<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685</id><updated>2012-01-19T00:34:58.221-08:00</updated><category term='nurse jokes'/><category term='redneck jokes'/><category term='Jesus jokes'/><category term='pharmacy jokes'/><category term='arguments'/><category term='dancing jokes'/><category term='beggar jokes'/><category term='German jokes'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='ceo jokes'/><category term='financial jokes'/><category term='pregnancy joke'/><category term='disaster jokes'/><category term='Mexican jokes'/><category term='IRS jokes'/><category term='complaints'/><category term='fishing jokes'/><category term='Spanish jokes'/><category term='travel'/><category term='in-law joke'/><category term='offensive jokes'/><category term='empowered women'/><category term='workplace jokes'/><category term='Scottish jokes'/><category term='Don Knotts'/><category term='Viagra jokes'/><category term='preacher joke'/><category term='cooking joke'/><category term='French jokes'/><category term='pulling the plug joke'/><category term='vet jokes'/><category term='overpayment jokes'/><category term='Paul Lynde'/><category term='beach jokes'/><category term='weddings'/><category term='father and son jokes'/><category term='Democrat jokes'/><category term='travel jokes'/><category term='men and women'/><category term='beverly hills'/><category term='Republican jokes'/><category term='choking jokes'/><category term='vanity'/><category term='barber joke'/><category term='pun'/><category term='game shows'/><category term='Internet jokes'/><category term='pet joke'/><category term='Bible jokes'/><category term='creeps'/><category term='immigration jokes'/><category term='sex jokes'/><category term='God'/><category term='Peter Marshall'/><category term='birth jokes'/><category term='philosophy'/><category term='gun jokes'/><category term='food jokes'/><category term='creation joke'/><category term='weather jokes'/><category term='political jokes'/><category term='Washington DC jokes'/><category term='sunburn jokes'/><category term='advertising jokes'/><category term='anniversary'/><category term='car joke'/><category term='terrorism jokes'/><category term='survey jokes'/><category term='Socrates'/><category term='marriage jokes'/><category term='racist jokes'/><category term='Marty Allen'/><category term='bar jokes'/><category term='boyfriend jokes. girlfriend jokes. jigsaw puzzle jokes'/><category term='stripper jokes'/><category term='Bronx jokes'/><category term='Rose Marie'/><category term='Recession jokes'/><category term='cigarette joke'/><category term='St. Michael the Archangel'/><category term='Ann Landers'/><category term='fairy tale joke'/><category term='football jokes'/><category term='rules'/><category term='McCain jokes'/><category term='New Orleans Saints jokes'/><category term='Chinese jokes'/><category term='dwarf joke'/><category term='prison jokes'/><category term='New York jokes'/><category term='cheating jokes'/><category term='Staten Island Ferry jokes'/><category term='New Zealand jokes'/><category term='cat jokes'/><category term='golf joke'/><category term='Bill Clinton jokes'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='Charley Weaver'/><category term='pickup lines'/><category term='disability jokes'/><category term='school jokes'/><category term='Hillary Clinton jokes'/><category term='bank jokes'/><category term='George Gobel'/><category term='poverty jokes'/><category term='old women'/><category term='meeting jokes'/><category term='windows'/><category term='redneck'/><category term='duck jokes'/><category term='little old lady joke'/><category term='waking up'/><category term='Titanic joke'/><category term='parent jokes'/><category term='boy jokes'/><category term='women'/><category term='dog jokes'/><category term='counseling'/><category term='pilot jokes'/><category term='English jokes'/><category term='breakdown joke'/><category term='Jewish jokes'/><category term='double entendres'/><category term='penis jokes'/><category term='George W. Bush Joke'/><category term='Obama jokes'/><category term='Pillsbury'/><category term='quintuplet jokes'/><category term='bra jokes'/><category term='infidelity'/><category term='television'/><category term='sailor jokes'/><category term='suicide jokes'/><category term='hell jokes'/><category term='Barack Obama joke'/><category term='blonde jokes'/><category term='Vincent Price'/><category term='old age joke'/><category term='American jokes'/><category term='Texas jokes'/><category term='grumpiness'/><category term='feminine hygiene joke'/><category term='dirty jokes'/><category term='train jokes'/><category term='business jokes'/><category term='coffee'/><category term='Australian jokes'/><category term='Cinderella'/><category term='Libertarian jokes'/><category term='Irish jokes'/><category term='religious joke'/><category term='computer jokes'/><title type='text'>A Laugh A Minute</title><subtitle type='html'>Every joke I've ever read or had forwarded to me will eventually reside here. Use it as your resource. Help in crediting will be helpful, even essential; if you own the copyright on anything here, please, don't sue; a cease-and-desist (or, I'd prefer, a limited-use license) will be sufficient.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>122</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7608036450568162953</id><published>2012-01-19T00:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T00:34:58.253-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quintuplet jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birth jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='offensive jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nurse jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='penis jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='racist jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='redneck jokes'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;o:officedocumentsettings&gt;   &lt;o:allowpng/&gt;  &lt;/o:OfficeDocumentSettings&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:trackmoves&gt;false&lt;/w:TrackMoves&gt;   &lt;w:trackformatting/&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing&gt;18 pt&lt;/w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing&gt;   &lt;w:drawinggridverticalspacing&gt;18 pt&lt;/w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing&gt;   &lt;w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery&gt;0&lt;/w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery&gt;   &lt;w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery&gt;0&lt;/w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;    &lt;w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:dontvertalignintxbx/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:12.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;  mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;  mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;  mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;    &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;color:#DA251A"&gt;The redneck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial; color:#00107C"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;went to the&lt;span style="color:#00107C"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;hospital as his wife was having a baby. Upon arriving, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;t&lt;b&gt;he nurse says,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family: Arial"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family: Arial"&gt;"Congratulations,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt; font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;your wife has had quints,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt; font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;5 big baby boys."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align: none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;The Redneck says,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;"I'm not surprised,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt; font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;I have a penis on me like a chimney."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;The nurse replies,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;"You might want to consider getting it cleaned,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;the babies are all black."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:32.0pt;font-family:Arial;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial"&gt;&lt;i&gt;-- Via cousin Joe&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7608036450568162953?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7608036450568162953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7608036450568162953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7608036450568162953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7608036450568162953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2012/01/0-false-18-pt-18-pt-0-0-false-false.html' title=''/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-2818731829413754478</id><published>2012-01-03T23:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T23:59:44.590-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vet jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='overpayment jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='duck jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cat jokes'/><title type='text'>Your Duck is Dead !</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;o:officedocumentsettings&gt;   &lt;o:allowpng/&gt;  &lt;/o:OfficeDocumentSettings&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:trackmoves&gt;false&lt;/w:TrackMoves&gt;   &lt;w:trackformatting/&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing&gt;18 pt&lt;/w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing&gt;   &lt;w:drawinggridverticalspacing&gt;18 pt&lt;/w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing&gt;   &lt;w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery&gt;0&lt;/w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery&gt;   &lt;w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery&gt;0&lt;/w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;    &lt;w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:dontvertalignintxbx/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:12.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;  mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;  mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;  mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;    &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia;font-size:16.0pt;"&gt;A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird's chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head and sadly said, "I'm sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has passed away." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;The distressed woman wailed, "Are you sure?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;"Yes, I am sure. Your duck is dead," replied the vet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;"How can you be so sure?" she protested. "I mean you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a black Labrador retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head. The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;A few minutes later he returned with a cat. The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman. The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. "A hundred fifty dollars!" she cried, "$150 just to tell me my duck is dead!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;The vet shrugged, "I'm sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it's now $150." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:21px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;– via Brian Lehrhoff&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-2818731829413754478?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/2818731829413754478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=2818731829413754478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2818731829413754478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2818731829413754478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2012/01/your-duck-is-dead.html' title='Your Duck is Dead !'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8460347829461587925</id><published>2011-11-06T17:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T17:51:48.703-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dirty jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bar jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pilot jokes'/><title type='text'>The Pilot and the Ballerina</title><content type='html'>A large woman, wearing a sleeveless sun dress, walked into a bar in Mission Beach. She raised her right arm, revealing a huge, hairy armpit. She pointed to all the people sitting at the bar and asked, "What man here will buy a lass a drink?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bar went silent as the patrons tried to ignore her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But down at the end of the bar, an owl-eyed drunk F-8 fighter pilot slammed his hand down on the counter and bellowed, "Pour the ballerina a drink!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender poured the drink and the woman chugged it down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turned to the patrons and again pointed around at all of them, revealing the same hairy armpit, and asked, "What man here will buy a lass another drink?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, the same wiry pilot slapped his money down on the bar and said, "Give the ballerina another drink!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender approached the drunk pilot and said, "Tell me, Andy. It's your business if you want to buy the lady a drink, but why do you keep calling her a ballerina?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied, "Any woman who can lift her leg that high has got to be a ballerina."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source: Cousin Joe&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8460347829461587925?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8460347829461587925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8460347829461587925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8460347829461587925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8460347829461587925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/11/pilot-and-ballerina.html' title='The Pilot and the Ballerina'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6351521898059181901</id><published>2011-11-06T17:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T17:37:34.962-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ski Trip</title><content type='html'>Subject: The Ski Trip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack decided to go skiing with his buddy, Bob. So they loaded up Jack's mini van and headed north. After driving for a few hours, they got caught in a terrible blizzard. So they pulled into a nearby farm and asked the attractive lady who answered the door if they could spend the night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I realize it's terrible weather out there and I have this huge house all to myself, but I'm recently widowed," she explained. "I'm afraid the neighbors will talk if I let you stay in my house." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't worry," Jack said. "We'll be happy to sleep in the barn. And if the weather breaks, we'll be gone at first light." The lady agreed, and the two men found their way to the barn and settled in for the night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come morning, the weather had cleared, and they got on their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; They enjoyed a great weekend of skiing. But about nine months later, Jack got an unexpected letter from an attorney. It took him a few minutes to figure it out, but he finally determined that it was from the attorney of that attractive widow he had met on the ski weekend. He dropped in on his friend Bob and asked, "Bob, do you remember that good-looking widow from the farm we stayed at on our ski holiday up North about 9 months ago?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I do." said Bob. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you, er, happen to get up in the middle of the night, go up to the house and pay her a visit?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, um, yes," Bob said, a little embarrassed about being found out. "I have to admit that I did." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And did you happen to use my name instead of telling her your name?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob's face turned beet-red and he said, "Yeah, look, I'm sorry, buddy. I'm afraid I did. Why do you ask?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She just died and left me everything.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Source: Rob Weinberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6351521898059181901?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6351521898059181901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6351521898059181901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6351521898059181901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6351521898059181901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/11/ski-trip.html' title='The Ski Trip'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4929120546578209088</id><published>2011-10-02T00:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T00:51:34.049-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beggar jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fishing jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poverty jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='golf joke'/><title type='text'>A Couple of Dollars for Dinner</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Source: Kirk Stanphill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man was walking down the street when he was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless man who asked him for a couple of dollars for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man took out his wallet, extracted ten dollars and asked, "If I give you this money, will you buy some beer with it instead of dinner?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I had to stop drinking years ago," the homeless man replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you use it to go fishing instead of buying food?" the man asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I don't waste time fishing," the homeless man said. "I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you spend this on greens' fees at a golf course instead of food?" the man asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you NUTS!" replied the homeless man. "I haven't played golf in 20 years!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will you spend the money on a woman in the red light district instead of food?" the man asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What disease would I get for ten lousy bucks?" exclaimed the homeless man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the man, "I'm not going to give you the money. Instead, I'm going to take you home for a terrific dinner cooked by my wife."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The homeless man was astounded. "Won't your wife be furious with you for doing that? I know I'm dirty and I probably smell pretty disgusting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "That's okay. It's important for her to see what a man looks like after he has given up beer, fishing, golf and sex."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4929120546578209088?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4929120546578209088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4929120546578209088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4929120546578209088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4929120546578209088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/10/man-was-walking-down-street-when-he-was.html' title='A Couple of Dollars for Dinner'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-5101043957368505644</id><published>2011-09-14T00:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T00:22:46.659-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><title type='text'>WHY MEN ARE SELDOM DEPRESSED:</title><content type='html'>Some might consider this sexist.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;Men Are Just Happier People -- &lt;br /&gt;What do you expect from such simple creatures? &lt;br /&gt;Your last name stays put. &lt;br /&gt;The garage is all yours. &lt;br /&gt;Wedding plans take care of themselves. &lt;br /&gt;Chocolate is just another snack. &lt;br /&gt;You can be President. &lt;br /&gt;You can never be pregnant. &lt;br /&gt;You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. &lt;br /&gt;You can wear NO shirt to a water park. &lt;br /&gt;Car mechanics tell you the truth. &lt;br /&gt;The world is your urinal. &lt;br /&gt;You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Same work, more pay.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Wrinkles add character.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental-$100.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;One mood all the  time.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You know stuff about tanks.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You can open all your own  jars.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;If someone forgets to invite you,&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;He or she can still be your friend.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Your underwear is  $8.95 for a three-pack.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Three pairs of shoes are more than enough..&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You almost never have strap problems in public.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes..&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Everything on your face stays its original color..&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You only have to shave your face and neck.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You can play with toys all your life.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;One wallet and one pair of shoes -- one color for all seasons.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look..&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You can 'do' your nails with a pocket knife.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.   &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;On December 24 in 25 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;No wonder men are happier.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   Men Are Just Happier People&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;NICKNAMES &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          If Laura, Kate and Sarah go out for lunch, they will call each other Laura, Kate and Sarah. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          If Mike, Dave and John go out, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fat Boy, Bubba and Wildman . &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;EATING OUT &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          When the bill arrives, Mike, Dave and John will each throw in $20, even though it's only for $32.50.  None of them will have anything smaller and none will actually admit they want change back. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          When the girls get their bill, out come the pocket calculators.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;MONEY &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn't need but it's on sale. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;BATHROOMS &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A man has six items in his bathroom: toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, a bar of soap, and a towel. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          The average number of items in the typical woman's bathroom is 337.  A man would not be able to identify more than 20 of these items. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;ARGUMENTS &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A woman has the last word in any argument. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;FUTURE &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;MARRIAGE &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change, but she does. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;DRESSING UP  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A woman will dress up to go shopping, water the plants, empty the trash, answer the phone, read a book, and get the mail. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;�          A man will dress up for weddings and funerals. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;NATURAL &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          Women somehow deteriorate during the night. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;OFFSPRING  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          Ah, children.  A woman knows all about her children.  She knows about dentist appointments and romances, best friends, favorite foods, secret fears and hopes and dreams. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;�          A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;THOUGHT FOR THE DAY &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;A married man should forget his mistakes.  There's no use in two people remembering the same thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-5101043957368505644?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/5101043957368505644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=5101043957368505644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5101043957368505644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5101043957368505644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/09/why-men-are-seldom-depressed.html' title='WHY MEN ARE SELDOM DEPRESSED:'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4883134471921448121</id><published>2011-08-19T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T22:03:23.256-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creeps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old age joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old women'/><title type='text'>An Old Guy's Problems</title><content type='html'>Via cousin Jack:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After being married for 40 years, I took a careful look at my wife one day and said .... "Forty years ago we had a cheap house, a junk car, slept on a sofa bed and watched a 10-inch black and white TV, but I got to sleep every night with a hot 23-year-old girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now ... I have a $500,000.00 home, a $35,000.00 car, a nice big bed and a large screen TV, but I'm sleeping with a 63-year-old woman. It seems to me that you're not holding up your side of things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife is a very reasonable woman. She told me to go out and find a hot 23-year-old girl and she would make sure that I would once again be living in a cheap house, driving a junk car, sleeping on a sofa bed and watching a 10-inch black and white TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aren't older women great? They really know how to solve an old guy's problems, eh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4883134471921448121?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4883134471921448121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4883134471921448121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4883134471921448121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4883134471921448121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/08/old-guys-problems.html' title='An Old Guy&apos;s Problems'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8311908012902657993</id><published>2011-06-19T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T22:40:20.799-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stripper jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ceo jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beverly hills'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mexican jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='financial jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='business jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recession jokes'/><title type='text'>The Recession</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;From Bill H:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The recession has hit everybody really hard...