I’m madder than a chicken who looked both ways and then got hit by a bicyclist as he crossed the road over the fact that all those great Borscht Belt comedians that I loved while growing up are dead and gone — and now there aren’t any good jokes out there!
Or aren’t there?
Look, you all know that every year at about this time I like to remind you of just how funny I am by telling a few rib-ticklers. But this year, I couldn’t think of any! Well, thank goodness my old pal Ed who used to swim with me at Brooklyn Tech e-mailed me a new batch from his rainy home in Seattle. So, without further ado, here’s a couple of knee-slappers that should bring a smile to your day. (Oh, and if they don’t, tough).
Worried that you’ll have too much to drink the New Year’s Eve? Just remember this: you are not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.
And remember, its not whether you win or lose, but how you place the blame! (I love that one!)
Here’s another gem: the good thing about Alzheimer’s disease is that you meet new people every day!
In my day they use to call these “sick” jokes. Now, they just call them “politically incorrect” :
• When blonds have more fun, do they know it?
• Learn from your parents mistakes — use birth control!
• Money isn’t everything, but it keeps the kids in touch.
• We have enough youth, so how about a fountain of smart?
• All of us are born wet, naked, and hungry. Then, things get worse!
Ok, now that I’ve got you laughing uncontrollably, it’s with great pleasure that I announce this year’s “Survival of the Fittest Award,” which were also sent to me by Ed, who I think got them from the website www.DarwinAwards.com
As you all remember, last year’s winner was the lucky fellow who was killed by a Coke machine that toppled over on him as he was trying steal a soda.
And this year’s winner was a genuine rocket scientist — and that’s no jive!
An Arizona highway patrolman came upon a pile of smoldering metal embedded in the side of a cliff rising above the road at the apex of a curve. The wreckage resembled the site of an airplane crash, only the remains were clearly a car.
Apparently, an amateur rocket scientist got hold of the type of rocket that is used to give military transport planes an extra “push” for taking off from short airfields. He drove his Chevy Impala out into the desert and found a long, straight stretch of road. He attached the jet to his car, jumped in, got up some speed, and fired!
The jet probably reached maximum thrust within five seconds, pushing the Chevy to 350 miles per hour, and continued at full power for 20–25 seconds.
For three miles, the car traveled at break-neck speeds. This was established by the melted asphalt along the road.
Epilogue: It has been calculated that this moron attained a ground speed of approximately 420-mph, though much of his voyage was not actually on the ground.
Look, I couldn’t make this stuff up! And you know something, people like this numb-nutz are all around us.
They have kids and they vote.
But after stunts like this, they will only vote … in Chicago! Ba-dump-bump
Screech at you next week!
Carmine Santa Maria wishes he was a member in good standing of the Friar's Club, but Freddie Roman always stops him at the door. E-mail him at firstname.lastname@example.org (That's Carmine, not Mr. Roman, who is a legend.