A To Z Challenge – J

April Challenge

I know that I published some jokes for my A To Z Challenge, under H for Humor recently, but after that sick joke of a post for the letter I….

Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Inspiration.  I’m going for a beer.  You’re on your own.

…I felt that you deserved a little more real humor, so for the letter

Letter J   I’ve decided to honor you with a few more Jokes.

***

Two blondes are walking down the street, when one of them finds a mirror. She keeps looking into it, puzzled.  “I just know I’ve seen that face somewhere.”

The other one takes it and looks into it and says. “Of course, you silly, it’s me.”

***

A lawyer and a judge went on a three-day deep sea
fishing trip. The lawyer who had never been to
sea before was green at the gills. He was
standing at the rail contemplating feeding the
fish.
The judge came up to him and asked if there was
anything he could do.
The lawyer retorted, “Yes. Overrule the motion.”

***

Q. What are the three types of men?
A. The handsome, the caring and the majority

***

Some people are sitting in a bar when one guy
says, “My name is Larry, and I am a SNAG.”
Another guy says, “What’s that?”
The first guy says, “That means I am a Single,
New Age Guy.”
Another one says, “My name is Gary, and I am a
DINK.
A girl asks, “What’s that?”
He says, “That means I am a Double Income,
No Kids.”
A woman says, “That’s nice. My name is Gertrude,
and I am a WIFE.”
Larry says, “A WIFE? What’s a WIFE?”
She says, “That means, “Wash, Iron, Fuck, Etc.”

***

Q: Why is a lawyer like a pickpocket?
A:  Need you ask?

***

If Trump is the answer, it was a stupid question!

***

Flash Fiction Redux

I am taking advantage of our Fairy Blogmother, Rochelle’s kind offer of a respite from composing Flash Fictions.  Hopefully, some of you missed this one the first time.

Fishing boat

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Georgia Koch

Walking On Water

Mischa had made his living fishing this little inland sea all his life, and his ancestors had done so for untold generations, back into the mists of time.

First the water had got thick, and saltier, then the fish had all but disappeared. Now it was the sea itself which was disappearing.  The little cottage where his parents had raised him was now half a kilometer from the new shoreline.  His fishing boat sat stranded on the mud flats.

He recently met a group of outsiders, “scientists”, studying the Aral Sea. One had taught him a new term – Global Warming.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Noble Savage

Indian

I recently read an American Thanksgiving-related post about the candy-coating of the Pilgrims/First Thanksgiving story, bemoaning the ill-treatment of the Indians (We’re indigenous – and it’s not India.), by the White Man.

They robbed graves, stole our land, enslaved us, murdered our children, forced their Christian religion upon us and gave us smallpox.”

I already question, and have problems with most of these claims, but the argument is adversarial.  If the Whites are portrayed as ‘Bad’, then the Indians must be ‘Good.’  I simply do not believe that.

The stereotype of the Red Man as friend to Earth, steward of Mother Nature’s glories, is bullshit.  This tale comes from White Man’s Guilt and media, and has been eagerly accepted and rebroadcast by the Natives.

Some years ago, there was a ‘Give A Hoot, Don’t Pollute’ TV ad, showing a bag of garbage being flung from a car onto a highway, and a proud Indian, complete with feather, weeping at the spoliation of the pristine landscape.  Problem was, the ‘Indian’ was really an Italian actor.

When the white man arrived, the Indians didn’t own the land.  They had freehold use of it by right of occupation or right of conquest.  This was the law of the land at that time.  The Whites didn’t steal it.  When they took it, they did it exactly as the Indians had been doing for centuries.

A tribe of Indians would settle in a fertile area, and begin to rape Mother Nature.  It might take several years, but, like a colony of army ants, they would strip it clean.  They would over-hunt and over-fish, until there were no deer, moose, bear, geese or fish.  Population would go up and available food would diminish, until children and old folks were starving, then they would pack up their teepees, and move to (literally) greener pastures.

