2500 Jokes to Start 'Em Laughing (8 page)

I had to stop bringing my assistant to conventions. It was too embarrassing. Who orders beer on the rocks?

This is my kind of group—a Beef Stew Convention. The salesmen are all beefing and the prospects are all stewed.

I spent the whole afternoon in our hospitality suite. I've drunk to the health of so many customers, I'm beginning to lose my own!

And have you noticed how the bartenders in hospitality suites really pour it out? I had a drink that was so strong, instead of a cocktail napkin, it came with a get-well card.

Fortunately we have a rule at this convention.

Any order for $3 million that's signed with a swizzle stick is null and void.

I won't say there's been a lot of drinking going on, but a rather disturbing thing happened on the sixteenth floor last night. A very loud party was thrown across the hall. I was the party.

I know a lot of wives think that conventions are nothing but wine, women, and song, but that's not true. Not once have I heard one of you fellas singing.

They said there would be a lot of surprises at this convention, and there have been—even if you don't count the prices at the hotel coffee shop.… Believe me, there are no atheists in the hotel coffee shop. All you have to do is look at a menu and you say, “Good God!”

This morning the waitress brought me a cup of coffee, a glass of orange juice, and a doughnut—$2.75! It's incredible. In some cities, the muggers wear masks. Here they wear aprons!

But I'll say one thing for that glass of orange juice. They took out all the pits in it. They had to. If they left them in, there wouldn't have been room for the juice!

No, I'm only kidding. It's a wonderful place. Any coffee shop that can make the
Fortune
500 deserves respect.

And to all you fellas who have come to this convention without your wives—don't worry. I happen to know the waiters mix.

It really was a very exciting convention. Looked like the finals for the Olympic yawning team.

It's really a shame. There was one dirty old man at the convention and even he was over the hill. I heard a girl saying to him, “Oh, you're only interested in one thing.” Then she had to tell him what it was.

Our neighborhood massage parlor must serve fantastic food. All the truck drivers go there.

“The way to a man's heart is through his stomach!” I'll tell you who said that. My son, who is now in his ninth year in medical school.

I wonder if Julia Child's husband has ever looked up from the dinner table and said, “
Petits chaussons au Roquefort? Potage Parmentier? Filets de poisson pochés au vin blanc? Haricots verts à la crème? Endives à la Flamande
and
tarte Normande aux pommes?
We had that last night!”

Our neighbor happens to be an authority on Ancient Greece. Never cleans the oven!

I wouldn't tell my wife this—but I'm just as glad when she doesn't make breakfast. She makes a lousy martini.

When it comes to meals, we either eat out or order in. In our house
we have two things that are always cold—the refrigerator and the stove!

My wife is a Colonel Sanders junkie. That's right. We've been married five years and she still doesn't know where the kitchen is.

She's one of those modern cooks. Her favorite recipe is “heat and serve.”

I've eaten so much frozen food, I have the only tonsils in town that are chapped!

And she has a thing about keeping leftovers. She loves to keep leftovers. We've been married twenty years now and our garbage can is brand-new!

Does my wife save leftovers? Yesterday we had a fourteen-pound meat loaf!

Every time I open the refrigerator I see two dozen little dishes of food—shivering. It's embarrassing. Have you ever said, “Gesundheit!” to succotash?

We have an autumn leaves refrigerator. You look inside and everything is turning.

At any given moment our refrigerator has three things that are green—spinach, parsley, and bread.

You should see our bread. It comes in three different flavors—white, rye, and Roquefort.

And I don't mind telling you, I'm getting a little suspicious of some of these leftovers. Yesterday she brought out a chicken wearing a Willkie button!

And she's always starting trouble. Yesterday she said, “We are what we eat!” I know that sounds innocent enough, but I happened to have a handful of nuts at the time.

There's a chef at the Pentagon who has everybody uptight. He keeps spilling the beans.

Life was a lot simpler when what was honored was Father and Mother rather than all major credit cards.

We buy everything on credit. That's right. We have the only toilet water in town labeled
OWE DE COLOGNE.

I won't say what our credit is like, but if you look us up in Bradstreet, we're Dun!

I had a wonderful thing happen this morning. A fella knocked on the door and I said, “Who is it?” He said, “A bill collector.” So I gave him the stack on my desk.

And when you're behind in your bills, you always pay the creditor who yells the loudest. That's right. From force of habit I write, “Pay to the holler of …”

A supplier called me up to say my account was delinquent. What do I care if it stays out late?

Some firms are so unreasonable. One of our suppliers got mad because we took three days to pay a bill. Christmas, Easter, and the Fourth of July.

Crime doesn't pay! But at least it doesn't tell you the check is in the mail.

Criminals are so brazen these days, I was in a department store and saw a guy trying on nylons over his head.

Crime in the streets is getting to be such a problem, yesterday Clark Kent went into a phone booth—and stayed there!

Remember when it was Superman who was faster than a speeding bullet? Now it's anybody who gets out of Central Park.

Taking a walk in this town is like playing baseball. The hardest part is getting home safe!

I'll tell you how bad the crime problem has become. Yesterday I heard two people calling for help—and they were muggers!

Sure this city has its problems, but I like the way people still stand tall in the streets. You'd stand tall, too, if you had to keep your money in your shoes!

They now have an organization called [
YOUR TOWN
] Anonymous. Every time you get to thinking the crime situation isn't so bad, you call them up; they send someone over—and he never makes it!

I'll tell you how much crime they have in this town. They don't have an electric chair. They have an electric couch!

I live in a very religious neighborhood. One time I said to a priest, “Is it true that in this neighborhood, if you carry a cross, you never have to worry?” He said, “Yes. But it all depends on how fast you carry it!”

Crime is so bad in my neighborhood, I heard a delicatessen owner say he's putting locks on his bagels!

