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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 18, 2024 3:15:32 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 19, 2024 23:27:41 GMT 9
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead: He remembered dying and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out. “Excuse me, where are we?” “This is Heaven sir.” The man answered. “Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” The man asked. Of course, sir. Come right in and I’ll have some ice water brought right up. The man gestured and the gate began to open. “Can my friend?” Gesturing toward his dog, ’come in, too.” The traveller asked. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.” The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book. “Excuse me.” He called to the man. “Do you have any water?” “Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there, come on in.” “How about my friend here’ the traveller gestured to the dog?” “There should be a bowl by the pump.” They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveller filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
“What do you call this place?” The traveller asked. “This is Heaven.” He answered. “Well, that’s confusing.” The traveller said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.” “Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s hell.” “Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?” “No, we’re just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind’. Soooo… Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word. Maybe this will explain.
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes. When you have nothing to say, but just want to keep in contact, you forward jokes. When you have something to say, but don’t know what and don’t know how you forward jokes. Also to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get? A forwarded joke.
So, next time if you get a joke, don’t think that you’ve been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you’ve been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 20, 2024 0:13:49 GMT 9
One of the few things that mess halls needed.
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 22, 2024 1:05:57 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 26, 2024 3:44:22 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 26, 2024 23:55:56 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 28, 2024 3:20:09 GMT 9
I mowed the lawn today, and after doing so I sat down and had a cold beer. The day was really quite beautiful, and the drink facilitated some deep thinking. My wife walked by and asked me what I was doing, and I said, "Nothing." The reason I said "nothing" instead of saying "just thinking" is because she then would have asked, "About what?" At that point I would have had to explain that men are deep thinkers about various topics, which would lead to other questions. Finally I pondered an age old question: Is giving birth more painful than getting kicked in the nuts? Women always maintain that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts, but how could they know? Well, after another beer, and some more heavy deductive thinking, I have come up with an answer to that question. Getting kicked in the nuts is more painful than having a baby, and even though I obviously couldn't really know, here is the reason for my conclusion: A year or so after giving birth, a woman will often say, "It might be nice to have another child." But you never hear a guy say, "You know, I think I would like another kick in the nuts." I rest my case. Time for another beer. Then maybe a nap.
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Post by Marvin Pine on Apr 28, 2024 5:26:44 GMT 9
Back during the war of northern aggression while Gen. Sherman was slowly advancing toward Atlanta, he and his staff along with regiment of troops were skirting around the base of a mountain when about 100 yards up the mountain side a lone confederate step out from behind a clump of brush and began to yell down at the union soldiers telling them all about the generals personal hygiene habits. Sherman could not let this go, so he called for three volunteers to go up and bring the rebel down. Three of the biggest blue bellies ran up the slope to carry out the general's order, but just before they got to him heckler step back behind the brush with the trio in blue in close pursuit. With in a few seconds the three big soldisers came rolling back down the mountain side stone cold dead. The intrepid man in gray once again stepped out into view and yelled down, this time detailing the generals family lineage going back at least five generations. The general called for a squad to go and fetch the man who would dare to belittle his family, and a squad of 20 ran to obey. Once again, just before they got to him he stepped back out of sight. After the sounds of a brief battle came from behind the brush, the 20 bluecoats came tumbling down, dead as door nails. A third time southern hero stepped out, this time telling one and all in minute detail, about the general's sexual preferences and fetishes. Totally enraged Sherman ordered a company to go up and bring his tormentor down dead or alive. These men charged up the mountain side determined to do their duty when once more their foe step back out of sight. After several minutes of loud combat, one lone mortally wounded private came stumbling back down, when he got to the general he warned him with his dying breath, "Run general, it's a trap, there's two of them.
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 28, 2024 23:12:53 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 29, 2024 1:17:08 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on Apr 30, 2024 1:07:21 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on May 1, 2024 1:16:03 GMT 9
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Post by LBer1568 on May 2, 2024 2:12:33 GMT 9
A man walks out to the street and catches a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabby says, “Wow, perfect timing. You’re just like Frank.” The passenger asks, “Who?” The cabby explains, “Frank Feldman. He’s a guy who did everything right all the time. Like when I came along just when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time.” The passenger remarked, “There are always a few clouds over everybody.” “Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star and you should have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy.” The passenger said, “Sounds like he was really something special.” The cabby replied, “There’s more. He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody’s birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman could do everything right.” The passenger was amazed, “Wow, what a guy!” The cabby continued, “He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank, he never made a mistake, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man! He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman.” Passenger: “How did you meet him?”
Cabby: “I never actually met Frank. He died and I married his wife
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