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My neighbor got a pre-declined credit card in the mail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CEO's are now playing miniature golf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exxon-Mobil laid off 25 Republican Congressmen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A stripper was killed when her audience showered her with rolls of pennies while she danced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the bank returns your check marked "Insufficient Funds," you call them and ask if they meant you or them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;McDonald's is selling the 1/4 ouncer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents in Beverly Hills fired their nannies and learned their children's names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A truckload of Americans was caught sneaking into Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture is now only worth 200 words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Treasure Island casino in Las Vegas is now managed by Somali pirates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so depressed last night I got a call center in Pakistan , and when I told them I was suicidal, they got all excited, and asked if I could drive a truck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8311908012902657993?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8311908012902657993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8311908012902657993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8311908012902657993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8311908012902657993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/06/recession.html' title='The Recession'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7606376307222213702</id><published>2011-05-30T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T18:42:04.837-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religious joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Internet jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer jokes'/><title type='text'>How the Internet Started</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Via Bill Hibler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subject: How the Internet started&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the Internet started:-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A revelation with an Incredibly Big Message (IBM):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, you might have thought that you knew how the Internet started,&lt;br /&gt;but here's the TRUE story ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ancient Israel , it came to pass that a trader by the name of&lt;br /&gt;Abraham Com did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Dot Com was a comely woman, broad of shoulder and long of leg.&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, she was often called Amazon Dot Com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she said unto Abraham, her husband: "Why dost thou travel so far&lt;br /&gt;from town to town with thy goods when thou canst trade without ever&lt;br /&gt;leaving thy tent?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Abraham did look at her - as though she were several saddle bags&lt;br /&gt;short of a camel load, but simply said: "How, dear?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Dot replied: "I will place drums in all the towns and drums in&lt;br /&gt;between to send messages saying what you have for sale, and they will&lt;br /&gt;reply telling you who hath the best price.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the sale can be made on the drums and delivery made by Uriah's&lt;br /&gt;Pony Stable (UPS)."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with&lt;br /&gt;the drums. And the drums rang out and were an immediate success.&lt;br /&gt;Abraham sold all the goods he had at the top price, without ever&lt;br /&gt;having to move from his tent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To prevent neighbouring countries from overhearing what the drums were&lt;br /&gt;saying, Dot devised a system that only she and the drummers knew. It&lt;br /&gt;was called Must Send Drum Over Sound (MSDOS), and she also developed a&lt;br /&gt;language to transmit ideas and pictures - Hebrew To The People (HTTP)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this success did arouse envy. A man named Maccabia did secrete&lt;br /&gt;himself inside Abraham's drum and began to siphon off some of&lt;br /&gt;Abraham's business. But he was soon discovered, arrested and&lt;br /&gt;prosecuted for insider trading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the young men did take to Dot Com's trading as doth the greedy&lt;br /&gt;horsefly take to camel dung.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Sybarites, or NERDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the&lt;br /&gt;deafening sound of drums that no one noticed that the real riches were&lt;br /&gt;going to that enterprising drum dealer, Brother William of Gates, who&lt;br /&gt;bought off every drum maker in the land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And indeed did insist on drums to be made that would work only with&lt;br /&gt;Brother Gates' drumheads and drumsticks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Dot did say: "Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken&lt;br /&gt;over by others."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel , or eBay as it came to&lt;br /&gt;be known. He said: "We need a name that reflects what we are."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Dot replied: "Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators." "YAHOO,"&lt;br /&gt;said Abraham. And because it was Dot's idea, they named it YAHOO Dot&lt;br /&gt;Com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abraham's cousin, Joshua, being the young Gregarious Energetic&lt;br /&gt;Educated Kid (GEEK) that he was, soon started using Dot's drums to&lt;br /&gt;locate things around the countryside. It soon became known as God's&lt;br /&gt;Own Official Guide to Locating Everything (GOOGLE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...... and that is how it all began.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7606376307222213702?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7606376307222213702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7606376307222213702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7606376307222213702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7606376307222213702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/05/via-bill-hibler-subject-how-internet.html' title='How the Internet Started'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3313188162147550282</id><published>2011-05-14T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T08:21:46.114-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Titanic joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mexican jokes'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;From Giuseppe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people don't know that back in 1912, Hellmann's mayonnaise was manufactured in England. In fact, the Titanic was carrying 12,000 jars of the condiment scheduled for delivery in Vera Cruz, Mexico, which was to be the next port of call for the great ship after its stop in New York. This would have been the largest single shipment of mayonnaise ever delivered to Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as we know, the great ship did not make it to New York. The ship hit an iceberg and sank, and the cargo was forever lost. The people of Mexico, who were crazy about mayonnaise, and were eagerly awaiting its delivery, were disconsolate at the loss. Their anguish was so great, that they declared a National Day of Mourning, which they still observe to this day. The National Day of Mourning occurs each year on May 5th and is known, of course, as... Sinko De Mayo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3313188162147550282?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3313188162147550282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3313188162147550282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3313188162147550282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3313188162147550282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/05/from-giuseppe-most-people-dont-know.html' title=''/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-523734598220274672</id><published>2011-04-03T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T21:55:45.260-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='offensive jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mexican jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disaster jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='immigration jokes'/><title type='text'>Mexican Hurricane</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;Via BSL:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;A category 5 hurricane hits Mexico. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;Two million Mexicans die and over a  million are injured. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;The country is totally ruined and the government doesn't know where to start and is asking for help to rebuild. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;The rest  of the world is in shock.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;Canada is sending troopers to help the Mexican army control the riots.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;Saudi Arabia is sending oil.  Other Latin American countries are sending supplies.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;The European community (except France) is sending food and money.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;The United States, not to be outdone, is sending two million Mexicans to  replace the dead ones.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; white-space: pre; "&gt;God Bless America!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-523734598220274672?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/523734598220274672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=523734598220274672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/523734598220274672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/523734598220274672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/04/via-bsl-category-5-hurricane-hits.html' title='Mexican Hurricane'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4053956498455811279</id><published>2011-02-27T18:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T18:58:46.549-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='barber joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='George W. Bush Joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barack Obama joke'/><title type='text'>George and Barack Go to the Barber</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Source: Cousin Joe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Bush and Barack Obama somehow ended up at the same barber shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they sat there, each being worked on by a different barber, not a word was spoken. The barbers were even afraid to start a&lt;br /&gt;conversation, for fear it would turn to politics.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;As the barbers finished their shaves, the one who had Obama in his chair reached for the aftershave. Obama was quick to stop him saying, 'No thanks, my wife Michelle will smell that and think I've been in a whorehouse.'&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;The second barber turned to Bush and said, 'How about you sir ?' Bush replied, 'Go ahead; my wife doesn't know what the inside of a whorehouse smells like.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4053956498455811279?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4053956498455811279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4053956498455811279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4053956498455811279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4053956498455811279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/02/george-and-barack-go-to-barber.html' title='George and Barack Go to the Barber'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4802101335213793879</id><published>2011-01-22T22:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-22T22:41:02.161-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheating jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='train jokes'/><title type='text'>A Short Love Story</title><content type='html'>From my Red Barons pal, Kirk:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man and a woman, who had never met before, but who were both married to other people,&lt;br /&gt;found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a transcontinental train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper bunk and she in the lower.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;At 1:00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying, "Ma'am, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket?    I'm awfully cold."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I have a better idea," she replied. "Just for tonight, let’s pretend that we're married."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Wow! That's a great idea!" he exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Good," she replied. "Get your own damn blanket."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a moment of silence, he farted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE END&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4802101335213793879?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4802101335213793879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4802101335213793879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4802101335213793879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4802101335213793879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/01/short-love-story.html' title='A Short Love Story'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7064277876612211790</id><published>2011-01-16T03:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T03:03:38.458-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boyfriend jokes. girlfriend jokes. jigsaw puzzle jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde jokes'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;HCB forwards again...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A  blonde calls her boyfriend and says, "Please come over here and help me. I &lt;br /&gt;have a killer jigsaw puzzle, and I  can't figure out how to get it started."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend asks, "What is it supposed to be when it's finished?"   The blonde &lt;br /&gt;says, "According to the picture on the box, it's a tiger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend decides to go over and help with the puzzle. She lets him in and &lt;br /&gt;shows him where she has the puzzle spread all over the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He studies the pieces for a  moment, then looks at the box, then turns to her &lt;br /&gt;and says, "First of all, no matter what we do, we're not going to be able to &lt;br /&gt;assemble these pieces into anything resembling a tiger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He takes her hand and says, "Second, I want you to relax. Let's have a nice cup &lt;br /&gt;of tea, and then ..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sighed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's put all the Frosted Flakes back in the box..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7064277876612211790?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7064277876612211790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7064277876612211790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7064277876612211790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7064277876612211790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/01/hcb-forwards-again.html' title=''/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1515908801997623291</id><published>2011-01-12T23:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T23:05:41.019-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suicide jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sailor jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Staten Island Ferry jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York jokes'/><title type='text'>At Sea</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Forward Source: HCB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful young New York woman was so depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the ocean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just before she could throw herself from the docks, a handsome young man stopped her. "You have so much to live for," said the man. "I'm a sailor, and we're off to Europe tomorrow, and I can stow you away on my ship. I'll take care of you, bring you food every day, and keep you happy." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With nothing to lose, combined with the fact that she had always wanted to go to Europe , the woman accepted. That night the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a small, but comfortable, compartment in the hold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From then on, every night he would bring her three sandwiches and make love to her until dawn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks later she was discovered by the captain during a routine inspection.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing here?" asked the captain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she replied. "He brings food and I get a free trip to Europe .” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see," the captain says. Her conscience got the best of her and she added, "plus, he's screwing me." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He certainly is," replied the captain. "This is the Staten Island Ferry."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1515908801997623291?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1515908801997623291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1515908801997623291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1515908801997623291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1515908801997623291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/01/at-sea.html' title='At Sea'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-25648271754088227</id><published>2011-01-12T01:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T01:16:25.495-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='choking jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='father and son jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IRS jokes'/><title type='text'>The Three Nickels</title><content type='html'>Source: Brian L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A father walks into a restaurant with his young son. He gives the young boy 3 nickels to play with to keep him occupied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy coughs up 2 of the nickels, but keeps choking. Looking at his son, the father is panicking, shouting for help. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A well-dressed, attractive, and serious-looking woman in a blue business suit is sitting at a coffee bar, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee. At the sound of the commotion, she looks up, puts her coffee cup down, neatly folds the newspaper and places it on the counter, gets up from her seat and makes her way, unhurried, across the restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," the woman replied. "I'm with the IRS."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-25648271754088227?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/25648271754088227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=25648271754088227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/25648271754088227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/25648271754088227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/01/source-brian-l-father-walks-into.html' title='The Three Nickels'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8217597847726621203</id><published>2011-01-08T17:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T17:47:47.105-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Washington DC jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bronx jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='St. Michael the Archangel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>God and The Bronx</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Via Giuseppe:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God  was missing for six days. Eventually, Michael, the archangel, found him  resting on the seventh day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He inquired, "Where have you  been?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God smiled deeply and proudly pointed downwards through the  clouds, "Look, Michael. Look what I've made."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Archangel Michael looked puzzled, and said, "What is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a planet," replied  God, and I've put life on it… I'm going to call it Earth and it's going to  be a place to test Balance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Balance?" inquired Michael, "I'm  still confused."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God explained, pointing to different parts of  Earth. "For example, northern Europe will be a place of great opportunity  and wealth, while southern Europe is going to be poor. Over here I've  placed a continent of white people and over there is a continent of black people. Balance in all things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God continued pointing to different  countries. "This one will be extremely hot, while this one will be very  cold and covered in ice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Archangel, impressed by God's work,  then pointed to a land area and said, "What's that  one?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's The Bronx, the most glorious place on  earth. It is surrounded by rivers and an ocean, and has forests,  hills, and plains. The people from The Bronx are going to be  handsome and beautiful, modest, generous, compassionate, intelligent and  humorous, and they are going to travel the world. They will be extremely  sociable, hardworking, high achieving, carriers of peace and producers of  good things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael gasped in wonder and admiration, but then  asked, "But what about balance, God? You said there would be  balance..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God smiled, "Yes.  Further south is  Washington, DC.  Wait till you see the idiots I put  there."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8217597847726621203?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8217597847726621203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8217597847726621203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8217597847726621203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8217597847726621203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/01/god-and-bronx.html' title='God and The Bronx'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-862247384848731148</id><published>2011-01-01T03:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T03:35:40.278-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bra jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='offensive jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jewish jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chinese jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='business jokes'/><title type='text'>Black Bras</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Forward credit: HCB&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Chinese goes to a Jew to buy black bras. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jew, known for his skills as businessman, says that black bras are rare and that he is finding it very difficult to buy them from his suppliers.  Therefore he has to charge £50.00 for them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chinese buys six. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He returns a few days later and orders another dozen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jew tells him that they have become even harder to get and charges him £60.00 each.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chinese returns a month later and buys the Jew’s remaining stock for £75.00 each.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jew is somewhat puzzled by the large demand for black bras and asks the Chinese what he does with all these bras. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chinese answers : ‘I cut them in half and sell the halves to the Jews for £100.00 each.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-862247384848731148?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/862247384848731148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=862247384848731148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/862247384848731148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/862247384848731148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2011/01/black-bras.html' title='Black Bras'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-9080966085387592531</id><published>2010-11-28T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T16:13:58.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The  four Goldberg  Brothers</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;via Bill Hibler:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The four Goldberg brothers, Lowell, Norman, Hiram, and Maxwell, invented  and developed the first automobile air-conditioner.  On July 17, 1946, the temperature in Detroit was 97 degrees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The four brothers walked into old man  Henry Ford's office and sweet-talked his secretary into  telling him that four gentlemen were there with the most  exciting innovation in the auto industry since the electric  starter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Henry was curious and invited them into  his office. They refused and instead asked that he come  out to the parking lot to their car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They  persuaded him to get into the car, which was about 130  degrees, turned on the air conditioner, and cooled the  car off immediately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man got very excited  and invited them back to the office, where he offered  them $3 million for the patent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brothers  refused, saying they would settle for $2 million, but  they wanted the recognition by having a label, 'The  Goldberg Air-Conditioner,' on the dashboard of each car  in which it was installed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now old man Ford was  more than just a little anti-Semitic, and there was no  way he was going to put the Goldberg's name on two million  Fords. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They haggled back and forth for about two  hours and finally agreed on $4 million and that just  their first names would be shown. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so to this  day, all Ford air conditioners show    -- Lo,  Norm,  Hi,  and   Max  --  on the controls!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-9080966085387592531?