But you'll have no trouble with crime in this town if you follow four simple suggestions:

(1) Your door should be steel-backed.

(2) Your door should have a hidden peephole.

(3) Your door should have a heavy-duty, pick-proof lock. And

(4) Your door should be moved to Bangor, Maine.

I went to one of those dance schools that advertise “25
LESSONS FOR
$5” and in the very first lesson I learned something—that it wasn't going to cost $5.

Have you ever been to a dance school? I walked in the door and right away this voluptuous instructor came over and put her hand on a rather intimate place—my wallet.

They tried to sign me up for a twenty-year course in social dancing. I said, “Twenty years? What if I don't live twenty years?” That's when they showed me the casket with the phonograph.

But it's a lot of fun. You'd be amazed how many old codgers are taking dance lessons. It's the only way they can back a girl up and not have to follow through!

Pardon me, miss. I don't ordinarily talk to strange women on the street—but I'm on my way to confession and I'm short of material.

Love is so confusing. You tell a girl she looks great and then what's the first thing you do? Turn out the lights!

Remember when a fella took a girl out and it was a big deal to get a good-night kiss? Now that's like the breadsticks at an Italian dinner.

Romance is kissing your girl friend on the eyes.

Reality is getting her false eyelashes caught in your teeth!

As I understand it, smoking is hazardous to your health, drinking is bad for your liver, and sex is responsible for overpopulation. I went out with a girl last night and we chewed gum till three in the morning.

Don't you just hate it when a company makes claims it can't deliver? I bought that gasoline that eliminates stalling—parked with my girl. It doesn't work.

I said, “Do you want to fool around?”

She said, “I'll have you know I shrink from any immoral behavior!”

And she did. She was four feet six inches high!

Parking with a girl in Lover's Lane can be a traumatic experience. I mean, how do you explain to the AAA how she got her foot caught in the window?

I know a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve.

I told you those transplants weren't perfected.

Ask any girl and she'll tell you why they're called swinging singles bars. 'Cause that's all anybody spends.

I've got a daughter who's a junkie.

If you don't believe it, I'll show you her room.

It's ridiculous. We paid $300 for wall-to-wall carpeting.

Haven't seen it in five years!

I'll tell you what her room looks like—
we have roaches that beg for Raid!

It's all right to be a little sloppy, but the walls haven't been cleaned in two years. We have molding that is!

If it's true we come from dust,
under the bed alone is the birth of a nation!

I have one of those Vincent van Gogh teenagers.

She only listens to me with one ear.

Teenagers are great. One time a kid knocked on the door and he said, “My name is Stanley.
S
for Sophisticated,
T
for Terrific,
A
for Attractive,
N
for Nice,
L
for Loaded,
E
for Experienced, and
Y
for Yummy! Is your daughter home?” I said, “Who cares? Kiss me!”

My daughter has no luck at all. Last year a fella asked if he could change her name to his and she said yes. And ever since he's been calling her Melvin.

You should see some of the characters my daughter goes out with. She brings home so many crumbs, I don't know whether to worry about her or cockroaches.

Times have really changed. Twenty years ago, if someone asked you, “What has long hair, smells, and follows your daughter around?” it'd be her dog. Now it's her boyfriend!

Show me a fella who has four teenage daughters and one bathroom—and I'll show you a dirty old man!

I just had a terrible experience. My daughter said she was joining the subculture. I said, “Forget it! No kid of mine is gonna work on a U-boat!”

This is [
YOUR NAME
]—the eyes, ears, nose, and big mouth of [
YOUR TOWN
]!

My name is ___________. Not that anyone's interested but it does let my wife know I got here all right.

I understand they just got back from a record-breaking tour. Every time somebody heard them sing, they went out and broke their records.

I once worked on a station that played nothing but country and western. You've heard of the Top Forty? This was the North Forty.

I used to work in a station that was so poor, our time checks bounced!

This happens to be a very progressive station. Next week we're going to put a radio in a car and give traffic reports to helicopters!

I had a terrible thing happen to me this morning. I heard a mother say to her six-year-old kid, “Do you want to hear the ‘[
YOUR NAME
] Show'?” He said, “No.” And she said, “Then behave yourself!”

I don't want to brag, but this is one show that has a lot of fans. We can't afford air conditioning.

A little song dedicated to the world today: “I've got a right to sing the blues; I just tuned in the Ten O'Clock News.”

That was “You Always Hurt the One You Love,” and I'd like to dedicate it to my wife—the only woman in history with switchblade toenails!

I know a sheet music printer who went broke because of a typographical error. He ran off two million copies of “Pig of My Heart.”

Next we have a song that describes why I never worry about what to get my wife for her birthday. It's called:

“Someday My Hints Will Come.”

That was: “I Lost My Contact Lenses” or
               “I Wonder Who's Kissing Me Now?”

AFTER A WILD RECORD:
We will now pause for station recuperation.

That was music in a slightly different vein—I think, varicose.

There's never a dull moment on this show. Hours, yes!

This is a 5,000-watt station. I don't know what that means, but if the wind is right, they can hear us in the lobby!

I'd like to stop for a commercial. Stop for one? The way business has been, I'd even back up for one!

The problem with working in radio is, sometimes you get the feeling that nobody is listening. I'll ask my engineer. Sam, do you ever get the feeling nobody is listening?… Sam?

This is the “___________ Show” and I'd like to say it's the top-rated deejay show in America. Boy, would I like to say it!

If we limit our defense budget any further, we'll also have to change our national anthem—from “The Star-Spangled Banner” to “I Surrender, Dear.”

I have a great idea for April first. The President calls up the Kremlin and says, “I leaned on the button by mistake and six hundred atomic missiles are now on their way to Moscow. —Who do I say ‘Ooops' to?”