If there was another tribe where they wanted to resettle, war would break out.  Men, women and children would be tortured and slaughtered, till one group or the other moved on.  The Hurons ousted the Eries.  The Iroquois forced the Hurons out, and they all took slaves from those they conquered.

In exchange for smallpox, the Indians gave the Whites syphilis, a disease unknown in Europe at that time.

Preserving culture and heritage is a great thing, but the world will move on, with, or without you.  My small hometown abutted an Indian reservation.  Back when there were still manufacturing jobs in Southern Ontario, we had four small factories in town.  Indians with sufficient pride and initiative got jobs in them, to purchase food, clothing, TVs and cars.

This was not a matter of ‘the White Man’s way’ versus ‘the Indian way.’  This was “The Canadian Way!”  Those who didn’t take jobs didn’t dress in buckskins, and hunt and fish, or gather roots and berries from the forest.  They sat around in dirty, worn clothing, on the front stoops of decaying hovels that Mississippi Negroes wouldn’t live in, waiting for their next Government cheque, so that they could buy booze.  They weren’t enslaved, or prevented from working, and most of them weren’t Christian.

One proud young Indian joined the Canadian Army, and served in Cyprus, keeping Greeks and Turks from each others’ throats.  He felt he’d like to come back to retire, and began building a house.  Every time he came home on leave, he and his friends and family worked on it, first an excavation and foundation, then framing and roof, later, walls, plumbing and wiring.

After about three years, he came home, and entered his little jewel.  While he had been away, a bunch of the stay-at-home thugs had broken into it and partied – hard! – several times!  They had built a campfire on his unprotected living room rug, burning a hole in the floor, to the basement.  At least they didn’t burn it down.

Beer bottles were smashed.  Broken glass was everywhere.  Holes had been kicked in the wall boards.  There was a large pile of excrement in one corner, but it had been smeared, by hand, on most of the walls.  He threw up his hands, said, “I don’t want to live here anymore.” and never came back.

A mile offshore in Lake Huron, there was a particularly rich area where fish fed.  For years, 3 or 4 fishing boats went out every day, set nets, and brought back hundreds of pounds of fresh fish to sell.  Finally the white man completely fished out this ‘mud hole.’

When the White Man signed a treaty with the Indians, a clause was included allowing them to hunt and fish.  Since fish boats didn’t exist here 200 years ago, it seems clear that the intent was for personal or family use.  The Indians drove a loophole in the contract.  A group of them bought one of the now-retired boats, and proceeded to scrape up the last few surviving fish.

The history of European immigration does not always show the White Man in the best of light, but a close look reveals that the Indians are neither the heroes nor the victims that many would have them be.  Because of population pressure, white men did wholesale, what Indians did retail.

 

I Don’t Give A Shit

Bedpan

Mr. Smith was in the hospital for the first time in his life and in traction.  He hit the call bell and yelled out loud enough for everybody on the hall to hear.  “Hey, Nurse!  I gotta shit”

Flustered, she came flying in the room.  Mr. Smith!  Don’t talk like that!  You’re gonna get everybody on this floor upset.  They can hear you all up and down the hall.  When you need the bedpan, just hit the call bell and say ‘#2.″  I’ll know what you need and come take care of you.”

A few minutes later Mr. Jones was admitted.  As soon as he was settled in bed, he realized he had a problem.  “Hey, Buddy.  I’m about to mess myself up here.  How do I get some help?”

Mr. Smith knew the ropes and was glad to help out.  “No problem.  I know exactly what to do.”  He got on the call bell and yelled out loud and clear, “Hey, Nurse!  Mr. Jones has gotta shit and he ain’t got a number yet!”

***
Why did the lawyer cross the road?
To get to the car accident on the other side.

***

It’s not the hop, skip and jump between twin beds that’s tiring.
It’s the long drag back.

