Southern Comfort Comedy

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I admit, I’ve got a bit of a lead-foot.  I was driving through Georgia on vacation, when I got pulled over by a State trooper.  I decided to try some fake innocence, to see if I could get away with it.  When the officer approached my car, I said, “I’ve never been pulled over like this.”  He just stared at me and said, “What do they usually do??  Just shoot out the tires?”

***

My doctor’s receptionist commented that she hadn’t taken her morning vitamins, and was walking around unprotected.
I replied that I hadn’t taken my Prozac, and that everybody was walking around unprotected.

***

The wife and I were watching a TV show about long-married couples.  I asked, “If you had to do it over again, would you marry me?”  She said, “You’ve asked me that before.”  “So, what was your answer?”  She replied, “I don’t remember.”

***

The knit cap my friend sent me from England was a bit small.  But it was lovely, so I wore it to church on Sunday.  Afterward I emailed her to say how nice it looked on me.  She shot me back a text, saying how glad she was. ”Especially,” she wrote, “as it’s a tea cozy.”

***

My grandson and his pregnant wife were checking into a new birth facility that was more like a spa.  The birthing room had a hot tub, soft music, and candlelight.
“What do you think?” she asked.
He looked around and replied, “Isn’t this how we got here in the first place?”

***

A teenager brings her new boyfriend home to meet her parents.  They are appalled with his tattoos and piercings.  Later, her Mother says, “Dear, he doesn’t seem to be a very nice boy.”
“Oh please Mother,”
the girl replies.  “If he wasn’t nice, would he be doing 500 hours of community service?”

***

A marine biologist was telling some of his friends about his latest research findings.  “Some whales are capable of communicating at a distance of 300 miles.”
A sarcastic friend asked, “What the Hell would one whale have to say to another whale, 300 miles away?”
“I’m not absolutely certain” the expert replied, “but it sounds a lot like Can you hear me now?”

***

What should I do? yelled the panicked customer to the veterinary receptionist.  My dog ate two bags of unpopped popcorn.  Clearly not as alarmed as the worried pet owner, she replied, “The first thing I’d do, is keep him out of the sun.

***

An orangutan at the zoo has two books – The Bible, and Darwin’s Origin of Species.  He’s trying to find out if he’s his brother’s keeper, or his keeper’s brother.

’25 A To Z Challenge – A

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AGATE

Is a way through afence – unless you go in stile.

Marbles were originally made from little broken pieces of marble – hence the name.  Now, most ‘marbles’ are molded from glass.  Hmmm, glass marbles??!  That’s as self-contradictory as plastic glasses – both kinds.

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“Aggies,” the more often and more roughly-used playing marbles, also known as taws, were made from agate, a super-hard, super-strong, ultra-compressed type of sandstone.  The pleasing stripe/swirl patterns were created when the original sand was disturbed by waves or water currents, before it became extra-compacted.

I recently saw a video where an excited man pulled a dinner-plate-sized stone from the edge of some water.  He took it home and split it in half with a special saw. (Video agate coral)  The pattern inside was gorgeous.  He claimed that it was a special type of agate, composed of fossilized coral.

I thought agate was only the sandstone type, but I guess I was wrong.  (Hey, could happen??)  I suppose that the same thing occurring, in the same place, under the same conditions, to two similar materials, rates the same name.

I’m gonna roll on out of here.  Be careful on your way out.  I think I picked up all the aggies, but….  😉

Stop That

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I regard the preservation of my constitutional rights to be far more important than someone else’s vague, undefined “upset.”

I occasionally watch YouTube videos posted by Civil Rights Auditors.  These are people who try to ensure honesty and transparency in interactions between civilians and all levels of Government, by recording and posting videos of politicians, civil servants, and police.

There is something about the presence of a video camera that drives some people crazy.  You can wander up to, or into, city halls, DMV offices, even police stations, wander around, staring at stuff, and no-one questions your presence.  Bring along a camcorder, or set your cell phone to record, and all Hell breaks loose.

