Daily Joke: Jokes Library

There’s a Mexican, an American and a Russian man on a plane.

The Mexican says, “I hate my country!” And throws a tin of soup out the window

The American says, “I hate my country!” and throws a pie out the window.

The Russian says, “I hate my country!” And throws a bomb out the window.

The plane lands and the Mexican sees a kid crying and asks him “what’s wrong kid?”

The kid says, “a tin of soup fell on my mom’s head and now she’s dead.”

“I didn’t do that!” says the Mexican.

The American sees another kid crying and asks her “what’s wrong kid?”

The kid says, “my mom was driving, and a pie fell on her windshield and she drove off a cliff as she couldn’t see!”

“I didn’t do that!” says the American.

Then the Russian gets off the plane and sees a kid laughing his head off.

The Russian says, “what’s so funny?”

The kid says, “Daddy just farted and the house went BOOM!”

A father walks into a restaurant with his young son. He gives the young boy three nickels to play with to keep him occupied. Suddenly, the boy starts choking, going blue in the face. The father realizes the boy has swallowed the nickels and starts slapping him on the back. The boy coughs up two of the nickels but keeps choking. Looking at his son, the father is panicking, shouting for help.

A well dressed, attractive, and serious looking woman, in a blue business suit is sitting at a nearby table reading on her laptop and sipping a cup of coffee. At the sound of the commotion, she looks up, puts her coffee cup down, gets up from her seat and makes her way, unhurried, across the restaurant.

Reaching the boy, the woman carefully drops his pants; takes hold of the boy’s’ testicles and starts to squeeze and twist, gently at first and then ever so firmly. After a few seconds the boy convulses violently and coughs up the last nickel, which the woman deftly catches in her free hand.

Releasing the boy’s testicles, the woman hands the nickel to the father and walks back to her seat at the coffee bar without saying a word.

As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no ill effects, the father rushes over to the woman and starts thanking her saying, “I’ve never seen anybody do anything like that before, it was fantastic. Are you a doctor?”

“No,” the woman replied. “I’m with the IRS.”

A woman decided to have a facelift for her 50th birthday. She spent $5,000 and felt pretty good about the results. On her way home, she stopped at a news stand to buy a newspaper. Before leaving she said to the clerk:

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?”

“About 32,” was the reply.

“Nope! I’m exactly 50,” the woman said happily.

A little while later she went into McDonald’s and asked the counter girl the very same question.

The girl said, “I guess about 29.”

The woman replied, “Nope I’m 50.”

Now she was feeling really good about herself. She stopped in a drug store on her way down the street. She went up to the counter to get some mints and asked the clerk this burning question.

The clerk responded, “Oh, I’d say 30.”

Again she proudly responded, “I am 50, but thank you!”

While waiting for the bus to go home, she asked an old man waiting next to her the same question.

He replied, “Lady, I’m 78 and my eyesight is going…

“Although, when I was young, there was a sure way to tell how old a woman was. It sounds very forward, but it requires you to let me put my hands under your bra. Then, and only then, can I tell you EXACTLY how old you are.”

They waited in silence on the empty street until curiosity got the best of her.

She finally blurted out, “What the hell! Go ahead.”

He slipped both of his hands under her bra and began to feel around very slowly and carefully. He bounced and weighed each one of her bosoms. He gently pinched them as well. He pushed her assets together and rubbed them against each other.

After a couple of minutes of this, she said, “Okay, okay…How old am I?”

He completed one last squeeze, removed his hands, and said, “Madam, you are 50.”

Stunned and amazed, the woman said, “That was incredible! How could you tell??”

“I was behind you in line at McDonald’s.”

The inventor of the Harley-Davidson motorcycle, Arthur Davidson, died and went to heaven.

At the pearly gates, St. Peter told Arthur, “Since you’ve been such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, your reward is, you can hang out with anyone you want in Heaven.”

Arthur thought about this for a minute and then said, “I want to hang out with God.”

St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room and introduced him to God.

God recognized Arthur and commented, “Okay, so you were the one who invented the Harley Davidson motorcycle?”

Arthur said, “Yep, that’s me.”

God said, “Well, what’s the big deal in inventing something that’s pretty unstable, makes noise and pollution, and can’t run without a road?”

Arthur was apparently embarrassed, but finally he said, “Excuse me, but aren’t you the inventor of woman?

God said, “Yes.”

“Well,” said Arthur, “professional to professional, you have some major design flaws in your invention too:

1. There’s too much inconsistency in the front-end protrusions;
2. It chatters constantly at high speeds;
3. Most of the rear ends are too soft, and wobble too much;
4. The intake is placed way too close to the exhaust;
5. And the maintenance costs are enormous!”

“Hmmmmm, you have some good points there,” replied God, “hold on.”

God went to His Celestial supercomputer, typed in some key words and waited for the results. The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it.

“Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed,” God said to Arthur, “but according to these statistics, more men are riding my invention than yours.”

A man owned a small ranch in Montana.

The Montana Work Force Department claimed he was not paying proper wages to his help and sent an agent out to interview him.

“I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them,” demanded the agent.

“Well,” replied the farmer, “there’s my farm hand who’s been with me for 3 years. I pay him $200 a week plus he gets free room and board.”

“The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $150 per week plus free room and board.

“Then there’s the half-wit. He works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here.

“He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night.

“He also sleeps with my wife occasionally.”

“That’s the guy I want to talk to…the half-wit,” said the agent.

“That would be me,” replied the rancher.