***

A group from Chicago spent a weekend gambling in
Las Vegas. One of the men on that trip won $100,000.

He didn’t want anyone to know about it, so he
decided not to return with the others, but took
a later plane home — arriving back 3 a.m.

He immediately went out to the backyard of his
house, dug a hole and planted the money in it.
The following morning he walked outside and found
only an empty hole. He noticed footsteps leading
from the hole to the house next door, which was
owned by a deaf-mute. On the same street lived a
professor who understood sign language and was a
friend of the deaf man. Grabbing his pistol, the
enraged man went to awaken the professor and
dragged him to the deaf man’s house.

‘You tell this guy that if he doesn’t give me
back my $100,000 I’m going to kill him!’ he
screamed at the professor.

The professor conveyed the message to his friend,
and his friend replied in sign language, ‘I hid
it in my backyard, underneath the cherry tree.’

The professor turned to the man with the gun and
said, ‘He’s not going to tell you. He said he’d rather die first.’

***

Two Newfies are walking down the street.  One of them is carrying a cloth bag.  The other one says, “Have you got fish in that bag?”  “Yup.”  “If I can guess how many fish are in that bag, can I have one?”  “If you can guess how many fish I got in this here bag, you can have ‘em both.”

***

A woman goes to her doctor and says, “Doctor, my husband has developed a penchant for anal sex, so I came to you for advice.”  Ok, let’s see…does it hurt you?  Hmm… a little.  Do you like it?  Hmm… well, yes.  Then, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t do it.  If you take care about not getting pregnant.  Getting pregnant?  I didn’t know you could get pregnant in that way.  Of course you can.  Where do you think lawyers come from?

Irish Ayes Are Smilin’

Guinness

 

 

 

 

 

Two Irishmen, looking to get rich, open a pub. After a year, they’re deep in red ink. One says, “I know, let’s turn it into a brothel.” The other replies, “Don’t be daft! We can’t get ‘em to drink beer. How are we goin’ to get ‘em to drink broth??”

***

A group of chess enthusiasts had checked into a
hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing
their recent tournament victories. After about an
hour, the manager came out of the office and
asked them to disperse. “But why?” they asked,
as they moved off. “Because,” he said, “I can’t
stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.”

***

Do you know what is black and blue and found in a ditch?

A man who told one too many blonde jokes.

***

Give a man a fish and you will feed him for a day.
Teach him how to fish and you can sell him equipment.

***

Error, no keyboard – press F1 to continue.

***

The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working
the moment you get up in the morning and doesn’t
stop until you get into the office.

Robert Frost

***

The Pentagon recently found it had too many
Generals and offered an early retirement bonus.
They promised any general who retired straight
away, his full annually benefits PLUS $10,000.00
for every inch measured in a straight line along
the retiring general’s body between two points
he chose. (Something only Congress came up with!)

The first General accepted. He asked the pension man
to measure from the top of his head to the tip of
his toes. 6 feet. He walked out with a check of
$720,000.00.

The second General asked them to measure from the
tip of his outstretched hands to his toes. 8 feet!
He walked out with a check for $960,000.00.

Meantime, the first General had tipped off the
third. When he was asked where to measure, he
told the pension man. “From the tip of my penis
to my balls.” The pension man said that would be
fine, but he’d better get the Medical Officer to
do the measuring.

The Medical Officer attended and asked the
General to drop ’em. He did. The Medical Officer
placed the tape on the tip of the general’s penis
and began to work back. “My God!” he said.
“Where are your balls?”

The General replies, “In Viet Nam!”

***

The kindergarten teacher is trying to explain to
her class the definition of the word “definitely”
to them. To make sure the students have a good
understanding of the word, she asks them to use
it in a sentence.

When called upon, the first student says
“The sky is definitely blue”. The teacher
said “Well that isn’t entirely correct because
sometimes it’s gray and cloudy”.

Another student says “Grass is definitely green”.
Teacher again replies “If grass doesn’t get enough
water it turns brown, so that isn’t really correct”.