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/9080966085387592531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=9080966085387592531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/9080966085387592531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/9080966085387592531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/11/four-goldberg-brothers.html' title='The  four Goldberg  Brothers'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-5263861753383492958</id><published>2010-11-25T02:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T02:45:09.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Truths for Mature Adults</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;From Kirk Stanphill:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  2. Nothing stinks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  4. There is great need for a humor font. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  5. How the heck are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  6. Was learning cursive really necessary? &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  10. Bad decisions make good stories. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment, when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blu Ray?  I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  15. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  16. I wish Google Maps had an "avoid bad neighborhood" routing option. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  17. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger. &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;  18. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said? &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;  19. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters! &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;  20. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants?  Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever. &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;  21. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is. &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;  23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time! &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;  24. The first testicular guard, the "cup," was used in hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important. Ladies.....quit laughing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-5263861753383492958?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/5263861753383492958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=5263861753383492958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5263861753383492958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5263861753383492958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/11/truths-for-mature-adults.html' title='Truths for Mature Adults'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6620970997641830460</id><published>2010-10-24T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T14:56:58.628-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pregnancy joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='golf joke'/><title type='text'>Pregnancy Class</title><content type='html'>Via Brian L:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The room was full of pregnant women with their partners.  The class was in full swing.  The instructor was teaching the women how to breathe properly and was telling the men how to give the necessary assurance to their partners at this stage of the pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said "Ladies, remember that exercise is good for you.  Walking is especially beneficial.  It strengthens the pelvic muscles and will make delivery that much easier.  Just take several stops and stay on a soft surface like grass or a path."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at the men in the room, "and Gentlemen, remember -- you're in this together -- it wouldn't hurt you to go walking with her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The room suddenly got very quiet as the men absorbed this information.   Then a man at the back of the room slowly raised his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes", answered the Instructor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was just wondering if it would be all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   ---- This kind of sensitivity just can't be taught.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6620970997641830460?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6620970997641830460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6620970997641830460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6620970997641830460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6620970997641830460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/10/pregnancy-class.html' title='Pregnancy Class'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1495333935034595761</id><published>2010-10-10T18:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T18:39:38.679-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old age joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pulling the plug joke'/><title type='text'>Vegetative State</title><content type='html'>Via Brian:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, my daughter and I were sitting in the living room and I said &lt;br /&gt;to her, “I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some &lt;br /&gt;machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the &lt;br /&gt;plug.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is SOOOO on my shit list!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1495333935034595761?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1495333935034595761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1495333935034595761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1495333935034595761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1495333935034595761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/10/vegetative-state.html' title='Vegetative State'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6993370816151483843</id><published>2010-10-10T17:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T18:27:36.081-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religious joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Republican jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Libertarian jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jesus jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disability jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Democrat jokes'/><title type='text'>Jesus and the Democrat</title><content type='html'>Via HCB&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus and the Democrat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Republican, in a wheelchair, entered a restaurant one afternoon and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. The Republican looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus sitting over there?" The waitress nodded "yes," so the Republican requested that she give Jesus a cup of coffee, on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next patron to come in was a Libertarian, with a hunched back. He shuffled over to a booth, painfully sat down, and asked the waitress for a cup of hot tea. He also glanced across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus, over there?" The waitress nodded, so the Libertarian asked her to give Jesus a cup of hot tea, "My treat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third patron to come into the restaurant was a Democrat on crutches. He hobbled over to a booth, sat down and hollered, "Hey there honey! How's about gettin' me a cold mug of Miller Light?" He too looked across the restaurant and asked, "Isn't that God's boy over there? The waitress nodded, so the Democrat directed her to give Jesus a cold beer. "On my bill," he said loudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Jesus got up to leave, he passed by the Republican, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Republican felt the strength come back into his legs, got up, and danced a jig out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus passed by the Libertarian, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Libertarian felt his back straightening up and he raised his hands, praised the Lord, and did a series of back flips out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Jesus walked towards the Democrat, just smiling. The Democrat jumped up and yelled, "Don't touch me ... I'm collecting disability."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6993370816151483843?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6993370816151483843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6993370816151483843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6993370816151483843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6993370816151483843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/10/jesus-and-democrat.html' title='Jesus and the Democrat'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7099198445349587890</id><published>2010-08-14T07:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T07:42:47.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Florida Wedding</title><content type='html'>From Giuseppe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jacob, age 92, and Rebecca, age 89, living in Florida , are all excited about their decision to get married. They go for a stroll to discuss the wedding, and on the way they pass a drugstore. Jacob suggests they go in.&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob addresses the man behind the counter: "Are you the owner?"&lt;br /&gt;The pharmacist answers, "Yes ."&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "We're about to get married. Do you sell heart medication?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "Of course we do."&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "How about medicine for circulation?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "All kinds "&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "Medicine for rheumatism?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "Definitely."&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "How about suppositories?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "You bet!"&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "Medicine for memory problems, arthritis, and Alzheimer's?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "Yes, a large variety. The works..&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "What about vitamins, sleeping pills, Geritol, antidotes for&lt;br /&gt;Parkinson's disease?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "Absolutely."&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "Anything for heartburn and indigestion?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "We sure do."&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "You sell wheelchairs and walkers and canes?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "All speeds and sizes..."&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "Adult diapers?"&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacist: "Sure."&lt;br /&gt;*Jacob: "We'd like to use this store as our Bridal Registry."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7099198445349587890?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7099198445349587890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7099198445349587890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7099198445349587890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7099198445349587890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/08/florida-wedding.html' title='Florida Wedding'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-377009091255569836</id><published>2010-05-09T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T17:37:08.816-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bank jokes'/><title type='text'>Male vs. Female at the ATM Machine</title><content type='html'>From Kirk, my baseball compadre:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MALE VS. FEMALE AT THE ATM MACHINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new sign in the Bank Lobby reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Please note that this Bank is installing new Drive-through ATM machines&lt;br /&gt;enabling customers to withdraw cash without leaving their vehicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customers using this new facility are requested to use the procedures&lt;br /&gt;outlined below when accessing their accounts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After months of careful research, "MALE &amp; FEMALE" procedures have been&lt;br /&gt;developed. Please follow the appropriate steps for your gender.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;br /&gt;MALE PROCEDURE:&lt;br /&gt;1. Drive up to the cash machine.&lt;br /&gt;2. Put down your car window.&lt;br /&gt;3. Insert card into machine and enter PIN.&lt;br /&gt;4. Enter amount of cash required and withdraw.&lt;br /&gt;5. Retrieve card, cash and receipt.&lt;br /&gt;6. Put window up.&lt;br /&gt;7. Drive off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FEMALE PROCEDURE:&lt;br /&gt;(What is really funny is that most of this part is the truth!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Drive up to cash machine.&lt;br /&gt;2. Reverse and back up the required amount to align car window with the&lt;br /&gt;machine.&lt;br /&gt;3. Set parking brake, put the window down.&lt;br /&gt;4. Find handbag, remove all contents on to passenger seat to locate card.&lt;br /&gt;5. Tell person on cell phone you will call them back and hang up.&lt;br /&gt;6. Attempt to insert card into machine.&lt;br /&gt;7. Open car door to allow easier access to machine due to its excessive&lt;br /&gt;distance from the car.&lt;br /&gt;8. Insert card.&lt;br /&gt;9. Re-insert card the right way.&lt;br /&gt;10. Dig through handbag to find diary with your PIN written on the inside&lt;br /&gt;back page.&lt;br /&gt;11. Enter PIN.&lt;br /&gt;12. Press cancel and re-enter correct PIN.&lt;br /&gt;13. Enter amount of cash required.&lt;br /&gt;14. Check makeup in rear view mirror.&lt;br /&gt;15. Retrieve cash and receipt.&lt;br /&gt;16. Empty handbag again to locate wallet and place cash inside.&lt;br /&gt;17. Write debit amount in cheque register and place receipt in back of&lt;br /&gt;chequebook.&lt;br /&gt;18. Re-check makeup.&lt;br /&gt;19. Drive forward 2 feet.&lt;br /&gt;20. Reverse back to cash machine.&lt;br /&gt;21. Retrieve card.&lt;br /&gt;22. Re-empty hand bag, locate card holder, and place card into the slot&lt;br /&gt;provided!&lt;br /&gt;23. Give dirty look to irate male driver waiting behind you.&lt;br /&gt;24. Restart stalled engine and pull off.&lt;br /&gt;25. Redial person on cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;26. Drive for 2 to 3 miles.&lt;br /&gt;27. Release Parking Brake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-377009091255569836?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/377009091255569836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=377009091255569836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/377009091255569836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/377009091255569836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/05/male-vs-female-at-atm-machine.html' title='Male vs. Female at the ATM Machine'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3758460597249754494</id><published>2010-05-07T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T07:09:43.217-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><title type='text'>The Dark Side of Women</title><content type='html'>Thanks to Bill H:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman was in town on a shopping trip. She began her day finding the most perfect shoes in the first shop and a beautiful dress on sale in the second. In the third, everything had just been reduced by 50 percent when her mobile phone rang.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a female doctor notifying her that her husband had just been in a terrible car accident and was in critical condition and in the ICU.  The woman told the doctor to inform her husband where she was and that she'd be there as soon as possible.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she hung up she realized she was leaving what was shaping up to be her best day ever in the boutiques.   She decided to get in a couple of more shops before heading to the hospital.  She ended up shopping the rest of the morning, finishing her trip with a cup of coffee, and a beautiful chocolate cake slice, compliments of the last shop.  She was jubilant.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she remembered her husband.  Feeling guilty, she dashed to the hospital. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She saw the doctor in the corridor and asked about her husband's condition.  The lady doctor glared at her and shouted, 'You went ahead and finished your shopping trip didn't you!  I hope you're proud of yourself!  While you were out for the past four hours enjoying yourself in town, your husband has been languishing in the Intensive Care Unit!   It's just as well you went ahead and finished, because it will more than likely be the last shopping trip you ever take!  For the rest of his life he will require round-the-clock care.  And he will now be your career!' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman was feeling so guilty she broke down and sobbed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady doctor then chuckled and said, 'I'm just pulling your leg.   He's dead...  Show me what you bought.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3758460597249754494?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3758460597249754494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3758460597249754494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3758460597249754494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3758460597249754494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/05/dark-side-of-women.html' title='The Dark Side of Women'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-2243670011080627830</id><published>2010-04-05T00:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T00:29:42.844-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Washington DC jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hell jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Orleans Saints jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='football jokes'/><title type='text'>New Orleans Saints</title><content type='html'>From my pal Bruce:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For decades pundits have been saying that the New Orleans Saints were so bad at playing football that hell would freeze over before the Saints would ever win The Super Bowl.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;On Sunday, February 7, 2010 The Saints won the Super Bowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that same Sunday Washington D.C. was paralyzed under several feet of snow and the Government was shut down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This, then, firmly establishes the exact geographical position of hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-2243670011080627830?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/2243670011080627830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=2243670011080627830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2243670011080627830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2243670011080627830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/04/new-orleans-saints.html' title='New Orleans Saints'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-966542391278083440</id><published>2010-03-25T22:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T22:27:57.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Love Dress</title><content type='html'>Via cousin Joe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman stopped by, unannounced, at her son's house. She knocked on the door then immediately walked in. She was shocked to see her daughter-in-law lying on the couch, totally naked. Soft music was playing, and the aroma of perfume filled the room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing?!" she asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm waiting for Mike to come home from work," the daughter-in- law answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But you're naked!" the mother-in-law exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is my love dress," the daughter-in-law explained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love dress? But you're naked!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mike loves me and wants me to wear this dress," she explained." It excites him to no end. Every time he sees me in this dress, he instantly becomes romantic and ravages me for hours on end. He can't get enough of me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother-in-law left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she got home, she undressed, showered, put on her best perfume, dimmed the lights, put on a romantic CD, and lay on the couch, waiting for her husband to arrive. Finally, her husband came home. He walked in and saw her lying there so provocatively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is my love dress," she whispered sensually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Needs ironing," he said. "What's for dinner?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-966542391278083440?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/966542391278083440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=966542391278083440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/966542391278083440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/966542391278083440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/03/love-dress.html' title='The Love Dress'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4843758627436062181</id><published>2010-01-30T10:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T10:59:45.832-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='German jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Zealand jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='terrorism jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='French jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='American jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Scottish jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Australian jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='offensive jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spanish jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='English jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advertising jokes'/><title type='text'>Different Terror Threat Levels Around The World</title><content type='html'>From cousin Ken:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different Terror Threat Levels Around The World&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to a "Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was in 1588 when threatened by the Spanish Armada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Scots raised their threat level from "Pissed Off" to "Let's Get the Bastards" They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability. It's not only the French who are on a heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout loudly and excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Germans also increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Americans meanwhile and as usual are carrying out pre-emptive strikes, on all of their allies, just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the southern hemisphere...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Zealand has also raised its security levels - from "baaa" to "BAAAA!" Due to continuing defense cutbacks (the air force being a squadron of spotty teenagers flying paper aeroplanes and the navy some toy boats in the Prime Minister's bath), New Zealand only has one more level of escalation, which is "I hope Australia will come and rescue us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No Worries" to "She'll Be Right, Mate". Three more escalation levels remain: "Crikey!", "I Think We'll Need to Cancel the Barbie this Weekend," and "The Barbie is Canceled." So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final escalation level.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4843758627436062181?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4843758627436062181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4843758627436062181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4843758627436062181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4843758627436062181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/01/different-terror-threat-levels-around.html' title='Different Terror Threat Levels Around The World'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6740416836911946251</id><published>2010-01-30T10:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T10:47:45.442-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old age joke'/><title type='text'>Let's Eat!</title><content type='html'>From John Sweeney:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A group of 40-year-old buddies discuss and discuss where they should meet for dinner.   Finally it is agreed upon that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen restaurant because the waitresses there have low-cut blouses and nice breasts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years later, at 50 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen because the food there is very good and the wine selection is good also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years later at 60 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss where they should meet.  Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen because they can eat there in peace and quiet and the restaurant is smoke-free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years later, at 70 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss where they should meet. Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen because the restaurant is wheelchair-accessible and they even have an elevator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years later, at 80 years of age, the group meets again and once again they discuss where they should meet.  Finally it is agreed that they should meet at the Gausthof zum Lowen because they have never been there before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6740416836911946251?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6740416836911946251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6740416836911946251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6740416836911946251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6740416836911946251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2010/01/lets-eat.html' title='Let&apos;s Eat!'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1405917456628089522</id><published>2009-11-05T21:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T21:40:14.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Majorca</title><content type='html'>Source: John Sweeney&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. and Mrs. Frobisher had just reached the airport in the nick of time to catch the plane for their two weeks of vacation in Majorca. "I wish we'd brought the piano with us," said Mr. Frobisher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What on earth for?" asked his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've left the tickets on it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1405917456628089522?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1405917456628089522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1405917456628089522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1405917456628089522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1405917456628089522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2009/11/majorca.html' title='Majorca'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3514848053899137586</id><published>2009-02-20T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T22:24:21.904-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weddings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><title type='text'>The Marriage Tradition</title><content type='html'>From John Sweeney, still unelected...