As the title suggests here are a few humorous stories and one gratuitous limerick. They’re all pearls of wisdom and I hope they help make you a little wiser. Here goes . . .
Once Yogi Berra, in his younger days, was in a batting slump. The manager felt this was because he was swinging at too many bad pitches. He therefore called Yogi to one side during a slow day in the schedule and gave him an intensive course in judging incoming baseball to determine whether they were outside the strike zone. Yogi’s batting promptly grew even worse, he said “It’s this judging of balls. I just can’t hit and think at the same time.”
And here’s a limerick for all of you aficionados:
To moralists, sex is a sin
Yet Nature suggests we begin.
She arranged it, no doubt,
That a fellow juts out
In the place where a damsel juts in.
🤣🤣🤣
A friend of mine was on a plane. It had achieved a high and steady flight and was set on autopilot. The pilot stretched, yawned, and said, “What I need now is a cup of coffee and a blow job. “What the pilot didn’t know was that the public address system was still on, and his words were heard throughout the plane. A stewardess hurriedly ran forward to the cockpit to tell the pilot to shut off the PA system before he committed any further indiscretions. As she ran by, an elderly female passenger yelled out, “Don’t forget, honey. He wants coffee, too.”
Julius Caesar was once asked what kind of death was the best. He gave the best conceivable answer, for he said, “A sudden one.” Unfortunately for Caesar he was assassinated the next day – suddenly.
An irate woman once told Winston Churchill, when he was a young man and temporarily sporting a small mustache, “Young man, I like neither your politics nor your mustache.” To which Churchill replied, “Madam, you are not likely to come into contact with either.”
Since we’re celebrating “Hump Day”, here are a few truly twisted limericks to test your reading skills. Pick any one of these three and try to read it as fast as possible without tying your tongue in a knot. Doing that is probably just as difficult as it was for me trying to type these damn things. Have fun with it.
😉😉😉
Two witchy witches in a Wichita ditch,
One witch with a twitch caused the witches to switch,
The spell they were under,
Caused people to wonder,
Which Wichita witch switched was which?
😤😤😤
Frankly, Frank Fankley felt cranky,
Inside Frank Fankley’s frank was Hank’s hanky.
Hank’s hanky Frank got,
Filled with Hank’s hanky snot,
“It ain’t frankly swanky,” said Fankley, “NO THANK-Y!”
As anyone who reads this blog knows I love limericks. I love the mild ones written by kids and for kids, the medium ones for many of the limerick loving adults who shy away from many of the naughtier limericks, and occasionally I get in the mood to post something a little raunchier. My favorite limerick writer has always been Isaac Azimov but one of his close friends deserved an honorable mention today. That friend was John Ciardi who for 16 years was the poetry editor for the Saturday Review and his translation of The Divine Comedy is still considered a classic. Sadly, he passed away in 1986 but his works and love of limericks lives on. Enjoy.
To those of you who were alive in the 1960’s, you know what a strange time it was not only for the country but for each of us individually. Free love, drugs, rock & roll, and anti-war fever made for interesting relationships and all the craziness you could possibly handle. I have to say I enjoyed the hell out of it. With that in mind I’m offering up a few limericks from the early sixties that you might find interesting. Put on your bell-bottoms and roll up a “J” and enjoy.
There seem to be a few of you out there who continue to request a selection of down&dirty limericks. I’m feeling a little down&dirty myself today, so I’ll bow to the pressure and offer up a few.
I’m not quite sure how to act today, there’s a huge yellow orb in the sky and I’m not exactly certain what it is. I suspect it has something to do with global warming but unfortunately, I have very few liberal friends to help explain it to me. Let’s move along to today’s post. I recently acquired a small paperback book titled Raunchy Riddles, published in 1984, (Sarcasm On) an era of true sophistication and good humor. (Sarcasm Off) Here’s a small sampling of the fine work of that era.
What would a country girl do for birth control? If she can, she crosses her legs . . . If she can’t, she crosses her fingers!
Why are anchovies like telephones? They’re the next best thing to being there!
What should a girl do if she’s looking for a passionate husband? Try a few on for sighs!
What’s brown and smells like a bell? Dung!
How can you tell the novice at a nudist colony? He sticks out like a sore thumb!
What’s a “vagrancy brassiere”? No visible means of support!
What happens when people tease you too much about masturbating? You grow callous!
What’s the greatest thing about masturbation? It’s sex with someone you love!
What does a cautious gynecologist do? Tries not to stirrup any trouble!
Why should you guard your rear when you’re in a hospital? You’re in enema territory!
Well, as I said in the past so many times it’s a gray and rainy and crappy day here in Maine. The state is overrun with tourists from Canada and from Massachusetts zero making any kind of trip even to just shop is a pain. Least touristy summer days totally destroy what sense of humor I normally have, and I need something to make me smile at least. So, with that in mind about some jokes.
😂🤣😂🤣😂
The terrible tempered Mr. Anderson, having missed an easy putt, shouted, “Oh Fuck!” A young lady in the party said, “You needn’t use such vile language. “Anderson stared at her angrily and said, “Oh, come on. I’m sure you’ve heard that word many times before. “I have, said the young lady, but never in anger.”
A woman who was having a one-night stand with the man she had casually picked up said rather contemptuously, “You have a very small organ.” To which the man immediately replied, “It merely seems small because it has been asked to play in a cathedral.”
A visitor to a certain college paused to admire the new Hemingway Hall that had been built on campus. “It’s a pleasure to see a building named for Ernest Hemingway”, he said. “Actually,” said his guide, it’s named for Joshua Hemingway. No relation.” The visitor was astonished. “Was Joshua Hemingway a writer, also?” “Yes, indeed,” said his guide. “He wrote a check.”
