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Author Topic: Puns & Riddles Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 01-27-2005 04:08 PM                        Rated G Percy Shelley was despondent. After banging out pamphlets and poems, odes and dramas with ease he had suddenly run up against that which all poets fear more than editorial rejection -- writer's block. No matter how hard he tried, nothing came. Page after page of gibberish went into the basket. Pacing the streets of Oxford one morning he encountered his good friend, John Keats. Keats was in fine spirits but soon became solicitous when he heard of the poet's plight. "The very thing happened to me last year," said Keats. "Upon the advice of a friend I visited a small religious retreat, Mount St. Michaela, off the coast of Cornwall. It is run by an order of nuns and there is nothing to do but listen to the surf and the gulls. In no time at all I was afire to put pen to paper." "Then I shall do it," vowed Shelley, and he hurried off to make arrangements. Three days later, after a long, dusty and tiring coach ride, he soon arrived in the small coastal village across from the nunnery, and there he hired a skiff to take him over to the island three miles distant. A wind was coming up and the sun was setting as the fisherman methodically pulled the oars, drawing the boat ever nearer. The waves grew angrier but finally the boat scraped alongside a rock and Shelley jumped ashore. Scrambling up the stone steps, he made his way to the front door of the convent and pounded on the heavy wood. Soon a small window opened and a young woman peered out. "I'm Percy Bysshe Shelley, and I've come to stay here awhile. Please let me in," he stated. "I'm only a novitiate," a small voice answered. "Mother Superior has retired for the night. Only if I have her signature can I allow you admittance." "But a storm is coming up and the boat has gone back to the village," pleaded the poet. "Surely you can authorize it yourself." "I'm very sorry," answered the young sister. "You have to wait till the nun signs, Shelley."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 02-02-2005 09:40 AM                        Rated G B.B. A detective who spent his entire career in plain clothes quit the police force and bought a farm. "What kind of crops do you plan to grow?" the police chief asked the farmer-to-be. "Carrots and potatoes," the man replied. "Why carrots and potatoes?" asked the chief. "Because," answered the ex-detective, . . . "I'm very fond of undercover crops."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 02-07-2005 10:00 AM                        Rated G The cowboy sat on a stool drinking a beer as the Mexican, also dressed in western garb sat next to him. There was a slight nod as they looked at each other. Soon the cowboy ordered another and bought one for the Mexican also. When their glasses became empty the cowboy bought again. Then a third time the cowboy bought again and the Mexican grinned and spoke something but the bartender never knew what he said. Then the cowboy seemed to be infuriated and stood up suddenly grawing his gun and shot the Mexican dead... At the cowboy's hearing the judge the judge asked the cowboy, "Why did you suddenly become enraged for no apparent reason and shoot this individual dead?" "Well, the cowboy explained, I tried to be friendly and he began calling me names and insulting me for no reason and finally I got mad." "What names did he call you that made you so mad that you wanted to kill him?" asked the Judge. "Well, answered the cowboy, three times I bought him a drink, and each time he grinned in my face and called me Grassy Ass..."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 02-10-2005 11:23 AM                        Rated G B.B. Passover is approaching. At the sedar table, every Jewish child will be retold the story of Moses and the Pharoah, and how God brought boils, locusts, hail and the other plagues onto the Egyptians. Yet in spite of this overwhelming evidence of God's intentions, Pharoah refused to let the Jews go, until a tenth plague, the death of the first-born children was inflicted on every Egyptian home, passing over the Jewish homes. Only after this tragedy did the Pharoah relent and let the Jews leave slavery and Egypt to begin their journey to the promised land. This has been known for generations. What has not been known is why the Pharoah, in the face of such overwhelming evidence would refuse to release the Jews after the first nine plagues. It took eight years of research by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, the renouned psychologist and nurse, to find the definitive answer. Dr. Kubler- Ross spent those years studying the Dead Sea Scrolls before discovering the answer. And once found, it was obvious.....The Pharoah was still in de Nile.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 02-12-2005 06:13 AM                        Rated G All the monks in a certain monastery sing the simple word "Morning!" from their windows each sunrise. Early one day after several "Morning!" greetings have been sung melodiously into the dawn air, a single greeting of "Evening!" rings out of one window. In the courtyard below, Brother Timothy looks around startled, and says, "Did you hear that, Brother Edward?" "Hear what, Brother Timothy?" replied Brother Edward. Brother Timothy sang in reply: "Someone chanted evening..."