One day an out of work mime is visiting the zoo and attempts to earn some money as a street performer. However, as soon as he starts to draw a crowd, the zookeeper grabs him and forcefully drags him into his office. The zookeeper then explains to the mime that the zoo's most popular attraction, a gorilla, has died suddenly. The keeper fears that attendance at the zoo will fall off. He offers the mime a job to dress up as the gorilla until they can get another one. The mime accepts. The next morning, before visitors arrive at the zoo, the mime puts on the gorilla suit and enters the cage. He discovers that it's a great job. He can sleep all he wants, play and make fun of people and he draws bigger crowds than he ever did as a mime. However, eventually the crowds tire of him and he gets bored just swinging on tires. He begins to notice that the people are paying more attention to the lion in the cage next to his. Not about to lose the attention of the adoring crowd, he climbs to the top of his cage, crawls across a partition, and dangles from the top to the lion's cage. Of course, this makes the lion furious, but the crowd loves it. At the end of the day the zookeeper comes and gives the mime a raise for being such a good attraction as a gorilla. Well, this goes on for some time. The mime keeps taunting the lion, the crowds grow larger, and his salary keeps going up. Then one terrible day when he is dangling over the furious lion, he slips and falls. The mime is terrified. The lion gathers itself and prepares to pounce. The mime is so scared that he begins to run round and round the cage with the lion close behind. Finally, the mime starts screaming and yelling, "HELP! HELP ME!", but the lion is quick and pounces. The mime soon finds himself flat on his back looking up at the angry lion when he suddenly hears the lion whisper: "Shut up you idiot! You wanna get us both fired?"

There once were two very successful thieves. They had a knack for finding unguarded entries to rich houses and robbing them of their gold.They were both, however, devout Catholics, and they knew the 10 commandments. So after deliberating the issue, they decided to go to the church with their loot to confess their sins to the Lord. After staring at the grim, seemingly judging faces of the saints surrounding them in the church, they further decided to offer some part of the gold they robbed to the church to wash away their wrongdoings. The only problem was they couldn't decide how much to offer. The first one thinks for a minute, then draws a foot long circle on the floor. He lifts his face up and says, "Oh lord, I'll throw all my loot into the air, whatever lands inside the circle is yours and what little is left outside I'll keep for myself." Saying this he threw all his loot up in the air. As it came down almost all of the gold fell outside the circle except for a few coins. He praises the Lord for his generosity and collects his share while smiling. The second one steps back and thinks hard. He lets out a deep sigh and says, "Oh lord! Forgive me for my sins. I won't make you pick up your share from the floor like my friend. I'll throw up all my loot towards you in the heavens. Please keep whatever you want and just throw back on to this earth whatever you think I deserve."

One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up after school. She bobbed out to the car and crawled into the back seat. "What did you do today?" I asked. She couldn't wait to tell me. "We learned that boys are different from girls!" she chirped. Looking into the rearview mirror, I could just see the top of her head. "My teacher told us that boys have a thing and girls don't," she added. "Well, yes they do..." I said cautiously. I couldn't think of anything else to say, so we were quiet for a moment. Then she piped up again. "That's how girls know that boys are boys," she said. "They see that thing that hangs down and they know that he is a boy." I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already felt like an hour. "Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?" she asked. My palms were beginning to sweat. "Um...well…" I was still searching for something new to say, to change the subject when she asked, "Why do the girls like the boys to have those things?" Well, I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that question at least once? "Oh, well...um..." I stammered. She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. "It's ‘cause it moves when they walk and then the girls see that and that's when they know they are boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl and he puffs up, and then the girl knows he likes her, too. And then they get married. And then they get cooked." That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole, I thought she had a pretty good grasp on things. As soon as we got home and I pulled into the garage, she hopped out of the car, fishing something out of her school bag. "I drew a picture," she said. "Do you want to see?" I wasn't sure I did, but I looked at it anyway. I had to sit down. There, all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and proud. She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing, and I laughed until I cried. But when I told her I loved it … and I did … she got over her pique. That was the end of that, for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky. Every year I remember that conversation. And to be honest, I haven't looked at a turkey, or a man, the same way since.

A cowboy, who just moved from Wyoming to Texas, walks into a bar and orders three mugs of Bud. He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender approaches and tells the cowboy, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time." The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Arizona, the other is in Colorado. When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I'm drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself." The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there. The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn. One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs. All the regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss." The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains, "It's just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking." Then he smiled. “Hasn't affected my brothers, though."

A lovely Russian lady came up to me at the mall and said "Please, I am looking for a one night stand." I had the shop shut up and the door locked before you could say Billybob, and we went to a bar for a couple of aperitifs, a nice restaurant, a club I know where they have a good floorshow, and then I took that lovely lady home and, being a gentleman, I will draw the veil of discretion over what followed. As the sun peeped over the windowsill, I smiled sweetly at her sleepy face and said "So how was that?" "Was wonderful," she said, "but I still have no place to put bedside lamp."

