Humor Plucked from Scribe’s Inbox
“You decide ‘feather’ or not it’s fowl or funny.”
A priest was being honored at his retirement dinner after 25 years in the parish. A leading local politician and member of the congregation were chosen to make the presentation and give a little speech at the dinner.
However, the politician was delayed, so the priest decided to say his own few words while they waited. “I got my first impression of the parish from the first confession I heard here. I thought I had been assigned to a terrible place.
The very first person who entered my confessional told me he had stolen a television set and, when questioned by the police, was able to lie his way out of it. He had stolen money from his parents, embezzled from his employer, had an affair with his boss’s wife, taken illegal drugs, and gave VD to his sister.
I was appalled. But as the days went on I learned that my people were not all like that and I had, indeed, come to a fine parish full of good and loving people.”…
Just as the priest finished his talk, the politician arrived full of apologies at being late. He immediately began to make the presentation and gave his talk. “I’ll never forget the first day our parish priest arrived,” said the politician. “In fact, I had the honor of being the first person to go to him for confession.”
Moral: Never, Never, Never Be Late!
Must have been a Republican. Wait, maybe not. Joe NO-momentum… was that you? Scribe always knew you were too much of a hypocrite to be a Jew.
CANNIBAL RESTAURANT
A cannibal was walking through the jungle and came upon
a restaurant operated by a fellow cannibal. Feeling
somewhat hungry, he sat down and looked over the menu…
Broiled Missionary: $10.00
Fried Explorer: $15.00
Baked Democrat: $20.00
Grilled Republican: $100.00
The cannibal called the waiter over and asked,
‘Why such a price difference for the Republican?’
The cook replied, “Have you ever tried to clean one?
They’re so full of crap, it takes all morning.
Scribe’s Somewhat Little Known Facts
“Because the media refuses to do it’s goddamn job, Scribe has to.”
Did you know Rummy’s get away place, that he bought for a song, is on top of “Mt. Misery?” It’s twue! It’s twue! Mt. Misery used to be the place where they broke slaves who dared to escape from their masters.
How appropriate is THAT?
Yesterday the slaves… today the country, tomorrow… THE WORLD!
Junior’s Dreams
“Class! Class! It’s time to talk about your favorite dreams again.”
Junior’s hand is already up. The rest of the class is busy doing duck and cover because they’re so damn frightened of King Junior.
“Anyone? Anyone but Junior? SIGH. OK, Junior and don’t say…”
“Anyding with death, killing, blown up or bloated; floating bodies…”
“Yes, yes, Junior. We already KNOW that. You say it every time. But I want to know about specific dreams…”
Junior’s favorite dream #1
Junior, sipping a mint julep, creaks the rocking chair on the plantation house porch while Condi is half naked, sitting on his lap.
“Dem niggers shuuure gettin uppity up on da hill. Time to drag out da anthrax laced whip again, ors maybes I bribe Binny Boy again through da Talibhan likes I dids before 9/11.”
Condi kissed Junior, shoving her long, forked snake tongue way down his throat.
Junior starts to choke and shoves her off his lap.
“Nows yous knows Is don’t like dat ever since da pretzel. Besides, Is rader haff you wrap that ding around my forked… wells, anysway. Doncha lets Ms. Laura catcha doin dat. Kinda upsets her.”
“Yes, Master,” Condi said with that smile Junior had sewn permanently into her lips while she unzipped… as he said, “Precious, precious, precious, the one puts the lotion onto the…”
______________________________________________
“JUNIOR, that’s quite enough!”
The teacher was frustrated with him, as usual.
We can hear the sound of retching under some of the desks.
“Doesn’t anyone else have a dream…”
“Anyding with death, killing, blown up or bloated; floating bodies…”
“JUNIOR…”
But the little ego-bloated twerp was already into…
______________________________________________
Junior’s favorite dream #2
Swinging down from a tree on a rope, Junior grabbed the purse from the poor, barefooted women walking with her naked children.
“But it’s all that I have.”
“Shuts up wench! Is Robin Hood. Is give to the rich corporate ahhhhsholes cause dey jus like me!”
“I have rights!”
“Nots anys more bitch. My not so merry men Friar Gonzo and HERRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEES Johnny Ashcrap tooks dem too!”
_______________________________________________
“JUNIOR. THAT IS ENOUGH!”
