2500 Jokes to Start 'Em Laughing (24 page)

People say the most interesting things after speeches. One time a little old lady came up to me and said, “Mr. [
YOUR NAME
], some speeches give me food for thought.” I said, “Yes?” She said, “Yours was more like a canapé.”

You have to watch out for little old ladies. Last week one of them came up to me after a talk and said, “Mr. [
YOUR NAME
], you may find this hard to believe, but your speech reminded me of a little dog I have at home.” I said, “Isn't that sweet! My speech reminded you of a little dog you have at home? What kind of dog?” She said, “Bull!”

We had a great audience last night. They specialized in group yawning.

You've been such a great audience, I hate to break this up. What say we all go down to a health food store and watch the bread mold?

And now we come to the part of our program that every husband who has ever come home at three o'clock in the morning is familiar with—the question and answer period.

Before we take a ten-minute break, I would like to leave you with this thought: He who hesitates—will stand on a mighty long line in the washroom!

I want to thank you for that staring ovation.

I'll try to keep this simple because I put theories in the same category as pigeons. I don't want to have anything to do with them when they're over my head.

You know what I like about this group? It really gets down to business. We've covered more ground than a Weight Watchers picnic!

I talked to a wild group last night. I knew it the minute someone yelled “Louder!” during the silent meditation.

This is more laughs than the men's room in the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

We will now sing that grand old favorite: “Don't Listen to the Mississippi River, Grandma, It Has a Dirty Mouth!”

I haven't heard that dirty a laugh since I asked the man at the Post Office to mark a package
FRAGILE.

Would the owner of a blue Pontiac with license plate XYZ-123 please report to the parking lot? The attendant has good news and bad news for you. The good news is that your headlights are on. The bad news is
what
your headlights are on—the ground!

The worst announcement you can ever hear is: “Will the owner of a blue Buick please report to the parking lot. The license plate
used
to be 4Y-1893!”

I'm so tired of being so handsome, attractive, and irresistible to girls—I may just get the world's first bald transplant.

My competitor has said we ought to take the bull by the horns and he may be right. He's a lot more familiar with bull than I am.

I just joined a tennis club and I've never been so disappointed. I thought mixed doubles was wife-swapping.

There are certain rules about skydiving you should always keep in mind. Like, never have an argument with your wife while she's packing your chute.

Did you read about the sky diver who asked for instructions on how to use the parachute? The instructor told him, “You count to ten and pull the rip cord.” The sky diver said, “W-w-w-w-what w-w-w-w-w-was th-th-th-th-that n-n-n-n-n-n-n-number a-a-again?” The instructor said, “Three.”

Nineteen seventy-nine is the year I learned how to play golf. It was also my score.

When I play golf I have a lot of style but I don't hit the ball far enough. What I'm trying to say is—I know how to address the ball; I just don't put enough stamps on it!

I just saw the first sign of spring—a beautiful green hillside and, against it, a cluster of yellow bulldozers.

Spring is here—when nature sends out her Buds in six-packs!

Spring is when the furnace repairmen leave for the French Riviera and the air-conditioning repairmen return.

Spring really gets the vital juices flowing. I just saw two senior citizens standing in front of an X-rated movie singing, “Memories. Memories!”

You can always tell when spring is here by subtle little signs—like, when you start your car in the morning, it does.

I'm beginning to wonder about my broker. Yesterday I told him to buy a hundred shares of A.T.&T. He said, “Would you spell that?”

My broker keeps talking about things like “the breadth of the market.” To me it's always been bad.

When I first went to him he said, “Don't worry. You're at the end of your financial troubles.” Six months later I'm out $10,000. So I went back to him and said, “I thought you said I was at the end of my financial troubles.” He said, “I did. I just didn't say which end!”

I'll tell you when I started to question this broker. There's nothing wrong with putting $500,000 into a maternity hospital—but in Sun City?

My broker has a peculiar sense of humor. This morning he called me up and said, “I have good news and bad news. The Dow Jones is down thirty points, your portfolio is down forty points, and if you don't come up with $50,000 to cover margin, we're selling you out!—And now, the bad news.”

The minister of a church in the financial district closed his sermon with, “Keep one thing in mind: There will be no buying and selling of securities in heaven!” One parishioner leaned over to another and said, “It doesn't matter. That ain't where the stock market is going.”

Last week I put half my money in the stock market and half I spent foolishly. Now I'm not sure which half.

Isn't this a fantastic market? Up, down, up, down—and that's just my stomach!

I'm so nervous, yesterday I got a fingernail transplant!

Nowadays an investor is someone who stands with both feet firmly on the ground—and his portfolio in it.

I take a philosophical view of things. Like, if God had intended us to be rich, he never would have given us the stock market.

My mother taught me never to get mixed up with bad company. So did the stock market.

One of the first things you learn in the stock market is never listen to anyone who writes out a system to make $1 million in three months—on the back of his unemployment check.

I've been so unlucky in the stock market, if life begins at forty, I would have bought it at eighty-seven.

I have a Marie Antoinette approach to the stock market. When things look bad, I lose my head.

The stock market is like the Chinese water torture.

A lot of little drops can drive you crazy!

Personally, I have a Zen philosophy about the stock market. I started off with $10,000—and Zen I had $8,000, and Zen I had $5,000, and Zen I had …

Talk about unusual business gifts, they now have flesh-colored Band-Aids for people who got out of the stock market. They're yellow.

Everybody's talking about another 1929. Shakespeare even wrote a play about 1929:
The Taming of the Shrewd.

They say 1980 is a leap year. So was 1929.

I feel the same way about the stock market as I do about driving. It would be a lot of fun if it wasn't for an occasional crash.

