An American spy is in Soviet Russia, digging up information on a powerful Russian politician. He finds him in a bar, walks in dressed in Russian attire, pretending to be Russian. Everybody in the bar looks at him, but he keeps his cool. He orders a drink and walks to the politician...

"Greetings, comrade." says the spy, but before he could finish his sentence, the Russian says, "I think you are American spy."

The spy is alarmed, but being a skilled, trained, spy, he says, "That is not true! I am the proudest Soviet there is! I can sing the anthem more beautifully than any other man in the country!"

He then proceeds to sing the Soviet anthem, so melodically and beautifully, that everybody in the bar cheers.

"Very good, very good!" says the politician. "But I still think you are spy."

The man continues to keep his cool.

"I am a historian! I can tell you everything about this glorious country!"

He then spends about two hours recounting the Revolution, the Great Patriotic War, about how superior to the Russia is in terms of technology compared to America and makes a great argument about how communism is beneficial to society.

"Amazing! You are skilled!" says the politician.

The spy smirks.

"But I still think you American spy."

The spy is getting frustrated, but still unfazed.

He replies, "I am good drinker, a true Russian! Let us drink, and see who can come out top!"

The bar turns its attention to the politician and the spy, who are now in a drinking contest.

The bartender serves drink after drink of vodka.

After about an hour of drinking, the politician nearly passes out, unable to hold as much liquor as the spy, to a resounding cheer amongst the bar.

In the midst of the cheering, the Russian politician gets up, smiling, and in a slurred speech, repeats, "You are good, you are good... but I still think you are spy."

The American spy, piss drunk, loses his skill and gives up.

"Okay, you got me. I am an American. But what made you think that way, after all this time?"

The Russian politician replies, "There aren't many black people in Russia."

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📅︎ Jul 08 2019
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Three little pigs

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.

The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”

Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.

Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”

Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.

Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.

Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.

Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.

Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.

The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.

Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”

Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”

Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”

Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.

Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.

Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas

... keep reading on reddit ➡

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📅︎ Jan 14 2019
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