Monday, January 18, 2010

Short Funny Jokes

Short Funny Jokes

SHORT FUNNY JOKES DIET

Posted: 18 Jan 2010 04:49 AM PST

The doctor told him he needed carbohydrates, proteids, and above all, something nitrogenous. The doctor mentioned a long list of foods for him to eat. He staggered out and wabbled into a Penn avenue restaurant.

"How about beefsteak?" he asked the waiter. "Is that nitrogenous?"

The waiter didn't know.

"Are fried potatoes rich in carbohydrates or not?"

The waiter couldn't say.

"Well, I'll fix it," declared the poor man in despair. "Bring me a large plate of hash."

SHORT FUNNY JOKES DIAGNOSIS

Posted: 18 Jan 2010 04:48 AM PST

An epileptic dropped in a fit on the streets of Boston not long ago, and was taken to a hospital. Upon removing his coat there was found pinned to his waistcoat a slip of paper on which was written:

"This is to inform the house-surgeon that this is just a case of plain fit: not appendicitis. My appendix has already been removed twice."

SHORT FUNNY JOKES DETERMINATION

Posted: 17 Jan 2010 10:55 PM PST

After the death of Andrew Jackson the following conversation is said to have occurred between an Anti-Jackson broker and a Democratic merchant:

MERCHANT (with a sigh)—"Well, the old General is dead."

BROKER (with a shrug)—"Yes, he's gone at last."

MERCHANT (not appreciating the shrug)—"Well, sir, he was a good man."

BROKER (with shrug more pronounced)—"I don't know about that."

MERCHANT (energetically)—"He was a good man, sir. If any man has gone to heaven, General Jackson has gone to heaven."

BROKER (doggedly)—"I don't know about that."

MERCHANT—"Well, sir, I tell you that if Andrew Jackson had made up his mind to go to heaven, you may depend upon it he's there."

FUNNY JOKES DETECTIVES

Posted: 17 Jan 2010 10:54 PM PST

When Conan Doyle arrived for the first time in Boston he was instantly recognized by the cabman whose vehicle he had engaged. When the great literary man offered to pay his fare the cabman said quite respectfully:

"If you please, sir, I should much prefer a ticket to your lecture. If you should have none with you a visiting-card penciled by yourself would do."

Conan Doyle laughed.

"Tell me," he said, "how did you know who I was, and I will give you tickets for your whole family."

"Thank you sir," was the reply. "Why, we all knew—that is, all the members of the Cabmen's Literary Guild knew—that you were coming by this train. I happen to be the only member on duty at the station this morning. If you will excuse personal remarks your coat lapels are badly twisted downward where they have been grasped by the pertinacious New York reporters. Your hair has the Quakerish cut of a Philadelphia barber, and your hat, battered at the brim in front, shows where you have tightly grasped it in the struggle to stand your ground at a Chicago literary luncheon. Your right overshoe has a large block of Buffalo mud just under the instep, the odor of a Utica cigar hangs about your clothing, and the overcoat itself shows the slovenly brushing of the porters of the through sleepers from Albany, and stenciled upon the very end of the 'Wellington' in fairly plain lettering is your name, 'Conan Doyle.'"

Posted by Jokes at 7:26 AM

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