In a recent video, a young man with a camera walked behind a police station, and wandered around the parking area.  Almost immediately, three young, white, male officers coalesced out of the ether – and the harassment, intimidation, and lies began.

What are you doing here?

Performing a Constitutionally-protected activity.

You can’t be here. You can’t record our vehicles!

The First Amendment says I can.

You’re trespassing!

I can’t be trespassed from public property unless I’ve committed a crime.

You’re acting suspicious!

The US Supreme Court has ruled that “suspicion” is not a crime.

This is private property!

This is County property, and obviously public.

This is a secure facility!

No fence, no gate, no signs.

Finally, it came – Give us your ID!

I don’t have to provide identification unless I’ve been lawfully detained.  Please give a reasonable, articulable suspicion of a specific crime.

The debate raged for about ten minutes, until an older Captain was called out, and reluctantly admitted that all the claims and demands were false.  As the cammer was exiting the parking lot, he was passed by another officer in a cruiser.  He yelled at the officer, “You’re not wearing a seatbelt.  Obey the law!  Put on your seatbelt.”

I know what he was doing, and why, and I commend him for it.  He was trying to ensure that Police Officers obey the same laws that the rest of us have to obey.

Here is where I insert my usual –HOWEVER!

Almost every jurisdiction I am aware of – US States, Canadian Provinces – have ‘exception clauses’ in their seatbelt legislation, to cover certain class(es) of vehicles.  “Any vehicle where there is a requirement for rapid and/or repetitive exits.  The list shall include, but not be limited to: garbage trucks, fire trucks, police, ambulances, taxis, delivery vehicles, and public transit.

No subway riders, or bus riders, wear seatbelts, although the bus drivers usually, wisely, do.  For no obvious reason, about a year ago, there was a local, public kerfuffle.  If we have to wear seatbelts in our cars, shouldn’t children wear seatbelts in their school buses? Shouldn’t our kids be safe??  It finally died away, after an automotive engineer published an article.

School buses are designed and built with what engineers call “Egg Crating.”  The backs of the seats are high enough, strong enough, and flexible enough, to control and dissipate forward momentum.  They also slope backward, to further absorb and deflect the energy of ejected students, downward.  In the event of a real emergency, like a fire after a collision, there is not enough time or space to unlatch or cut off seatbelts from 30 panicked youngsters.

I’m gonna stop here for now, and go have a belt.  See you in a couple of days.

 

TILWROT V

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23 Celebrities who don’t use their real name

Once upon a time, a tribe of nomads named the Germanyė, inhabited one of the seven hills of what would become Rome.  Later, they wandered off – or were forced off. They drifted up the peninsula, and through the Alps, to the west, where they finally settled. Now they called themselves Germanotta – an Italian-ish word that meant the Germanyé people who journeyed here.

The main group split up, and various clans spread out.  Some of them took ‘Germanotta’ as a surname.  Later, Diaspora Jews settled in the same areas and some also took the name.  These clans of people, and the territories they occupied, became a group of little principalities which were collectively known as “The Germanies,” until the middle of the 1800s, when they were united into the ‘Empire of Germany.’

From one of them, a family emigrated to America, and a female descendant named Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta was born, who grew up to be the singer/performer who called herself Lady Gaga.

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I was reading a science fiction novel about a time traveler in Tyre, in ancient Phoenicia.  To make his conversations seem like formal, upper-class-speak, the author wrote his speech in Middle-English, upper-class-speak, with an overabundance of ‘tis and ‘twas, and thee and thou.

He addressed a nosy gate-guard as a “gossoon,” and the search was on!  Gossoon means lad, or boy.  It came to English 1675/1685, from the Irish Gaelic, garsun, also meaning boy, or lad – which, in turn came from Old French, Garçon, which surprisingly, also means boy, or young, unmarried man.  That word has grown up in English when we pretentiously use it to refer to a waiter – young, old, married, or single.

***

Once upon a time – Snake Oil was real
I was viewing an article titled Un-noticed Movie Mistakes.  In Django Unchained, Django and his white mentor blow up something with red sticks of dynamite – decades before Alfred Nobel got around to developing it.

