Sunday, October 23, 2005


More Irish

Two Irishmen were strolling down Fifth Avenue in New York when they walked past a bar...
Well, it could happen.
Peggy Noonan wrote that a well-balanced Irishman was one with a chip on each shoulder.
An Irish seven-course dinner: A baked potato and a six-pack of Guinness.
Oh, what's written on the bottom of a bottle of Guinness? "Open other end."
What's written on the cap? "See other end for instructions."
My favorite Irishman was one who was washed off a ship. He struggled with superhuman effort and swam and swam and swam and swam ... and finally reached some unknown shore. With his last ounce of strength, he pulled himself by his fingertips up onto the beach, barely reaching beyond high tide. After struggling to regain his breath, he raised his head and said, "If there's a government here, I'm against it."



Stranded on the proverbial desert isle with only a can of pork and beans among them were an engineer, an architect, and a Federal Reserve Board economist.
After drying out and resting, they began discussing how to open the can of beans.
The engineer said, "Oh, that's easy. We just build a fire under the can. As it heats, the contents will expand, and soon the can will burst open."
"Dumb," interrupted the architect. "All the beans will be scattered everywhere. First we should erect a building around the can so when it bursts the beans will be kept inside."
"No, no, no," said the Fed economist. "First we assume a can opener ..."



God was walking along, minding His own business, when a scientist jumped out at Him and sneered, "Hey, we don't need you any more."
God was, naturally, a little surprised, but responded, of course, politely. "What do you mean?"
The scientist said, "We don't need you. We don't. I mean, we can even create life, just as you did."
God rose to the challenge and said, "OK, let's have a showdown."
So God and the scientist met at a stadium. God reached down and picked up some dirt. The scientist reached down ...
And God interrupted, "Unh, unh, unh. Get your own dirt."


Changing light bulbs

After the first "How many Polacks does it take to change a light bulb," there came a veritable river of "how many ..." jokes.
How many he-men does it take ...?
How many Jewish mothers does it take ...?
How many psychiatrists ...?
How many preservationists ...?
How many bureaucrats ...?
This is your chance to tell the world your favorite "how many ..." joke.
Please don't use one that has as punchline "... and the rest to savor the experience."
And nothing that you wouldn't tell your very proper grandma or minister, please.
Please feel free to supply the punchline to any of the above, too.

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