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prior to our wedding, David and I met with the minister to discuss our marriage ceremony and various traditions, such as lighting the unity candle from two individual candles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couples usually blow out the two candles as a sign of becoming one. Our minister said that many people were now leaving their individual candles lit to signify independence and personal freedom. He asked if we wanted to extinguish our candles or leave them burning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After thinking about it, David replied, "How about if we leave mine lit and blow out hers?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3514848053899137586?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3514848053899137586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3514848053899137586' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3514848053899137586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3514848053899137586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2009/02/marriage-tradition.html' title='The Marriage Tradition'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1759845534586931354</id><published>2009-02-20T22:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T22:16:57.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking the Record for Offensiveness...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.olimu.com/Notes/Foreigners/Foreigners.htm"&gt;Via Harry B.&lt;/a&gt;, though he only gets credit for the forward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1759845534586931354?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.olimu.com/Notes/Foreigners/Foreigners.htm' title='Taking the Record for Offensiveness...'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1759845534586931354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1759845534586931354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1759845534586931354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1759845534586931354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2009/02/taking-record-for-offensiveness.html' title='Taking the Record for Offensiveness...'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4850650609513538238</id><published>2009-01-04T17:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T17:19:00.572-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old age joke'/><title type='text'>Interview With An 80-Year-Old Woman</title><content type='html'>Thanks to cousin Ken!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The local news station was interviewing an 80-year-old lady because she had just &lt;br /&gt;gotten married -- for the fourth time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interviewer asked her questions about her life, about what it felt like to be marrying again at 80, and then about her new husband's occupation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's a funeral director," she answered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Interesting," the newsman thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then asked her if she wouldn't mind telling him a little about her first three husbands and what they did for a living. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She paused for a few moments, needing time to reflect on all those years. After a short time, a smile came to her face and she answered proudly, explaining that she'd first married a banker when she was in her early 20s, then a circus ringmaster when in her 40s, later on a preacher when in her 60s, and now in her 80s, a funeral director. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interviewer looked at her, quite astonished, and asked why she had married four men with such diverse careers &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiled and explained, "I married one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four to go."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4850650609513538238?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4850650609513538238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4850650609513538238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4850650609513538238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4850650609513538238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2009/01/interview-with-80-year-old-woman.html' title='Interview With An 80-Year-Old Woman'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-2987234546962482004</id><published>2008-11-21T00:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T00:09:46.283-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='offensive jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde jokes'/><title type='text'>A Blonde Goes to the Dry Cleaner</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Surprisingly forwarded by former Republican candidate and divinity graduate whose identity will be withheld, just in case.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A blonde walks into her regular dry cleaner and drops off a blouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she leaves the clerk says, "Come again," and the blonde says, "No, it's mustard this time."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-2987234546962482004?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/2987234546962482004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=2987234546962482004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2987234546962482004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2987234546962482004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/11/blonde-goes-to-dry-cleaner.html' title='A Blonde Goes to the Dry Cleaner'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3846734092732705883</id><published>2008-09-12T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T00:33:20.958-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parent jokes'/><title type='text'>A Letter to Dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;From honorary older brother Harry Broertjes:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow, addressed to "Dad." With a terrible premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Dear Dad: &lt;br /&gt;It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you. I have been finding real passion with Stacy and she is so nice, but I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercings and tattoos, her tight motorcycle clothes, and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it's not only the passion... Dad she's pregnant. Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children. Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better. She deserves it. Don't worry, Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren. &lt;br /&gt;Love, Your Son John &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than a report card. That's in my center desk drawer. I love you. Call me when it's safe to come home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3846734092732705883?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3846734092732705883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3846734092732705883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3846734092732705883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3846734092732705883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/09/letter-to-dad.html' title='A Letter to Dad'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6168139758786238865</id><published>2008-08-30T01:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T01:59:57.527-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='infidelity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Socrates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><title type='text'>Of Rumor and Reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Okay, maybe it's more of a fable. But it's still courtesy of Bruce Faber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep this philosophy in mind the next time you hear or are about to repeat a rumor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ancient Greece (469 - 399 BC), Socrates was widely lauded for his wisdom. One day the great philosopher came upon an acquaintance, who ran up to him excitedly and said, "Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of your students...?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wait a moment," Socrates replied. "Before you tell me, I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Test of Three."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"'Test of Three?'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's correct," Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my student let's take a moment to test what you're going to say. The first test is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "No," the man replied, "actually I just heard about it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "All right," said Socrates. "So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second test, the test of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my student something good?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "No, on the contrary..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him even though you're not certain it's true?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The man shrugged, a little embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Socrates continued, "You may still pass though, because there is a third test - the filter of usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my student going to be useful to me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "No, not really..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither True nor Good nor even Useful, why tell it to me at all?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The man was defeated and ashamed and said no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This is the reason Socrates was a great philosopher and held in such high esteem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It also explains why Socrates never found out that Plato was banging his wife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6168139758786238865?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6168139758786238865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6168139758786238865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6168139758786238865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6168139758786238865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/of-rumor-and-reality.html' title='Of Rumor and Reality'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-704880911186153423</id><published>2008-08-29T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T18:52:51.816-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooking joke'/><title type='text'>Cinnamon Rolls</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;From John Sweeney, Candidate Legislator, 46th District, Position 2&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At breakfast one day, I eagerly waited for my husband to comment on my first attempt at homemade cinnamon rolls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several minutes with no reaction, I asked, "If I baked these commercially, how much do you think I could get for one of them?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without looking up from his paper, my husband replied, "About 10 years."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-704880911186153423?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/704880911186153423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=704880911186153423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/704880911186153423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/704880911186153423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/cinnamon-rolls.html' title='Cinnamon Rolls'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-2032415468907965486</id><published>2008-08-24T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T00:50:19.205-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wal-Mart Cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;From Bunky Don Braumann...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A blonde was weed-eating her yard and accidentally cut off the tail of her cat, which had been hiding in the grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rushed her cat, along with the tail, over to Wal-Mart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why Wal-Mart?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAL-MART IS THE LARGEST RETAILER IN THE WORLD!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-2032415468907965486?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/2032415468907965486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=2032415468907965486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2032415468907965486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2032415468907965486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/wal-mart-cat.html' title='Wal-Mart Cat'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3825153617396056483</id><published>2008-08-23T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T23:59:39.920-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religious joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little old lady joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preacher joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>The Back Pew</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Joe Confreda Strikes Again!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a preacher whose wife was expecting a baby, so he went before the congregation and asked for a raise. After much discussion, they passed a rule that whenever the preacher's family expanded, so would his paycheck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After six children, this started to get expensive and the congregation decided to hold another meeting to discuss the preacher's salary. There was much yelling and bickering about how much the clergyman's additional children were costing the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the preacher got up and spoke to the crowd, "Children are a gift from God," he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence fell on the congregation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several embarrassing seconds had past, a little old lady seated in the back pew, stood up and in her frail voice said, "Rain is also a gift from God, but when we get too much of it, we wear rubbers."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3825153617396056483?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3825153617396056483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3825153617396056483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3825153617396056483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3825153617396056483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/back-pew.html' title='The Back Pew'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4250205714112198241</id><published>2008-08-23T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T23:55:28.368-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ann Landers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paul Lynde'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Don Knotts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='George Gobel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='double entendres'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Charley Weaver'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marty Allen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peter Marshall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vincent Price'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game shows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rose Marie'/><title type='text'>Subject: Hollywood Squares</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Via Joe Confreda, that wacky CPA...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you remember the Original &lt;em&gt;Hollywood Squares &lt;/em&gt;and its comics, this may bring a tear to your eyes. These great questions and answers are from the days when &lt;em&gt;Hollywood Squares &lt;/em&gt;game show responses were spontaneous and clever not scripted and (often) dull, as they are now. Peter Marshall was the host asking the questions, of course. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Do female frogs croak? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde:&lt;/strong&gt; If you hold their little heads under water long enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. If you're going to make a parachute jump, at least how high should you be? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Charley Weaver:&lt;/strong&gt; Three days of steady drinking should do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. True or False, a pea can last as long as 5,000 years. &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;George Gobel:&lt;/strong&gt; Boy, it sure seems that way sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. You've been having trouble going to sleep. Are you probably a man or a woman? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Don Knotts:&lt;/strong&gt; That's what's been keeping me awake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. According to &lt;em&gt;Cosmopolitan&lt;/em&gt;, if you meet a stranger at a party and you think that he is attractive, is it okay to come out and ask him if he's married? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Rose Marie:&lt;/strong&gt; No; wait until morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Which of your five senses tends to diminish as you get older? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Charley Weaver:&lt;/strong&gt; My sense of decency. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. In Hawaiian, does it take more than three words to say "I Love You"? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Vincent Price:&lt;/strong&gt; No, you can say it with a pineapple and a twenty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. What are "Do It," "I Can Help," and "I Can't Get Enough"? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;George Gobel:&lt;/strong&gt; I don't know, but it's coming from the next apartment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. As you grow older, do you tend to gesture more or less with your hands while talking? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Rose Marie:&lt;/strong&gt; You ask me one more growing old question Peter, and I'll give you a gesture you'll never forget. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Paul, why do Hell's Angels wear leather? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde:&lt;/strong&gt; Because chiffon wrinkles too easily. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Charley, you've just decided to grow strawberries. Are you going to get any during the first year? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Charley Weaver:&lt;/strong&gt; Of course not, I'm too busy growing strawberries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. In bowling, what's a perfect score? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Rose Marie:&lt;/strong&gt; Ralph, the pin boy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. It is considered in bad taste to discuss two subjects at nudist camps. One is politics, what is the other? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde:&lt;/strong&gt; Tape measures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. During a tornado, are you safer in the bedroom or in the closet? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Rose Marie:&lt;/strong&gt; Unfortunately Peter, I'm always safe in the bedroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Can boys join the Camp Fire Girls? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Marty Allen:&lt;/strong&gt; Only after lights out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. When you pat a dog on its head he will wag his tail. What will a goose do? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde:&lt;/strong&gt; Make him bark? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. If you were pregnant for two years, what would you give birth to? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde:&lt;/strong&gt; Whatever it is, it would never be afraid of the dark. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. According to Ann Landers, is there anything wrong with getting into the habit of kissing a lot of people? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Charley Weaver:&lt;/strong&gt; It got me out of the army. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. It is the most abused and neglected part of your body, what is it? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde:&lt;/strong&gt; Mine may be abused, but it certainly isn't neglected. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Back in the old days, when Great Grandpa put horseradish on his head, what was he trying to do?&lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;George Gobel:&lt;/strong&gt; Get it in his mouth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Who stays pregnant for a longer period of time, your wife or your elephant? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde:&lt;/strong&gt; Who told you about my elephant? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. When a couple have a baby, who is responsible for its sex? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Charley Weaver:&lt;/strong&gt; I'll lend him the car, the rest is up to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Jackie Gleason recently revealed that he firmly believes in them and has actually seen them on at least two occasions. What are they? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Charley Weaver:&lt;/strong&gt; His feet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. According to Ann Landers, what are two things you should never do in bed? &lt;br /&gt;A. &lt;strong&gt;Paul Lynde: &lt;/strong&gt;Point and laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4250205714112198241?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4250205714112198241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4250205714112198241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4250205714112198241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4250205714112198241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/subject-hollywood-squares.html' title='Subject: Hollywood Squares'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7187609616170504721</id><published>2008-08-21T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T23:55:09.124-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminine hygiene joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boy jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pharmacy jokes'/><title type='text'>Pharmacy Purchase</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Thanks once again to cousin Joe Lo Pue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two young boys walked into a pharmacy one day, picked out a box of tampons, and proceeded to the checkout counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man at the counter asked the older boy, "Son, how old are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Eight," the older boy replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pharmacist continued, "Do you know what these are used for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy replied, "Not exactly, but they aren't for me.  They're for him. He's my brother. He's four. We saw on TV that if you use these you would be able to swim and ride a bike. Right now, he can't do either one."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7187609616170504721?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7187609616170504721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7187609616170504721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7187609616170504721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7187609616170504721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/pharmacy-purchase.html' title='Pharmacy Purchase'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7526656369292986834</id><published>2008-08-19T23:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T23:58:23.578-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Irish jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bill Clinton jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='McCain jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hillary Clinton jokes'/><title type='text'>An E-mail from the Auld Sod</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Courtesy of Joe Lo Pue...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An e-mail from Ireland to all of their brethren in the States... a point to ponder despite your political affiliation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We, in Ireland, can't figure out why you people are even bothering to hold an election in the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"On one side, you had a pants-wearing female lawyer, married to another lawyer who can't seem to keep his pants on, who just lost a long and heated primary against a lawyer, who goes to the wrong church, who is married to yet another lawyer, who doesn't even like the country her husband wants to run!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now... on the other side, you have a nice old war hero whose name starts with the appropriate 'Mc' terminology, married to a good-looking younger woman who owns a beer distributorship!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What in God's name are ya lads thinkin' over in the colonies ?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7526656369292986834?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7526656369292986834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7526656369292986834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7526656369292986834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7526656369292986834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/e-mail-from-auld-sod.html' title='An E-mail from the Auld Sod'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6320948453052413123</id><published>2008-08-17T23:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T23:07:57.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Name, Old Illness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Via my cousin Joe Lo Pue:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman calls her boss one morning and tells him that she is staying home because she is not feeling well. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;"What's the matter?" he asks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have a case of anal glaucoma," she says in a weak voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the hell is anal glaucoma?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't see my ass coming into work today."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6320948453052413123?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6320948453052413123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6320948453052413123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6320948453052413123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6320948453052413123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-name-old-illness.html' title='New Name, Old Illness'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3289823262826642233</id><published>2008-08-17T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T22:47:31.735-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beach jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sunburn jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viagra jokes'/><title type='text'>Sunburned</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Don Braumann forwards again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy fell asleep on the beach for several hours and got horrible sunburn -- specifically to his upper legs.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;He went to the hospital, and was promptly admitted after being diagnosed with second-degree burns.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;With his skin already starting to blister, and the severe pain he was in, the doctor prescribed continuous intravenous feeding with saline, electrolytes, a sedative, and a Viagra pill every four hours.