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Treasured Social Butterfly

Re: Funny Stories

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Message 1 of 48

 

Golf in Heaven

Two old men had been friends most of their lives. When it was clear that Frank was dying, Leonard visited him every day.

One day Leonard said, "Frank, we both loved playing golf all our lives, and we started playing soon after high school. Please do me one favor: when you get to heaven, somehow you must let me know if there's golf there."

Frank looked up at Leonard from his deathbed and said, "Leonard, you've been my best friend for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favor for you."

Shortly after that, Frank died.

A few weeks later, Leonard was awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to him, "Leonard!"

"Who is it?" asked Leonard, sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?"

"Leonard -- it's me, Frank."

"You're not Frank. Frank just died."

"I'm telling you, it's me, Frank," insisted the voice.

"Frank! Where are you?"

"In heaven," replied Frank. "I have some really good news and a little bad news."

"Tell me the good news first," said Leonard.

"The good news," Frank said with joy and enthusiasm, "is that there is golf in heaven. Better yet, all of our old buddies who died before me are here too. Even better than that, we're all young again. Better still, it's always Summertime and it never rains. And best of all, we can play golf all we want, and we never get tired. And we get to play with all the Greats of the
past."

"That's fantastic," said Leonard. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So what's
the bad news?"

"You're in my foursome this Saturday."

Posted by Dave the Lighthouse Keeper
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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 2 of 48

 

Golf in Heaven

Two old men had been friends most of their lives. When it was clear that Frank was dying, Leonard visited him every day.

One day Leonard said, "Frank, we both loved playing golf all our lives, and we started playing soon after high school. Please do me one favor: when you get to heaven, somehow you must let me know if there's golf there."

Frank looked up at Leonard from his deathbed and said, "Leonard, you've been my best friend for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favor for you."

Shortly after that, Frank died.

A few weeks later, Leonard was awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to him, "Leonard!"

"Who is it?" asked Leonard, sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?"

"Leonard -- it's me, Frank."

"You're not Frank. Frank just died."

"I'm telling you, it's me, Frank," insisted the voice.

"Frank! Where are you?"

"In heaven," replied Frank. "I have some really good news and a little bad news."

"Tell me the good news first," said Leonard.

"The good news," Frank said with joy and enthusiasm, "is that there is golf in heaven. Better yet, all of our old buddies who died before me are here too. Even better than that, we're all young again. Better still, it's always Summertime and it never rains. And best of all, we can play golf all we want, and we never get tired. And we get to play with all the Greats of the
past."

"That's fantastic," said Leonard. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So what's
the bad news?"

"You're in my foursome this Saturday."

Posted by Dave the Lighthouse Keeper
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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 3 of 48

AN ACTUAL CRAIG'S LIST PERSONALS AD (not real but entertaining)
To the Guy Who Tried to Mug Me inDowntown Savannah night before last.
Date: 2017-01-17, 1:43 am. E.S.T.
I was the guy wearing the black Burberry jacket that you demanded that I hand over, shortly after you pulled the knife on me and my girlfriend, threatening our lives. You also asked for my girlfriend's purse and earrings. I can only hope that you somehow come across this rather important message.
First, I'd like to apologize for your embarrassment; I didn't expect you to actually crap in your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket.. The evening was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason.. my girlfriend was happy that I just returned safely from my 2nd tour as a Combat Marine in Afghanistan.
She had just bought me that Kimber Custom Model 1911 .45 ACP pistol for my birthday, and we had picked up a shoulder holster for it that very evening. Obviously you agree that it is a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head ... isn't it?!
I know it probably wasn't fun walking back to wherever you'd come from with crap in your pants. I'm sure it was even worse walking bare-footed since I made you leave your shoes, cell phone, and wallet with me. (That prevented you from calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again).
After I called your mother or "Momma" as you had her listed in your cell, I explained the entire episode of what you'd done. Then I went and filled up my gas tank as well as those of four other people in the gas station, -- on your credit card. The guy with the big motor home took 153 gallons and was extremely grateful!
I gave your shoes to a homeless guy outside Vinnie Van Go Go's, along with all the cash in your wallet. [That made his day!]
I then threw your wallet into the big pink "pimp mobile" that was parked at the curb ..... after I broke the windshield and side window and keyed the entire driver's side of the car.
Earlier, I managed to get in two threatening phone calls to the DA's office and one to the FBI, while mentioning President Trump as my possible target.
The FBI guy seemed really intense and we had a nice long chat (I guess while he traced your number etc.).
In a way, perhaps I should apologize for not killing you ... but I feel this type of retribution is a far more appropriate punishment for your threatened crime.
I wish you well as you try to sort through some of these rather immediate pressing issues, and can only hope that you have the opportunity to reflect upon, and perhaps reconsider, the career path you've chosen to pursue in life..
Remember, next time you might not be so lucky. Have a good day!
Thoughtfully yours,
Semper fi.
Alex

Posted by Dave the Lighthouse Keeper
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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 4 of 48

Subject:****** Only people from Wisconsin will truly understand ! ******

 

 

The year is 2024 and the United States has just elected the first woman

as President of the United States.

