Daily Joke: Jokes Library

The following ad in the Atlanta Journal is reported to have received numerous calls:

“Single female seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant.

I am a very good-looking girl who loves to play.

I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping, and fishing trips, cozy winter nights lying by the fire.

Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand.

Rub me the right way and watch me respond.

I’ll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me.

Kiss me and I’m yours. Call xxx-xxxx and ask for Daisy.”

Over 15,000 men found themselves talking to the local Humane Society about an eight week-old Labrador retriever.

One man was reading the newspaper in the afternoon when his wife suddenly came out from behind him and hit him in the head with the pan.

“Why did you do that?!” He shouted. “I found a piece of paper in your coat pocket, with the name ‘Suzy’ on it.” She answered.

“Jesus Christ, honey, remember that last week I went out with friends to hang out at the racing track?”

Susy was the name of the horse I was betting on.“ The woman was silent.

Three days later, as he read the newspaper again, his wife emerged from behind him and hit him again on his head with the frying pan.

“Why did you do that this time?!” He shouted. “I just wanted to let you know… your horse called.”

Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly woman walking on the side of the road.

As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the woman if she would like a ride. With a silent nod of thanks, the woman got into the car.

Resuming the journey, Sally tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the woman.

The old woman just sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying every little detail, until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.

‘What in bag?’ asked the old woman. Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, ‘It’s a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband.’

The woman was silent for another moment or two.

Then, speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, she said, ‘Good trade.’

A man and his wife were at odds and not talking to each other.

In the evening, the man suddenly remembered that he needed his wife to wake him up the next day at 5 am so he could make it in time for a business flight.

Since he did not want to be the first to break the silence, he wrote to her on a piece of paper “Please wake me up at 5 am” and left the note on the bedside table.

The next morning the man woke up only to find that it was nine o’clock and he had missed the flight.

He jumped out of bed furiously to find out why his wife had not awakened him and came across a note on his bedside table.

The note read: “it’s 5 o’clock, wake up.”

In the days of the Wild West, there was a young cowboy who wanted more than anything to be the greatest gunfighter in the world.

He practiced every minute of his spare time, but he knew that he wasn’t yet first-rate and that there must be something he was doing wrong.

Sitting in a saloon one Saturday night, he recognized an elderly man standing at the bar who in his day had the reputation of being the fastest gun in the West. The young cowboy took a place next to the old-timer, bought him a drink and told him the story of his great ambition. “Do you think you could give me some tips?” he asked.

The old man looked him up and down and said, “Well, for one thing, you’re wearing your gun too high. Tie the holster a little lower down on your leg.”

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the young man.

“Sure will,” replied the old-timer. The young man did as he was told, stood up, whipped out his 44 and shot the bow tie off the piano player.

“That’s terrific!” said the hot shot. “Got any more tips for me?”

“Yep,” said the old man. “Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer hits it. That’ll give you a smoother draw.”

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the younger man. “You bet it will,” said the old-timer.

The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a blur, then shot a cufflink off the piano player.

“Wow!” exclaimed the cowboy. “I’m learnin’ somethin’ here.. Got any more tips?”

The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. “See that axle grease over there? Coat your gun with it.”

The young man went over to the can and smeared some of the grease on the barrel of his gun. “No,” said the old-timer, “I mean smear it all over the gun, handle and all.”

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the young man.

The Old Timer said , “No, but when Wyatt gets done playing the piano, he’s gonna shove that gun up your behind, and it won’t hurt as much if it’s all greased up.”