Lateral Pass Puns

The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.

Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."

He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."

So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.

He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."

That’s karma in real life

An engineer who was unemployed for a long time decided to open a medical clinic. He puts a sign outside the clinic: "A cure for your ailment guaranteed at $500; we'll pay you $1,000 if we fail."

A Doctor thinks this is a good opportunity to earn $1,000 and goes to his clinic.

Doctor: "I have lost my sense of taste."

Engineer: "Nurse, please bring the medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in the patient's mouth."

Doctor: "This is Gasoline!"

Engineer: "Congratulations! You've got your taste back. That will be $500."

The Doctor gets annoyed and goes back after a couple of days later to recover his money.

Doctor: "I have lost my memory, I cannot remember anything."

Engineer: "Nurse, please bring the medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in the patient's mouth."

Doctor: "But that is Gasoline!"

Engineer: "Congratulations! You've got your memory back. That will be $500."

The Doctor leaves angrily and comes back after several days, more determined than ever to make his money back.

Doctor: "My eyesight has become weak."

Engineer: "Well, I don't have any medicine for this. Take this $1,000," passing the doctor a $500 note.

Doctor: "But this is $500..."

Engineer: "Congratulations! You've got your vision back! That will be $500."

I really want to have a daughter and name her Zelda.

I imagine, as she gets older she will spend all her time writing sick poetry and rhymes in her journal, growing her hair down to her back, not to spite me, but so she can donate it later, and expand her wit by studying improv comedy through highschool.

As she becomes famous, I hope she will invite me to one of her rap battles and put me in the front row. My heart will grow as she takes the stage, but fatherly intuition tells me something is wrong...Zelda is frozen at the microphone.

I see her up on the stage, eyes alight with fright, hair pulled tight into a bun. She and I lock eyes, a moment of silence passes and serenity slowly enters...THIS is the moment we have been waiting for all our lives.

Looking up calmly, I couldn't be more proud as I exclaim, "Rap puns, Zel. Rap puns, Zel! Let down your hair!"

The poster reads:

"Must be able to type. Must be able to program. And must be bilingual. We are an equal opportunity employer."

The dog takes the poster in his mouth, and walks in. The manager spots the dog, and decides to humour it, pulling up a chair and a computer with a word processor. "Alright, if you want to work here, you need to first write a letter," and leaves the room.

30 minutes later, he comes back in, and the dog has typed out a completely error-free letter.

"Well, I'll be. This is a smart dog. But can he program?" he asks himself.

20 minutes pass, and the dog has made a perfectly running website for the store.

He looks, shocked, at the dog, and finally speaks. "Look, I know you have the qualifications, but, well... you're a dog."

The dog nudges the words "We are an equal opportunity employer." on the poster, and the manager sighs.

"There's no way you're bilingual."

The dog looks him in the eyes, and says, "Meow."

The bartender replies, "I'm sorry, but you're a rope. I can't serve you, and I'm not even sure how I could. Please leave."

A short time later, the rope comes back into the bar and asks for a beer.

The bartender, a bit annoyed at the situation, says, "Look, I told you I can't serve you. Just go away."

A few hours later, the rope comes back in again.

The bartender is getting mad now. "Look, I told you twice that I can't serve alcohol to a rope! Now get out and STAY OUT!"

Dejectedly, the rope leaves the bar and sits at the curb until a gentleman passes by. Suddenly, the piece of rope has an idea.

"Excuse me", says the rope, "but could you do me a favor?"

"Um... me?" says the puzzled gentleman. "Uh... I guess so..."

"Great! I just need you to tie a big ol' knot right in my middle."

"Well," says the gentleman. "I just so happens I was a former Eagle Scout. Here you go," and ties a perfect knot in the rope. "Will that be all?"

The rope pauses for a second and says, "Actually, could you pull apart my ends and unravel them for a bit?"

The gentleman obliges and goes on his merry way. The piece of rope, satisfied at its new appearance, heads back into the bar.

Furious, the bartender shouts, "HEY! Aren't you that same piece of rope I kicked out three times already?!?"

"No, I'm a frayed knot."

Two old guys, Abe and Sol, are sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons and talking about baseball, like they do every day. Abe turns to Sol and says, "Do you think there's baseball in heaven?"

Sol thinks about it for a minute and replies, "I dunno. But let's make a deal: if I die first, I'll come back and tell you if there's baseball in heaven, and if you die first, you do the same."

They shake on it and sadly, a few months later, poor Abe passes on.

