Last one for now.
A couple jokes I like:
After having their 11th child, Billy Bob and his wife decided that
was enough. So Billy Bob went to his doctor and told him that he and
his wife didn't want to have any more children and that he didn't
want to spend a lot of money. The doctor told him that there was a
procedure that could fix the problem. The doctor instructed him to go
home, get a cherry bomb, light it, put it in a beer can, then hold
the can up to his ear and count to 10. Billy Bob said to the doctor,
"I may not be the smartest man, but I don't see how putting a cherry
bomb in a beer can next to my ear is going to help me." So, he and
his wife drove to get a second opinion. The second doctor was just
about to tell them about the medical procedure for a vasectomy when
he realized how truly backwards Billy Bob was. This doctor instead
told him to go home and get a cherry bomb, light it, place it in a
beer can, hold it to his ear and count to 10. Figuring that both
learned physicians couldn't be wrong, Billy Bob went home, lit a
cherry bomb and put it in a beer can. He held the can up to his ear
and began to count. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5 . . . . ", at which point he
paused, placed the beer can between his legs and resumed counting on
his other hand.
Two ninety-year-old men, Bubba and Clyde, have been friends all their
lives. It seems that Bubba is dying, so Clyde comes to visit him.
"Bubba," says Clyde, "You know how we have both loved stock car
racing all our lives. So, you gotta do me one favor. When you go,
somehow you've gotta tell me if there's stock car racing in heaven."
Bubba looks up at Clyde from his deathbed and says, "Clyde, you've
been my friend many years. This favor I'll do for you."
And with that, Bubba passes on.
It is around midnight a couple nights later. Clyde is sound asleep
when a distant voice calls out to him: "Clyde....Clyde...."
"Who is it?" asks Clyde sitting up suddenly. "Who's there?!"
"Clyde, it's Bubba."
"Come on. You're not Bubba. Bubba died."
"I'm telling you," insists the voice. "It's me, Bubba!"
"Bubba? Is that you? Where are you?"
"I'm in heaven," says Bubba, "and I've got to tell you, I've got some
good news and some bad news."
"Tell me the good news first," says Clyde.
"The good news," says Bubba, "is that there IS stock car racing in
"Really?" says Clyde, "That's wonderful! What's the bad news?"
"You're starting 3rd next Sunday!"