 

A few days after the election the president-elect calls her father
in Milwaukee and asks, "So, Dad, I assume you will be coming to my
inauguration?"

       "I don't think so.  It's a long drive; your mom isn't as young as
she used to be, we'll have the dog with us, and my arthritis is acting
up in my knee."

      "Don't worry about it, Dad. I'll send Air Force One or another
support aircraft to pick you up and take you home, and a limousine will
pick you up at your door," she said.

      "I don't know.  Everybody will be so fancy.  What would your
mother wear?"

       "Oh, Dad," she replied, "I'll make sure she has a wonderful gown
custom-made by one of the best designers in New York."

        "Honey," Dad complained, "You know we can't eat those rich foods
you and your friends like to eat."

         The President-elect responded, "Don't worry, Dad.  The entire
affair is going to be handled by the best caterer in D.C. and I'll
ensure your meals are salt-free.  Dad, I really want you to come."

       So her parents reluctantly agreed, and on January 24,  2024
arrived to see their daughter sworn in as President of the United
States.

       The parents are seated in the front row.  The President's dad
sees that a Senator is sitting next to him and whispers,

"You see that woman up there with her hand on the Bible,

becoming President of the United States?

        The Senator whispered in reply, "Yes, sir, I sure do ."

         Dad says proudly, "Her brother plays football for the Packers."

 

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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 5 of 48

This is something we ALL need to remember....

 

Two brothers living on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side-by-side, sharing machinery and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch.
Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference and finally, it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.
One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days' work," he said. "Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there I could help with? Could I help you?"

"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor. In fact, it's my younger brother! Last week there was a meadow between us. He recently took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us.
Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll do him one better. See that pile of lumber by the barn? I want you to build me a fence an 8-foot fence -- so I won't need to see his place or his face anymore."
The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."
The older brother had to go to town, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day -- measuring, sawing and nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job.
The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped. There was no fence there at all
It was a bridge .. A bridge that stretched from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work, handrails and all! And the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming toward them, his hand outstretched..
"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done."
The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox onto his shoulder.
"No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.
"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but I have many more bridges to build."

Posted by Dave the Lighthouse Keeper
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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 6 of 48

 

Out of the mouth’s of babes - - -

"How many women can a man marry?"
"Sixteen," the boy responded.
His cousin was amazed that he had an answer so quickly.
"How do you know that?"
"Easy," the little boy said.
"All you have to do is add it up, like the pastor said,
4 better, 4 worse, 4 richer, 4 poorer."

 

A little girl became restless as the preacher's sermon dragged on and on.
Finally, she leaned over to her mother and whispered,
"Mummy, if we give him the money now, will he let us go?"

 

Ms. Terri asked her Sunday School class to draw pictures of their favourite Bible stories.
She was puzzled by Kyle's picture, which showed four people on an airplane,
So she asked him which story it was meant to represent.
"The Flight to Egypt ," was his reply.
Pointing at each figure, Ms. Terri said,
"That must be Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus.
But who's the fourth person?"
"Oh, that's Pontius - the pilot!"

 

The Sunday School Teacher asks,
"Now, Johnny, tell me frankly do you say prayers before eating?"
"No ma'am," little Johnny replies, I don't have to.
My mom is a good cook."

 

And here is the best one.

A little girl was sitting on her grandfather's lap as he read her a bedtime story.
From time to time, she would take her eyes off the book and reach up to touch his wrinkled cheek.
She was alternately stroking her own cheek, then his again.
Finally she spoke up, "Grandpa, did God make you?"
"Yes, sweetheart," he answered, "God made me a long time ago"
"Oh," she paused, "Grandpa, did God make me too?"
"Yes, indeed, honey," he said, "God made you just a little while ago."
Feeling their respective faces again, she observed,
"God's getting better at it, isn't he?"

 

Posted by Dave the Lighthouse Keeper
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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 7 of 48

I found a leaflet out of my mailbox,
informing me that I can have sex at 80.

I'm so happy, because I live at number 82.
So it's not too far to walk home afterwards.

And it's the same side of the street.

 

Answering machine message,
"I am not available right now,
but thank you for caring enough to call.
I am making some changes in my life.
Please leave a message after the beep.
If I do not return your call,
you are one of the changes."

 

My wife and I had words,

but I didn't get to use mine.

 

Frustration is trying to find your glasses without your glasses.

 

Blessed are those who can give without remembering
and take without forgetting.

 

The irony of life is that,
by the time you're old enough to know your way around,
you're not going anywhere.

 

God made man before woman so as to give him time
to think of an answer for her first question.

 

I was always taught to respect my elders,
but it keeps getting harder to find one.