One day soon afterward, Sol is sitting there feeding the pigeons by himself when he hears a voice whisper, "Sol... Sol..."

Sol responds, "Abe! Is that you?"

"Yes it is, Sol," whispers Abe's ghost.

Sol, still amazed, asks, "So, is there baseball in heaven?"

"Well," says Abe, "I've got good news and bad news."

"Gimme the good news first," says Sol.

Abe says, "Well... there is baseball in heaven."

Sol says, "That's great! What news could be bad enough to ruin that!?"

Abe sighs and whispers, "You're pitching on Friday."

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

So I was waiting in the car while my parents were waving off my sister to go on a school trip.

I’m on my phone, chilling out when I suddenly see a girl of about 4 or 5 with her mother walking past. They are talking but all I catch is the little girl saying:

“The wedding was so emotional, even the cake was crying!”

I found this hilarious, and later passed it on to my father who then said

“If the little girl wanted to be smart, she should of said ‘the cake was in tears’” (as in tiers of a cake)

I just face palmed at this moment 🤦🏻‍♀️

It's been about a year since my dad passed away unexpectedly. The grief hits me in weird waves sometimes, but one of the things that ALWAYS brings a smile to my face is a joke he kept going for YEARS.

It started in line at Costco years and years ago:

Dad: [pointing over to a sign in the pharmacy] What does that say?

Me: Hearing aids.

Dad: What?

Me: HEARING AIDS

Dad: WHAT?!

A year or so later, at a charity event banquet, a police officer was speaking...

Officer: ...these funds have helped cover numerous medical expenses for those in need, including vision tests, hearing aids...

Dad: [leans over to me] What did he say?

Me: [whispers] Hearing aids.

Dad: What?

Me: Hearing aids.

Then we both burst out laughing and had to keep it together at this fancy dinner.

My dad did this for YEARS. And was masterful at waiting JUST long enough so that I had forgotten the joke and would fall for it every time. It was basically a years-long dad-joke ambush.

My mum said this to my dad in hospital last week. His reply was "Hello Doctor Yesterday!"...sad to say he passed a couple of days later, but it was such a perfect dad joke I had to share.

There once was a man who had a job driving a passenger train between two large towns. It could be a very dull job to some, but as the old saying goes, one man's trash is another's gold; he wanted to be a railroad man since he was a boy.

He was a wiz behind the controls of the train, and commanded the 15 car vehicle effortlessly as if he had been born to do the job. He prided himself on the fact that he could bend the rules and speed through curves and grades that made other motormen shiver and back off.

One day however, he wasn't so lucky and came round a bend too fast and derailed his train. He backed off the throttle and braked as much as he could, managing to only have one fatality out of 500 passengers on his train.

Months later there was a trial and he was found guilty of manslaughter in the highest degree, a capital offence in that land, and sentenced to die by electric chair. Punishment came swift, unlike most places, and 3 days after sentencing the former railroader was asked for his last meal.

"I'll have a banana," "Just a single banana?" said the perplexed guard. "The warden will grant you a feast and all you want is that?"

"Just a single banana." he said.

After he downed the fruit, he was strapped into the electric chair an hour later.... The warden hit the switch, lights flickered, and the crackle of electricity could be heard for over a minute...

...but our train jockey instead rose from the chair looking more like he got a stiff massage, rather than be put to death! Well in that nation, the law of the land states that if a man somehow survives being put to death, they must be set free...

...And so it came to pass that our engineer was let go...

And for whatever reason, he got his job back!

So he was back railroading again doing the job that he loved. You'd think he'd have been more cautious with this second chance he'd been given, but you'd also be wrong. Speedy Gonzales with a train license decided to gun his locomotive to hard and send it off the tracks again!

Of course, this time he was tried for the same crime, but at a different time (his was a fair commonwealth and double indemnity was simply unheard of!) So fair was their nation, that the jury came up with the same judgement and punishment. So three days later, when asked for his last meal, the engineer simply said "I'll have 2 bananas..."

Not less than 60 minutes after consuming the last morsel was he strapped into the chair and the switch thrown... And....

NOTHING.

