A grandmother took her little grandson to the
beach. They were having a good time until a huge wave came in and swept
the boy out to sea!
The grandmother fell on her knees and cried to the heavens: “Please, Lord, return my grandson! Please! PLEASE!!!”
Lo and behold, a wave swelled from the ocean and deposited the drenched child at her feet. She checked him over head to toe. He was fine!
The grandmother looked up to the heavens again and said sternly: “He had a hat.”
Q: What do you call
someone with no body and no nose?
A: Nobody knows.
Q: What is the least spoken language in the world?
A: Sign language.
Q: Why did the invisible man turn down the job offer?
A: He couldn’t see himself doing it.
Two Wrongs Make A Riot
An older couple is having dinner in a restaurant. The
wife sees another couple about their age sitting in a booth nearby. She sees
the husband sitting close to his wife, with his arm around her. He is
whispering things in her ear, and she is smiling and blushing. He’s gently
rubbing her shoulder and touching her hair.
The woman turns to her husband and says, “Look at the couple over there. Look how close that man is to his wife, how he’s talking to her. Look at how sweet he is. Why don’t you ever do that?”
Her husband looks up from his Caesar salad and glances over at the next booth. Then he turns to his wife and says, “Honey, I don’t even know that woman.”
“Some marriages are made in heaven, but so are thunder and lightning.”
Arbitrator \ar’-bi-tray-ter\: A cook that leaves
Arby’s to work at McDonald’s.
Avoidable \uh-voy’-duh-buhl\: What a bullfighter tries to do.
Baloney \buh-lo’-nee\: Where some hemlines fall.
Bernadette \burn’-a-det\: The act of torching a mortgage.
Burglarize \bur’-gler-ize\: What a crook sees with.
Control \kon-trol’\: A short, ugly inmate.
Counterfeiters \kown-ter-fit-ers\: Workers who put together kitchen cabinets.
Eclipse \i-klips’\: What an English barber does for a living.
Eyedropper \i’-drop-ur\: A clumsy ophthalmologist.
Heroes \hee’-rhos\: What a guy in a boat does.
Parasites \par’-uh-sites\: What you see from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Pharmacist \farm’-uh-sist\: A helper on the farm.
Polarize \po’-lur-ize\: What penguins see with.
Primate \pri’-mat\: Removing your spouse from in front of the TV.
Relief \ree-leef’\: What trees do in the spring.
Rubberneck \rub’-er-nek\: What you do to relax your wife.
Seamstress \seem’-stres\: Describes 250 pounds in a size six.
Selfish \sel’-fish\: What the owner of a seafood store does.
Subdued \sub-dood’\: Like, a guy, like, works on one of those, like, submarines, man.
Sudafed \sood’-a-fed\: Bringing litigation against a government.
When our grandchildren were visiting late last summer, they went out to catch lightning bugs one night. As 3-year-old Carl put one in a jar, he looked up at me and asked, “Grandma, what size batteries do these bugs take?”
Two Jewish men, “Sid” and “Al,”
were sitting in a Mexican restaurant. Sid asked Al, “Are there any people
of our faith born and raised in Mexico?”
Al replied, “I don’t know, let’s ask our waiter.”
When the waiter came by, Al asked him, “Are there any Mexican Jews?” and the waiter said, “I don’t know Senor, I’ll ask the cooks.”
He returned from the kitchen in a few minutes and said “No sir, no Mexican Jews.”
Al wasn’t really satisfied with that and asked, “Are you absolutely sure?”
The waiter, realizing he was dealing with “Gringos” gave the expected answer, “I will check again, Senor!” and went back into the kitchen.
While the waiter was away, Sid said, “I find it hard to believe that there are no Jews in Mexico. Our people are scattered everywhere.”
The waiter returned and said, “Senor, the head cook said there is no Mexican Jews.”
“Are you certain?” Al asked once again, “I can’t believe there are no Mexican Jews!”
“Senor, I ask EVERYONE,” replied the exasperated waiter. “All we have is orange Jews, prune Jews, tomato Jews and grape Jews.”
A police officer pulled a blonde over for driving
erratically. She explained, “I was driving down the road, when all of a
sudden a tree appeared right in the middle of the road. I swerved sharply to
the right, but there was another tree. I turned to the left, and another tree
appeared. No matter if I turned left or right, trees magically appeared in the
Shaking his head the officer said, “Ma’am, that’s your air freshener.”
AT NEW YORK’s Kennedy airport today, an individual –
later discovered to be a public school teacher – was arrested trying to board a
flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a slide rule, and a
calculator. At a morning press conference, the U. S. Attorney General disclosed
that he believes the man to be a member of the notorious al-gebra movement. He
is being charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction.
“Al-gebra is a fearsome cult,” he declared. “They seek average solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in search of absolute value. They use secret code names like ‘x’ and ‘y’ and refer to themselves as ‘unknowns,’ but we have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek philanderer Isosceles used to argue, there are three sides to every triangle.”
The School You Go To
What kind of school do
you go to if you’re…
…an ice cream man? Sundae school.
…a giant? High school.
…a surfer? Boarding school.
…King Arthur? Knight school.
Q: Have you heard about corduroy pillows? A: They’re making headlines!
Q: What do you call
friends you like to eat with? A:
Q: What do you call a man with no shins? A: Tony.
Alarming Ticked Clock
While proudly showing off his new apartment to
friends, a college student led the way into the den. “What is the big
brass gong and hammer for?” one of his friends asked.
“That is the talking clock,” the man replied.
“How’s it work?” the friend asked.
“Watch,” the man said then proceeded to give the gong an ear shattering pound with the hammer.