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The nurse, who was rather astounded, asked, "What good will Viagra do for him , Doctor?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The doctor replied, "It won't do anything for his condition, but it'll keep the sheets off his legs."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3289823262826642233?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3289823262826642233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3289823262826642233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3289823262826642233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3289823262826642233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/08/sunburned.html' title='Sunburned'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8117284662648199462</id><published>2008-07-29T06:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T06:06:16.079-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meeting jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='workplace jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viagra jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advertising jokes'/><title type='text'>The Funniest Staff Meeting Ever!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Don Braumann strikes again!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss of a Madison Avenue advertising agency called a spontaneous staff meeting in the middle of a particularly stressful week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This is one pretty sharp boss!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everyone gathered, the boss, who understood the benefits of having fun, told the burnt-out staff the purpose of the meeting was to have a quick contest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theme:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viagra advertising slogans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only rule was they had to use past ad slogans -- originally written for other products -- that captured the essence of Viagra. Slight variations were acceptable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About seven minutes later, they turned in their suggestions and created a Top 10 List. With all the laughter and camaraderie, the rest of the week went very well for &lt;br /&gt;everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The top 10 were: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Viagra. Whaazzzz up! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Viagra. The quicker pecker picker upper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Viagra, like a rock! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Viagra. When it absolutely, positively has to be &lt;br /&gt;there overnight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Viagra. Be all that you can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Viagra. Reach out and touch someone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Viagra. Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Viagra. Home of the whopper! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Viagra. We bring good things to life! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the unanimous number one slogan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. This is your peepee. This is your peepee on drugs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8117284662648199462?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8117284662648199462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8117284662648199462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8117284662648199462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8117284662648199462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/funniest-staff-meeting-ever.html' title='The Funniest Staff Meeting Ever!'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-2948102908123455678</id><published>2008-07-29T05:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T05:27:41.532-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='survey jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='offensive jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prison jokes'/><title type='text'>Sex In The Shower</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Don Braumann&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a recent survey, people from Detroit have proven to be the most likely to have had sex in the shower! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the survey, carried out for the leading toiletries' firm "Brut," a huge 86% of Detroit residents said that they have enjoyed sex in the shower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other 14% said they hadn't been to prison...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-2948102908123455678?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/2948102908123455678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=2948102908123455678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2948102908123455678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2948102908123455678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/sex-in-shower.html' title='Sex In The Shower'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4546956667418759510</id><published>2008-07-19T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T09:05:15.770-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Texas jokes'/><title type='text'>A Little Feller in East Texas</title><content type='html'>Barack Obama, the Presidential Democratic Party candidate, is for banning all guns in America.  He is considered by those who have dealt with him as a bit more than just a little self-righteous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a recent rural elementary school assembly in East Texas , he asked the audience for total quiet.  Then in the silence, he started to slowly clap his hands once every few seconds, holding the audience in total silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he said into the microphone, "Children, every time I clap my hands together, a child in America dies from gun violence."  Then, little Richard Earl, with a proud East Texas drawl, pierced the quiet and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, dumb-ass, stop clapping!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4546956667418759510?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4546956667418759510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4546956667418759510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4546956667418759510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4546956667418759510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/little-feller-in-east-texas.html' title='A Little Feller in East Texas'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8998644684688758823</id><published>2008-07-06T01:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:57:10.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Women, As Explained by Science</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;From Ken Kiernan. Still not married.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIUsXHdDI/AAAAAAAAABg/HRtx23bHDgE/s1600-h/Mathematics+of+Women.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIUsXHdDI/AAAAAAAAABg/HRtx23bHDgE/s400/Mathematics+of+Women.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219821857209283634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIUu10jMI/AAAAAAAAABo/LyYlMcYMO4Q/s1600-h/Chemical+Properties+of+Men+and+Women.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIUu10jMI/AAAAAAAAABo/LyYlMcYMO4Q/s400/Chemical+Properties+of+Men+and+Women.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219821857874939074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIU7SzKVI/AAAAAAAAABw/qNNI1-JnXqw/s1600-h/Argument+Over+Time.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIU7SzKVI/AAAAAAAAABw/qNNI1-JnXqw/s400/Argument+Over+Time.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219821861217708370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIVMJEtiI/AAAAAAAAAB4/8cOhO7WNDTg/s1600-h/Gap.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIVMJEtiI/AAAAAAAAAB4/8cOhO7WNDTg/s400/Gap.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219821865740318242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIVYRqVmI/AAAAAAAAACA/rUghE2YGh0E/s1600-h/Men+and+Woman+as+Components.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIVYRqVmI/AAAAAAAAACA/rUghE2YGh0E/s400/Men+and+Woman+as+Components.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219821868997564002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8998644684688758823?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8998644684688758823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8998644684688758823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8998644684688758823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8998644684688758823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/women-as-explained-by-science.html' title='Women, As Explained by Science'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SHCIUsXHdDI/AAAAAAAAABg/HRtx23bHDgE/s72-c/Mathematics+of+Women.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4415698324928977652</id><published>2008-07-06T01:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:38:10.175-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arguments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><title type='text'>Who Does What (According to the Bible)</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Jennie Kiernan-Gustus.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man and his wife were having an argument about who &lt;br /&gt;should brew the coffee each morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife said, "You should do it because you get up first, and then we don't have to wait as long to get our coffee." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband said, "You are in charge of cooking around here and you should do it, because that is your job, and I can just wait for my coffee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife replies, "No , you should do it, and besides, it is in the Bible that the man should do the coffee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband replies, "I can't believe that." He grabs the family Bible and puts it in front of her. "Show me," he demands.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So she opens the New Testament and showed him where, at the top of several pages, that it indeed says: "HEBREWS."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4415698324928977652?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4415698324928977652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4415698324928977652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4415698324928977652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4415698324928977652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/who-does-what-according-to-bible.html' title='Who Does What (According to the Bible)'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8515446344400629934</id><published>2008-07-06T01:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:38:58.929-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arguments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waking up'/><title type='text'>The Silent Treatment</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Jennie Kiernan-Gustus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man and his wife were having some problems at home and were giving each other the silent treatment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he went to sleep, the man realized that the next day, he would need his wife to wake him at 5:00 AM for an early-morning business flight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and LOSE), he wrote on a piece of paper, "Please wake me at 5:00 AM." He left his note where he knew she would find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, the man woke up, only to discover it was 9:00 AM and he had missed his flight. Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't awakened him, when he noticed a piece of paper on his nightstand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The paper said, "It is 5:00 AM. Wake up." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8515446344400629934?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8515446344400629934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8515446344400629934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8515446344400629934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8515446344400629934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/silent-treatment.html' title='The Silent Treatment'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1635655007312563876</id><published>2008-07-06T01:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:29:56.485-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creation joke'/><title type='text'>Creation</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;You've seen this before, but it gets posted as a Jennie Kiernan-Gustus forward.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man said to his wife one day, "I don't know how you can be so stupid and so beautiful all at the same time."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The wife responded, "Allow me to explain. God made me beautiful so you would be attracted to me; God made me stupid so I would be attracted to you!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1635655007312563876?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1635655007312563876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1635655007312563876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1635655007312563876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1635655007312563876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/creation.html' title='Creation'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-948883822497507673</id><published>2008-07-06T01:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:40:19.080-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><title type='text'>Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Yes, Jennie Kiernan-Gustus again...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A husband read an article to his wife about how many words women use a day... 30,000 to a man's 15,000. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife replied, "The reason has to be because we have to repeat everything to men."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband then turned to his wife and asked, "What?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just for the record, &lt;a href="http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=women-talk-more-than-men&amp;modsrc=latest_news"&gt;the premise of this joke is apparently wrong&lt;/a&gt;, even though it's one of those factoids everyone thinks is true.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-948883822497507673?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/948883822497507673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=948883822497507673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/948883822497507673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/948883822497507673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/words.html' title='Words'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-5572861735968211401</id><published>2008-07-06T01:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:40:40.308-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arguments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='in-law joke'/><title type='text'>Wife vs. Husband</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;More forwarded by Jennie Kiernan-Gustus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple drove down a country road for several miles, not saying a word. An earlier discussion had led to an argument and neither of them wanted to concede their position. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they passed a barnyard of mules, goats, and pigs, the husband asked sarcastically, "Relatives of yours?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yep," the wife replied, "In-laws."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-5572861735968211401?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/5572861735968211401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=5572861735968211401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5572861735968211401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5572861735968211401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/wife-vs-husband.html' title='Wife vs. Husband'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-5450094158839599120</id><published>2008-07-06T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:38:40.706-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminine hygiene joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cigarette joke'/><title type='text'>Cigarettes and Tampons</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;More from Jennie Kiernan-Gustus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man walks into a pharmacy and wanders up and down the aisles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The salesgirl notices him and asks him if she can help him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My wife sent me for tampons," he answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She directs him to the correct aisle and turns back to the register. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, he deposits a huge bag of cotton balls and a ball of string on the counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confused, she says, "I thought you were looking for some tampons for your wife?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He answers, "Well, it's like this. Yesterday, I sent my wife to the store to get me a carton of cigarettes, and she came back with a tin of tobacco and some rolling papers 'cause it's sooo-ooo--oo-ooo much cheaper. So, I figure if I have to roll my own... so does she."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[You might recognize this guy from a milk carton.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-5450094158839599120?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/5450094158839599120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=5450094158839599120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5450094158839599120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5450094158839599120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/cigarettes-and-tampons.html' title='Cigarettes and Tampons'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-2118630300442095022</id><published>2008-07-06T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:11:44.909-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='counseling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pillsbury'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><title type='text'>Marriage Seminar</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Jennie Kiernan-Gustus strikes yet again...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While attending a marriage seminar dealing with communication, Tom and his wife Grace listened to the instructor, who was saying, "It is essential that husbands and wives know each other's likes and dislikes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He addressed the man, "Can you name your wife's favorite flower?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom leaned over, touched his wife's arm gently and whispered, "It's Pillsbury, isn't it?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-2118630300442095022?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/2118630300442095022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=2118630300442095022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2118630300442095022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/2118630300442095022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/marriage-seminar.html' title='Marriage Seminar'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1920761545856030868</id><published>2008-07-06T01:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:07:31.629-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><title type='text'>Understanding Women (A Man's Perspective)</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Jennie Kiernan-Gustus strikes again...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm not going to understand women. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll never understand how you can take boiling hot wax, pour it onto your upper thigh, rip the hair out by the root, and still be afraid of a spider.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1920761545856030868?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1920761545856030868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1920761545856030868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1920761545856030868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1920761545856030868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/understanding-women-mans-perspective.html' title='Understanding Women (A Man&apos;s Perspective)'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3413968839888351407</id><published>2008-07-06T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:41:31.722-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>A Woman's Revenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Jennie Kiernan-Gustus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cash, check or charge?" I asked, after folding items the woman wished to purchase. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she fumbled for her wallet, I noticed a remote control for a television set in her purse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, do you alway s carry your TV remote?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," she replied, "but my husband refused to come shopping with me, and I figured this was the most evil thing I could do to him legally."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3413968839888351407?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3413968839888351407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3413968839888351407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3413968839888351407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3413968839888351407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/womans-revenge.html' title='A Woman&apos;s Revenge'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-5033239645128219346</id><published>2008-07-06T01:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:42:08.049-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='empowered women'/><title type='text'>Womans' Perfect Breakfast</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I worry about my cousin Jennie Kiernan-Gustus's husband...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's sitting at the table with her gourmet coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her son is on the cover of the &lt;em&gt;Wheaties &lt;/em&gt;box.&lt;br /&gt;Her daughter is on the cover of &lt;em&gt;Business Week&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend is on the cover of &lt;em&gt;Playgirl&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And her husband is on the back of the milk carton.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-5033239645128219346?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/5033239645128219346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=5033239645128219346' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5033239645128219346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5033239645128219346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/womans-perfect-breakfast.html' title='Womans&apos; Perfect Breakfast'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1486176094041367811</id><published>2008-07-03T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T09:55:12.052-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><title type='text'>The Sex of a Fly</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Yes, and forwarder Rob Weinberg has been divorced, too.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a fly swatter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing?" she asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hunting flies," he responded. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh. Killing any?" she asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yep, three males, two females," he replied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intrigued, she asked, "How can you tell them apart?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He responded, "Three were on a beer can, two were on the phone."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1486176094041367811?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1486176094041367811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1486176094041367811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1486176094041367811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1486176094041367811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/sex-of-fly.html' title='The Sex of a Fly'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7717881555975059076</id><published>2008-07-02T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T10:55:38.963-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vanity'/><title type='text'>The Facelift</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Brian Lehrhoff&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman decides to have a facelift for her 50th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She spends a pile of money and feels pretty good about the results. On her way home, she stops at a newsstand to buy a newspaper. Before leaving, she says to the clerk, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"About 32," is the reply. "Nope! I'm exactly 50," the woman says happily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little while later she goes into McDonald's and asks the counter girl the very same question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl replies, "I'd guess about 29." The woman replies with a big smile, "Nope, I'm 50."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she's feeling really good about herself. She stops in a drug store on her way down the street. She goes up to the counter to get some mints and asks the clerk this burning question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clerk responds, "Oh, I'd say 30." Again she proudly responds, "I'm 50, but thank you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While waiting for the bus to go home, she asks an old man waiting next to her the same question. He replies, "Lady, I'm 78 and my eyesight is going. Although, when I was young, there was a surefire 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."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They wait in silence on the empty street until her curiosity gets the best of her. &lt;br /&gt;She finally blurts out, "What the hell, go ahead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He slips both of his hands under her blouse and begins to feel around very slowly and carefully. He bounces and weighs each breast and he gently pinches each nipple. He pushes her breasts together and rubs them against each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a couple of minutes of this, she says, "Okay, okay. How old am I?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He completes one last squeeze of her breasts, removes his hands, and says, "Madam, you are 50."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stunned and amazed, the woman says, "That was incredible. How could you tell?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man says, "I was behind you in line at McDonald's."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7717881555975059076?