Whatever jokes

All men are idiots, and I married their King.

So many stupid people... so few comets.

Your kid may be an honors student, but you're still an idiot.

Cover me. I'm changing lanes.

I Brake for no apparent reason.

Learn from your parents' mistakes -- use birth control.

Forget about World Peace...Visualize using your turn signal.

Lottery: A tax on people who are bad at math.

It IS as bad as you think, and they ARE out to get you.

Auntie Em, Hate you, hate Kansas, taking the dog. Dorothy.

Time is what keeps everything from happening at once.

I love cats...they taste just like chicken.

Out of my mind. Back in five minutes. The more people I meet, the more I like my dog.

Work is for people who don't know how to fish.

Montana -- At least our cows are sane!

I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian.

Women who seek to be equal to men lack ambition.

If you don't like the news, go out and make some.

Sorry, I don't date outside my species.

Reality is a crutch for people who can't handle drugs.

Where there's a will, I want to be in it.

OK, who stopped payment on my reality check?

Few women admit their age; fewer men act it.

I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it.

Hard work has a future payoff. Laziness pays off NOW.

It's lonely at the top, but you eat better.

According to my calculations, the problem doesn't exist.

Give me ambiguity or give me something else.

We are born naked, wet, and hungry. Then things get worse.

Make it idiot-proof and someone will make a better idiot.

Always remember you're unique, just like everyone else.

Very funny, Scotty, now beam down my clothes.

Puritanism: The haunting fear that someone, somewhere may be happy.

Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.

Be nice to your kids. They'll choose your nursing home.

Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder...

There are 3 kinds of people: those who can count & those who can't.

Keep honking...I'm reloading....

A cop pulls over a guy.
"Your eyes are awfully red. Have you been drinking?"
"Gee, officer," the man says. "Your eyes are awfully glazed -- have you been eating doughnuts?"

Saturday
1:00 A.M. Alarm clock rings.
2:00 A.M. Hunting partners arrive, drag you out of bed.
2:30 A.M. Throw everything but kitchen sink in camper.
3:00 A.M. Leave for deep woods.
3:15 A.M. Drive back home and pick up gun.
3:30 A.M. Drive like mad to get to woods before daylight.
4:00 A.M. Set up camp—forgot the sleeping tent.
4:30 A.M. Head into woods.
6:05 A.M. See eight deer.
6:06 A.M. Take aim and squeeze trigger.
6:07 A.M. “CLICK”
6:08 A.M. Load gun while watching deer go over hill.
8:00 A.M. Head back to camp.
9:00 A.M. Still looking for camp.
10:00 A.M. Realize you don't know where camp is.
NOON Fire gun for help—eat wild berries.
12:15 P.M. Ran out of bullets—eight deer come back.
12:20 P.M. Strange feeling in stomach.
12:30 P.M. Realize you ate poison berries.
12:45 P.M. Rescued and rushed to hospital to have stomach pumped.
3:00 P.M. Arrive back at camp.
3:30 P.M. Leave camp to kill deer.
4:00 P.M. Return to camp for bullets.
4:01 P.M. Load gun—leave camp again.
5:00 P.M. Empty gun on squirrel that's bugging you.
6:00 P.M. Arrive at camp, see deer grazing in camp.
6:01 P.M. Load gun and fire.
6:02 P.M. One dead pick-up truck.
6:04 P.M. Hunting partner returns to camp dragging deer.
6:06 P.M. Repress strong desire to shoot partner.
6:07 P.M. Fall into fire.
6:10 P.M. Change clothes—throw burned ones into fire.
6:15 P.M. Take pick-up, leave partner and his deer in the woods.
6:25 P.M. Pick-up boils over hole shot in block.
6:26 P.M. Start walking, stumble and fall, drop gun in mud.
6:35 P.M. Meet bear and take aim.
6:37 P.M. fire gun—blow up barrel plugged with mud.
6:38 P.M. Dirty my pants.
6:39 P.M. Climb tree.
9:00 P.M. Bear departs, I wrap gun around tree.
MIDNIGHT Home at last.
Sunday
Following church services, watch ball game on T.V., slowly tear hunting license into pieces, place into envelope and mail to Game Warden promising God never to hunt again.

A dying man smells his favorite oatmeal raisin cookies cooking downstairs. It takes all the strength he has left but he gets up from the bed and crawls down the stairs. He sees the cookies cooling on the counter and staggers over to them. As he reaches for one, his wife's wrinkled hand reaches out, smacks his and she yells:

"No, you can't have those! They're for the funeral!"