Heads Or Tails

Ref

A guy took his blonde girlfriend to a super bowl game.  They had great seats right behind their team’s bench. After the game he asked her how she liked it. “Oh, I really liked it,” she replied.  “I just don’t understand why they were killing each other over 25 cents.”  Confused, her boyfriend asked, “What do you mean?”  “Well they flipped a coin, one team got it, then for the rest of the game, all they kept screaming was…‘Get the quarterback!  Get the quarterback!’  I’m like Hellooooo, it’s only 25 cents!”

***

Donald Trump meets with the Queen.

He asks her, “Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give to me?”

“Well,” says the Queen, “the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people.”

Trump frowns. “But how do I know the people around me are really intelligent?”

The Queen takes a sip of tea. “Oh, that’s easy. You just ask them to answer an intelligence riddle.”

The Queen pushes a button on her intercom. “Please send Theresa May in here, would you?”

Theresa May walks into the room. “Yes, my Queen?”

The Queen smiles. “Answer me this, please, Theresa. Your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?”

Without pausing for a moment, Theresa answers, “That would be me.”

“Yes! Very good,” says the Queen.

Back at the White House, Trump asks to speak with Vice President Mike Pence.

“Mike, answer this for me. Your mother and father have a child. It’s not your brother and it’s not your sister. Who is it?”

“I’m not sure,” says the Vice President. “Let me get back to you on that one.”

Mike Pence goes to his advisers and asks every one, but none can give him an answer. Finally, he ends up in the men’s room and recognizes General McMasters’ shoes in the next stall.

Mike shouts, “General! Can you answer this for me? Your mother and your father have a child and it’s not your brother or your sister. Who is it?

General McMaster yells back, “That’s easy. It’s me!”

Mike Pence smiles. “Thanks!” and goes back to the Oval Office to speak with Trump.

“Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It’s General McMaster.”

Trump gets up, stomps over to Mike Pence, and angrily yells in his face, “No, you idiot! It’s Theresa May!”

***

Father: “Son, you were adopted.”
Son: “I knew it.  I want to meet my biological parents.”
Father: “We are your biological parents.  Now pack up quickly, your new ones will be here to pick you up in 20 minutes.”

***

Priest

Two priests are driving down a road when they are pulled over by the cops.  The cop swings a flashlight in their faces and signals to the driver to roll down his window. “We’re searching for two child molesters,” he says.  The driver leans over to the other priest and they whisper between themselves.  Finally, he turns back to the policeman. “Ok. We’ll do it.”

 

 

Flash Fiction #159

Mammon

PHOTO PROMPT ©Jill Wisoff

 

MAMMON INC.

Buddy Bob was railing about politicians, and how they interfere with our lives, especially financially – laws, rulings, regulations, taxes, duties, levies, tariffs – control our every move, and milk us dry.

I told him that he was right – in a way – but it all started here.  Politicians are just the mouthpiece, the head of the ventriloquist’s dummy.  This is corporate America, the center of the real power behind the throne.

You don’t think Donald Trump got elected on his intellect and wit.  Those aren’t telephone lines coming from those castles; they’re marionette strings, pulled by the puppet-masters.  Speak Donald!  Dance Donald!

***

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

A To Z Challenge – O

april-challenge

Holy moly, we’ve reached the letter

letter-o

To succeed at this elongated A to Z Challenge, I have an obligation to write about some things whose names begin with O.

Let’s start with my blog-stats. That doesn’t begin with O.  Intellectually, I know that they don’t really reflect reality, or are important in themselves. Others have told me so, but still, I have that little bit of irrepressible OCD – that little bit of an obsession to obtain warm proof that I am liked and respected.

Now while it’s true that some of you folks couldn’t care less about whether others like what you write about or not, I like to make room in my rather thick Scottish skull for people who heap abundant praise on me for my writing. I like to believe that people appreciate my wit – but I’m only half right.

When a new reader makes a comment, I’ve been known to gushingly reply, and urge said visitor to return and comment – often.  I don’t know which is worse and more embarrassing, being obsequious – or being obnoxious.

Still, I am optimistic that my writing will improve and become read by more people who say that they love me – and not just in a prison sex kind of way.  I will continue to observe my stat numbers, and keep an open mind.

Well, don’t just sit there. Click ‘like.’  Heap praise.