Suddenly someone screamed from the other side of the wall, “KNOCK IT OFF OVER THERE! It’s two o’clock in the morning!”
Back By Popular Demand
Quasimodo goes to a doctor for his annual checkup.
“I think something is wrong with your back,” the doctor says.
“What makes you say that?” Quasimodo asks.
“I don’t know,” the doctor replies. “It’s just a hunch.”
Pail In Comparison
A man asks a psychiatrist, “How do you select who
should be admitted to your facility?”
The psychiatrist replies, “We fill a bathtub with water and give the person a spoon, a cup and a bucket. Then we ask that person to empty the bathtub.”
The man smiles, “Ah, I understand, if you are sane you would take the bucket.”
The Psychiatrist replies, “No, a sane guy pulls the plug. Do you want a room with or without a window?”
A MANIFESTATION OF PARENTAL LOVE
There are some who reject Christianity because it seems to them incredible that God would have taken so much trouble, as the New Testament represents him to have done, for the salvation of creatures so infinitely beneath Him as we are. They forget that the New Testament teaches also that God is our Father. That being true, I declare to you that it is not surprising that God made such sacrifice to save us. Even a man will not permit a child to perish — any child, it need not be his own without putting forth mighty effort to save it.
One fact is worth a dozen arguments; and I will therefore ask you to listen to a humble man, as he relates an incident in his otherwise uneventful life. For a little while imagine yourself to be seated around the table of an American boardinghouse, where the inmates are spending an hour or two in the evening relating the more remarkable events that have occurred to them; imagine that you are listening to one of the guests there, instead of to me.
My name is Anthony Hunt. I am a drover, and I live many miles away upon the western prairie. There wasn’t a house in sight when we moved there, my wife and I and now we haven’t many neighbors, though those we have are good men.
One day about ten years ago, I went away from home to sell some fifty head of cattle –fine creatures as ever I saw. I was to buy some groceries and dry goods before I came back and, above all, a doll for our youngest child, Dolly (she never had a shop doll of her own, only the rag-babies her mother made her). Dolly could talk of nothing else, and went down to the very gate to call after me to “buy a big one.”
Nobody but a parent can understand how my mind was on that toy, and how, when the cattle were sold, the first thing I started off to buy was Dolly’s doll. I found a large one, with eyes that would open and shut when you pulled a wire, and had it wrapped up in paper, and tucked it under my arm while I had the parcels of calico, and delaine, and tea, and sugar put up. It might have been more prudent to have stayed until the morning, but I felt anxious to get back, and eager to hear Dolly’s prattle about the doll she was so eagerly expecting.
I mounted a steady-going old horse of mine and, pretty well loaded, started for home. Night set in before I was a mile from town, and settled down dark as pitch while I was in the midst of the wildest bit of road I know of. I could have felt my way through, I remembered it so well, and it was almost like doing that when the storm that had been brewing broke, and the rain fell in torrents. I was five, or may be six miles from home, too. I rode on as fast as I could; but suddenly I heard a little cry, like a child’s voice. I stopped short and listened. I heard it again; I called, and it answered me. I couldn’t see a thing; all was dark as pitch. I got down and felt about in the grass; called again, and again was answered. Then I began to wonder. I’m not timid; but I was known to be a drover, and to have money about me. I thought it might be a trap to catch me, and there to rob and murder me. I am not superstitious — not very — but how could a real child be out on the prairie in such a night at such an hour? It might be more than human. The bit of coward that hides itself in most men showed itself to me then, and I was half inclined to run away. But once more I heard that piteous cry, and, said I: “If any man’s child is hereabouts, Anthony Hunt is not the man to let it lie here and die.”
I searched again. At last I bethought me of a hollow under the hill, and groped that way. Sure enough, I found a little dripping thing, that moaned and sobbed as I took it in my arms. I called my horse, and he came to me, and I mounted, and tucked the little soaked thing under my coat as best I could, promising to take it home to mamma.
It seemed tired to death, and soon cried itself to sleep against my bosom. It had slept there over an hour when I saw my own windows. There were lights in them, and I sup-posed my wife had lit them for my sake; but when I got into the dooryard, I saw something was the matter, and stood still with dead fear of heart five minutes before I could lift the latch. At last I did it, and saw the room full of neighbors, and my wife amid them weeping. When she saw me she hid her face.
“Oh, don’t tell him,” she said; “it will kill him.”
“What is it, neighbors?” I cried.
And one said: “Nothing now, I hope. What’s that in your arms?”
“A poor lost child,” said I. “I found it on the road. “Take it, will you? I’ve turned faint.” And I lifted the sleeping thing, and saw the face of my own child, my little Dolly. It was my darling, and no other, that I had picked up on the drenched road. My little child had wandered out to meet papa and the doll, while her mother was at work, and for her they were lamenting as for one dead.
I thanked God on my knees before them all.
It is not much of a story, neighbors; but I think of it often in the nights, and wonder how I could bear to live now, if I had not stopped when I heard the cry for help upon the road the little baby-cry, hardly louder than a squirrel’s chirp.
Is God less pitiful than man? Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.” Did you notice the last sentence in that man’s story? “It is not much of a story, neighbors; but I think of it often in the nights, and wonder how I could bear to live now if I had not stopped when I heard that cry for help upon the road — that little baby cry, hardly louder than a squirrel’s chirp.”
To me that sentence explains the whole story of redemption. That man’s love for his child was such that life would have been intolerable to him had he failed to save her.
Sinner! God the Father listened to the cry for help, the piteous wail of misery that ascended to Him from His lost children; and he sent His Son to seek and to save that which was lost.
For, be it remembered, He knew not merely that certain children were perishing, but that they were His children. — Homiletic Cyclopedia.
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