Mr. Obama and Mr. Trump meet at a barber shop
So Barack Obama and Donald Trump somehow ended up at the same barber shop. As they sat there, each being worked on by a different barber, not a word was spoken. The barbers were both afraid to start a conversation, for fear that it would turn nasty.
As the barbers finished their shaves in silence, the one who had Trump in his chair reached for the aftershave. But Donald was quick to stop him, jokingly saying, “No thanks. My wife, Melania, will smell that and think I’ve been in a brothel.”
The second barber turned to Barack and said, “How about you, Mr. Obama?” Barack replied, “Go right ahead, my wife Michelle doesn’t know what the inside of a brothel smells like.”
Benny The Bull Kiss Cam Steals Celtic’s Fan Girlfriend
Don’t fall asleep at work
20 THINGS I TRUST MORE THAN HILLARY CLINTON
- Mexican tap water
- A porcupine with a “pet me” sign
- Bill Clinton, with my teenage daughter
- A fart while fighting the flu
- An elevator ride with Ray Rice
- Taking pills or a drink offered by Bill Cosby
- A Bigfoot sighting
- A Hillary Clinton war story reported by Brian Williams
- Gas station sushi
- Jimmy Carter, with the economy or military strategy
- A Palestinian on a motorcycle
- Pete Carroll coaching decisions
- Eating an apple from an orchard at Fukushima reactor #4
- Hitching a ride from a guy in a goalie mask
- The ingredients in a hotdog
- Nancy Pelosi’s grip on reality
- Black Ice
- Jerry Sandusky as a Boy Scout leader
- Alien abduction stories
- Barney Frank in the shower asking you to pick up the bar of soap
The Way Women Think
Husband’s Text Message to wife:
Honey, I got hit by a car outside the office. Paula brought me to the Hospital. Doctors presently doing tests and taking X-rays. Severe blow to my head but not likely to have any lasting effects. Wound required 19 stitches. I have three broken ribs, a broken arm and compound fracture in the left leg. Amputation of the right foot is a possibility.
Love you……
Wife’s Response:
Who is Paula?
A ride in a taxi
A woman and her twelve-year-old son were riding in a taxi in Detroit. It was raining and all the prostitutes were standing under awnings.
“Mom,” said the boy, “what are all those women doing?”
“They’re waiting for their husbands to get off work,” she replied.
The taxi driver turns around and says, “Geez lady, why don’t you tell him the truth? They’re hookers, boy! They have sex with men for money.”
The little boy’s eyes get wide and he said, “Is that true Mom?”
His mother, glaring hard at the driver, answered affirmatively.
After thinking for a few minutes, the kid asked, “Mom, if those women have babies, what happens to them?”
“Most of them become taxi drivers,” she said.
The Jewish Quarterback
The coach had put together the perfect team for the Baltimore Ravens. The only thing missing was a good quarterback. He had scouted all the colleges and even the Canadian and European Leagues, but he couldn’t find a ringer who could ensure a Super Bowl win.
Then one night while watching CNN he saw a war-zone scene in the West Bank . In one corner of the background, he spotted a young Israeli soldier with a truly incredible arm. He threw a hand-grenade straight into a 15th story window 100 yards away. KABOOM!
He threw another hand-grenade 75 yards away, right into a chimney. KA-BLOOEY!
Then he threw another at a passing car going 90 mph. BULLS-EYE!
“I’ve got to get this guy!” Coach said to himself. “He has the perfect Arm!”
So, he brings him to the States and teaches him the great game of football. And the Ravens go on to win the Super Bowl.
The young man is hailed as the great hero of football, and when the coach asks him what he wants, all the young man wants is to call his mother.
“Mom,” he says into the phone, “I just won the Super Bowl!”
“I don’t want to talk to you, the old woman says.” You are not my son!”
“I don’t think you understand, Mother,” the young man pleads. “I’ve won the greatest sporting event in the world. I’m here among thousands of my adoring fans.”
“No! Let me tell you!” his mother retorts. “At this very moment, there are gunshots all around us. The neighborhood is a pile of rubble. Your two brothers were beaten within an inch of their lives last week, and I have to keep your sister in the house so she doesn’t get raped!” The old lady pauses, and then tearfully says,…
“I will never forgive you for making us move to Baltimore!
Gun shopping at Dick’s
Gun Control. It has already started at Dick’s Sporting Goods. When I was ready to pay for my purchases of a new rifle and bullets, the cashier said, “Strip down, facing me.”
Making a mental note to complain to the NRA about the gun control whackos running amok, I did just as she had instructed.
When the hysterical shrieking, security, and alarms finally subsided, I found out that she was referring to how I should place my credit card in the card-reader. I have been asked to shop elsewhere in the future. They need to make their instructions to us seniors a little clearer!
I STILL DON’T THINK I LOOKED THAT BAD NAKED.