of mornings a week, and they’d been over for burgers a time or two.  Tommy and Betsy always brought beer, but we didn’t think much of it.   Their baby, Al, was a somber little guy who played quietly and never made a fuss.  I was amazed to see Betsy could easily put him down on a blanket on the floor and he’d nod straight off.  I babysat him a time or two while she ran an errand and hardly noticed he was there.  After napping, he’d sit on his blanket and play quietly.  When I put John down, he’d try to come over the crib rails, toss his toys or take them apart.  I’d have to check on him half a dozen times before he settled in.  Al was a total amazement to me.  He didn’t show a lot of personality, but he didn’t demand much.

Tommy and Betsy asked us to babysit while they went to a college football game. One Saturday evening.  They’d be in as soon as it was over.  Foolishly, we agreed, thinking we knew them pretty well.  Boy, were we in for a surprise.  Though Tommy and Betsy always brought beer to our barbecues, we didn’t intuit that they were gifted drinkers.  We put Little Al down to bed about eight, no problem.  Our baby was up to his usual hidings.  We expected Tommy and Betsy by eleven, then twelve, then one a.m.  They never showed.  Thankfully, Al didn’t care.  We went on to bed, wondering what in the world had happened.  Little Aaliyah woke up happy.  By ten o’clock, he was into John’s food, formula, and clothes.  I was beginning to wonder if they’d left the country when the hosts on the morning radio program launched into an amusing story about a drunken brawl at the football game the night before.  It seems  a tipsy woman thought another woman was flirting with her husband.  Wife A , the tipsy one, responded by moving over to sit in the lap of husband B.  Not surprisingly,  Wife B was offended and pulled Wife A out of her hubby’s lap.  Wife A, the drunk one, had a point to make, and slapped the offended wife.  Naturally, drunk husband A, came to the defense of his little tipper, grabbing the other man’s wife.  The fight was on.  The drunk couple was hauled to the slammer.

In the absence of Al’s parents, the story took on greater meaning.  That had to be Tommy and Betsy.  Eventually, the errant parents did show up to reclaim their son, probably after making bail.  They were battered, smelled rank, and their clothes hung in tatters.  Sure enough, they’d been the brawlers.  Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.

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Wordless Wednesday

Uncle Albutt Part 5

Quite often, our family and friends would gather for a late evening meal.  While the kids ran wild in the dusk and on into the darkness, the women prepared a filling meal of beef stew or chili and cornbread.  It would be near bedtime by the time they called us in, hysterical  with chasing each other in and out of the darkness.  Of course we’d been warned against running in the dark, but staying in range of the lights was for sissies.  I’d be in a delicious frenzy of terror till I stepped back into the light, where all horrors vanished.   They would be so many kids we’d be settled on the floor with our supper in a pie or cake pan.  This was before budgets stretched to include paper plates.  It was an honor to sit on the floor with the big kids.  Babies and toddlers sat at the tables where their mamas could keep a grip on them.  Two or three dinners were always dumped on the floor and there was squalling a’plenty as mamas cleaned up the mess and resettled the messy kids.  The kids finished in short order and tore back outdoors while the adults took their turn at the

After the meal, it wasn’t unusual for the men to load up their guns, flashlights, thermoses of coffee, and the dogs for a night of hunting, leaving the women and children to visit.  Mamas gave their kids a cursory wipedown with a washcloth before bed, since it wouldn’t have been possible to bathe that many children and settled them on pallets on the floor, sometimes as many as six to the bed.  Mamas rocked the knee babies and lap babies to sleep before putting them on a bed flanked by pillows once the settling down started, the women started their stories.  I loved these nights, especially if Mawmaw was there.  She believed in ghosts and could make our blood run cold.  Mother worried about nightmares, but lacked the courage to shush her mother-in-law, for which I was grateful.  I NEEDED those stories. Mawmaw thrilled us with tales of babies buried alive, girls who died of broken hearts when their dead sweethearts appeared to them, and big black ghost dog, and ball lightning rolling through the house. The kids didn’t dare move off the pallet, they were so terrified. Fatigued by their play, finally they drifted off to sleep, one by one.

As the women talked, they thought they heard an intruder trying to get in the front door. Someone else scurried to check the back door, unsure if it was locked.  .  Had there been an intruder, he’d have had a horrible shock breaking in on half a dozen  terrified women and a gaggle of children.  Meanwhile Mother hurried to the door.  Thinking she’d scare him away with a bluff, she called out.  “I’ve got a gun.  I’m gonna shoot through the door!”

Aunt Jewel stood right behind her.  Obviously terrified, she shouted out.  “Well, don’t just stand there!  Go git your gun.  You ain’t got no gun!”  Fortunately, there was no intruder, or he thought he’d better not break in, since nothing happened.

 

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Uncle Albutt Part 4

Uncle Albert had an interesting vocabulary.   Even when he didn’t get words right, he forged bravely ahead.  When his energy was low, he didn’t have much image.  When the doctor diagnosed him with emphysema, he referred to his ‘zema. Air conditioners were air positioners. He called my sister Phyllis, Phillips.  I liked that one.  I was Linder.  I didn’t like that quite so much. My mother Kathleen was Kathaleen.  He called Daddy “Willie”, his real name instead of Bill, the name Daddy gave himself once he left home.  Daddy cringed every time he was called Willie.  The only other person who got away with it was his mother.  I wouldn’t have wanted to be Willie, either.  For some reason, Daddy’s brother Parnell named his daughter Willie Carol.  She was a whiny, sullen kid, maybe because of that name.  It makes perfect sense to me.

On occasion, we saw some of Aunt Jewel’s relatives.  Her sister, Lucille, who incidentally had married one of Daddy’s cousins, had the hairiest legs I’ve ever seen, man or woman. The wearing of seamed stockings only made it more obvious.  A good proportion of the wiry hairs worked their way through the stockings, trying to escape, while the rest were imprisoned flat against her legs.  I don’t know which fascinated me more, the swirling mass of flattened ones, or the wild escapees.  I never got to look enough, and certainly wasn’t allowed to comment. Mother warned us off when she knew we’d see Lucille.  Daddy swore her legs had gotten hairier because she shaved them!  That just sounded nuts.  How would hair roots know a razor threatened?  He was death on leg-shaving, ascribing to the old wive’s tale that shaving made hair grow back thicker.  I don’t know what planet he was from that made his daughter’s legs, shaved or unshaven, his business, but Daddy thought he was God and his wishes,  commandments.  More likely, he may have feared he’d be stuck with his girls forever should we sprout hair like that.  Of course, Mother never volunteered the information that she shaved her legs.  I guess she didn’t want Daddy to know what was in his future.  Naturally, I shaved my legs as soon as I could get hold of a razor.  I can’t tell you how happy I was to get away from home.

Daddy’s methods did ensure he never had to deal with adult children boomeranging

home.  Times just didn’t get that hard.

Joke of the Day

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

.A person receives a telegram informing about his mother-in-law’s death.

It also enquires him whether she should be buried or cremated.

He replies, “Don’t take chances. Burn the body and bury the ashes!”

Do you know the punishment for bigamy?
Two mother-in-law’s!
What is the difference between a vulture and your mother-in-law?
Vultures wait until you’re dead to pick on you.

Q. What’s the definition of mixed emotions?

A. When you see your mother-in-law backing off a cliff in your new car.

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