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Git-er-dun (nf)


John

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"Hello, is this the Sheriff's office?"

 

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

 

"I'm calling to report 'bout my neighbor Virgil Smith. He's hidin'

marijuana inside his firewood! Don't quite know how he gets it inside

them logs, but he's hidin' it there"

 

"Thank you very much for the call sir."

 

The next day, the Sheriff's deputies descend on Virgil's house.

They searched the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust

open every piece of wood, but found no marijuana.

They sneer at Virgil and leave.

 

Shortly, the phone rings at Virgil's house.

 

"Hey Virgil! This here's Floyd...did the Sheriff come?"

 

"Yeah"

 

"Did they chop your firewood?"

 

"YEP!"

 

"Happy Birthday Buddy!!!"

 

(Rednecks know how to Git-R-Dun!!)

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need french canadian accent for this one:

 

Roy should tell it.

 

Quebec Cop: Is your name Jean Pierre?

Quebec Logger: Yes it is

Cop: Where you in Montreal last weekend, at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel

Logger: yes

Cop: room 302?

Logger: Yes why?

Cop: was there a woman in your room when you checked in?

Logger: yes, I was surprised :)

Cop: What did you do when you saw her?

Logger: well, she was naked in bed ... and ...I am French....so I made love to her

Cop: Well she was dead, did you know that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Logger: OH MY GOD...NO, I JUST THOUGHT SHE WAS ENGLISH

Edited by Kirk
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Bingo, Dan!!

 

 

K, but I'll have to ad lib a little. I lost the original. Here goes, with a bit of modification.

 

 

An OFC'er arrives home terribly drunk one night and attempts to slip quietly into bed, without his better half noticing. All goes well, so it seems.

The OFC'er gets up in the morning to find his wife already in the kitchen cooking.

He looks to see what she’s cooking, and sees one of his socks in the frying pan.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m doing exactly what you asked me to do last night when you came to bed very drunk,” she replied

 

Completely puzzled, the man walks away thinking to himself, “I don’t remember asking her to cook my sock…”

 

:w00t::w00t::w00t:

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Two Muslim mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a pint of goat's milk.

 

The older of the mothers pulls out a small album of photos and they start reminiscing...

 

"This is my eldest son Mohamed, who would be 24 years old now..."

 

"Yes, I remember him as a baby," says the other mother cheerfully.

 

"He's a martyr now, though," the 1st confides.

 

"Oh, so sad dear," says the other.

 

"And this is my 2nd son, Kalid, who would be 21...."

 

"Oh, I remember him," says the other happily. "He had such curly hair when he was born."

 

"He's a martyr, too," says the 1st mum quietly.

 

"Oh gracious me," says the other.

 

"And this is my 3rd son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed, who would be 18,"

She whispers.

 

"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically, "I remember when he first started school."

 

"He is a martyr, also," says mum, with tears in her eyes.

 

After a pause and a deep sigh, the 2nd Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and says........

 

"They blow up so fast, don't they?"

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