OK... so did you ever notice how every time you spend 4 days alone in the woods and you make it out without a scratch or even a mosquito bite, and you're feeling all peaceful and relaxed and at one with the universe, you're not home 20 minutes and unloading the back of your truck when you slam your right shin into the trailer hitch... and amid the flashing white stars around you, your fists clench, your teeth grit, your body tenses and every "mean, nasty and ugly" word you ever read, heard, uttered or even imagined ("Wait... is #*&%#@!!! even a word??? Oh what the heck? It works!") goes tearing through your brain.... and eventually it passes and you keep working, surprised you're not even limping and it doesn't hurt more than it does... and almost an hour later, when you're finished and getting undressed to take your first hot shower in days, you see a lump on your shin the size of Rhode Island... and the first image that pops into your head is John Merrick yelling "I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!!!... in fact, it literally looks like a second knee on your right leg... so you spend the rest of the evening keeping it elevated and icing it on and off, alternating between a blue gel pack and a bag of frozen peas.... and when you go to bed, you keep the gel pack on while you read and then take it off before you go to sleep... and then you wake up around 3AM and decide to check your shin and the swelling has gone down quite a bit... but since you still have several hours before you get up, you decide to ice it again... but the gel pack on the floor is no longer cold so you get up, walk to the kitchen and open the fridge... and after taking a bite of leftover pizza from last night (because... well, you're here and what the heck?), you go into the freezer, grab the bag of frozen peas and take them back to bed with you... but they're all frozen into one big solid ball and well, that won't do... so you lay the bag on the bed to pound it once or twice to break them up, but instead the bag bursts open and suddenly there are frozen peas sprayed all over the bed and rolling onto the floor... and all those words from yesterday come rushing back into your head as you kneel to gather them all up... but suddenly your anger completely vanishes and you can't help laughing to yourself as you think, "gee, I can't remember the last time I pea'd the bed in the middle of the night"???

When I worked for a design agency, I had two adamant higher-ups. There was a brand identity project for a new company, and I was in charge of typography, but those two disagreed with my choice of font.

The first one was this stony-looking Peruvian-American man named Esteban Ferrero, but since that's Spanish for Steven Smith, and our company had a rule that everyone has to call each other using nicknames instead of last names, everyone, including himself, just called him Steve. The second one was a Dutch woman with a sharp glare named Evelien van der Berg. She was famous for giving designers a hard time convincing her that their design choices work better than hers. In accordance with the company rules, we called her Eve.

Anyway, I showed Steve my first draft, and he wasn't convinced that I chose LinoLetter as the main font, and told me that I should use a sans-serif font. But I stood by my position that serifs add legibility to printed and digital material, that it fits the company's identity as an organic store, and that it is hard to stand out with a sans-serif. It took a lot of debate, but in the end, Steve was convinced that LinoLetter was acceptable.

A few days later, I showed Eve a more elaborated version, as for the sizes and styles of the font, and the pairing of LinoLetter with Century as the headline font. She insisted that I should have used a sans-serif font for the headline. I expressed my view that LinoLetter is a font with composed and legible shape, and Century, while it is also legible, has flair at larger sizes. She kept disagreeing with me, saying I should use something bolder and more contrasting, like Tungsten. It felt like hours had passed before the conversation went anywhere, so I had to give up and look for a sans-serif font that goes with LinoLetter.

So it goes to show that the one who gave me a hard time was adamant Eve, not adamant Steve.

There was a woman who was pregnant with twins. Labour was imminent, so she was taken to the hospital to give birth. Her husband was stuck at the office, so her brother, who is a little bit kooky and not the sharpest knife in the drawer, went along with her.

Everything goes well in the delivery room, and she becomes the mother to two healthy children, a girl and a boy. The pregnancy took a lot out of her and she promptly passed out from exhaustion shortly after the birth.

A little while later, the father shows up, all excited to hear about his new kids. The wife's brother is in the waiting room when he arrives.

Husband: "How'd it go?"

Wife's brother: "It went great! Your wife gave birth to a healthy girl and a healthy boy!"

Husband: "That's amazing! Thanks so much for coming down with her."

Wife's brother: "No problem. She passed out after giving birth, so when the doctor came to get their names recorded, I handled it all."

Husband: gulps "Oh really?"

Wife's brother: "Yup. I named your daughter Denise."

Husband: "Denise. Well, that's not so bad now, is it? And my boy? What's my boy's name?"

Wife's brother: "Well, naturally he's Denephew."

A man sees a priest buying hard liquor on a Sunday at a shop down the street from the church the priest is the pastor of. Surprised, the man, who went to that church, asked why he was buying a 5th of Jagermeister.

The priest said, "it's an old catholic secret that Jagermeister helps ease constipation, which one of the nuns has.

So the guy shrugs and leaves, only to see the priest later that day, not halfway back to the church, drunk as a skunk in the gutter, tipping the brown paper bag with Jagermeister in it all the way back as he drinks it.

