Jokes News

Veteran Pillsbury spokesman, The Pillsbury Doughboy, died yesterday of a severe yeast infection and complications from repeated pokes to the belly. He was 71. Doughboy was buried in a slightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out, including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, Captain Crunch, and many others.

The graveside was piled high in flours as longtime friend Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Doughboy as a man who “never knew how much he was kneaded”.

Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with many turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a roll model to millions. Doughboy is survived by his second wife, Play Dough. They have two children and one in the oven. The funeral was held at 3:50 for about twenty minutes.

Little Johnny had become a real nuisance while his father tried to concentrate on his Saturday afternoon poker game with friends and relatives. The father tried every way possible to get Johnny to occupy himself… television, ice cream, homework, video games… but the youngster insisted on running back and forth behind the players and calling out the cards they held.

The other players became so annoyed that they threatened to quit the game and all go home. At this point, the boy’s uncle stood up, took Johnny by the hand, and led him out of the room.

The uncle soon returned back to the poker table without Johnny and without comment, the game resumed. For the rest of the afternoon, little Johnny was nowhere to be seen and the cardplayers continued without any further interruptions.

After the poker game ended, the father asked Johnny’s uncle, “What in the world did you do to Johnny? I haven’t heard a peep from him all day!”

“Not much,” the boy’s uncle replied. “I just showed him how to jerk off.”

A foursome is waiting at the men’s tee when another foursome of ladies are hitting from the ladies’ tee.

The ladies are taking their time and when finally the last one is ready to hit the ball she hacks it about 10 feet, goes over to it, hacks it another ten feet and looks up at the men waiting and says apologetically, “I guess all those fucking lessons I took this winter didn’t help.”

One of the men immediately replies, “I guess not. You should have been taking golf lessons instead.”

A married couple was on holiday in Pakistan. They were touring around the marketplace looking at the goods and such, when they passed a small sandal shop. From inside they heard a gentleman with a Pakistani accent say, “You foreigners Come in. Come into my humbleshop.” So the married couple walked in.

The Pakistani man said to them, “I have some special sandals 1 think you’d be interested in. They make you wild at sex like a great desert camel.”

Well, the wife was really interested in buying the sandals after what the man had claimed, but her husband felt he really didn’t need them, being the sex hero he was. The husband asked the man, “How could sandals make you into a sex freak?”

The Pakistani man replied, “Why don’t you try them on and see for yourself?” Well, the husband, after much badgering from his wife, finally conceded to try them on. As soon as he slipped them onto his feet, he got this wild look in his eyes; something his wife hadn’t seen in many years — raw sexual power.

In a blink of an eye, the husband rushed the Pakistani man, threw him on the table and started tearing at the guy’s pants.

All the time the Pakistani man was screaming, “YOU HAVE THEM ON THE WRONG FEET!! YOU HAVE THEM ON THE WRONG FEET!!”

A woman was at the gates of Heaven when she heard screams of agony coming from within. Petrified, she asked St. Peter what was happening. He told her that they were getting holes drilled in their backs and heads for their wings and halos.

With this the lady proceeded to tell St. Peter that she would rather go to Hell. St. Peter pleaded with her not to go, for she would definitely be raped and sodomized. She told St. Peter, “I would rather go there, at least I have the holes for that…”

My teenage daughter and I were driving to school one morning when we saw banners across the highway publicizing the janitor strike in California.

Thinking this was a great opportunity to discuss current events, I started explaining the reason for the strike, the power of unions and compared the janitors to garbage collectors…deserving more money for performing a less than glamorous job.

My daughter then stated “I think garbage collectors have a really great job.”

When asked to elaborate she responded, “Well, they only work on Thursdays!” (our trash pick-up day)

Twas the night before crisis,
And behind White House doors,
Not a creature was stirring,
Especially Al Gore.

The interns were nestled,
Dressed in their berets,
In hopes that Saint Bubba
Would come out to play.

When on the East Lawn,
There arose such a clatter,
Even Sam Donaldson
Lost control of his bladder.

Away to our TVs
We flew like a flash,
There’s a special report,
And it’s pre-empting M*A*S*H!

And what to our wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a homely lil’ troll,
With tapes for us to hear.

With a K-Mart bought blazer,
And a bad frizzy ‘do,
And a tale to be told-
To me, and to you.

On the chair! On the carpet!
On the Oval Office desk!
With a chubby young intern,
Who was all eyes and chest.

The Pres had been careless,
Indeed, dumb and dumber.
Now the whole world knew
Bubba Had gotten a hummer.

And Monica Lewinsky
Emerged from the rubble,
If she’d just kept her mouth shut,
We’d not have all this trouble.

And thus set in motion,
A whole web o’ spiders,
With pundits galore,
And “White House insiders.

You ask, “Who would care
About Bill and his penis?”
Republican Ken Starr,
And he’s armed with subpoenas!

More rapid than eagles,
Process servers, they flew!
“Here’s one for you!
And for you! And you, too!”

“Now Jordan! Now Cockell!
Is there anyone else?!?
Let’s subpoena the lawyers!
And Bubba himself!!”

“We want you to tell us
About Bill’s private life,
And anyone he sleeps with,
‘cept, of course, his wife.”

And many months later,
After long we’ve all suffered,
Let’s examine more closely
Just what Starr’s uncovered.

We’ve learned “Little Bill”
Has a mind of his own,
He likes to get blown!

A funny fact surfaced,
After 40 million bucks:
Seems most people don’t care
Just who Clinton, er, makes love to.

The economy’s great,
And shows no signs of slowing.
Hell, we hope Ms. Lewinsky
NEVER stops blowing!

Now the public’s grown weary.
Will this sleaze never end?
We just want to get back
To “E.R.”, and to “Friends.”

Now Monica, Linda-
And Ken Starr, you all suck-
Get the hell off my TV,
Your 15 minutes are up.

There is one guy who needs to get to the airport within half an hour.It takes 45 minutes to get there, so he asks a cab driver ,”Can you get me to the airport within half an hour?”
The cab driver says ,”With seven dollars i can.” The guy says “Ok.” So they go, on the way theres a red light ,when the driver sees it he slams the gas. The guy in the back asks the driver ,”What in the hell are you doin crossing a red light?” The driver says proudly ,”Me and my four brothers don’t believe in red lights.” The guy says ,”Ok.” Four or five red lights pass, then a green light comes the driver slams the brakes. Starts screeching, leaves black tire marks on the road, but finally stops in time. The guy in the back asks the driver ,”What in the hell are you doin stoppin at a green light?” The driver says ,”I’m afraid I mite hit one of my four brothers.”

Father Brown was walking on the grounds of the convent when he noticed Sister Jane walking by. He thought, “Sister Jane seems to be heavier now.” So he called out to her, “Sister Jane, aren’t we gaining some weight?”

“Oh, no, Father,” said Sister Jane. “Just a little gas. That’s all.”

Two months later, Father Brown again noticed that Sister Jane seemed to be much larger than the last time he saw her. So he approached her and remarked, “Sister Jane, you seemed to be putting on much weight lately.”

“Oh, Father Brown,” said Sister Jane. “It’s a little gas. I tell you.”

A year had gone by before Father Brown saw Sister Jane again. This time she was pushing a baby carriage around the convent grounds. Father Brown went up to her, leaned over the carriage and remarked dryly, “Hmmm. Cute little fart.”