Brown and Madam

Good morning, Brown, Brown, Brown, and Brown?
Yes, madam.
May I speak to Mr. Brown, please?
I’m so sorry, Mr. Brown is away sick today.
Oh, then may I speak to Mr. Brown, please?
Mr. Brown is on holiday.
It’s very important, may I speak to Mr. Brown?
Mr. Brown is away from the office on business.
Oh, no! Then I’ll have to speak to Mr. Brown, it’s a matter of life or death!

Mr. Brown speaking!

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Jewish Lady’s Dog

An old lady is boarding a plane with her dog in a cage to go to
isreal. The plane attendant says, “I am sorry ma’am, you can’t
bring that dog on the plane it will have to go with the cargo.”
She tries to explain to the man that the dog won’t bark
becase…and she is rudely interupted by the attendant saying “I
am sorry, no exceptions.”

So she does what he says, and she arives in Isreal. The people
are unpacking the cargo to find that the dog is dead. They
search all over town for an identical dog. after about 3 hours
of waiting, the man brings out this women’s dog, barking and

The women says, “sir, this isn’t my dog.” The man goes “of
course it is it looks exactly like it.”

The women goes, “no sir my dog was dead I was coming to isreal
to bury it.”

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Royal Seat of the Island

Many years ago, a tiny island nation in the South Pacific was home to some of the finest woodworkers who ever lived. Unfortunately, no one ever found about these legendary artisans since the only pieces they ever produced were thrones for the king of the island. It was a tradition that every year, on the first day of summer, the old throne would be burned in a massive bonfire and the woodworkers would present the king with their newest masterpiece, an ornate and beautiful throne they spent all year carving and shaping. The king would rule from the new royal seat and then destroy it at the next year’s summer festival. One year, a new king ascended to the throne and spoke to his council of elders. “It’s a foolish thing to take these beautiful pieces of art and destroy them every year! Someone should save them for future generations to enjoy.” But one of his ministers quickly pointed out, “Sire, this is a small island, and much of the land has been taken. We have no room to build a museum.” Thinking quickly, the king proposed a solution. “I have the answer. We will build a second story onto the royal hut, and we shall store the thrones there.” The king’s plan worked beautifully for a few years. Every year, he would summon the strongest men on the island to carry the thrones up into the second floor of the royal hut and add them to the collection. But on the fifth year, the floor finally could take no more, and the royal hut collapsed, killing the king and his whole family. The moral of the story? People who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.

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It was the usual scene in the City’s Night Court, the police had rounded up the usual collection of street walkers and brought them before the judge; three stood before him, all arrested on the same corner. He asked the first lady what she had to say for herself.The woman was irate, “I don’t know what all this is about your honour. I’m a college student doing research for a term paper.”The judge sighed and said, “Well, Miss, I would have thought you’d done enough research by now. My computer says you have two prior convictions. Thirty days and $250 fine.”He then turned to the second lady and requested her to testify. The woman began crying softly and said, “Judge, I am just a housewife out getting a pack of cigarettes for my husband. I have no idea why I was arrested.”This time, the Judge shook his head and said, “Well, young lady, the officer tells me that he saw you hand a stack of bills along with the cigarettes to your ‘husband’ in his new Cadillac. Thirty days and $250 fine.”He turned to the last of the trio and asked her occupation.The woman said simply, “I’m a hooker.”Refreshed at her honesty, the judge laughed and said, “How’s business?”She sneered and replied, “Terrible judge, with all these students and housewives around, I can’t turn a single trick.”

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You Might Be A

You Might Be A Redneck Jedi If…….

You ever heard the phrase, “May the force be with y’all.”

Your Jedi robe is a camouflage color.

You have ever used your light saber to open a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill.

At least one wing of your X-Wings is primer colored.

You have bantha horns on the front of your land speeder.

You can easily describe the taste of an Ewok.

You have ever had an X-wing up on blocks in your yard.

You ever lost a hand during a light saber fight because you had to spit.

The worst part of spending time on Dagobah is the dadgum skeeters.

Wookies are offended by your B.O.

You have ever used the force to get yourself another beer so you didn’t have to wait for a commercial.

You have ever used the force in conjunction with fishing/bowling.

Your father has ever said to you, “Shoot, son come on over to the dark side…it’ll be a hoot.”

You have ever had your R-2 unit use its self-defense electro-shock thingy to get the barbecue grill to light.

You have a confederate flag painted on the hood of your landspeeder.

You think Han Solo would look better in a flannel cause he looks like a little sissy in that vest.

You ever fantasized about Princess Leah wearing Daisy Duke shorts.

You have the doors of your X-wing welded shut and you have to get in through the window.

Although you had to kill him, you kinda thought that Jabba the Hutt had a pretty good handle on how to treat his women.

You ever fell in love with your sister.

You have a cousin who bears a strong resemblance to Chewbacca.

You were the only person drinking Jack Daniels on the rocks during the cantina scene.

In your opinion, that Darth Vader fellow just “ain’t right.”

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Chess Nuts

A group of chess enthusiasts had checked into a hotel, and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour,the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse.

“But why?” they asked, as they moved off.

“Because,” he said, “I can’t stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.”

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Error writer

There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer.

When asked to define great, he said, “I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!”

He now works for Microsoft, writing error messages.

Submitted by calamjo
Edited by curtis

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