In those days, if you wanted to blow shit up, you used black powder – because the more powerful smokeless powder had also not been developed.  For large, or special, explosions, unsafe, unstable, nitroglycerine was used.  That’s why Nobel soaked it into guncotton, to make it safe and reliable.

In both the US, and Canada, when the railways were being extended to the west coast, large numbers of coolies, expendable Chinese workers, were imported to do the dangerous work.  A report said that taking the rails through the Canadian Rockies cost one Chinaman per mile.  A Canadian Minute PSA showed one Chinaman being handed a glass vial of nitro, and told to go into a cavern, and tamp it into a bored hole.  There was a muffled explosion, and a huge cloud of smoke and dust.  The foreman just assumed that the payroll had been reduced by one more, when the coughing, but smiling, man emerged.

Rail crews work hard, and the Chinese were probably made to work harder than white men.  At the end of a hard day, they were stiff and sore.  Many of the Chinese rubbed an unguent on their joints that seemed to reduce pain, and aid flexibility.  They told inquiring whites that it was Chinese snake oil.  Much later investigation revealed that the “snakes” were actually aquatic, freshwater eels, whose bodies contained Omega3 fatty acids.

With the white guys sharing it, buying it, and stealing it, the supply eventually disappeared – but not the demand – that remained as hot as ever.  The Chinese caught garter snakes, grass snakes, milk snakes, even rattlesnakes, and rendered them down.  Being land animals the results were not the same, but sometimes at gunpoint, they were forced to supply the now nonexistent magic elixir.  Of course it didn’t work – and another urban myth was born.

The Better Religion

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LOSS OF ST. MARY’S HOSPITAL WILL BE KEENLY FELT

What a sad demise for St. Mary’s General Hospital, and for the community.  St. Mary’s has a valued history, and was originally administered and staffed by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Hamilton. Many people who need hospital care still prefer St. Mary’s over the now Grand River Hospital, and yet St. Mary’s is the one to close.  Monetary decisions seem to override patient care and community input.

I don’t know what the Op-Ed letter-writer’s problem is, but it almost certainly is not what she implies in her letter.  The building is not going to be torn down and disappear.  It will remain a hospital for another ten years, and become a specialty medical facility after that.

It does not provide superior medical care simply because it was founded by a Christian organization.  That myth was put to rest decades back.  The nuns and the Catholic Church gave it up in 1989, and it became city-owned and run.  Some years ago, I rushed my wife there with an apparent exploded gall bladder.  While staff quickly ferried her upstairs to surgery, I remained below to officially register her.

I reached a spot on the admission form marked “Religion,” and entered N/A.  The clerk insisted that I had to fill it in, so that if my wife died, they would know whether to send a priest, or a preacher.  I told her that if my wife died while in their care, they’d better send a lawyer.

Soon after that, the elitist, divisive, US-vs.-THEM, my religion is better than yours, even when what you really need is medical care drivel, quietly disappeared.

***

SECULAR ADDENDUM:

Like the letter writer, and many others, I also prefer its less-stressful, small-town feel and service, to the huge, confusing, impersonal hospital across town.  It’s where I went for my eye surgery, my bone density test, and my angina stress test and cardiac treatment.  However….

It sits in the center of a large, oval traffic circle, at the top of a hill, with vehicles whizzing by on all sides, in a dense residential area.  It has no room to expand, or for parking.  Patients, visitors, ambulances, taxis, police, and delivery vehicles have trouble getting to it, and safely leaving.  Money is hardly the prime concern for alteration.  People’s lives – their health and wellbeing, their safety and medical provisions – are increasingly at risk.  Something must change, despite all the feel-good nostalgia.

More Buck For The Bang

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One of my readers recently offered me the chance for a mutual suicide – and I laughed and laughed.

When the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune – and the aches and pains and misfortunes of modern life are too much, I was to obtain a box of .308 rifle ammunition, and transport it to his home in the wilds of the Ohio outback.  We would load similar guns, face each other, and on the count of three, shoot each other dead.

