Friday, December 18, 2009

Short Funny Jokes

Short Funny Jokes


Posted: 18 Dec 2009 05:54 AM PST

One morning as Mark Twain returned from a neighborhood morning call, sans necktie, his wife met him at the door with the exclamation: "There, Sam, you have been over to the Stowes's again without a necktie! It's really disgraceful the way you neglect your dress!"

Her husband said nothing, but went up to his room.

A few minutes later his neighbor—Mrs. S.—was summoned to the door by a messenger, who presented her with a small box neatly done up. She opened it and found a black silk necktie, accompanied by the following note: "Here is a necktie. Take it out and look at it. I think I stayed half an hour this morning. At the end of that time will you kindly return it, as it is the only one I have?—Mark Twain."

A man whose trousers bagged badly at the knees was standing on a corner waiting for a car. A passing Irishman stopped and watched him with great interest for two or three minutes; at last he said:

"Well, why don't ye jump?"

"The evening wore on," continued the man who was telling the story.

"Excuse me," interrupted the would-be-wit; "but can you tell us what the evening wore on that occasion?"

"I don't know that it is important," replied the story-teller. "But if you must know, I believe it was the close of a summer day."

"See that measuring worm crawling up my skirt!" cried Mrs. Bjenks. "That's a sign I'm going to have a new dress."

"Well, let him make it for you," growled Mr. Bjenks. "And while he's about it, have him send a hookworm to do you up the back. I'm tired of the job."


Posted: 18 Dec 2009 05:53 AM PST

In a certain town the local forecaster of the weather was so often wrong that his predictions became a standing joke, to his no small annoyance, for he was very sensitive. At length, in despair of living down his reputation, he asked headquarters to transfer him to another station.

A brief correspondance ensued.

"Why," asked headquarters, "do you wish to be transferred?"

"Because," the forecaster promptly replied, "the climate doesn't agree with me."


Posted: 17 Dec 2009 10:09 PM PST

A minister of a fashionable church in Newark had always left the greeting of strangers to be attended to by the ushers, until he read the newspaper articles in reference to the matter.

"Suppose a reporter should visit our church?" said his wife.

"Wouldn't it be awful?"

"It would," the minister admitted.

The following Sunday evening he noticed a plainly dressed woman in one of the free pews. She sat alone and was clearly not a member of the flock. After the benediction the minister hastened and intercepted her at the door.

"How do you do?" he said, offering his hand, "I am very glad to have you with us."

"Thank you," replied the young woman.

"I hope we may see you often in our church home," he went on. "We are always glad to welcome new faces."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you live in this parish?" he asked.

The girl looked blank.

"If you will give me your address my wife and I will call on you some evening."

"You wouldn't need to go far, sir," said the young woman, "I'm your cook!"

Bishop Goodsell, of the Methodist Episcopal church, weighs over two hundred pounds. It was with mingled emotions, therefore that he read the following in Zion's Herald some time ago:

"The announcement that our New England bishop, Daniel A. Goodsell, has promised to preach at the Willimantic camp meeting, will give great pleasure to the hosts of Israel who are looking forward to that feast of fat things."

It is a standing rule of a company whose boats ply the Great Lakes that clergymen and Indians may travel on its boats for half-fare. A short time ago an agent of the company was approached by an Indian preacher from Canada, who asked for free transportation on the ground that he was entitled to one-half rebate because he was an Indian, and the other half because he was a clergyman.—Elgin Burroughs.

Booker Washington, as all the world knows, believes that the salvation of his race lies in industry. Thus, if a young man wants to be a clergyman, he will meet with but little encouragement from the head of Tuskegee; but if he wants to be a blacksmith or a bricklayer, his welcome is warm and hearty.

Dr. Washington, in a recent address in Chicago, said:

"The world is overfull of preachers and when an aspirant for the pulpit comes to me, I am inclined to tell him about the old uncle working in the cotton field who said:

"'De cotton am so grassy, de work am so hard, and de sun am so hot, Ah 'clare to goodness Ah believe dis darkey am called to preach.'"