Posted by Dave the Lighthouse Keeper
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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 8 of 48

I went to the local Pow-Wow at the Beaver Lake Reserve for the first time to see what it was all about.

I sat down and the Chief came up to me, laid his hands on my hand and said:

"By the will of the Elders and the Great Creator, you will walk today."

I told him I wasn't paralyzed, but I did have a small bunion on my left foot.

He came back and laid his hands on me again and, looking skywards he earnestly repeated his mantra:

"By the will of the Elders and the Great Creator, you will walk today."

Once again, I told him there really was nothing wrong with me.

After prayers I stepped outside.

And sure as hell, my truck was gone !!!

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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 9 of 48

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Re: Funny Stories

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Message 10 of 48
The P-51 Pilot
 
This 1967 true story is about an experience by a young 12-year-old boy in Kingston, Ontario, Canada.  It is about the vivid memory of a privately rebuilt P-51 from WW II and its famous owner/pilot.
 
In the morning sun, I could not believe my eyes.  There, in our little airport, sat a majestic P-51.  They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S. Airport, on its way to an air show.  The pilot had been tired, so he just happened to choose Kingston for his stopover.  It was to take to the air very soon.  I marveled at the size of the plane, dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down by her.  It was much larger than in the movies.  She glistened in the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.
 
The pilot arrived by cab, paid the driver, and then stepped into the pilot's lounge.  He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed.  It looked like it might have been combed, say, around the turn of the century.  His flight jacket was checked, creased and worn - it smelled old and genuine.  Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders.  He projected a quiet air of proficiency and pride devoid of arrogance.
 
He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal ("Expo-67 Air Show") then walked across the tarmac.
 
After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check, the tall, lanky man returned to the flight lounge to ask if anyone would be available to stand by with fire extinguishers while he "flashed the old bird up, just to be safe."  Though only 12 at the time I was allowed to stand by with an extinguisher after brief instruction on its use -- "If you see a fire, point, then pull this lever!", he said. (I later became a firefighter, but that's another story.)
 
The air around the exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to rotate.  One manifold, then another, and yet another barked -- I stepped back with the others.  In moments the Packard-built Merlin engine came to life with a thunderous roar.  Blue flames knifed from her manifolds with an arrogant snarl.  I looked at the others' faces; there was no concern.  I lowered the bell of my extinguisher.  One of the guys signaled to walk back to the lounge.  We did. Several minutes later we could hear the pilot doing his pre-flight run-up.  He'd taxied to the end of runway 19, out of sight.  All went quiet for several seconds.  We ran to the second story deck to see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the runway.  We could not.  There we stood, eyes fixed at a spot halfway down the runway.
 
Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before.  Like a furious hell spawn set loose -- something mighty this way was coming.
"Listen to that thing!" said the controller.
 
In seconds the Mustang burst into our line of sight.  Its tail was already off the runway and it was moving faster than anything I'd ever seen.  Two-thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was airborne with her gear going up.  The prop tips were supersonic. We clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed hellishly fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the dog-day haze.  We stood for a few moments, in stunned silence, trying to digest what we'd just seen.
 
The radio controller rushed by me to the radio  "Kingston tower calling Mustang?"  He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment.
The radio crackled, "Go ahead, Kingston."
 
"Roger, Mustang.  Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low-level pass."
 
I stood in shock because the controller had just, more or less, asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show!
 
The controller looked at us.  "Well, What?"  He asked.  "I can't let that guy go without asking.  I couldn't forgive myself!"
 
The radio crackled once again, "Kingston, do I have permission for a low-level pass, east to west, across the field?"  "Roger, Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west pass."
 
"Roger, Kingston, I'm coming out of 3,000 feet, stand by."
 
We rushed back onto the second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze.
 
The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a muffled screech, a distant scream.  Moments later the P-51 burst through the haze.  Her airframe straining against positive G's and gravity. Her wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic.  The burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air.  At about 500 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with the old American pilot saluting.
 
Imagine.  A salute!  I felt like laughing; like crying; she glistened; she screamed; the building shook; my heart pounded.  Then the old pilot pulled her up and rolled, and rolled, and rolled out of sight into the broken clouds and indelibly into my memory.
 
I've never wanted to be an American more than on that day!  It was a time when many nations in the world looked to America as their big brother.  A steady and even-handed beacon of security who navigated difficult political water with grace and style; not unlike the old American pilot who'd just flown into my memory. He was proud, not arrogant; humble, not a braggart; old and honest,  projecting  an  aura  of  America  at  its  best.
That America will return one day!  I know he will!  Until that time, I'll just send off this story.  Call it a loving salute to a Country, and especially to that old American pilot: the late JIMMY STEWART  (1908-1997), Actor, real WW II Hero (Commander of a US Army Air Force Bomber Wing stationed in England), and a USAF Reserves Brigadier General, who wove a wonderfully fantastic memory for a young Canadian boy that's lasted a lifetime.




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