How did the gambler know his hand would stink? Because he was holding deuces.
The Tax Return Form
A man from New York City found himself in a spot of bother after the IRS returned his tax return to him due to an incorrectly-answered question.
One of the questions on his tax return asked him to list his dependents.
A few days later, they received the following response: “12.1 million illegal immigrants, 1.1 million crackheads, 4.4 million unemployed deadbeats, 80,000 criminals in over 85 prisons, at least 450 idiots in Congress and numerous others who call themselves politicians, but are in fact nothing of the sort.”
In a strongly-worded letter accompanying the man’s tax return, the IRS responded: “This answer is completely unacceptable and an insult to this government institution.”
In turn, he replied: “I thought it was quite detailed. Who did I leave out?”
A man, called to testify at the Internal Revenue Service (IRS), asked his accountant for advice on what to wear.
"Wear your shabbiest clothing. Let him think you are a pauper," the accountant replied.
Then he asked his lawyer the same question but got the opposite advice.
"Do not let them intimidate you. Wear your most elegant suit and tie."
Confused, the man went to his priest, told him of the conflicting advice, and requested some resolution to the dilemma. "Let me tell you a story," replied the Priest.
"A woman, about to be married, asked her mother what to wear on her wedding night. 'Wear a heavy, long, flannel nightgown that goes right up to your neck." But when she asked her best friend, she got conflicting advice. "Wear your most sexy negligee, with a V neck right down to your navel."
The man protested: "What does all this have to do with my problem with the IRS?!"
"Simple", replied the Priest. "It doesn't matter what you wear, you are going to get screwed!"
At the end of the tax year, the IRS office sent an inspector to audit the books of a local hospital. While the IRS agent was checking the books he turned to the CFO of the hospital and said, “I notice you buy a lot of bandages. What do you do with the end of the roll when there’s too little left to be of any use?”
”Good question,” noted the CFO. “We save them up and send them back to the bandage company and every now and then they send us a free box of bandages.”
“Oh,” replied the auditor, somewhat disappointed that his unusual question had a practical answer. But on he went, in his obnoxious way.
“What about all these plaster purchases? What do you do with what’s left over after setting a cast on a patient?”
“Ah, yes,” replied the CFO, realizing that the inspector was trying to trap him with an unanswerable question. “We save it and send it back to the manufacturer, and every now and then they send us a free package of plaster.”
“I see,” replied the auditor, thinking hard about how he could fluster the know-it-all CFO. “Well,” he went on, “What do you do with all the leftover foreskins from the circumcisions you perform?”
“Here, too, we don't waste,” answered the CFO.
“What we do is save all the little foreskins and send them to the IRS Office, and about once a year they send us a complete d**k.”
Why is the IRS going after Stormy Daniels? Because she didn't declare all her "gross" income.
The Blond Gambler
A beautiful Swedish blonde walks into a Vegas casino and goes straight to the roulette table. She smiles at the two dealers and bets $20,000 on one spin.
"I hope you don't mind," she says in a dreamy voice, "but I feel much luckier naked..." and she peeled off all her clothes, staying completely naked. "Come on baby, mommy needs a new set of clothes!"
The roulette wheel stops on 13. "I won I WON!!!" Shouts the blonde and jumps in the air in excitement.
She collects the winnings and her clothes, hugs the dealers and disappears.
The two dealers looked at each other in shock, until one of them pulled himself together and ask: "Did she bet on 13?"
"I don't know," said the other dealer. "I thought you were looking..."
1. Not every gamble relies on luck.
2. Not all blondes are stupid.
3. But men - are always MEN!
I knew this gambler. He bet it all on a bluff. He is now homeless.
Noah, We Have a Problem...
Some years ago, the Lord came unto Noah, who was now living in the United States, and said, "Once again the earth has become wicked and overpopulated, and I see the end of all flesh before me. Build another Ark and save 2 of every living thing along with a few good humans, thy sons and their wives."
He gave Noah the blueprints, saying, "You have 6 months to build the Ark before I will start the unending rain for 40 days and 40 nights."
Six months later, the Lord looked down and saw Noah weeping in his yard -- but no Ark.
"Noah!" He roared, "I'm about to start the rain! Where is the Ark?"
"Forgive me, Lord," begged Noah, "but things have changed.
"I needed a building permit. I've been arguing with the inspector about the need for a sprinkler system. My neighbors claim that I've violated the neighborhood zoning laws by building the Ark in my yard and exceeding the height limitations. We had to go to the Development Appeal Board for a decision.
"Then the Department of Transportation demanded a bond be posted for the future costs of moving power lines and other overhead obstructions, to clear the passage for the Ark's move to the sea. I told them that the sea would be coming to us, but they would hear nothing of it.
"Getting the wood was another problem. There's a ban on cutting local trees in order to save the spotted owl. I tried to convince the environmentalists that I needed the wood to save the owls -- but no go!
"When I started gathering the animals, I got sued by an animal rights group. They insisted that I was confining wild animals against their will. They argued the accommodation was too restrictive, and it was cruel and inhumane to put so many animals in a confined space. I am required to apply for 834 different licenses to keep wild beasts on private property.
"Then the EPA ruled that I couldn't build the Ark until they'd conducted an environmental impact study on Your proposed flood. Further, the pitch to water-proof the ark has been banned by the EPA as inimical to the environment.
"I'm still trying to resolve a complaint with the Human Rights Commission on how many minorities I'm supposed to hire for my building crew.
"Immigration and Naturalization is checking the green-card status of most of the people who want to work. The scaffolding to build the superstructure is not OSHA-approved and is forbidden to use except for private structures less than 5 cubits..
"The trades unions say I can't use my sons. They insist I have to hire only Union workers with Ark-building experience.
"To make matters worse, the IRS seized all my assets, claiming I'm trying to leave the country illegally with endangered species.
"So, forgive me, Lord, but it would take at least 100 years for me to finish this Ark."
Suddenly the skies cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow stretched across the sky. Noah looked up in wonder and asked, "Does this sign mean you're not going to destroy the world, oh Lord?".
"No," said the Lord. "The government beat me to it."
The local bar was so sure that its bartender was the strongest man around that they offered a standing $1000 bet.
The bartender would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass, and hand the lemon to a patron. Anyone who could squeeze one more drop of juice out would win the money.
Many people had tried over time (weight-lifters, longshoremen, etc.) but nobody could do it.
One day this scrawny little man came into the bar, wearing thick glasses and a polyester suit, and said in a tiny squeaky voice "I'd like to try the bet."
After the laughter had died down, the bartender said OK, grabbed a lemon, and squeezed away. Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the rind to the little man.
But the crowd's laughter turned to total silence as the man clenched his fist around the lemon and six drops fell into the glass.
As the crowd cheered, the bartender paid the $1000, and asked the little man, "What do you do for a living? Are you a lumberjack, a weight-lifter, what?"
The man replied, "I'm an IRS agent."