That’s how it would work, In PrincipleIn Fact, if his gun-handling abilities matched mine, we’d probably shoot someone’s pig, and flatten the tire of a passing farm wagon.  The Amish Mafia would kidnap and abuse us.  The part that I laughed hardest at, was the American-centric notion that I could just, somehow, waltz into a local Canadian establishment, and be handed a box of shells.  Even with me not owning a gun, the Government is afraid that I might throw them at someone.

Canada is not like Russia, or China, or North Korea, where civilian gun ownership is banned, prohibited, and strictly prevented.  In Canada, Anyone can own a firearm – as long as they have a healthy bank account, and the patience of Job.

To possess anything firearm-related, you have to sacrifice a tree to produce enough paper to satisfy all the bureaucratic boondoggles, and to print enough money to pay for it all.  There are forms for this, licenses for that, and certificates for everything else.  Only when you have generated enough paper documents to equal the weight of the gun, are you actually allowed to acquire and keep it.

I would require a background/psychological evaluation form, a signed permission slip from the wife, to have and keep it in our home, a carry permit to bring it there from point of purchase, a different carry permit to take it (Only) to and from home, to a licensed shooting range.  None of this target practice at bottles at the dump.  I would need a form proving to Police officers where and how I was safely and securely storing the gun – with any ammunition locked in a different location, and they all cost money. The police – local, Provincial, and RCMP – have a license to randomly search my home, a minimum of once a year, to ensure that I am complying with all the rules.

It would all begin with – despite the fact that I have almost 300 hours of gun safety training, the government would force me to attend their $200/$300, 30-hour course and test, where, if I carelessly used the vernacular terms bullet, or shell, instead of their OCD-authorized word, cartridge, I would be failed, and my wallet and I would have to start all over again.

Twenty years ago, when I still rode a motorcycle, I would occasionally ride to the north end of town, where there was a company called Shooter’s Choice, a combination of retail sales, and a supervised shooting range.  They had a glass display case with most of the handguns that I would never be able to afford.  I was warned to stop drooling on the counter.

The fact that there was also a nearby strip-club, and one of the Region’s best French-fry wagons, might help explain the attraction – one-stop sin shopping.  Alas, they are all gone.  The strip club was too close to a Mennonite Worship Hall, and the city cancelled their license.  Now it’s just a road-house bar.  Skin is taboo, but booze is okay.  The fries-wagon moved to a smaller city.

An automotive repair had me nearby recently.  Just for old-time’s sake, I drove over.  The glass handgun display case now contains fishing lures, archery equipment, hikers’ trail-bars, and rifle scopes – to be used to watch our gun-owning (non)-rights disappear into the distance.  😀

Lest We Forget/Nevermore

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REMEMBER

 Remember that tomorrow is Remembrance Day, or Veterans’ Day in the US, if Canada is too boring to remember.  Remember to wear a poppy, if it’s available to you.  I’ve remembered to wear mine for about three weeks.  Remember that this day is not about the wars that have been fought, but the peace that has been achieved.

Remember the Alamo.  Remember the Maine.  Remember that much of the world, especially here in North America, lives safely, stably, happily, and prosperously.  Remember that, all it takes for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing.  Remember the members of the Armed Forces, present and past, who have refused to do nothing, and have put themselves in harm’s way, to ensure that we live as we do.

Remember to thank a Service-Person today (and every day).  Remember to shake his or her hand.  Remember to give a hug, if it’s appropriate and welcomed.  Remember to face the flag, and stand quietly and respectfully at 11:00 AM.  Remember that they volunteered to put themselves in harm’s way, so that we wouldn’t be.  It’s the least you can do.

Remember the sacrifices that others have made, that we might have what we do.  Remember those who have lost lives and limbs, and mental and emotional well-being, careers, education and even families, for us and ours.

Remember that a man wearing a helmet and defending our country, is worth more than a man wearing a helmet and defending a football – and should be paid accordingly, but sadly, is not.

Remember that the Canadian Thanksgiving is just past, and the American Thanksgiving is just around the corner.  Remember to take all the things you’re thankful for and understand that those in uniform ensure that we have most of them.

