There is a chiefs picture forum. Why not a Joke Forum? It is always a pain trying to weed out all of the jokes in a single thread specially when there are thread whores who swurve the thread.
There is a chiefs picture forum. Why not a Joke Forum? It is always a pain trying to weed out all of the jokes in a single thread specially when there are thread whores who swurve the thread.
An Irishman moved into a tiny hamlet in County Kerry, walked into the pub, and promptly ordered three beers. The bartender raised his eyebrows but served the man three beers, which he drank quietly at a table, alone.
An hour later, the man had finished the three beers and ordered three more. This happened yet again. The next evening the man again ordered and drank three beers at a time, several times.
Soon the entire town was whispering about the Man Who Orders Three Beers.
Finally, a week later, the bartender broached the subject on behalf of the town. "I don't mean to pry, but folks around here are wondering why you always order three beers?"
"Tis odd, isn't it?" the man replied. "You see, I have two brothers, and one went to America and the other to Australia. We promised each other that we would always order an extra two beers whenever we drank as a way of keeping up the family bond."
The bartender and the whole town were pleased with this answer, and soon the Man Who Orders Three Beers became a local celebrity and source of pride to the hamlet, even to the extent that out-of-towners would come to watch him drink.
Then, one day, the man came in and ordered only two beers.
The bartender poured them with a heavy heart. This continued for the rest of the evening. He ordered only two beers. The word flew around town.
Prayers were offered for the soul of one of the brothers.
The next day, the bartender said to the man, "Folks around here, me first of all, want to offer condolences to you for the death of your brother. You know, the two beers and all."
The man pondered this for a moment, then replied, "You'll be happy to hear that my two brothers are alive and well. It's just that I, meself, have decided to give up drinking for Lent."
A farmer had five female pigs. Times were hard, so he decided to take them to the county fair and sell them. At the fair, he met another farmer who owned five male pigs. After talking a bit, they decided to mate the pigs and split everything 50/50.
The farmers lived sixty miles apart. So they agreed to drive thirty miles each, and find a field in which to let the pigs mate.
The first morning, the farmer with the female pigs got up at 5 a.m., loaded the pigs into the family station wagon, which was the only vehicle he had, and drove the thirty miles.
While the pigs were mating, he asked the other farmer, "How will I know if they are pregnant"?
The other farmer replied, "If they're in the grass in the morning, they're pregnant..... if they're in the mud, they're not."
The next morning the pigs were rolling in the mud. So he hosed them off, loaded them into the family station wagon again, and proceeded to try again. This continued each morning for more than a week.
One morning the farmer was so tired, he couldn't get out of bed. He called to his wife, "Honey, please look outside and tell me whether the pigs are in the mud or in the grass."
"Neither," yelled his wife, "They're in the station wagon and one of them is honking the horn."
Patton staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Kathleen.
He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.
Managing not to yell, Patton sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood.
He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.
In the morning, Patton woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Kathleen staring at him from across the room.
She said, 'You were drunk again last night weren't you?'
Patton said, 'Why you say such a mean thing?'
'Well,' Kathleen said, 'it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly ....... it's all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.
Did you know UPS and FedEx are merging?
The new name is going to be FedUp
Oilfield math
A 15 mpg clunker that travels 12,000 miles a year uses 800 gallons of gas a year.
A 25 mpg vehicle that travels 12,000 miles a year uses 480 gallons a year.
So, the average Cash for Clunkers transaction will reduce US gasoline consumption by 320 gallons per year.
They claim 700,000 clunkers were turned-in, so that's 224 million gallons saved per year.
That equates to a bit over 5 million barrels of oil.
5 million barrels is about 5 hours worth of US consumption.
More importantly, 5 million barrels of oil at $70 per barrel costs about $350 million dollars So, the government paid $3 billion of our tax dollars to save $350 million.
We spent $8.57 for every dollar we saved.
I'm pretty sure they will do a great job with our health care, though.
Bookmarks