On one occasion the minister delivered a sermon of but ten minutes' duration—a most unusual thing for him.

Upon the conclusion of his remarks he added: "I regret to inform you, brethren, that my dog, who appears to be peculiarly fond of paper, this morning ate that portion of my sermon that I have not delivered. Let us pray."

After the service the clergyman was met at the door by a man who as a rule, attended divine service in another parish. Shaking the good man by the hand he said:

"Doctor, I should like to know whether that dog of yours has any pups. If so I want to get one to give to my minister."

A pompous Bishop of Oxford was once stopped on a London street by a ragged urchin.

"Well, my little man, and what can I do for you?" inquired the churchman.

"The time o' day, please, your lordship."

With considerable difficulty the portly bishop extracted his timepiece.

"It is exactly half past five, my lad."

"Well," said the boy, setting his feet for a good start, "at 'alf past six you go to 'ell!"—and he was off like a flash and around the corner. The bishop, flushed and furious, his watch dangling from its chain, floundered wildly after him. But as he rounded the corner he ran plump into the outstretched arms of the venerable Bishop of London.

"Oxford, Oxford," remonstrated that surprised dignitary, "why this unseemly haste?"

Puffing, blowing, spluttering, the outraged Bishop gasped out:

"That young ragamuffin—I told him it was half past five—he—er—told me to go to hell at half past six."

"Yes, yes," said the Bishop of London with the suspicion of a twinkle in his kindly old eyes, "but why such haste? You've got almost an hour."


Posted: 17 Dec 2009 10:07 PM PST

"Now, children," said the visiting minister who had been asked to question the Sunday-school, "with what did Samson arm himself to fight against the Philistines?"

None of the children could tell him.

"Oh, yes, you know!" he said, and to help them he tapped his jaw with one finger. "What is this?" he asked.

This jogged their memories, and the class cried in chorus: "The jawbone of an ass."

All work and no plagiarism makes a dull parson.

Bishop Doane of Albany was at one time rector of an Episcopal church in Hartford, and Mark Twain, who occasionally attended his services, played a joke upon him, one Sunday.

"Dr. Doane," he said at the end of the service, "I enjoyed your sermon this morning. I welcomed it like on old friend. I have, you know, a book at home containing every word of it."

"You have not," said Dr. Doane.

"I have so."

"Well, send that book to me. I'd like to see it."

"I'll send it," the humorist replied. Next morning he sent an unabridged dictionary to the rector.

The four-year-old daughter of a clergyman was ailing one night and was put to bed early. As her mother was about to leave her she called her back.

"Mamma," she said, "I want to see my papa."

"No, dear," her mother replied, "your papa is busy and must not be disturbed."

"But, mamma," the child persisted, "I want to see my papa."

As before, the mother replied: "No, your papa must not be disturbed."

But the little one came back with a clincher:

"Mamma," she declared solemnly, "I am a sick woman, and I want to see my minister."

PROFESSOR—"Now, Mr. Jones, assuming you were called to attend a patient who had swallowed a coin, what would be your method of procedure?"

YOUNG MEDICO—"I'd send for a preacher, sir. They'll get money out of anyone."

Archbishop Ryan was once accosted on the streets of Baltimore by a man who knew the archbishop's face, but could not quite place it.

"Now, where in hell have I seen you?" he asked perplexedly.

"From where in hell do you come, sir?"

A Duluth pastor makes it a point to welcome any strangers cordially, and one evening, after the completion of the service, he hurried down the aisle to station himself at the door.

He noticed a Swedish girl, evidently a servant, so he welcomed her to the church, and expressed the hope that she would be a regular attendant. Finally he said if she would be at home some evening during the week he would call.

"T'ank you," she murmured bashfully, "but ay have a fella."