I get lots of supposedly funny emails, most of which are not, and some of which threaten me ominously with dire consequences if I don’t forward them to at least ten more people. I never pass them on, and dire consequences have indeed befallen me. Many of these emails are about people who walk into a bar, and I now share with you now a few that tickled my funny bone (which is adjacent to the humerus). Now, perhaps no more dire consequences will plague me.
A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm, and says, “I’ll have a beer, and one for the road."
A jumper cable walks into a bar. The bartender says, "You’d better not start anything."
A C, an E-flat, and a G walk into a bar. The bartender says: "Sorry, but we don't serve minors." So the E-flat leaves, and the C and the G have an open fifth between them. After a few drinks, the fifth is diminished and the G is out flat.
Two peanuts walk into a bar. One is a salted.
A termite walks into a bar and asks, “Is the bar tender here?”
A Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, and a Jewish rabbi walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Is this is a joke?”
A dyslexic man walks into a bra.
The Bard of Buffalo Bayou walks into a bar every chance he gets, but he doesn’t joke about it. Instead, he versifies:
A florist walked into a bar,
And said, “I’ll have two Buds.”
A laundress who was with him said,
“Just pour me up some suds.”
“On second thought,” the laundress said,
“Make that a cup of Cheer.”
And then an undertaker said,
“I think I’ll have a bier.”
An optician walked into the bar
And said, “I’d like two glasses.”
A fisherman then said, “I want
Some ale—make that two Basses.”
A milkman walked into the bar,
And said, “I’ll take a quart.”
A sailor right behind him said,
“I’m really into port.”
A cotton farmer in the bar
Remarked, “I need a gin.”
A census-taker then came in
And asked for Mickey Finn.
A contortionist squeezed in
And called out, “Bottom’s up!”
Omar Khayyam came in then
And wrote, “Come fill the cup.”
A gunman walked into the bar
And said, “I’ll take a shot.”
A realtor scanned the drink list and
Declared, “I’ll have the lot.”
Ouch, ooh, ugh, and eww.
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