The animal I really dig, Above all others is the pig. Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever, Pigs are courteous. However, Now and then, to break this rule, One meets a pig who is a fool. What, for example, would you say, If strolling through the woods one day, Right there in front of you you saw A pig who'd built his house of STRAW? The Wolf who saw it licked his lips, And said, 'That pig has had his chips.' 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!' 'No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!' 'Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!' The little pig began to pray, But Wolfie blew his house away. He shouted, 'Bacon, pork and ham! Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!' And though he ate the pig quite fast, He carefully kept the tail till last. Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated. Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted Another little house for pigs, And this one had been built of TWIGS! 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!' 'No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!' 'Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!' The Wolf said, 'Okay, here we go!' He then began to blow and blow. The little pig began to squeal. He cried, 'Oh Wolf, you've had one meal! Why can't we talk and make a deal? The Wolf replied, 'Not on your nelly!' And soon the pig was in his belly. 'Two juicy little pigs!' Wolf cried, 'But still I'm not quite satisfied! I know how full my tummy's bulging, But oh, how I adore indulging.' So creeping quietly as a mouse, The Wolf approached another house, A house which also had inside A little piggy trying to hide. 'You'll not get me!' the Piggy cried. 'I'll blow you down!' the Wolf replied. 'You'll need,' Pig said, 'a lot of puff, And I don't think you've got enough.' Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew. The house stayed up as good as new. 'If I can't blow it down,' Wolf said, I'll have to blow it up instead. I'll come back in the dead of night And blow it up with dynamite!' Pig cried, 'You brute! I might have known!' Then, picking up the telephone, He dialed as quickly as he could The number of red Riding Hood. 'Hello,' she said. 'Who's speaking? Who? Oh, hello, Piggy, how d'you do?' Pig cried, 'I need your help, Miss Hood! Oh help me, please! D'you think you could?' 'I'll try of course,' Miss Hood replied. 'What's on your mind...?' 'A Wolf!' Pig cried. 'I know you've dealt with wolves before, And now I've got one at my door!' 'My darling Pig,' she said, 'my sweet, That's something really up my street. I've just begun to wash my hair. But when it's dry, I'll be right there.' A short while later, through the wood, Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood. The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze, And yellowish, like mayonnaise. His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw, And spit was dripping from his jaw. Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers. She draws the pistol from her knickers. Once more she hits the vital spot, And kills him with a single shot. Pig, peeping through the window, stood And yelled, 'Well done, Miss Riding Hood!' Ah, Piglet, you must never trust Young ladies from the upper crust. For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes, Not only has two wolfskin coats, But when she goes from place to place, She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELING CASE.

Three sisters of age 92, 94 and 96 live in a house together. One night the 96 year old draws a bath, puts her foot in and pauses. She yells down the stairs, "Was I getting in or out of the bath?" The 94 year old yells back, "I don't know, I'll come up and see." She starts up the stairs and pauses, then she yells, "Was I going up the stairs or coming down?" The 92 year old was sitting at the kitchen table having tea listening to her sisters. She shakes her head and says, "I sure hope I never get that forgetful." She knocks on wood for good measure. She then yells, "I'll come up and help both of you as soon as I see who's at the door."

An Irishman walked into a bar in Dublin, ordered three pints of Guinness and sat at the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finished them, he came back to the bar and ordered three more. The bartender approached and told him: "You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it, and it would taste better if you bought one at a time." The Irishman replied: "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other is in Australia, and I'm in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days we drank together. So I drink one for each me brothers and one for me self." The bartender admitted that this was a fine tradition, and left it there. The Irishman became a regular in the bar, and always drank the same way: He ordered three pints and drank them in turn. One day, he came in and ordered two pints. All the other regulars took notice and fell silent. When he came back to the bar for the second round, the bartender said: "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss." The Irishman looked quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawned and he laughed. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explained. "It's just that my wife had us join that Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking. Hasn't affected my brothers though."

A big, burly man knocked on the door of the pastor's house one day and asked to see the minister's wife, a woman known for her charity work and her love for the poor and helpless. The woman opened the door and saw the man had tears streaming down his face. "Oh, whatever is the matter?" she cried out. "I come to you today, dear woman, for the purposes of doing charity and good work," said the man in a hopeless voice. "Come in, come in!" The woman admitted him inside and they sat in her living room. "Madam," said the man in a broken voice, "I wish to draw your attention to the terrible plight of a poor family in this district. The father is dead, the mother is too ill to work, and the nine children are starving. They are about to be turned into the cold, empty streets unless someone pays their rent, which amounts to $400." "How terrible!" exclaimed the preacher's wife. "May I ask who you are?" The sympathetic visitor applied his handkerchief to his eyes. "I'm the landlord," he sobbed.

In the days of the Wild West, there was a young cowboy who wanted more than anything to be the greatest gunfighter in the world. He practiced every minute of his spare time, but he knew that he wasn't yet first-rate and that there must be something he was doing wrong. Sitting in a saloon one Saturday night, he recognized an elderly man standing at the bar who in his day had the reputation of being the fastest gun in the West. The young cowboy took a place next to the old-timer, bought him a drink and told him the story of his great ambition. "Do you think you could give me some tips?" he asked. The old man looked him up and down and said, "Well, for one thing, you're wearing your gun too high. Tie the holster a little lower down on your leg." "Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the young man. "Sure will," replied the old-timer. The young man did as he was told, stood up, whipped out his 44 and shot the bow tie off the piano player. "That's terrific!" said the hot shot. "Got any more tips for me?" "Yep," said the old man. "Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer hits it. That'll give you a smoother draw." "Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the younger man. "You bet it will," said the old-timer. The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a blur, then shot a cufflink off the piano player. "Wow!" exclaimed the cowboy. "I'm learnin' somethin' here.. Got any more tips?" The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. "See that axle grease over there? Coat your gun with it." The young man went over to the can and smeared some of the grease on the barrel of his gun. "No," said the old-timer, "I mean smear it all over the gun, handle and all." "Will that make me a better gunfighter?" asked the young man. The Old Timer said , "No, but when Wyatt gets done playing the piano, he's gonna shove that gun up your behind, and it won't hurt as much if it's all greased up."