Back in the time when the Samurai were important,
there was a powerful emperor who needed a new chief Samurai,
so he sent out a declaration throughout the land that he was
searching for one. A year passed, and only 3 people showed up:
A Japanese Samurai. A Chinese Samurai. A Jewish Samurai.
The emperor asked the Japanese Samurai to come in and
demonstrate why he should be the chief Samurai. The Japanese
Samurai opened a matchbox, and out popped a bumblebee. Whoosh
went his sword, and the bumblebee dropped dead on the ground
in 2 pieces. The emperor exclaimed: "That is impressive!"
The emperor then issued the same challenge to the Chinese
Samurai for him to come in and demonstrate why he should be
chosen. The Chinese Samurai also opened a matchbox, and out
buzzed a bumblebee. "Whoosh, whoosh" went his sword, and the
bumblebee dropped dead on the ground in four small pieces.
The emperor exclaimed: "That is really VERY impressive!"
Next the emperor turned to the Jewish Samurai, and asked
him also to demonstrate why he should be the head Samurai.
The Jewish Samurai also opened a matchbox, and once again
out flew a bumblebee. His flashing sword went "Whoosh, whoosh."
But the bumblebee was still alive and flying around. The
emperor, obviously disappointed, asked: "After all of that,
why is this bumblebee not dead?"
The Jewish Samurai just smiled and said: "Circumcision is
not meant to kill."
Submitted by reader M.B.
A very attractive lady goes up to a bar in a pub. She gestures
alluringly to the bartender who comes over
immediately. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he
should bring his face closer to hers.
When he does she begins to gently caress his full beard. "Are you the
manager?" she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
the man replied.
"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him" she
says, running her hands beyond his beard and into his hair.
"I'm afraid I
can't," breathes the bartender. "Is there anything I can do?
there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues, running her
forefinger across the bartender's lips and slyly
popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to
suck them gently.
"What should I tell him?" the bartender manages to say.
she whispers, "there is no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in
the ladies room."
Submitted by reader B.P.
A woman brought a very limp parrot into a veterinary surgeon. As she lay
her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the
bird's chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and
said, "I'm so sorry. Polly has passed away."
The distressed owner wailed, "Are you sure? I mean, you haven't done
any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."
The vet rolled his eyes, shrugged, turned and left the room. He returned
a few moments later with beautiful black Labrador. As the bird's owner
looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on
the examination table and sniffed the dead parrot from top to bottom. He
then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head. The vet led the dog
out, but returned a few moments later with a lovely Siamese cat.
The cat jumped up and also sniffed delicately at the ex-bird. The cat
sat back, shook its head, meowed and ran out of the room. The vet looked
at the woman and said, "I'm sorry; but as I said, your parrot is most
definitely, 100 percent certifiably dead."
He then turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a
bill which he handed to the woman. The parrot's owner, still in shock, took
the bill. "$150!" she cried. "$150 just to tell me my bird is dead?!"
The vet shrugged. "If you'd taken my word for it, the bill would only
have been $20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan..."
Submitted by reader B.P.
Zebediah was in the fertilized egg business. He had several hundred
young layers, called pullets, and eight or ten roosters, whose job was
to fertilize the eggs.
Zeb kept records, and any rooster that didn't perform well went into the
soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of Zeb's time; so, Zeb
got a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had
a different tone so that Zeb could tell, from a distance, which rooster
was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an
efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.
Zeb's favorite rooster was old Brewster. A very fine specimen he was,
too. But on this particular morning, Zeb noticed that Brewster's bell
had not rung at all! Zeb went to investigate.
The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells a-ringing. The pullets,
hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover. But, to Zeb's
amazement, Brewster had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring.
He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. Zeb
was so proud of Brewster that he entered him in the county fair.
Brewster was an immediate sensation The judges not only awarded him the
No Bell Piece Prize but also the Pulletsurprise.
Submitted by reader C.K.