Some time ago, a man had two sons.
As they got older, everyone quickly realized that Jackson was very sharp, while Blake was about as sharp as a spoon. They were both loved very much and cared for. As time went by, the father got sick and eventually passed away.
Jackson called his brother on the phone and told him: "Listen, I have an enormously important business meeting I must attend, but I will get on the first flight home. Here are my credit card details, please make sure dad looks his best and gets everything money can buy for his funeral, spare no expense!" He wasn't sure this was a great idea, given that Blake was... well, Blake, but he had no one else to call.
Surprisingly, Blake took care of everything, and did it with a rather decent budget. Jackson was pleasantly surprised and the funeral went well, if a sad and emotional affair for all.
A few months later Jackson calls Blake again.
"Listen," he says. "I don't want to make accusations or nothin', but could it be that you are still using my card for about $300 dollars every month? I can see it here on my credit report."
"Of course not!" said Blake, insulted. "I would never steal from you, you know that!"
"Yea, I do." Said Jackson, "But how do you explain these?"
"Oh," said Blake, "I bet those are for dad's tux. You said you wanted him to look his best so I rented the most expensive suit in town!"
I was sitting at a bar when a man walked in.
The bartender pointed at the seat next to me and said “Hey Jackass! Sit here.” The man sat down.
Then the bartender asked, “What do you want to drink, Jackass?” The man ordered a beer.
A little later, the bartender yelled, “Hey Jackass! You want a menu?” The man said “No.”
After a few more beers, the bartender said, “Hey Jackass! That will be $24.50.” The man paid and started to get up.
I stopped him and asked, “Why does he keep calling you Jackass?”
The man looked at me, smiled and said, “ Oh… Hee.. Haw.. Hee.. Haw.. Hee.. Halways calls me that.”
A woman was sued by a man for defamation of character. He charged that she had called him a pig. She was found guilty and fined.
After the trial, she asked the judge: "Does this mean I cannot call Mr. Johnson a pig?"
The judge said that was true.
"Does this mean I cannot call a pig Mr. Johnson?" asked the woman.
The judge replied that she could indeed call a pig Mr. Johnson with no fear of being charged with a crime.
The woman turned, looked directly at Mr. Johnson, and said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson."
A Frenchman, an Italian and a Russian all end up in hell. The Frenchman begs to make one last call home to see how his family is coping. The devil says, "Fine, it’ll cost you an extra thousand years in the flames."
The Frenchman agrees, and tearfully listens to his wife sleeping with his brother.
The Italian begs to call home to see how his daughters are doing.
"That’ll be an extra thousand years in the flaming pit." says the devil.
"So be it." says the Italian, and weeps as he listens to his children selling the farm.
"Now I want to call home," says the Russian, and grabs the receiver. He hears his neighbors robbing his house and hangs up in disgust.
"How many years is that?" he asks the devil.
"None." Says the devil.
"How dare you? shouts the Russian, "You took a thousand agonizing years off that Frenchie and the Italiano, what’s wrong? Is my pain not good enough for you?"
"No, no," says the devil, "it's just that local calls are free."
A man sitting at a bar after work shares with the bartender why he is looking so stressed, “I’m not sleeping well. I have nightmares about a monster under my bed and I am too embarrassed to seek help.”
A patron nearby overhears this and introduces himself, “I overheard your story and I am a psychiatrist. Maybe I can help. The first thing is you recognize these are only dreams, and that is obvious so I should be able to help you in a few sessions. Here’s my card, give me a call.”
A few weeks pass and the same two are once again at the bar after work. The psychiatrist says to the other guy, “Hi, how goes the nightmares? I never heard from you so I hope you are doing okay.”
The other guy says, “things are great, the bartender helped me.”
Psychiatrist, “the bartender helped you? You needed a trained professional to help you, what possibly could a bartender do that a psychiatrist couldn’t?”
The other guy says, “he told me to saw the legs off my bed.”
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