He pulls up in his car and asks, "I thought you said it was for a nun's constipation!?"

The priest grunted, "It is! She's going to shit herself when she sees me like this!"

I'm posting this, my grandfather's joke, in honor of him passing a few months ago.

My dad's favorite joke of all time (there are many variations, and of course, even more extended versions):

These three guys went to South America to explore the rain forest. The guide was leading them through explaining the different plants and animals. After awhile they started to hear this really loud sound.

whoosh

whoosh

whoosh

The men, kind of scared, asked the guide what the noise was.

"What the hell is that noise?"

"Oh, that's just the Foo bird."

"The Foo bird?"

"Yes, it's a giant bird, and the locals believe that if it poops on you, wiping it off will cause instant death."

"That's silly."

"Well, that's what the locals say."

The noise gets louder and closer.

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

The men look up in the sky and see a glimpse of the Foo bird.

"It's huge!"

Suddenly...

SPLAT

All four of the men are covered with bird shit. The guide pulls a cloth out of his pocket and wipes the shit off of his face. He drops dead.

The first of the three men says, "that's got to be a coincidence."

He wipes the shit off, and drops dead.

The second guy nervously says, "it can't be true"

He wipes it off and drops dead.

The third guy doesn't wipe it off. He was found a few days later, and went home, refusing to be cleaned.

A few years pass, his life has been destroyed due to being covered in shit. His wife left him, his friends won't come near him, he can't find a job... One day, he's in the bathroom shaving around the shit.

"It's been years, most of it has flaked off, it's probably fine to wipe it off now."

He hesitates, but eventually grabs a towel, wets it down, and takes a deep breath.

He wipes the shit off, looks up into the mirror smiling, then drops dead.

The moral of the story is:

If the Foo shits, wear it.

So some friends and I were at the breakfast buffet at a hotel (road trip).

Friend #1: Hey look, deviled eggs!

Me: No those are just boiled eggs.

Other friend: Yea deviled eggs are prepared with some other stuff in it.

Friend #1: Yea yea whatever

15 minutes later, going for seconds

Friend #1: Hey, pass me a deviled egg.

All of us: It's just boiled, not deviled!

Friend #1: Relax, I'm just yolking around.

He was too proud of that one. Us, not so much..

Note: Quality Very Varying (I see what I did there) and sometimes subject to specialist knowledge. So I apologise in advance. Shame me with your better puns.

While I was languishing in the Language Centre, doing some semantics antics and considering how all the other linguistics students despised and derided me, I was accosted by a stout man with large glasses who made me a preposition. It was that I should collect terrible puns, to do with linguistics, in order to ingratiate myself yet further with the other linguistics students (including even the phonetics fanatics).

I'm struggling to think of a pun to do with grammaticality that both makes sense and "Is grandma tickly?" correct. I'm also stuck on 'morphologician'. (I'm not actually sure that's a particularly logical word for the subject, though I guess that's more for, er, more for a logician to worry about.)

The problem I have with writing about phonological variation is that one is constantly forced to choose between being fun or logical - very Asian!I always get in trouble with electricians, they think I'm calling them a 'dialectician' whereas in fact I'm just saying "Die, electrician."

I like pscycholinguistics – the only department of linguistics where it’s acceptable to wear a cycle helmet. My Australian accent is terrible but I like to think my Sath Efrican one is predicate. My favourite accent is Received Pronunciation, because it is the accent chiefly used by invisible Japanese people who are ordered online. When the first recipient of an invisible Japanese person got the parcel, they wrote a complaint saying "Received but can't see Asian" and the name stuck.

Why did the speakers whose native languages weren't English, but whose only shared language was English, but they weren't very good at it and kept on having to stop to think about it, stop talking to one another? They came to an agreement. (Get it? If not, write your answer on a pastecard and paste it to the below address.)

What did the 'a' say to the 'the'? "You definitely are ticklish, 'the'!"

Why was the small man eaten by the large bear, which was proportionately bigger than him? It had, er, relative claws.

I think the reason there are so many speakers of Russian is because they all partake in an activity called "copulae shun". (Ok, ok, I know, that was Pushkin it.)

I know a man called Hillary who can, might, should, did, must, shall and will ride an ox. We call him "Ox Hillary".

I always think the verb 'to be' in the senten

There was a boy in high school named Bonnie. As you can imagine, he was bullied and picked on because of his strange name. This lead to social anxiety and a few other issues, but there was one girl who helped him through all of his pain. He had a huge crush on this girl, and after weeks of psyching himself up, he asked her to the school dance coming up.