Remember that the Armed Forces are like insurance.  You don’t want to use it, but it’s very nice to have when you must.  If only the American Congress and Canadian Federal Parliament could remember to play nice with others and remember to pay this vital and respected group.

Remember….sshhh, it will soon be 11:00 AM.  Remember what I told you, and stand quietly, respectfully, at attention, for two minutes.  I will.  I’ll be watching, and I’ll be back in a couple of days.

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Dirty Too Fibbing Friday

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For a couple of weeks pensitivity101 gave us some unusual words to tantalise our fibbing expertise. This time she decided to turn it on its head and give us a list of familiar words to re-define.

  1. What is a broom?
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It’s what my grandson said when I first taught him to ride a motorcycle.  Broom!  Broom!

  1. What is a doughnut?

It’s a method of attempted suicide, using the tight-assed car companies’ wheelbarrow-wheel excuse for a spare tire, because the bootstrap method doesn’t work.  Safety regulations say that you are supposed to travel only a maximum of 50 kilometers, at a maximum speed of 50 KmH, using one.
I’ve been on the Expressway, doing 115 Kmh in a 100KmH zone, and been passed like I was standing still by someone with one on a drive/steering wheel.  I don’t know how the drivers keep the car in a straight line, with it leaning toward me and the ditch.  I slow down, and give them lots of room.  When one of those things goes bad, it’ll take 3 or 4 other vehicles with it.  😳

  1. What is a penny farthing?

It’s the change you’ll get for a pint of Porter, at the pub out Pensitivity’s way.  The civilized portion of the country had already gone decimal with their coinage, and was leaning toward the Euro, before the rational Brexit decision was made.  They don’t cotton to that Daylight Saving Time stuff out there.  Their clocks are always set at 1890.

  1. What is a blanket?

Also known as a wet blanket, he is the death of the party, present only because he’s some sports stud’s wing-man.  He’s the one who, while everyone else is enjoying a little booze, a little grass, and some AC/DC, is prattling endlessly about the cultural significance of carved Popsicle sticks.

  1. What is a socket?

It’s a tag-line from the old Rowan and Martin Laugh-In TV program.  Would I lie to you (again)?  Don’t believe me??  Look here  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6HIzYXZzI0

  1. What is tapestry?

It is/was Carole King’s 1971 album.  I was wrong. I thought it contained the song that she wrote while she was still volunteering at the blood donor clinic, You’re So Vein.

  1. What is e-mail?

He/she/it/they are a member of the newly formed LGBTQ2S+, (A random group of symbols, almost as strange and meaningless as the name of Elon Musk’s 7th son – X Ӕ A-12) unsure whether it is more blessed to give or to receive – perhaps a bit of both if the company is congenial.

  1. What is a shower?
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He’s a guy with an unbuttoned Mac, and a compulsion to display his shortcomings.

  1. What is a sandbag?

A golfing groupie  😳  (See; Tiger Woods)

  1. What is chocolate?

It is the delightful concoction that causes my tummy to get round, and the world go ‘round, but sadly, not my blood circulation system.  The plaque I want is like the one that the wife’s godmother got from the Queen, for turning 100, not the stuff that clogs my arteries.

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Son Of A Gun

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Or in this case, a grandson.  In an attempt to dilute and disperse my fanatical, homicidal, antisocial obsession with possessing dangerous weapons, he has already given me a

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Sacrificial Stone Dagger
We’ll call it a Scottish letter opener.

And a

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Gorgeous rapier
We’ll call it shiny, sharp and pointy.

The United States has recently endured several domestic terrorism attacks, where assault-type weapons have been used to murder numbers of people.  In an attempt to look like they’re doing something – anything – more of the wrong thing, and solving someone else’s problem, the Canadian Federal Government has passed legislation that further tightens gun-control laws that are already some of the most restrictive in the world.  At least temporarily, the purchase, sale, or transfer of legally-owned handguns has been suspended.

