Joke Of The Day: Prospective Juror

Rubber ChickenA prospective juror in a Dallas District Court was surprised by the definition of voluntary manslaughter given to the panel: “An intentional killing that occurs while the defendant is under the immediate influence of sudden passion arising from an adequate cause, such as when a spouse’s mate is found in a ‘compromising position.'”

“See, I have a problem with that passion business,” responded the jury candidate. “During my first marriage, I discovered that my husband was having an affair with my neighbor. All I did was divorce him. I had no idea that I could have shot him.”

She wasn’t selected for the jury.

 

 

Joke Of The Day: Migraine Headaches

Rubber ChickenA man goes to the doctor with a long history of migraine headaches.

When the doctor does his history and physical, he discovers that his poor patient has had practically every therapy known to man for his migraines and STILL no improvement.

“Listen,” says the Doctor, “I have migraines, too and the advice I’m going to give you isn’t really anything I learned in medical school, but it’s advice that I’ve gotten from my own experience. When I have a migraine, I go home, get in a nice hot bathtub, and soak for a while. Then I have my wife sponge me off with the hottest water I can stand, especially around the forehead. This helps a little. Then I get out of the tub, take her into the bedroom, and even if my head is killing me, I force myself to have sex with her. Almost always, the headache is immediately gone. Now, give it a try, and come back and see me in six weeks.”

Six weeks later, the patient returns with a big grin. “Doc! I took your advice and it works! It REALLY WORKS! I’ve had migraines for 17 years and this is the FIRST time anyone has ever helped me!”

“Well,” says the physician, “I’m glad I could help.”

“By the way, Doc,” the patient adds, “you have a REALLY nice house.”

 

 

Joke Of The Day: A Snowball’s Chance In Hell

Rubber ChickenBob stood over his tee shot for what seemed an eternity. He waggled, looked up, looked down, waggled again, but didn’t start his back swing.

Finally his exasperated partner asked, “What the hell is taking so long?”

“My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse,” Bob explained. “I want to make a perfect shot.”

“Good lord!” his companion exclaimed. “You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of hitting her from here.”

 

 

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