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7717881555975059076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7717881555975059076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7717881555975059076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7717881555975059076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/facelift.html' title='The Facelift'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-5471489795905617559</id><published>2008-07-02T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:26:43.909-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='offensive jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creation joke'/><title type='text'>Men strike back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SGu_OpkDwBI/AAAAAAAAABY/7XjIGSuQMC4/s1600-h/image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SGu_OpkDwBI/AAAAAAAAABY/7XjIGSuQMC4/s400/image001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218474851635019794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Image included in forward; anyone recognize it?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Don (yes, he's divorced) Braumann&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How many men does it take to open a beer? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None. It should be open when she brings it. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why is a laundromat a really bad place to pick up a woman? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because a woman who can't even afford a washing machine will probably never be able to support you. &lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why do women have smaller feet than men? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one of those "evolutionary things" that allows them to stand closer to the kitchen sink. &lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------- -------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she starts a sentence with, "A man once told me..." &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How do you fix a woman's watch? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't. There is a clock on the oven. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why do men pass gas more than women? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because women can't shut up long enough to build up the required pressure. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog, of course. He'll shut up once you let him in. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What's worse than a male chauvinist pig? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman who won't do what she's told .&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I married a Miss Right. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just didn't know her first name was Always. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90%. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's called wedding cake. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why do men die before their wives? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They want to. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Women will never be equal to men&lt;/strong&gt; until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy. &lt;br /&gt;------------ ------------------------------------------------------- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In the beginning, God created the earth and rested. &lt;br /&gt;Then God created Man and rested. &lt;br /&gt;Then God created Woman. &lt;/strong&gt;Since then, neither God nor Man has rested. &lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-5471489795905617559?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/5471489795905617559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=5471489795905617559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5471489795905617559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/5471489795905617559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/men-strike-back.html' title='Men strike back!'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_RNhHdyHdLfU/SGu_OpkDwBI/AAAAAAAAABY/7XjIGSuQMC4/s72-c/image001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7045869123164022554</id><published>2008-07-02T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T10:18:58.142-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fairy tale joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pet joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cinderella'/><title type='text'>When Cinderella Got Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Don Braumann&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella is now 95 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a fulfilling life with the now dead prince, she happily sits upon her rocking chair, watching the world go by from her front porch, with a cat named Bob for companionship. One sunny afternoon out of nowhere, appeared the fairy godmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella said, "Fairy Godmother, what are you doing here after all these years"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fairy godmother replied, "Cinderella, you have lived an exemplary life since I last saw you. I'm prepared to grant you three wishes. Is there anything for which your heart still yearns?" Cinderella was taken back, overjoyed, and after some thoughtful consideration, she uttered her first wish:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The prince was wonderful, but not much of an investor. I'm living hand to mouth on my disability checks, and I wish I were wealthy beyond comprehension." Instantly her rocking chair turned into solid gold. Cinderella said, "Ooh, thank you, Fairy Godmother!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fairy godmother replied, "It is the least that I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you want for your second wish?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella looked down at her frail body, and said, "I wish I were young and full of the beauty and youth I once had."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At once, her wish became reality, and her beautiful young visage returned. Cinderella felt stirrings inside of her that had been dormant for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the fairy godmother spoke once more: "You have one more wish; what shall it be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella looks over to the frightened cat in the corner and says, "I wish for you to transform Bob, my old cat, into a kind and handsome young man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magically, Bob suddenly underwent so fundamental a change in his biological make-up that, when he stood before her, he was a man so beautiful the likes of him neither she nor the world had ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fairy godmother said, "Congratulations, Cinderella, enjoy your new life." With a blazing shock of bright blue electricity, the fairy godmother was gone as suddenly as she appeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a few eerie moments, Bob and Cinderella looked into each other's eyes. Cinderella sat, breathless, gazing at the most beautiful, stunningly perfect man she had ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Bob walked over to Cinderella, who sat transfixed in her rocking chair, and held her close in his young muscular arms. He leaned in close, blowing her golden hair with his warm breath as he whispered...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bet you're sorry you neutered me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7045869123164022554?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7045869123164022554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7045869123164022554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7045869123164022554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7045869123164022554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/when-cinderella-got-old.html' title='When Cinderella Got Old'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-1067565855064631671</id><published>2008-07-02T10:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T10:02:52.489-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dwarf joke'/><title type='text'>How the Fight Started</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Kirk Stanphill&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rear-ended a car this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there we are alongside the road and slowly the driver gets out of&lt;br /&gt;the car... and you know how you just get sooo stressed out and life stuff&lt;br /&gt;seems to get funny when it normally wouldn't be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, well, I could NOT believe it... the driver was a DWARF!&lt;br /&gt;He storms over to my car, looks up at me and says, "I AM NOT HAPPY!"&lt;br /&gt;So, I look down at him and say, "Well, then which one are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and that's when the fight started.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-1067565855064631671?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/1067565855064631671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=1067565855064631671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1067565855064631671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/1067565855064631671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-fight-started.html' title='How the Fight Started'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7643597804021445365</id><published>2008-06-28T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T18:22:14.656-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>5 Rules for Men to Follow to a Happy Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Don Braumann&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. It's important to have a woman who helps at home, who cooks from time to time, cleans up, and has a job.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. It's important to have a woman who can make you laugh.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. It's important to have a woman who you can trust and who doesn't lie to you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. It's important to have a woman who is good in bed and who likes to be with you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. It's very, very important that these four women do not know each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Editor's note: Don is currently divorced.]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7643597804021445365?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7643597804021445365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7643597804021445365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7643597804021445365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7643597804021445365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/06/5-rules-for-men-to-follow-to-happy-life.html' title='5 Rules for Men to Follow to a Happy Life'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6412348093784875724</id><published>2008-06-24T23:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T23:53:01.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School -- 1957 vs. 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Joe Confreda&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Jack goes quail hunting before school, pulls into school parking lot with shotgun in gun rack.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Johnny and Mark get into a fistfight after school.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- Police called, SWAT team arrives, arrests Johnny and Mark. Charge them with assault, both expelled even though Johnny started it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Jeffrey won't be still in class, disrupts other students.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- Jeffrey sent to office and given a good paddling by the Principal. Returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- Jeffrey given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. Tested for ADD. School gets extra money from state because Jeffrey has a disability. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Billy breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his dad gives him a whipping with his belt.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy removed to foster care and joins a gang. State psychologist tells Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mom has affair with psychologist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- Mark shares aspirin with Principal out on the smoking dock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- Police called, Mark expelled from school for drug violations. Car searched for drugs and weapons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Mario fails high school English.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- Mario goes to summer school, passes English, goes to college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- Mario's cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist ACLU files class action lawsuit against state school system and Mario's English teacher. English banned from core curriculum. Mario given diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle, blows up a red ant bed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- Ants die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- BATF, Homeland Security, FBI called. Johnny charged with domestic terrorism, FBI investigates parents, siblings removed from home, computers confiscated, Johnny's dad goes on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scenario: Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1957 &lt;/strong&gt;- In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2007 &lt;/strong&gt;- Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6412348093784875724?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6412348093784875724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6412348093784875724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6412348093784875724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6412348093784875724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/06/school-1957-vs-2007.html' title='School -- 1957 vs. 2007'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-478999137092614098</id><published>2008-06-22T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T19:40:53.551-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jewish jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dancing jokes'/><title type='text'>Pre-Martial Counseling</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by John Sweeney&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A modern Orthodox Jewish couple, preparing for a religious wedding, meets with their rabbi for counseling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbi asks if they have any last questions before they leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asks, "Rabbi, we realize it's tradition for men to dance with men, and women to dance with women at the reception. But, we'd like your permission to dance together, like the rest of the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Absolutely not," says the rabbi. "It's immodest. Men and women always dance separately."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So after the ceremony I can't even dance with my own wife?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," answered the rabbi. "It's forbidden."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, okay," says the man, "What about sex? Can we finally have sex?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course!" replies the rabbi. "Sex is a mitzvah, a good thing within marriage, to have children!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What about different positions?" asks the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No problem," says the rabbi. "It's a mitzvah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Woman on top?" the man asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure," says the rabbi. "Go for it! It's a mitzvah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Doggy style?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure! Another mitzvah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"On the kitchen table?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, yes! A mitzvah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can we do it on rubber sheets, with a bottle of hot oil, a couple of vibrators, a leather harness, a bucket of honey and a porno video?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You may indeed. It's all a mitzvah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can we do it standing up?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," says the rabbi."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why not?" asks the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Could lead to dancing!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-478999137092614098?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/478999137092614098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=478999137092614098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/478999137092614098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/478999137092614098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/06/pre-martial-counseling.html' title='Pre-Martial Counseling'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-7429226293278168540</id><published>2008-06-14T05:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T05:29:42.972-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anniversary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Anniversary Mistake</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Harry Broertjes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ed was in trouble. He forgot his wedding anniversary. His wife was really angry. She told him, "Tomorrow morning, I expect to find a gift in the driveway that goes from 0 to 200 in less then 6 seconds AND IT BETTER BE THERE!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning Ed got up early and left for work. When his wife woke up she looked out the window and sure enough there was a box gift-wrapped in the middle of the driveway. Confused, the wife put on her robe and ran out to the driveway, and brought the box back in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She opened it and found a brand-new bathroom scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ed has been missing since Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-7429226293278168540?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/7429226293278168540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=7429226293278168540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7429226293278168540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/7429226293278168540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/06/anniversary-mistake.html' title='Anniversary Mistake'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8687431289826990733</id><published>2008-06-01T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T23:52:09.166-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breakdown joke'/><title type='text'>A Blonde Gets A Flat Tire...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Brian Lehrhoff&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A blonde's car gets flat tire on the Interstate, so she eases it over onto the shoulder of the road. She carefully steps out of the car and opens the trunk; takes out two cardboard men, unfolds them and stands them at the rear of the vehicle facing oncoming traffic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lifelike cardboard men are in trench coats exposing their nude bodies to approaching drivers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not surprisingly, the traffic became snarled and backed up. It wasn't long before a police car arrived. The officer, clearly enraged, approaches the blonde of the disabled vehicle yelling, "What is going on here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My car broke down, officer, " says the woman calmly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, what the hell are these obscene cardboard pictures doing here by the road?" asks the officer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Helllllooooo, those are my emergency flashers!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8687431289826990733?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8687431289826990733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8687431289826990733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8687431289826990733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8687431289826990733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/06/blonde-gets-flat-tire.html' title='A Blonde Gets A Flat Tire...'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-6163885316375780915</id><published>2008-06-01T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T20:25:10.813-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='windows'/><title type='text'>REPLACEMENT WINDOWS</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by Bruce Faber&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretend you're blonde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Last year I replaced all the windows in my house with that expensive double-pane energy efficient kind, and today, I got a call from the contractor who installed them. He was complaining that the work had been completed a whole year ago and I still hadn't paid for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hellloooo... just because I'm blonde doesn't mean that I am automatically stupid.  So, I told him just what his fast talking sales guy had told me last year, that in ONE YEAR these windows would pay for themselves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Helllooooo? It's been a year!" I told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was only silence at the other end of the line, so I finally just hung up. He never called back. Guess I won that stupid argument.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I bet he felt like an idiot.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-6163885316375780915?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/6163885316375780915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=6163885316375780915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6163885316375780915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/6163885316375780915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/06/replacement-windows.html' title='REPLACEMENT WINDOWS'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-4404069670637931756</id><published>2008-06-01T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T20:16:02.278-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pickup lines'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men and women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='redneck'/><title type='text'>Redneck Pickup Lines</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Forwarded by: Bruce Faber&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Did you fart? Cuz you just blew me away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Are yer parents retarded? Cuz ya sure are special. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) My love fer you is like diarrhea, I can't hold it in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Do you have a library card? Cuz I'd like to check you out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Is there a mirror in yer pants? Cuz I can see myself in 'em. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) If you was a tree and I were a squirrel, I'd store my nuts in yer hole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) You might not be the best lookin' girl here, but beauty's only a light switch away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Fat penguin. Sorry, I just wanted to say something that would break the ice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) I know I'm not no Fred Flintstone, but I bet I can make yer bed rock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) I can't find my puppy, can you help me find him? I think he went into this cheap motel room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) Yer eyes are as blue as window cleaner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) If yer gunna regret this in the mornin', we kin sleep 'til afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) Yer face reminds me of a wrench, every time I think of it my nuts tighten up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-4404069670637931756?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/4404069670637931756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=4404069670637931756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4404069670637931756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/4404069670637931756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/06/redneck-pickup-lines.html' title='Redneck Pickup Lines'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8362906066495063306</id><published>2008-04-06T00:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T00:49:29.554-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rules'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grumpiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='complaints'/><title type='text'>New Rules</title><content type='html'>Thanks to Brian Lehrhoff:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them!? Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days--mowing my lawn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar What did you expect it to contain?? Trout? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule  Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone Here's e.how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : Stop screwing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. ï And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a 'decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one sweet-n'-Low, and one NutraSweet,' ooh, you're a huge asshole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing 'Enter,' verifying the amount, deciding no, I don't want cash back, and pressing 'Enter' again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to 'beef with broccoli.' The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : Competitive eating isn't a sport. ï It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the U.S. Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting??? Oh wait!? They're already doing that It's called 'The Howard Stern Show.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : I don't need a bigger mega M&amp;Ms. I'm extra hungry for M&amp;Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : No more gift registries.You know, it used to be just for weddings Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. i don't want to be on your web cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. '27 Months "He's two,' will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Rule : If you ever hope to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than minimum wage, then for God's sake don't pierce or tattoo every available piece of flesh.If so, then plan your future around saying, 'Do you want fries with that?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8362906066495063306?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8362906066495063306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8362906066495063306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8362906066495063306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8362906066495063306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/04/new-rules.html' title='New Rules'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-8214188588627640691</id><published>2008-04-06T00:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T00:19:03.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Don't Know Jack</title><content type='html'>Thanks to Don Braumann!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-8214188588627640691?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://jack.zunino.net/knowjack.htm' title='You Don&apos;t Know Jack'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/8214188588627640691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=8214188588627640691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8214188588627640691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/8214188588627640691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/04/you-dont-know-jack.html' title='You Don&apos;t Know Jack'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-3050694867283672531</id><published>2008-04-03T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T23:41:32.136-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>The Modern Silver Anniversary</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Courtesy of Don Braumann:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman awakes during the night to find that her husband is not in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She puts on her robe and goes downstairs to look for him.  