A third student raises his hand and asks the
teacher “Do farts have lumps?”  The teacher
replied, “No, and that is not a suitable question
for class discussion”. The student replies,
“Then I definitely shit my pants”.

 

Flash Fiction #35

Fishing boat

 

 

 

 

 

Walking On Water

Mischa had made his living fishing this little inland sea all his life, and his ancestors had done so for untold generations, back into the mists of time.

First the water had got thick, and saltier, then the fish had all but disappeared.  Now it was the sea itself which was disappearing.  The little cottage where his parents had raised him was now half a kilometer from the new shoreline.  His fishing boat sat stranded on the mud flats.

He recently met a group of outsiders, “scientists”, studying the Aral Sea.  One had taught him a new term – Global Warming.

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and used the Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Flash Fiction Inflation

VISTA EVENESCENT

 

tree2bcrook

 

 

 

 

 

It’s tough being nine years old, and alone.  He had climbed part-way up this big old oak tree back in the spring, but it had taken a boost from his friend Gordon, to get him up to the first forking of the trunk, where he could get handholds.  Now, Gordon was away on holidays, which was one of the reasons he was wandering his neighborhood alone.

He took a run at the tree, planted his right foot on the knee of a protruding root, lunged upward, and caught the fallen branch, stuck in the crotch.  Swiftly he climbed, and soon the tree had lifted him into its topmost branches.  Unusual in a town full of maples, this oak was the tallest tree, and sat at the top of the highest hill.  The view from up here was magnificent.

He was as high as the top of the nearby water tower, the entire town spread out below him.  Right beneath him was the park, with its empty ball diamond.  Down the hill was the arena.  He could see tiny cars, and miniature people walking.  Below him were three church roofs and bell towers.  Beyond was the main street, with its businesses.  It led right down to the lake and the beach.  The crystal blue water and the bright white sand both sparkled in the sun.

Lighthouse Lighthouse II

 

 

 

 

 

Off to the south, the sandy island sat half a mile offshore, with its stone lighthouse.  He seemed level with the top of its 100 foot tower.  A bit to the north, he could see the river mouth, with the commercial fishing boats chugging into and out of the harbor.

Boat

A block down the street, where the highway crossed the main street, stood the century-old red-brick town hall, with its four-sided clock tower.  Just this side, was the library, where he usually checked out a couple of books each week.  A block to the right was the elementary school where he would happily return to his education in a couple of weeks.

Townhall School

 

 

 

What he could see, was his entire, nine-year-old’s universe.  What he could not see, from his eagle’s perch, with his youngster’s eagle eyes, was the oncoming juggernaut of maturity, physical aging, responsibility, and social change.

All too soon, he would not have the time or the freedom, the strength or the agility, the acceptance or the inclination, to randomly wander his tiny town, talking to bullfrogs or climbing trees just for the fun of it.

Soon, like a Monarch butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, he would leave his protective, supportive home to seek training and experience, employment and income, marriage and family.  What was now his entire universe, would become first, merely the center of his greatly expanded universe, and finally, just a reflection in the time-fogged rear-view mirror of fond memory.

Instead of remaining a carefree child, he would become one of millions of parents.  While he would not do so, most of the others would allow, even urge, their millions of children to embrace myriad electronic distractions and babysitters, till they could not think or act for themselves, instead of encouraging them to read and learn.

In the name of protecting the children, the parents would cocoon them, and change them into hydroponic couch potatoes, denying them the chance to run and play, to enjoy the sun and fresh air, to commune with nature and build strong, healthy bodies and minds.  And so would begin the slow, perhaps inevitable, slide into oblivion, of the great, free society.

 

This is the expanded version of a thought which recently triggered a 100 word story on the Flash Fiction stage, along with some observations, feelings, and pretty pictures.  Much of this has previously appeared here, but I like the redecorating job.  How about you?