“Buts Is hafnt even tolds ya about being a pirate on da bad ship Halliburpton, or makin poor peoples walk da Enron plank, or placing horse hads on Demorats beds, or…”
“JUNIOR! I have to talk with your mother again?”
Junior is obviously scared shitless.
“No, please, anything but that! She’s meaner dan a closs betweens a wolvereen ands a Tashmahnian she bitch thats’ just bun slapped bys Anns Kunter!”
“OK, class. Now, what about bad dreams?”
They all point, while shivering with fear from under their desks, at Junior, while Junior raises his hand.
“This should be good for laughs. OK, Junior, what’s the worst dream you’ve every had?”
In a hushed whisper Junior just barely got out these words…
“A burning peace syhmbul ons mies lawn.”
Ye Olde Scribe Presents: Junior’s Dreams
Humor Plucked from Scribe’s Inbox
“You decide ‘feather’ or not it’s fowl or funny.”
Must have been a Republican. Wait, maybe not. Joe NO-momentum… was that you? Scribe always knew you were too much of a hypocrite to be a Jew.
Scribe’s Somewhat Little Known Facts
“Because the media refuses to do it’s goddamn job, Scribe has to.”
Did you know Rummy’s get away place, that he bought for a song, is on top of “Mt. Misery?” It’s twue! It’s twue! Mt. Misery used to be the place where they broke slaves who dared to escape from their masters.
How appropriate is THAT?
Yesterday the slaves… today the country, tomorrow… THE WORLD!
Junior’s Dreams
“Class! Class! It’s time to talk about your favorite dreams again.”
Junior’s hand is already up. The rest of the class is busy doing duck and cover because they’re so damn frightened of King Junior.
“Anyone? Anyone but Junior? SIGH. OK, Junior and don’t say…”
“Anyding with death, killing, blown up or bloated; floating bodies…”
“Yes, yes, Junior. We already KNOW that. You say it every time. But I want to know about specific dreams…”
Junior’s favorite dream #1
Junior, sipping a mint julep, creaks the rocking chair on the plantation house porch while Condi is half naked, sitting on his lap.
“Dem niggers shuuure gettin uppity up on da hill. Time to drag out da anthrax laced whip again, ors maybes I bribe Binny Boy again through da Talibhan likes I dids before 9/11.”
Condi kissed Junior, shoving her long, forked snake tongue way down his throat.
Junior starts to choke and shoves her off his lap.
“Nows yous knows Is don’t like dat ever since da pretzel. Besides, Is rader haff you wrap that ding around my forked… wells, anysway. Doncha lets Ms. Laura catcha doin dat. Kinda upsets her.”
“Yes, Master,” Condi said with that smile Junior had sewn permanently into her lips while she unzipped… as he said, “Precious, precious, precious, the one puts the lotion onto the…”
______________________________________________
“JUNIOR, that’s quite enough!”
The teacher was frustrated with him, as usual.
We can hear the sound of retching under some of the desks.
“Doesn’t anyone else have a dream…”
“Anyding with death, killing, blown up or bloated; floating bodies…”
“JUNIOR…”
But the little ego-bloated twerp was already into…
______________________________________________
Junior’s favorite dream #2
Swinging down from a tree on a rope, Junior grabbed the purse from the poor, barefooted women walking with her naked children.
“But it’s all that I have.”
“Shuts up wench! Is Robin Hood. Is give to the rich corporate ahhhhsholes cause dey jus like me!”
“I have rights!”
“Nots anys more bitch. My not so merry men Friar Gonzo and HERRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEES Johnny Ashcrap tooks dem too!”
_______________________________________________
“JUNIOR. THAT IS ENOUGH!”
“Buts Is hafnt even tolds ya about being a pirate on da bad ship Halliburpton, or makin poor peoples walk da Enron plank, or placing horse hads on Demorats beds, or…”
“JUNIOR! I have to talk with your mother again?”
Junior is obviously scared shitless.
“No, please, anything but that! She’s meaner dan a closs betweens a wolvereen ands a Tashmahnian she bitch thats’ just bun slapped bys Anns Kunter!”
“OK, class. Now, what about bad dreams?”
They all point, while shivering with fear from under their desks, at Junior, while Junior raises his hand.
“This should be good for laughs. OK, Junior, what’s the worst dream you’ve every had?”
In a hushed whisper Junior just barely got out these words…
“A burning peace syhmbul ons mies lawn.”