Do you ever get the impression that 1929 is being recycled?

Think positively. If the Dow-Jones Average drops ninety-two points in one day, look at all the money you'll save on prune juice.

They say the stock market is having a technical reaction. That's right. It can tech every nical you've got!

I've been having a terrible time in the stock market. Last week my portfolio went down $800—and this was on a Sunday!

I won't say how I've done in the stock market but my wife says we're the only family on our street with a breadloser.

I have one of those diversified portfolios. I'm 20 percent in utilities, 30 percent in oils, 50 percent in electronics, and 100 percent in hock.

Three years ago I bought a no-load mutual fund and I finally figured out what the no-load refers to—my wallet.

I specialize in Sweet Chariot stocks. The minute I buy them they swing low!

I don't want to complain, but I just wish my blood pressure was going down like my stocks are.

I don't know why, but every morning my stocks open lower. I think I have the only companies that go dump in the night.

Some stocks split. Mine just crumble.

I have a diversified portfolio—50 percent are stocks and 50 percent are bombs.

I always buy those breakfast cereal stocks. They go snap, crackle, and drop!

Isn't this a marvelous technological age we're living in? We now have two things that are self-cleaning—ovens and the stock market.

Laugh and the world laughs with you; cry and you have five kids home for the summer.

There are four things you can do to make this a summer your kids will never forget. Send them to a camp that has planned, nutritious meals; that has a varied sports and athletic program; that has trained, understanding counselors; and when you've done all this—
MOVE
!

When you write away for information about a summer camp, five days later you get back a folder showing this lovely ninety-acre estate with two swimming pools, tennis courts, riding stables, and a private lake. The first thing you should understand is, this is not the camp. It's the owner's home.… The camp itself is a converted Exxon station!

You have to be very wary of these brochures. They use phrases like
“mature leadership.” That means the counselors' pimples have cleared up.

Another wonderful phrase is “body-building food.” That means mashed potatoes, macaroni, rice, and baked beans three times a day. I don't know whose body they're trying to build but I think it's Jackie Gleason's!

My kid ate so much mashed potatoes and macaroni, on a hot day he starched his own shirts!

You can't believe how luxurious some of these camps are. It's the first time I ever saw a tent with a chandelier.

I know one summer camp that's so expensive they have Cadillac canoes!

My kid goes to one of those camps where they really rough it. The TV is black and white.

“It is better to have loved and lost.” I'll tell you who said that. A father who got the bill from summer camp.

Summer camps are where kids make wallets and empty their fathers'.

Every year I used to watch my wife spend days sewing name tapes into our son's clothes. No more. We just changed his name to Machine Washable.

The most important thing when you send your kid to camp is to make sure he has name tapes in all his clothes. If he doesn't have name tapes, they'll call him by any label they can find. Last year, for two whole months, one kid was known as Fruit of the Loom!

The whole idea of summer camp is the buddy system. You do everything with another kid. You walk together, you talk together, you eat together—for six weeks. It's like a Hollywood marriage, only longer!

I was always unlucky at summer camp. I'll tell you what I mean. You ever share a sleeping bag with a bed wetter?… Other kids had a pillow. I had a life preserver!

There's a real science to summer camps. For instance, they always have the girls camp on the other side of the lake. This teaches the boys three things: discipline, self-control, and swimming!

So far he's been gone three weeks and all we've received from him is one postcard—asking if fingers can be transplanted.

July is when you can always tell the experienced parents. They get a letter from their kid in summer camp saying four things are going around—chicken pox, measles, mumps, and bubonic plague—and they send him two aspirin.

One time we went up to visit him and his face was covered with lumps. I said, “What is it? Mumps?” He said, “No. I'm the receiver on the baseball team.” I said, “You mean the catcher.” He said, “Sometimes.”

And summer camps are very educational. Thanks to summer camps, kids have no trouble recognizing poison ivy. It's what's under the bandages.

Kids always pick the perfect psychological moment to tell you they have poison ivy. It's right after they shake your hand.

That may sound funny to you but the most difficult thing to explain to a wife is why your son has poison ivy, why you have poison ivy, and why your secretary has poison ivy.

And summer camps teach you other practical things, like how to find your way home when you're lost in the woods. You don't know how helpful that is to a kid who lives on Seventy-third Street and Lexington Avenue.

Summer camps are where kids go to change their attitudes, their habits, their routines—everything but their underwear.

My kid swears he takes a bath every Saturday night. If that's so, he must be drinking it.

When it comes to not taking baths, even for summer camps my kid is exceptional. When I asked for directions to his tent, they said, “Just follow your nose!”

You go into his tent and there are mosquitoes all over the floor. Who can fly with one hand holding your nose?

My wife said, “When he gets home we're going to need strong soap.” I said, “Are you kidding? When he gets home we're going to need Oven Off!”

Every year when the kids come back from camp, we celebrate by having our annual barbecue. First, we set fire to something that's small, hard, and black—their socks.

A lot of people say that kids today are spoiled. Well, let me set your mind at ease. Kids today are not spoiled. It's just the way they smell after six weeks at summer camp.

My three kids were at the breakfast table this morning and I said to my wife, “It seems like only yesterday they left for summer camp.” She said, “It was only yesterday. They got on the wrong bus.”

It's amazing the way kids change when they're away for a few months. If the doorbell rings and someone calls you “Dad,” don't take any chances. Check the name tape!

My teenager came home three inches taller. I'll explain how he did that. I told him that every morning he should put on a clean pair of socks. Next time I'll tell him to take off the old ones first!

Summertime and the living is easy. Not if you sell snowmobiles.