Joke of the Day
12-09-2004, 09:57 AM
#1
Team Owner
Thread Starter
Joke of the Day
Two rednecks, Bubba and Earl, were driving their Corvette down the road drinking a couple of bottles of Bud. The passenger,
Bubba said, "Lookey thar up ahead, Earl, it's a po-lice roadblock! We're gonna get busted fer drinkin' these here beers!!" "Don't worry, Bubba," Earl said. "We'll just pull over and finish drinkin' these beers, peel off the label and stick it on our foreheads, and throw the bottles under the seat." "What fer?" asked Bubba. "Just let me do the talkin', OK?" said Earl. Well, they finished their beers, threw the empty bottles under the seat, and each put a label on their forehead. When they reached the roadblock, the Sheriff said, "You boys been drinkin'?" "No Sir," Earl said. "We're on the patch."
Bubba said, "Lookey thar up ahead, Earl, it's a po-lice roadblock! We're gonna get busted fer drinkin' these here beers!!" "Don't worry, Bubba," Earl said. "We'll just pull over and finish drinkin' these beers, peel off the label and stick it on our foreheads, and throw the bottles under the seat." "What fer?" asked Bubba. "Just let me do the talkin', OK?" said Earl. Well, they finished their beers, threw the empty bottles under the seat, and each put a label on their forehead. When they reached the roadblock, the Sheriff said, "You boys been drinkin'?" "No Sir," Earl said. "We're on the patch."
12-09-2004, 10:07 AM
#3
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Thank you God for these hands
An old man, probably some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the park bench. He didn’t move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn’t acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was ok.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was ok. He raised his head and looked at me and smiled.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he said in a clear strong voice.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, sir, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were ok?” I explained to him.
“Have you ever looked at your hands?” he asked. “I mean really looked at your hands.”
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making.
Then he smiled and related this story:
Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life.
They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and when I walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friends foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn’t understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold Me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I’ve been and the ruggedness of my life. It will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. With these hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ. No doubt I will never look at my hands the same again. I never saw The old man again after I left the park that day but I will never forget him And the words he spoke. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children I think of the man in the park. I have a feeling he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel his hands upon my face.
Thank you, Father God, for hands.
In Your presence there is an absence of all that preys upon my mind
An old man, probably some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the park bench. He didn’t move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn’t acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was ok.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was ok. He raised his head and looked at me and smiled.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he said in a clear strong voice.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, sir, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were ok?” I explained to him.
“Have you ever looked at your hands?” he asked. “I mean really looked at your hands.”
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making.
Then he smiled and related this story:
Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life.
They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and when I walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friends foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn’t understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.
They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold Me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I’ve been and the ruggedness of my life. It will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. With these hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ. No doubt I will never look at my hands the same again. I never saw The old man again after I left the park that day but I will never forget him And the words he spoke. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children I think of the man in the park. I have a feeling he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel his hands upon my face.
Thank you, Father God, for hands.
In Your presence there is an absence of all that preys upon my mind
12-09-2004, 12:55 PM
#5
Race Director
Member Since: Sep 2002
Location: San Diego - Deep Within The State of CONFUSION!
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Originally Posted by LOTAHP
Hey Norval that was cool. We do take our hands for granted 
BUT , what the hell does that have to do with "The Joke of the Day"
BUT , what the hell does that have to do with "The Joke of the Day"
I was in an eatery last week with the wife...saw that the waiter had a spoon in his breast pocket, and that all the other waiters did too. Wife asked why, and he replies that 'the spoon is the most commonly dropped utensil' and that they save hundreds of man-hours annually by not having to run to the kitchen for spoons.
we say "OK."
then my wife notices that all the men working there have strings from their jeans, hanging from the zippers!!
When we asked about that, the waiter replies that they also save man hours by the boatload, by not having to wash their hands after they pee. They pull it out by the string and never soil their hands!
I of course chimed in and asked "so how do you put it Back In Your Pants if you use the string to pull it out?
Of course, the waiter said "Oh, heck I just use the SPOON!"