“Worry is the first time you find you can’t do it the second time; panic is the second time you find you can’t do it the first time.”
There was a young woman named Sally
Who loved an occasional dally.
She sat on the lap
of a well-endowed chap,
And said, “Ooh, you’re right up my alley.”
A woman said proudly, “Before I married my husband, I told him quite frankly of the various different love affairs I had had. I did not want to marry under false pretenses. “What honesty,” said one of those who was listening to her. “And what courage,” said another. “And what a memory,” said a third.
Here I sit poolside watching my two grandsons beating my better-half in a mean and nasty game of Triple War. Losing to an eleven and eight-year-old is kind of embarrassing and I gladly told her so. Warm day, great barbecue, new puppy, cool pool, board games, and family. It doesn’t get much better for a hot August day. The sun is broiling my bald head but I’m not complaining. All too soon we’ll be shoveling that white stuff once again and I can continue complaining even more then. But for today I thought I’d offer a couple of tongue twisting limericks to challenge you.
This is my first Tibetan limerick . . .
A Tibetan made a bet on his toboggan
That his toboggan could get down the hill hot-doggin.
The Tibetan got to bettin’,
But while bettin’ kept forgettin’,
It was August, so he landed on his noggin.
💥💥💥💥💥
A reckless rough roofer, Ralph Rufus,
Was a ruthless fool know as a doofus,
When Rufus roofed on a roof,
No roof was found to be Ralph-proof,
Roofing roofers felt Rufus a complete and total goofus.
An airplane flying from Houston to Chicago had a very close call. For a while it seemed they were doomed to crash to fiery destruction, but at the last minute the pilot got it under control and landed safely. Out of the plane came 200 midgets. An onlooker said, “I never saw so many midgets in my life.” Said another, “Those aren’t midgets. Those are Texans with the shit scared out of them.
In Hollywood, it is not enough for you to succeed; your friends must fail.
As per Yogi, “You can observe a great deal just by watching.”
Who doesn’t like stereotypes? A Texan had just had a baby son, and he was passing out enormous cigars. “Likeliest little varmint you ever saw,” he said proudly. “He weighs twenty-seven pounds.” Two weeks later, the friend met him and said, “How’s the kid?” “Fine,” said the Texan. “The little tyke weighs sixteen pounds.” The friend looked puzzled. “Why, when he was born you said he weighed twenty-seven pounds.” “I know.” said the Texan, “but we had him circumcised.”
There once was a young plumber from Leigh
Who was plumbing a girl by the sea.
Said the maid, “Cease your plumbing,
I think someone’s coming.”
Said the plumber, still plumbing, “It’s me!”
At the zoo, a curious woman said to one of those who tended the animals, “How do you tell a male hippopotamus from a female hippopotamus?” The keeper said, “We don’t really have to, ma’am. The hippopotamuses figure it out for themselves.”
There is a story that Mussolini was once stranded in a small town in Italy when his car broke down, To pass the time, he visited a local movie house. Came the newsreel, and, of course, his own face flashed on the screen.
Everyone in the movie house stood up, but Mussolini, feeling tired and feeling no compulsion to stand up in his own honor, remained seated. Whereupon the man next to him whispered, “I feel exactly as you do, but take my advice and stand up. It’s safer.”
He was an American writer and professor of biochemistry at Boston University. A prolific writer, he wrote or edited more than 500 books. He also wrote an estimated 90,000 letters and postcards. Best known for his hard science fiction, Asimov also wrote mysteries and fantasy, as well as a great deal of non-fiction.
*****
I’ve been a fan of Isaac Asimov, for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried to read everything of his that I could find and have never regretted it. He’s one of the most prolific writers who’ve ever lived and is well-versed in virtually any topic someone would like to talk about. Over the years I’ve also discovered that he was one of the funniest writers as well and has written books of limericks and stories that were outrageously funny. I recently acquired a book of his from 1992 (the year of his death) titled Azimov Laughs Again. It’s a volume of funny stories from his life as well as some of his favorite jokes and limericks. Here are a couple jokes to help get your day started.
Mr. Ginsberg, age 83, went to the doctor for a complete examination head to toe. About halfway through, the doctor was called to the telephone. He said, “Mr. Ginsberg, this will not take more than a few minutes. Here’s a jar. While I am gone, go to the bathroom and place a semen sample in it for examination. Then we’ll continue. “A few minutes later, the doctor indeed returned, and there stood Mr. Ginsberg with the jar- totally empty. “Doctor,” said Mr. Ginsberg. “I did my best. I tried with my right hand, and I tried with my left hand. I even tried with both hands, but nothing happened. The doctor said soothingly, “Now, Mr. Ginsberg, don’t feel embarrassed. At the age of 83, it is quite common to be impotent.” Whereupon Ginsberg said, with towering indignation, “What do you mean, impotent? I couldn’t open the jar.”
Old Mr. Anderson and his equally aged wife were filing for divorce. The judge, eyeing them with astonishment, said, “How old are you, Mr. Anderson?” “Ninety-three”, Your Honor. “And your wife?” “Ninety-one”, Your Honor.” “And how long have you been married?” “Sixty-six years.” “Then why do you want to get a divorce now?” “Well, you know how it is, Your Honor.” We were waiting for the children to die.”
He has an interesting sense of humor and I freaking love it. Here’s a small add-on which is one of his favorite limericks.
everyuselessthing.com 