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A goober goes to a show and after sitting down, a ventriloquist comes on the stage, and goes through the routine goober jokes.
Suddenly the goober jumps up screaming, blaming the man for the way she is treated at work and presented in the media.
The ventriloquist starts to apologize.
The goober then looks at him and says, "Look, you stay out of this, I'm talking to that little guy on your knee."
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An old man lived alone in Ireland. He wanted to spade his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, who would have helped him, was in Long Kesh Prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and mentioned his predicament. Shortly, he received this reply, "For HEAVEN'S SAKE Dad, don't dig up that garden, that's where I buried the GUNS!"
At 4 A.M. the next morning, a dozen British soldiers showed
up and dug up the entire garden, without finding any guns.
Confused, the old man wrote another note to his son telling
him what happened, and asking him what to do next. His son's reply was: "Now plant your potatoes, Dad; It's the best I could do at this time."
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Sally had lived a good life, having been married four times. Now she stood before the Pearly Gates. The angel at the gates said to her, "I see that you first of all married a banker, then an actor, next a pastor and lastly an undertaker. Why? This does not seem appropriate for a Christian woman."
"Oh yes it is," Sally replied. "It's one for the money, two for the show, three to make ready and four to go."
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What Kind of Christian Are
You?
Some are like wheelbarrows---require being pushed.
Some are a bit like canoes----need paddling.
Some are like kittens----more content when petted.
Some are like footballs----no one can tell which way
they will bounce
Some are like balloons--full of wind and ready to
explode.
Some are like neon signs---keep going on and off.
Sone are like a "dead battery " no energy or power.
Some are like a hitchhiker---willing to ride and let
you pay the bills.
Some are like an iceberg----cold and dangerous.
Some are like a candle under a bushel---useless.
Some are like salt mixed with sand---no saving
power.
Some are like little children---no sense of
responsibility.
Some are like falling leaves---carried away with the
slightest wind of doctrine.
Some are like the rock of gibraltar---firm, unmovable.
WHICH KIND ARE YOU?
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Hillary Depressed...
A man notices a police officer walking between the
lines of stopped cars, so he rolls down his window and
asks, "Officer, what's the hold up?"
The officer replies, "Hillary Clinton is depressed, so
she stopped her motorcade and is threatening to douse
herself in gasoline and set herself on fire. She says
her husband has spent all her money and the Democrats
told her to forget about running for President in
2008, so we're taking up a collection for her.
The stock broker asks, "How much do you have you so
far?"
The officer replies "About 75 gallons, but a lot of
folks are still siphoning...
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Church Gossip
Mildred, the church gossip and self-appointed arbiter
of the church's morals, kept sticking her nose in the
other members' private lives. Church members were unappreciative of her activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence.
She made a mistake, however, when she accused George,
a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his
pickup truck parked in front of the town's only bar
one afternoon. She commented to George and others that
everyone seeing it there would know what he was doing.
George, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment
and just walked away. He didn't explain, defend, or
deny; he said nothing. Later that evening, George
quietly parked his pickup in front of Mildred's
house... and left it there all night!
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A True Southern Gal...
A woman from the most southern part of South Carolina goes into the local newspaper office to see that the obituary for her recently deceased husband is written. The obit editor informs her that the fee for the obituary is a dollar per word. She pauses, reflects and then says, "Well, then, just let it read, 'Billy Bob died'." Amused at the woman's thrift, the editor says, "Sorry ma'am there is a seven word minimum on all obituaries." A little flustered, she thinks things over and replies, "In that case, let it read, 'Billy Bob died - Red truck for sale'.