Unlike Hercules, the grandson cannot cut the Gordian Knot of bureaucracy, and present me with a Government-authorized pistol.  Ingenious little devil he, he has found a way to tap-dance past the restrictions.  It is legally permitted to hire the services of a licensed gun-shop/shooting range owner, who will provide supervision and safety instruction, and temporarily lend and allow me to fire, five of my favorite handguns.

A sixth, my more favorite, the Berretta Model 92, is not included in the offering.  I plan to (reluctantly) ask if it is possible to substitute it for one on their menu.  Being Canadian, I have only fired two hand-guns in my life – a Police .38 Special, and a .32 caliber Spanish officer’s semi-automatic, a darling little thing with shiny stainless steel, and mother-of-pearl handles, suitable as a lady’s purse gun, or in the don’t ask – don’t tell brigade.

I received this I Am Impossible To Shop For package as a Fathers’ Day present.  The grandson and I, and the range owner, will negotiate a mutually acceptable Saturday, probably near my birthday in late September.  This is the most useless, but at the same time, the most treasured bucket list present that I have ever received.

I’m sure that some, make us feel safe at any cost, even if we’re not, Chicken Littles will want to know why I want to fire these dangerous guns.  As Willy Sutton said, when they asked him why he robbed banks – that’s where the money is.  Or George Mallory (not Edmund Hillary), when asked why he climbed Mount Everest – because it’s there!  I feel no need to justify this adventure but, that’s where the enjoyment is, and, because I can.

I will employ my hundreds of hours of gun safety training to ensure that I don’t shoot myself or anyone else.  With my worsening essential tremor, I won’t reveal target scores.  It will be enough just to keep flying lead between the range walls.  I will report later on this guys’ escapade.  You’ll know me by my goofy smile.

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Great Comedy – No Lie

The school called today to tell me that my son has been telling lies.
I told them to congratulate him on how well he tells them.  I don’t have a son.

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Dear Lord, all I want is a chance to prove that winning the lottery won’t make me a bad person.

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“While walking along the edge of a pond just outside my house in Florida, discussing a property settlement with my soon-to-be ex-wife, and other divorce issues, we were surprised by a huge 12-ft alligator which suddenly emerged from the murky water.    It began charging us with its large jaws wide open.   She must have been protecting her nest because she was extremely aggressive.

“If I had not had my little Ruger .22 caliber pistol with me, I would not be here today.  Just one shot to my estranged wife’s knee cap was all it took.  The alligator got her easily, and I was able to escape by just walking away at a brisk pace.  The amount I saved in lawyer’s fees was truly incredible and her life insurance was also a big bonus.”

***

The new vicar at a city centre church was delighted when he received a large anonymous cash gift. When he told the church council about it, he proposed it should be used to buy a new chandelier for the body of the church.

However, it was put to a vote and the vicar was disappointed when his proposal was narrowly defeated. The vicar noted that the church council secretary had voted against the proposal and when the meeting was over, he asked the secretary why he had not supported it.

The secretary said he had three reasons: “First, I have to write the minutes of the meeting and I can’t spell the word; second, there is sure to be an argument over who should play it; and finally, if we are going to spend money in the Church what we really need is some good lighting.”

***

The cashier at Wal-Mart said, “Strip down in front of me.” so I did as she told me.
When the hysteria died down, I found that she was instructing me on how to use the credit card reader.

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My High School was so poor, that they taught sex education and driver’s-ed in the same car.

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I tried to donate blood today.  Never again!  Too damned many questions!
Whose blood is it?  Where did you get it?  Why is it in a bucket??

***

A police officer pulled over a driver and informed him that, because he was wearing a seatbelt, he had won $1000 in a safety contest.  “What are you going to do with the prize money?” the officer asked.  The man responded, “Well, I guess I’ll go to driving school and get my driver’s licence.”  At that point, the man’s wife chimed in, “Officer, don’t listen to him.  He’s a smart-ass when he’s drunk.”

This woke up the guy in the back seat who, when he saw the cop, blurted, “I told you we wouldn’t get very far in this stolen car.”  Just then there was a knocking from the trunk, and a voice asked, “Are we across the border yet?”