12-09-2004, 01:54 PM
#7
Le Mans Master
how many A.D.D. people does it take to change a light bulb
(don't worry i think i have add)
answer. wanna go for a bike ride
(don't worry i think i have add)
answer. wanna go for a bike ride
12-09-2004, 02:28 PM
#13
Team Owner
Words to live by, by the wonderful Mavis Leyrer of Seattle, age 83.
"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouthing.......HOLY SIHT.....what a ride!"
"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouthing.......HOLY SIHT.....what a ride!"
12-09-2004, 03:45 PM
#15
Burning Brakes
Originally Posted by theandies
Words to live by, by the wonderful Mavis Leyrer of Seattle, age 83.
"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouthing.......HOLY SIHT.....what a ride!"
"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouthing.......HOLY SIHT.....what a ride!"
I really like that one 
12-09-2004, 04:35 PM
#16
At 85 years of age, Morris marries Lou Anne. A lovely 25 year old. Since her new husband is so old, Lou Anne decides that after their wedding she and Morris should have separate bedrooms, because she is concerned that her new, but aged husband may overexert himself if they spend the entire night together.
After the wedding festivities Lou Anne prepares herself for bed, and the expected "knock" on the door. Sure enough, the knock comes; the door opens and there is Morris, her 85 year old groom, ready for "action."
They "unite as one." All goes well; Morris takes leave of his bride, and she prepares to go to sleep.
After a few minutes, Lou Anne hears another knock on her bedroom door, and it's Morris. Again, he is ready for "action."
Somewhat surprised, but nonetheless willing, Lou Anne consents to more "conjugal bliss." When the love-birds are done, Morris kisses his bride, bids her a fond goodnight and leaves.
She is set to go to sleep again, but Morris is back again, rapping on the door, as fresh as a 25-year old. ready for more passion. Once again, they enjoy one another.
But as Morris prepares to leave again, his young bride says to him: "I am thoroughly impressed that at your age you can perform so well and so often. I have been with guys less than a third of your age who were only good once. You are truly a great lover, Morris."
Morris, somewhat embarrassed, turns to Lou Anne and says: "You mean I was here already?"
After the wedding festivities Lou Anne prepares herself for bed, and the expected "knock" on the door. Sure enough, the knock comes; the door opens and there is Morris, her 85 year old groom, ready for "action."
They "unite as one." All goes well; Morris takes leave of his bride, and she prepares to go to sleep.
After a few minutes, Lou Anne hears another knock on her bedroom door, and it's Morris. Again, he is ready for "action."
Somewhat surprised, but nonetheless willing, Lou Anne consents to more "conjugal bliss." When the love-birds are done, Morris kisses his bride, bids her a fond goodnight and leaves.
She is set to go to sleep again, but Morris is back again, rapping on the door, as fresh as a 25-year old. ready for more passion. Once again, they enjoy one another.
But as Morris prepares to leave again, his young bride says to him: "I am thoroughly impressed that at your age you can perform so well and so often. I have been with guys less than a third of your age who were only good once. You are truly a great lover, Morris."
Morris, somewhat embarrassed, turns to Lou Anne and says: "You mean I was here already?"
12-09-2004, 05:51 PM
#18
Burning Brakes
Member Since: Nov 2004
Location: San Antonio Texas
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an eldely couple, married 50 years were out celebrating their anniversary. suddenly the wife reaches up and slaps her husband across the face. "what's that for", asked the husband. "that's for 50 years of bad sex" replies the wife. the husband ponders this for a few minutes then reaches up and slaps his wife across the face. "what's that for" asks the wife. "That's for knowing the difference" replies the husband.
12-09-2004, 06:33 PM
#19
Race Director
Originally Posted by theandies
Words to live by, by the wonderful Mavis Leyrer of Seattle, age 83.
"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouthing.......HOLY SIHT.....what a ride!"
"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouthing.......HOLY SIHT.....what a ride!"
I've always said that i wanted my death to be quick, painless and, if possible, someone else's.
The other:
I want to die in my sleep like my dear grandfather, not screaming and crying like his passengers.
12-09-2004, 06:41 PM
#20
Team Owner
Thread Starter
Some 80% of your health care costs and your estate will be consumed in the last 20% of your life. Burn off that 80% before the last 20% and let the state take on the rest. Buy a C6.
