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Political & Religious Humor, More Blond Jokes 
Toon of the Day
A man is driving down a deserted stretch of highway when he notices
a sign out of the corner of his eye. It reads:
SISTERS OF MERCY HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION - 10 MILES.
He thinks it was just a figment of his imagination and drives on without second thought.
Soon, he sees another sign which says:
SISTERS OF MERCY HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION - 5 MILES.
Suddenly, he begins to realize that these signs are for real. Then he drives past a third
sign saying:
SISTERS OF MERCY HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION NEXT RIGHT.
His curiosity gets the best of him and he pulls into the drive. On the far side of the
parking lot is a somber stone building with a small sign next to the door reading:
SISTERS OF MERCY.
He climbs the steps and rings the bell. The door is answered by a nun in a long black
habit who asks, "What may we do for you, my son?"
He answers, "I saw your signs along the highway, and was interested in possibly doing
business." "Very well, my son. Please follow me." He is led through many
winding passages and is soon quite disoriented. The nun stops at a closed door, and tells
the man, "Please knock on this door." He does as he is told and this door is
answered by another nun in along habit, holding a tin cup. This nun instructs,
"Please place $50 in the cup, then go through the large wooden door at the end of
this hallway." He gets $50 out of his wallet and places it in the second nun's cup.
He trots eagerly down the hall and slips through the door, pulling it shut behind him. As
the door locks behind him, he finds himself back in the parking lot, facing another small
sign: GO IN PEACE
YOU HAVE JUST BEEN SCREWED BY THE SISTERS OF MERCY
REJECTED HALLMARK
CARDS
1. So your daughter's a hooker, and it spoiled your day... Look at the bright side, she's
a really good lay.
2. My tire was thumping... I thought it was flat ... when I looked at the tire...I noticed
your cat...Sorry!
3. You had your bladder removed and you're on the mends ... here's a bouquet of flowers
and a box of Depends.
4. You've announced that you're gay, won't that be a laugh, when they find out you're one
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff!
5. Happy Vasectomy! Hope you feel zippy! Cause when I had mine I got real snippy.
6. Heard your wife left you...How upset you must be... But don't fret about it... She
moved in with me.
7. Your computer is dead ... it was once so alive. Don't you regret installing Windows 95?
8. You totaled your car ... and can't remember why ...could it have been ... the case of
Bud Dry?
9. Saw something today that reminded me of you. As a matter of fact it was the shit on my
shoe!
10. So you're taking Viagra so you can please me What you need is an implant Since your
inch size is three!
The Waiter
I took some clients out to dinner last week, and I noticed a spoon in shirt pocket of our
waiter as he handed us the menus. It seemed a little odd, but I dismissed it as a random
thing until our busboy came with water and tableware.
He, too, sported a spoon in his breast-pocket. I looked around the room and all the
waiters, waitresses, busboys, etc., had spoons in their pockets.
When our waiter returned to take our order, I just had to ask, "Why the spoons?"
"Well," he explained, "our parent company recently hired some efficiency
experts to review all our procedures, and after months of statistical analyses, they
concluded that our patrons drop spoons on the floor 73% more often than any other utensil
at a frequency of 3 spoons per hour per workstation. By preparing all our workers for this
contingency in advance, we can cut our trips to the kitchen down and save time...nearly
1.5 extra man hours per shift." Just as he concluded, a "ch-ching" came
from the table behind him, and he quickly replaced a fallen spoon with the one from his
pocket. "I'll grab another spoon the next time I'm in the kitchen instead of making a
special trip," he proudly explained. I was impressed. "Thanks. I had to
ask." "No problem," he answered, then he continued to take our orders.
As the members of my dinner party took their turns, my eyes darted back and forth from
each person ordering and my menu. That's when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a
thin, black thread protruding from our waiter's fly. Again, I dismissed it; yet I had to
scan the room and, sure enough, there were other waiters and busboys with strings hanging
out of their trousers. My curiosity overrode discretion at this point, so before he could
leave
I had to ask. "Excuse me, but...uh...why, or what ... about that string?"
"Oh, yeah" he began in a quieter tone. "Not many people are that observant.
That same efficiency group found we could save time in the
Men's room, too." "How's that?" "You see, by tying a string to the end
of our, eh, SELVES, we can pull it out at the urinals literally handsfree and thereby
eliminate the need to wash our hands, cutting time spent in the restroom by over
93%!" "Oh, that makes sense," I said, thinking thru the process. "Hey,
wait a minute. If the string helps you pull it out, how do you get it back in?"
"Well," he whispered, "I don't know about the other guys, but I use my
spoon."