She finds him sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee in front of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He appears to be in deep thought, just staring at the wall.  She watches as he wiped a tear from his eye and takes a sip of his coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's the matter, dear?" she whispers as she steps into the room, "Why are you down here at this time of night?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband looks up from his coffee, "It's the 20th anniversary of the day we met."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can't believe he has remembered and starts to tear up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband continues, "Do you remember 20 years ago when we started dating?  I was 18 and you were only 16," he says solemnly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, the wife is touched to tears, thinking that her husband is so caring and sensitive.  "Yes, I do," she replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband pauses.  The words were not coming easily.  "Do you remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I remember," said the wife, lowering herself into a chair beside him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband continued.  "Do you remember when he shoved the shotgun in my face and said, 'Either you marry my daughter or I will send you to prison for 20 years?'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I remember that, too," she replied softly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wiped another tear from his cheek and said, "I would have gotten out today."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-3050694867283672531?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/3050694867283672531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=3050694867283672531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3050694867283672531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/3050694867283672531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2008/04/modern-silver-anniversary.html' title='The Modern Silver Anniversary'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113514206909656321</id><published>2005-12-20T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-20T21:14:29.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A CONVERT</title><content type='html'>Exhausted and overworked, Santa Claus has decided to convert to Judaism to lessen his workload and decrease his stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Claus's first inkling that Judaism was his new intended path was when he was unloading one particularly heavy bag of gifts and muttered "Oy Oy Oy!" instead of "Ho Ho Ho!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa took this as divine inspiration and began some serious reflection on the matter. Mr. Claus sat down at his desk in the North Pole and itemized the benefits of bringing toys to Jewish children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most obvious was that there were much less children to service, approximately 3,000,000 Jewish children, as opposed to almost 500,000,000 Christian children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next obvious benefit was that he had eight days of Hanukkah to deliver all of these gifts instead of jamming the entire shipment into one night, which constantly required the already weary Santa to travel at the speed of light to accomplish the task.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the straw that broke the reindeer's back was the realization that Jewish households had far more delicious cuisine to offer: Gefilte fish, chicken soup, blintzes, knishes and the like are more palatable than the milk and cookies he got tired of after the second century.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Circumcision won't be necessary for Santa, because that's already been taken care of in a freak accident involving frostbite after getting stuck in a tight chimney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa has left the frigid, brutal confines of the North Pole and has begun his toy shop anew in the sunny climes of Miami Beach, Florida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has fired all of those annoying elves and replaced them with nice Jewish retirees from New York.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Via Brian Lehrhoff&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113514206909656321?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113514206909656321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113514206909656321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113514206909656321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113514206909656321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/convert.html' title='A CONVERT'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113400492889643201</id><published>2005-12-07T17:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T17:22:08.910-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WOMEN ARE SMARTER THAN MEN</title><content type='html'>When Dan found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father died, he decided he needed a woman to enjoy it with. So one evening he went to a singles bar where he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her natural beauty took his breath away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I may look like just an ordinary man," he said as he walked up to her, "but in just a week or two, my father will die, and I'll inherit 20 million dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Impressed, the woman went home with him that evening and, three days later, she became his stepmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- You saw this punchline coming a mile away, didn't you? Maybe this explains forwarder Rob Weinberg's love life.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113400492889643201?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113400492889643201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113400492889643201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113400492889643201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113400492889643201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/women-are-smarter-than-men.html' title='WOMEN ARE SMARTER THAN MEN'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113398001678333824</id><published>2005-12-07T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T10:26:56.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LIVING WILL</title><content type='html'>A man and his wife were sitting in the living room and he said to her, "Just for you to know, I never want to live in a vegetative state, depended upon some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His wife got up, unplugged the TV and threw out all of his beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via Joe Lo Pue&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113398001678333824?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113398001678333824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113398001678333824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113398001678333824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113398001678333824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/living-will.html' title='LIVING WILL'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113381781965158208</id><published>2005-12-05T13:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T13:23:39.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MORRIS AND ESTHER</title><content type='html'>Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year, Morris would say, “Esther, I’d like to ride in that helicopter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esther always replied, “I know Morris, but that helicopter ride is 50 dollars and 50 dollars is 50 dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years later, Esther and Morris went to the fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morris said, "Esther, I’m 85 years old.  If I don't ride that helicopter now, I might never get another chance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esther replied, "Morris, that helicopter ride is 50 dollars and 50 dollars is 50 dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot overheard the couple.  He said, "Folks, I’ll make you a deal.  I’ll take the both of you for a ride.  If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say a word, I won't charge you!  But if you say one word, it’s 50 dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morris and Esther agreed -- and up they went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot did all kinds of fancy maneuvers.  But not a word was heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, but still not a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris.  He said, "By golly, I did everything I could to get you to yell out, but you didn’t.  I’m impressed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morris replied, “Well, I was going to say something when Esther fell out, but 50 dollars is 50 dollars!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via &lt;strong&gt;Interlac&lt;/strong&gt;ker Chris Brown&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113381781965158208?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113381781965158208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113381781965158208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113381781965158208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113381781965158208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/morris-and-esther.html' title='MORRIS AND ESTHER'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113380830535630999</id><published>2005-12-05T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T10:45:05.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>INTERNATIONAL THINKING AT ITS BEST!</title><content type='html'>Question: What is the truest definition of Globalization?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer: Princess Diana's death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: How come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;An English princess&lt;br /&gt;with an Egyptian boyfriend&lt;br /&gt;crashes in a French tunnel,&lt;br /&gt;driving a German car&lt;br /&gt;with a Dutch engine,&lt;br /&gt;driven by a Belgian who was drunk&lt;br /&gt;on Scottish whisky,&lt;br /&gt;followed closely by Italian paparazzi,&lt;br /&gt;on Japanese motorcycles,&lt;br /&gt;treated by an American doctor,&lt;br /&gt;using Brazilian medicines.&lt;br /&gt;This is sent to you by an American,&lt;br /&gt;using Bill Gates' technology,&lt;br /&gt;and you're probably reading this on your computer,&lt;br /&gt;that uses Taiwanese chips,&lt;br /&gt;and a Korean monitor,&lt;br /&gt;assembled by Bangladeshi workers&lt;br /&gt;in a Singaporean plant,&lt;br /&gt;transported by Indian lorry-drivers,&lt;br /&gt;hijacked by Indonesians,&lt;br /&gt;unloaded by Sicilian longshoremen,&lt;br /&gt;and trucked to you by Mexican illegals.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That, my friends, is Globalization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Forwarded by Rob Weinberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113380830535630999?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113380830535630999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113380830535630999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113380830535630999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113380830535630999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/international-thinking-at-its-best.html' title='INTERNATIONAL THINKING AT ITS BEST!'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113364730736784033</id><published>2005-12-03T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T14:03:39.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WASP SOUNDS</title><content type='html'>The world's foremost expert on wasps and their means of communication was strolling in his local downtown area. A sign at the music store caught his eye: "Just Released! Wasps of the World and the Sounds They Make. Available now!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The expert entered the shop and talked to the clerk behind the counter. "I am the world expert on wasp communication. I'd very much like to listen to the new record you have advertised in the window."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Certainly, sir. If you'd like to put on the headphones, I'll start the record for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes later, the expert shook his head. "As I said, I am the world expert on wasp communication, but I recognized none of those sounds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm terribly sorry," said the clerk. "I just realized I was playing you the bee side."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- This joke probably only makes sense if you bought recorded music prior to 1982. Forwarded via the spouse.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113364730736784033?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113364730736784033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113364730736784033' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113364730736784033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113364730736784033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/wasp-sounds.html' title='WASP SOUNDS'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113363638353743016</id><published>2005-12-03T10:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T11:00:53.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SUBJECT: CHRISTMAS AND HANUKKAH</title><content type='html'>The difference between Christmas and Chanaukah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if anyone asks you what the difference is between Christmas and Chanukah you will know what and how we [Jews] answer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is one day, same day every year, December 25. Jews also love December 25th. It's another paid day off work. We go to movies and out for Chinese food and Israeli dancing. Chanukah is 8 days. It starts the evening of the 24th of Kislev, whenever that falls. No one is ever sure. Jews never know until a non-Jewish friend asks when Chanukah starts*, forcing us to consult a calendar so we don't look like idiots. We all have the same calendar, provided free with a donation from the World Jewish Congress, the kosher butcher, or the local Sinai Memorial Chapel (especially in Florida) or other Jewish funeral home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is a major holiday. Chanukah is a minor holiday with the same theme as most Jewish holidays. They tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christians get wonderful presents such as jewelry, perfume, stereos... Jews get practical presents such as underwear, socks, or the collected works of the Rambam, which looks impressive on the bookshelf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is only one way to spell Christmas. No one can decide how to spell Chanukah, Chanukkah, Chanukka, Channukah, Hanukah, Hannukah, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is a time of great pressure for husbands and boyfriends. Their partners expect special gifts. Jewish men are relieved of that burden. No one expects a diamond ring on Chanukah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas brings enormous electric bills. Candles are used for Chanukah. Not only are we spared enormous electric bills, but we get to feel good about not contributing to the energy crisis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas carols are beautiful... &lt;em&gt;Silent Night&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;O Come All Ye Faithful&lt;/em&gt;... Chanukah songs are about dreidels made from clay or having a party and dancing the hora. Of course, we are secretly pleased that many of the beautiful carols were composed and written by our tribal brethren. And don't Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond sing them beautifully?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A home preparing for Christmas smells wonderful. The sweet smell of cookies and cakes baking. Happy people are gathered around in festive moods. A home preparing for Chanukah smells of oil, potatoes, and onions. The home, as always, is full of loud people all talking at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christian women have fun baking Christmas cookies. Jewish women burn their eyes and cut their hands grating potatoes and onions for latkas on Chanukah. Another reminder of our suffering through the ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents deliver to their children during Christmas. Jewish parents have no qualms about withholding a gift on any of the eight nights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The players in the Christmas story have easy-to-pronounce names such as Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. The players in the Chanukah story are Antiochus, Judah Maccabee, and Matta whatever. No one can spell it or pronounce it. On the plus side, we can tell our friends anything and they believe we are wonderfully versed in our history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many Christians believe in the virgin birth. Jews think, "Yossela, Bubela, snap out of it. Your woman is pregnant, you didn't sleep with her, and now you want to blame G-d? Here's the number of my shrink."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In recent years, Christmas has become more and more commercialized. The same holds true for Chanukah, even though it is a minor holiday. It makes sense. How could we market a major holiday such as Yom Kippur? Forget about celebrating. Think observing. Come to synagogue, starve yourself for 27 hours, become one with your dehydrated soul, beat your chest, confess your sins, a guaranteed good time for you and your family. Tickets a mere $200 per.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via Brian Lehrhoff. His being Jewish makes it okay for my Catholic/Episcopal ass to post it. Yeah. That's the ticket.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113363638353743016?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113363638353743016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113363638353743016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113363638353743016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113363638353743016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/subject-christmas-and-hanukkah.html' title='SUBJECT: CHRISTMAS AND HANUKKAH'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113363452918926485</id><published>2005-12-03T10:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T10:28:49.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NEW BOOTS</title><content type='html'>My first grade daughter and her friend both needed new boots as winter approached. The friend got in the car one morning and finally had gotten her boots. "Beth," I commented, "I see you got new boots. Where did you get them?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"At the store," she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Which one?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She began looking at her new boots and after a pause said, "Both of them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via John Sweeney&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113363452918926485?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113363452918926485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113363452918926485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113363452918926485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113363452918926485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/new-boots.html' title='NEW BOOTS'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113355283106427214</id><published>2005-12-02T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T11:47:11.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I THINK JONAH TOLD THIS ONE...</title><content type='html'>Two whales, a male and a female, were swimming side by side in the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the male whale spots a ship in the distance. He recognizes it as the whaling ship that killed his father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Filled with anger, he says to his female companion, "That's the ship that killed my father! Let's swim closer!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they were close enough, the male said, "Why don't we swim under the ship and blow air through our blow holes and break the ship into a million pieces? That will be sweet revenge." And the female agreed to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they each took a deep breath of air, swam under the ship, and blew enormous amounts of air under the ship. The ship flew into the air and crashed back to the sea and broke into a million pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pair of whales started to swim off when they realized that the sailors were not dead, but clinging to pieces of wood and floating in the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The male whale was furious and said to the female whale, "They're still alive, but I've got another idea. Let's swim around and gulp up all the sailors!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when the female stopped swimming, looked at the male and said, "Oh no... I agreed to the blow job but I'm NOT swallowing the seamen." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Brought back from near-extinction by my cousin Ken Kiernan.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113355283106427214?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113355283106427214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113355283106427214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113355283106427214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113355283106427214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-think-jonah-told-this-one.html' title='I THINK JONAH TOLD THIS ONE...'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113319449354645238</id><published>2005-11-28T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T08:14:53.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MORNING PROBLEM (AND SOLUTION)</title><content type='html'>This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years.  The only friction in there marriage was the husband's habit of farting loudly every morning when he awoke.  The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air.  Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn't stop it and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor; she was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The years went by and he continued to rip them out!  Then one Thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the bowl where she had put the turkey innards and neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts and a malicious thought came to her. She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling back the bed covers, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he ran into the bathroom.  The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned she had got him back pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his bloodstained underpants with a look of horror on his face. She bit her lip as she asked him what was the matter.  He said, "Honey, you were right.  All these years you have warned me and I didn't listen to you." "What do you mean?" asked his wife. "Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out, and today it finally&lt;br /&gt;happened.  But by the grace of God, some Vaseline, and two fingers, I think I got most of them back in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Thanks to college bunkie Don Braumann!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113319449354645238?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113319449354645238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113319449354645238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113319449354645238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113319449354645238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/morning-problem-and-solution.html' title='MORNING PROBLEM (AND SOLUTION)'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113295483477426972</id><published>2005-11-25T13:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T16:37:22.003-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE PASTOR AND THE NEW DRESS</title><content type='html'>The poor country pastor was livid when he confronted his wife with the receipt for a $250 dress she had bought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How could you do this!" he exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know," she wailed,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was standing in the store looking at the dress on sale.  Then I found myself trying it on.  It was like the Devil was whispering to me, 'Gee, you look great in that dress.  You should buy it.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," the pastor persisted, "You know how to deal with him!  Just tell him, "Get behind me, Satan!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I did," replied his wife, "but then he said 'It looks great from back here, too!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via John Sweeney, and, as Harry Broertjes points out, a verbatim retelling of a Flip Wilson skit. Remember Flip Wilson? "We come not to praise your berry, but to seize it!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113295483477426972?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113295483477426972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113295483477426972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113295483477426972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113295483477426972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/pastor-and-new-dress.html' title='THE PASTOR AND THE NEW DRESS'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113295189974946793</id><published>2005-11-25T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-25T12:51:39.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WILLIE'S LAST POKER GAME</title><content type='html'>Six retired Floridians were playing poker in the condo clubhouse when Willie loses $500 on a single hand, clutches his chest and drops dead at the table. Showing respect for their fallen comrade, the other five complete their playing time, standing at the table. Gus looks around and asks, "Now, who is going to tell the wife?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They draw straws and Harry picks the short one. They tell him to be discreet, be gentle, don't make a bad situation any worse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gentlemen! Discreet? I'm the most discreet person you will ever meet. Discretion is my middle name, leave it to me." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harry goes over to the Willie's apartment, knocks on the door, the wife answers, and asks what he wants. Harry declares, "Your husband just lost $500, and is afraid to come home." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She hollers, "TELL HIM TO DROP DEAD!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harry says, "I'll go tell him."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113295189974946793?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113295189974946793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113295189974946793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113295189974946793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113295189974946793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/willies-last-poker-game.html' title='WILLIE&apos;S LAST POKER GAME'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113295172567913973</id><published>2005-11-25T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-25T12:48:45.