Much to his delight, he said yes, and off to the dance they went. They had a great time and shortly after, started dating. They spent a lot of time together, calling, texting and always hanging out. They were meant for each other. They continued dating after high school, into college. On their graduation day, he proposed to her on the stage. He was nervous about asking her in public like this, but as he got down on one knee, her face lit up, tears formed in her eyes. He asked her to marry him, she said yes and the crowd cheered.

Fast forward a few years, they've bought their own house, and she's now pregnant with their first child. In the delivery room, Bonnie is standing by her side, their newborn child in her arms.

"I love you so much, hon." Bonnie told his wife, holding one of her hands. "You can name our baby girl anything you wise." he told her.

"Love. I want to name her Love." she replied, looking into his eyes. Bonnie was surprised by the strange name, and at first hesitant to agree, but he told her she could name their daughter anything. He nods in agreement and they carry on with their lives.

Fourteen years later, as with what happened with Bonnie, Love was picked on in high school for her strange name. One day, Love came home crying.

"What's wrong, Love?" Bonnie asked her worriedly.

"I hate you! Why did you give me such a stupid name?!" she screamed at him. She was furious. She was tired of the teasing and the mockery in high school. In a fit of rage, she pulled out Bonnie's handgun she had found in his night stand. She pulled the trigger and a bullet passed into Bonnie's chest.

Love panicked and ran away, and Bonnie's wife came after hearing the gun shot. She ran to Bonnie's side, picking his head up in her hands. She asked him what had happened.

"Shot through the heart... And you're to blame..." He said, weakly. "You gave Love... A bad name."

Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.

The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.

Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.

For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.

On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.

Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.

Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken

Doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, so we went our separate ways. Couple of hours later I called him to see where he was. This is how our phone call went down:

Me: Hiya Dad, where are you?

Dad: I'm just in Boots.

Me: Well, Justin, could you pass the phone to my dad please?

I won't forget about this.

Note: even though my great grandmother made this joke I feel it was dad-joke worthy.

While visiting my great grandmother (she's 96 yrs old during this time) recently she asked my dad for a foot massage, my dad happily obliged. She told him that he'd made her so proud in life to have a grandson like him and how wonderful he is while receiving the foot massage. My dad have the best massage he could muster for a good 30 minutes before he was too tired to continue. When my dad had finished massaging her feet he asked "how was that grandma?" Which she replied with "I haven't felt anything in my feet in 10 years" then she burst out laughing to the best that her health would allow. She passed away a few weeks later, she always played jokes on us even to her last days. Thanks for reading.

Rest in peace great grandma

TL:DR grandma needs new legs.

A little boy was sitting on the curb with a gallon of turpentine, shaking it up and watching all the bubbles. A while later a Priest came along and asked the little boy what he had. The little boy replied, "This is the most powerful liquid in the world, it's called turpentine." The Priest said, "No, the most powerful liquid in the world is Holy Water. If you take some of this Holy Water and rub it on a pregnant woman's belly, she'll pass a healthy baby." The little boy replied, "You put a drop of this turpentine on a cat's ass, he'll pass a motorcycle!"

A friend was reading the news story aloud.

Friend: "After shopping, she wandered behind Wal-Mart where authorities found her later." Me: "So...what you're saying is, she shopped til' she dropped?"

Rolled eyes and disgruntled moans were passed all around.

I pass by this machine they have that shakes the trees and say to my son, "That thing shakes the squirrels out." I continue walking, smug in my own hilarity, and about 15 feet later one of the workers tells my kids, "That's for shaking out the squirrels." DADS

The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.

Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."

He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony, and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."

So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.

He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."

A dog sees a "Now hiring" poster outside of a computer store. The poster reads:

"Must be able to type. Must be able to program. And must be bilingual. We are an equal opportunity employer."

The dog takes the poster in his mouth, and walks in. The manager spots the dog, and decides to humour it, pulling up a chair and a computer with a word processor. "Alright, if you want to work here, you need to first write a letter," and leaves the room.

30 minutes later, he comes back in, and the dog has typed out a completely error-free letter.

"Well, I'll be. This is a smart dog. But can he program?" he asks himself.

20 minutes pass, and the dog has made a perfectly running "Hello, world" program.

He looks, shocked, at the dog, and finally speaks. "Look, I know you have the qualifications, but, well... you're a dog."

The dog nudges the words "We are an equal opportunity employer." on the poster, and the manager sighs.

"There's no way you're bilingual."

The dog looks him in the eyes, and says, "Meow."