Stuck

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An old man went into the sperm bank and says to the nurse, “Miss, I want to make a contribution.”
The nurse laughs and says, “Get out of here, old man!”
He says, “Please, nurse I can do it.”

Cocking one eyebrow, she hands him a jar and says, “Go in that room. You have 15 minutes.”

Exactly 15 minutes later, he comes back with an empty jar.
He hands it to the nurse and says, “Nurse, I twisted and I pulled, but I just couldn’t get the lid off the jar.”

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Winter is Coming

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One winter many years ago, I put a noose around my neck and stepped off a chair.
My weight snapped the thin rope almost immediately, but not before the pipe it was tied to pulled out of the ceiling and sprung a leak. Somehow I had scraped my wrist. A bead of blood came out of the scratch, and I put a Band-Aid on it–with antiseptic.
Boy! Did that sting!

As winter approaches, my good mood deteriorates and here I am again thinking, get the rope out.
But, I know from experience– I can’t do it.
I’m chicken, and I can’t afford the plumbing bill.
Spring will return. Carry on.

Drama at the Dog Park

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My dog, Louie, was on his third bowel movement at the park. A woman was watching us, so I got behind Louie and blocked her view, giving Louie some privacy. But, there was just a small fart and no dookie– a kind of misfire much like when I go.

“Aren’t you going to pick it up?” yelled the lady from one hundred feet away.
I walked towards my car, and she yelled again, “Pick it up, you jerk! You ruin the park for the rest of us.”

When I was younger, I would get angry and insult the wrong people, lost good jobs, and got in all sorts of trouble. I looked at that lady and yelled,
“Fuck you, you old hag, mind your own business.”
Somehow, I briefly felt younger. She said she was calling the police, and I yelled,
“I don’t care if you call Obama.”

I got in my car and backed up as she walked towards my car, writing down my tag number. It flashed through my mind to back the car up over her. But, that sort of behavior is way behind me.
I am a wise old man now, so I drove forward and headed home.

This Is How I Blog

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I started blogging because of my niece. When she was visiting a few summers ago, I mentioned that I wanted to publish a book of jokes. “How about a blog?” she countered.
“I don’t know anything about computers,” I said.
She said, “Just send me all your funny stuff. You’ll be famous in five years.”

So, she set me up with a free WordPress account and a password that I could remember easily.
I email her my posts and she edits them. Sporadically, I pay her $1 per post, but it must be error free and well-titled, tagged, and categorized, or no dough.

Two and a half years in, I now type at least ten words per minute, and
I’ve gotten over 6000 views with hundreds of likes.
I’m not in it for the fame, just to make people laugh once in a while.

The Pain and Agony

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Oh, the pain and the agony. Back at the dentist after a fifteen year absence. He is prying at my teeth with a sharp metal hook. Every time he hits a nerve my feet want to shoot up in the air. Next he is at me with some sort of ultra-sonic drill. Now I remember why I stopped going.
There was a cute receptionist, who informed me as I was leaving that I would need six more appointments at a total cost of over 4000 bucks. I am thinking that maybe I really don’t need teeth. I don’t chew often, and when I smile I will shut my lips.

The Irishman, the Leprechaun, and the Pony

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An Irishman is walking through the forest, and he comes upon a leprechaun, a pony, and two small children. The leprechaun calls to him: “Irishman, this pony can tell your age!”
“That pony cannot tell me age,” the Irishman yells back.

The leprechaun motions to the larger child and says, “Sissy, get behind that pony.”
Sissy gets behind the pony, and the pony moves it’s hoof six times.
“Sissy,” says the leprechaun, “how old are you?”
“Six,” replies Sissy.
The leprechaun yells, “Irishman this pony can tell your age!”
“That pony cannot tell me age!” the Irishman yells back.

The leprechaun motions to the smaller child and says, “Tommy, get behind the pony.”
The boy, Tommy, gets behind the pony, and the pony moves its hoof two times.
“How old are you Tommy?” the leprechaun says.
“Two,” Tommy says.
“Irishman, this pony can tell your age,” the leprechaun yells again.

The Irishman jumps behind the pony. The pony’s tail raises up and a loud release of gas is heard. The pony moves his hoof two times. The Irishman turns around with a smile on his face and says,
“That is amazing, me being a farty-two!”

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