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THINGS THAT YOU CAN SAY ONLY AT THANKSGIVING</title><content type='html'>1. Talk about a huge breast!&lt;br /&gt;  2. Tying the legs together keeps the inside moist.&lt;br /&gt;  3. It's Cool Whip time!&lt;br /&gt;  4. If I don't undo my pants, I'll burst!&lt;br /&gt;  5. Whew, that's one terrific spread!&lt;br /&gt;  6. I'm in the mood for a little dark meat.&lt;br /&gt;  7. Are you ready for seconds yet?&lt;br /&gt;  8. It's a little dry.  Do you still want to eat it?&lt;br /&gt;  9. Just wait your turn.  You'll get some!&lt;br /&gt; 10. Don't play with your meat.&lt;br /&gt; 11. Just spread the legs open and stuff it in.&lt;br /&gt; 12. Do you think you'll be able to handle all these people at once?&lt;br /&gt; 13. I didn't expect everyone to come at once!&lt;br /&gt; 14. You still have a little bit on your chin.&lt;br /&gt; 15. How long will it take after you stick it in?&lt;br /&gt; 16. You'll know it's ready when it pops up.&lt;br /&gt; 17. Wow, I didn't think I could handle all of that!&lt;br /&gt; 18. That's the biggest one I've ever seen!&lt;br /&gt; 19. How long do I beat it before it's ready?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Thanks to our Florida correspondent, Harry Broertjes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113295172567913973?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113295172567913973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113295172567913973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113295172567913973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113295172567913973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/things-that-you-can-say-only-at.html' title='THINGS THAT YOU CAN SAY ONLY AT THANKSGIVING'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113268914730993968</id><published>2005-11-22T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T11:52:27.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE BET</title><content type='html'>An elderly woman walked into the Bank of Canada one morning with a purse full of money. She wanted to open a savings account and insisted on talking to the president of the bank because, she said, she had a lot of money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After many lengthy discussions (after all, the client is always right) an employee took the elderly woman to the president's office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president of the Bank asked her how much she wanted to deposit. She placed her purse on his desk and replied, "$165,000". The president was curious and asked her how she had been able to save so much money. The elderly woman replied that she made bets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president was surprised and asked, "What kind of bets?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elderly woman replied, "Well, I bet you $25,000 that your testicles are square."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president started to laugh and told the woman that it was impossible to win a bet like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman never batted an eye. She just looked at the president and said, "Would you like to take my bet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Certainly", replied the president. "I bet you $25,000 that my testicles are not square."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Done", the elderly woman answered. "But given the amount of money involved, if you don't mind I would like to come back at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning with my lawyer as a witness."  "No problem", said the president of the bank confidently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, the president became very nervous about the bet and spent a long time in front of the mirror examining his testicles, turning them this way and that, checking them over again and again until he was positive that no one could consider his testicles as square and reassuring himself that there was no way he could lose the bet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning at exactly 10 o'clock the elderly woman arrived at the president's office with her lawyer and acknowledged the $25,000 bet made the day before that the president's testicles were square.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president confirmed that the bet was the same as the one made the day before. Then the elderly woman asked him to drop his pants so that she and her lawyer could see clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The president was happy to oblige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elderly woman came closer so she could see better and asked the president if she could touch them. "Of course", said the president. "Given the amount of money involved, you should be 100% sure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elderly woman did so with a little smile. Suddenly the president noticed that the lawyer was banging his head against the wall. He asked the elderly woman why he was doing that and she replied, "Oh, it's probably because I bet him $100,000 that around 10 o'clock in the morning I would be holding the balls of the President of&lt;br /&gt;the Bank of Canada!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via Joe Confreda.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113268914730993968?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113268914730993968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113268914730993968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268914730993968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268914730993968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/bet.html' title='THE BET'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113268704683128819</id><published>2005-11-22T11:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T11:17:26.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FISHERMAN'S LAMENT!</title><content type='html'>Saturday morning I got up early, put on my long johns, dressed quietly, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, slipped quietly into the garage to hook the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour. There was snow mixed with the rain, and the wind was blowing 50 mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad throughout the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. There I cuddled up to my wife's back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, "The weather out there is terrible."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sleepily replied, "Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that crap?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via Joe Lo Pue. I don't know if he fishes; I haven't since I was 10.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113268704683128819?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113268704683128819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113268704683128819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268704683128819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268704683128819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/fishermans-lament.html' title='FISHERMAN&apos;S LAMENT!'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113268670811602705</id><published>2005-11-22T11:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T11:11:48.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE HORSE, THE CHICKEN, AND THE HARLEY</title><content type='html'>On the farm lived a chicken and a horse, both of which loved to play together. One day the two were playing, when the horse fell into a bog and began to sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scared for his life, the horse whinnied for the chicken to go get the farmer for help!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off the chicken ran, back to the farm.  Arriving at the farm, he searched and searched for the farmer, but to no avail, for he had gone to town with the only tractor.  Running around, the chicken spied the farmer's new Harley. Finding the keys in the ignition, the chicken sped off with a length of rope hoping he still had time to save his friend's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at the bog, the horse was surprised, but happy, to see the chicken arrive on the shiny Harley, and he managed to get a hold of the loop of rope the chicken tossed him.  After tying the other end to the rear bumper of the farmer's bike, the chicken then drove slowly forward and, with the aid of the powerful bike, rescued the horse!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy and proud, the chicken rode the Harley back to the farmhouse, and the farmer was none the wiser when he returned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The friendship between the two animals was cemented: Best buddies, best pals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks later, the chicken fell into a mud pit, and soon, he too, began to sink and cried out to the horse to save his life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The horse thought a moment, walked over, and straddled the large puddle. Looking underneath, he told the chicken to grab his hangy-down thing and he would then lift him out of the pit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chicken got a good grip, and the horse pulled him up and out, saving his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of the story? (Yep, there's a moral!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you're hung like a horse, you don't need a Harley to pick up chicks!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via Ken Kiernan. So far as I know, he doesn't own a Harley (and nor do I).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113268670811602705?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113268670811602705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113268670811602705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268670811602705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268670811602705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/horse-chicken-and-harley.html' title='THE HORSE, THE CHICKEN, AND THE HARLEY'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113268618269519529</id><published>2005-11-22T10:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T11:03:46.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WOMAN IN A HARDWARE STORE</title><content type='html'>Harlow was fixing a door and he found that he needed a new hinge, so he sent his wife Mary to the hardware store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the hardware store, Mary saw a beautiful teapot on a top shelf while she was waiting for Carl, the manager, to finish waiting on a customer. When Carl was finished, Mary asked, "How much for the teapot?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carl replied, "That's silver and it costs $100!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My goodness, that sure is a lotta money!" Mary exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she proceeded to describe the hinge that Harlow had sent her to buy, and Carl went to the back room to find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the back room Carl yelled, "Mary , you wanna screw for that hinge?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary replied, "No, but I will for the teapot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why you can't send a woman to a hardware store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via Brian Lehrhoff&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113268618269519529?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113268618269519529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113268618269519529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268618269519529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268618269519529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/woman-in-hardware-store.html' title='WOMAN IN A HARDWARE STORE'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113268581158949338</id><published>2005-11-22T10:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T10:56:51.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BIBLE SALESMEN</title><content type='html'>A minister concluded that his church was getting into serious financial troubles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coincidentally, by chance, while checking the church storeroom, he discovered several cartons of new bibles that had never been opened and distributed. So at his Sunday sermon, he asked for three volunteers from the congregation who would be willing to sell the bibles door-to-door for $10 each to raise the desperately needed money for the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter, Paul and Louie all raised their hands to volunteer for the task. The reverend knew that Peter and Paul earned their living as salesmen and were likely capable of selling some bibles but he had serious doubts about Louie. Louie was just a little local farmer, who had always tended to keep to himself because he was embarrassed by his speech impediment. Poor little Louis stuttered very badly. But, not wanting to discourage poor Louis, the reverend decided to let him try anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sent the three of them away with the back seat of their cars stacked with bibles and asked them to meet with him and report the results of their door-to-door selling efforts the following Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anxious to find out how successful they were, the reverend immediately asked Peter, "Well, Peter, how did you make out selling our bibles last week?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proudly handing the reverend an envelope, Peter replied, "Father, using my sales prowess, I was able to sell 20 bibles, and here's the $200 I collected on behalf of the church."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fine job, Peter!" The reverend said, vigorously shaking his hand. "You are indeed a fine salesman and the Church is indebted to you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turning to Paul, he asked "And Paul, how many bibles did you manage to sell for the church last week?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul, smiling and sticking out his chest, confidently replied,"Reverend, I am a professional salesman and was happy to give the church the benefit of my sales expertise. Last week I sold 28 bibles on behalf of the church, and here's $280 I collected."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reverend responded, "That's absolutely splendid, Paul. You are truly a professional salesman and the church is also indebted to you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apprehensively, the reverend turned to little Louie and said, "And Louie, did you manage to sell any bibles last week?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louie silently offered the reverend a large envelope. The reverend opened it and counted the contents. "What is this?" the reverend exclaimed. "Louie, there's $3200 in here! Are you suggesting that you sold 320 bibles for the church, door to door, in just one week?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louie just nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's impossible!" both Peter and Paul said in unison. "We are professional salesmen, yet you claim to have sold 10 times as many bibles as we could."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, this does seem unlikely," the reverend agreed. "I think you'd better explain how you managed to do accomplish this, Louie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louie shrugged. "I-I-I- re-re-really do-do-don't kn-kn-know f-f-f-for sh-sh-sh-sure," he stammered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Impatiently, Peter interrupted. "For crying out loud, Louie, just tell us what you said to them when they answered the door!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A-a-a-all I-I-I s-s-said wa-wa-was," Louis replied, "W-w-w-w-would y-y-y-you l-l-l-l-l-like t-t-to b-b-b-buy th-th-th-this b-b-b-b-bible f-f-for t-t-ten b-b-b-bucks ---o-o-o-or--- wo-wo-would yo-you j-j-j-just l-like m-m-me t-t-to st-st-stand h-h-here and r-r-r-r-r-read it t-to y-y-you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via John Sweeney&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113268581158949338?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113268581158949338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113268581158949338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268581158949338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113268581158949338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/bible-salesmen.html' title='BIBLE SALESMEN'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113256293128021162</id><published>2005-11-21T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-21T00:48:51.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GETTIN' OLD</title><content type='html'>A group of senior citizens were sitting around talking about their ailments: "My arms are so weak I can hardly hold this cup of coffee," said one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I know. My cataracts are so bad I can't even see my coffee," replied another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't turn my head because of the arthritis in my neck," said a third, to which several nodded weakly in agreement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My blood pressure pills make me dizzy," another went on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I guess that's the price we pay for getting old," winced an old man as he shook his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a short moment of silence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, it's not that bad," said one woman cheerfully. "At least we can still drive!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via John Sweeney, who's older than me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113256293128021162?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113256293128021162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113256293128021162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113256293128021162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113256293128021162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/gettin-old.html' title='GETTIN&apos; OLD'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113195803328375513</id><published>2005-11-14T00:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T00:47:13.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BUSH PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY DESTROYED BY FIRE</title><content type='html'>Crawford, Texas -- A tragic fire this morning destroyed the personal library of President George W. Bush. The fire began in the presidential bathroom where his books were kept. It was reported, both of his books have been lost. A presidential spokesman said the president was devastated, as he had almost finished coloring the second one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Courtesy of Ken Kiernan&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113195803328375513?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113195803328375513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113195803328375513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113195803328375513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113195803328375513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/bush-presidential-library-destroyed-by.html' title='BUSH PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY DESTROYED BY FIRE'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113167332655092837</id><published>2005-11-10T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T17:42:06.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AGE TEST</title><content type='html'>This was developed as an age test by an R&amp;D department at Harvard University.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take your time and see if you can read each line aloud without a mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average person over 40 years of age can't do it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   1. This is this cat&lt;br /&gt;   2. This is is cat&lt;br /&gt;   3. This is how cat&lt;br /&gt;   4. This is to cat&lt;br /&gt;   5. This is keep cat&lt;br /&gt;   6. This is an cat&lt;br /&gt;   7. This is old cat&lt;br /&gt;   8. This is fart cat&lt;br /&gt;   9. This is busy cat&lt;br /&gt;   10. This is for cat&lt;br /&gt;   11. This is forty cat&lt;br /&gt;   12. This is seconds cat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now go back and read aloud the third word in each line from the top down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- From cousin Joe LoPue, of whom I'll only say that he's at least a year older than I am.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113167332655092837?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113167332655092837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113167332655092837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167332655092837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167332655092837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/age-test.html' title='AGE TEST'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113167233387779596</id><published>2005-11-10T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T17:25:33.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FAIR'S FAIR: THIS ONE'S FOR DEMOCRATS</title><content type='html'>President Bush was asked how he came up with a conservative like Alito for the Supreme Court. Bush said he got the idea over the weekend while turning the clocks back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- That John Sweeney, man, does he ever forward!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113167233387779596?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113167233387779596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113167233387779596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167233387779596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167233387779596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/fairs-fair-this-ones-for-democrats.html' title='FAIR&apos;S FAIR: THIS ONE&apos;S FOR DEMOCRATS'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113167220755013758</id><published>2005-11-10T17:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T17:23:27.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FOR REPUBLICAN EYES ONLY</title><content type='html'>"Al Pacino was honored for his career at a banquet in Beverly Hills Friday. He's played a mobster, a mayor, a revolutionary, a cokehead, a sex addict and the devil. For thirty years the Democrat nomination for president has been his for the asking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- John Sweeney strikes again &lt;strong&gt;again&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113167220755013758?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113167220755013758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113167220755013758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167220755013758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167220755013758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/for-republican-eyes-only.html' title='FOR REPUBLICAN EYES ONLY'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113167175806979802</id><published>2005-11-10T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T17:15:58.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FOR YOU DADS OUT THERE</title><content type='html'>In a country home that seldom had guests, the young son was eager to help his mother after his father appeared with two dinner guests from the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the dinner was nearly over, the boy went to the kitchen and proudly carried in the first piece of apple pie, giving it to his father, who passed it to a guest. The boy came in with a second piece of pie and again watched his father give it to a guest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was too much for the boy, who said, "It's no use, Dad. The pieces are all the same size."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- John Sweeney strikes again!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113167175806979802?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113167175806979802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113167175806979802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167175806979802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113167175806979802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/for-you-dads-out-there.html' title='FOR YOU DADS OUT THERE'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113161744977860707</id><published>2005-11-10T02:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T02:11:25.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A TALE OF THREE ENGINEERS</title><content type='html'>There are three engineers in a car: an electrical engineer, a chemical engineer and a Microsoft engineer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the car just stops by the side of the road, and the three engineers look at each other wondering what could be wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The electrical engineer suggests the electronics of the car be removed down to its parts and then try to trace where a fault might have occurred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chemical engineer, not knowing much about cars, suggests that maybe the fuel is becoming emulsified and getting blocked somewhere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the Microsoft engineer comes up with a suggestion, "Why don't we close all the windows, get out, get back in, open the windows again? Maybe it'll work!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Via John Sweeney&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113161744977860707?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113161744977860707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113161744977860707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113161744977860707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113161744977860707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/tale-of-three-engineers.html' title='A TALE OF THREE ENGINEERS'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9542685.post-113148199501845658</id><published>2005-11-08T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T12:34:51.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Subject: ALL-NUDE POLICE CALENDAR</title><content type='html'>Subject: ALL-NUDE POLICE CALENDAR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The all-nude police officer calendar for 2006 is now available!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The all-nude police officer calendar for 2006 comes in an all-male and an all-female version for only $8.95 (plus $3.45 for shipping &amp; handling).  $5.00 from each sale goes to the National Police Officer Memorial Fund.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All pictures show full frontal nudity, for both female and males. Just click on the menu to select which one you want to preview.  They are available for sale on the site -- the calendars, not the officers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click on the site below to view all 12 (24) totally nude police officers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.richstevens.com/NAKED.swf"&gt;2006 Calendar&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-- Courtesy of Joe Confreda, all-around civic-minded citizen.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9542685-113148199501845658?l=mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.richstevens.com/NAKED.swf' title='Subject: ALL-NUDE POLICE CALENDAR'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/feeds/113148199501845658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9542685&amp;postID=113148199501845658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113148199501845658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9542685/posts/default/113148199501845658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikeflynnlaugh.blogspot.com/2005/11/subject-all-nude-police-calendar.html' title='Subject: ALL-NUDE POLICE CALENDAR'/><author><name>Mike</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06313995886501516230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