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 02-12-2005 06:27 AM                        Rated G There was a man who owned some water front property in South Carolina. He was very happy with his property until he realized the there was a manatee that constantly swam in the waters that were "his". This became more and more irksome to the man, until he could stand it no longer. At last he resolved to rid himself of the troublesome creature. Calling to it he said "hey, what's your name?" "Hugh," came the reply, as Hugh obligingly swam over to the man. At this point the man grabbed Hugh and began to beat him viscously. The police were called and the man arrested. When the case came to trial, his lawyer argued it should be thrown out of court - since assault against a marine mammal was not an offense. The judge overruled this argument. "Clearly," he said, "this is a crime against Hugh manatee."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 02-22-2005 12:43 PM                        Rated G Two Chinese brothers named Hing and Ming were devoted to the search for ultimate wisdom; however, each differed greatly about how such wisdom was to be obtained. Being a rural family, they were farmers. One day, their pet chicken fell ill, began to molt, and soon lost all its feathers. The brothers decided that this would be an ideal test case and agreed to each spend two months trying to cure the chicken. Hing immediately went back to the university. Having studied ornithology and traditional Chinese medicine, he decided that the answer to the chicken's illness was a prescription of gum-tree leaf tea. He gathered bushels of the tea leaves, brewed gallons of the tea and poured it into the chicken's mouth for two months. Each day he prepared the tea leaves according to different recipes, and put Ming up with dozens of courses for the sick chicken. Meanwhile, Ming traveled all around China, praying at the shrines of his ancestors. One night he had a dream. His ancestors appeared and told him to feed the chicken tea made from gum-tree leaves. Ming, aware of his brother's lack of success in this same venture, decided that the problem had to be quantity. Ming trusted his ancestors; after all, his family had always given him sound advice. He gathered whole carloads of leaves and brewed barrels of the tea and poured them into the chicken's mouth for two months, all the time extolling the virtues and honor of his family's ancestors and spiritual goodness. Unfortunately, after two months of treatment, the chicken was still sick and naked as a bowling ball. Apparently, all of Hing's courses and all of Ming's kin, couldn't made gum tea refeather a hen.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 03-09-2005 10:04 AM                        Rated G Back during the days of expansion to the west, people traveled by stagecoach. This was not a particularly comfortable way to go, with the bumpy paths and crowded seats. However, there wasn't much choice. Being in business to make money, the operators of these stagecoaches tried to think of various ways to increase revenue on each trip. People were willing to pay not only to ride out west, but they were willing to pay to ship things to friends and relatives who had already relocated. Of course, passengers were the most lucrative. So it follows that the more people you could transport on each trip, the more money the company made. With that in mind, these companies began restricting passengers to being under a certain weight, in order to fit three people in a seat instead of only two. Not only was this extremely uncomfortable for the travelers, but it became obvious to those wishing to relocate that there would be no west for the reary.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 03-16-2005 11:04 AM                        Rated G In Washington D.C., helicopters are often used to monitor the traffic conditions. Frequently jammed, is the Francis Scott Key bridge, named after the man who wrote the national anthem. The bridge's traffic problem is notorious. Among some, it's known as the. . ."Car Strangled Spanner."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 03-18-2005 09:48 AM                        Rated G Lura, the Countess of Killarney, was on a world tour with her husband, the Count. They were staying at an Intourist hotel on the edge of the Ural Mountains and were scheduled to begin an escorted horseback tour of the area early the next morning. Lura had developed a good tan a month earlier on the beach at Nice, but now she noticed that it was beginning to fade. Not having anything scheduled after lunch, she took a blanket and wandered off in search of a secluded spot where she could touch up the tan a bit. Unfortunately, Lura failed to realize that at high attitudes the rays of the sun were much more damaging than at sea level. Even worse, she fell asleep. She awoke, feeling rather uncomfortable. Dressing gingerly, she limped back to the hotel to have her husband assess the damages and the prospects for the morrow. After one look he delivered his verdict: .... "Tour all Ural, Lura? Too raw, Lura. Lie."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 03-27-2005 06:57 AM                        Rated G I have a dog that talks in its sleep. One day a visitor was astonished to hear the dog bellow, "My name is Christopher Columbus! I am seven hundred years old! I own America and I married Marilyn Monroe!" When the visitor asked what was going on, I replied, "Don't worry about it. It's better to just let sleeping dogs lie."  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 04-14-2005 04:59 PM                        Rated G My stylish, younger sister-in-law was looking on her upcoming tenth-anniversary cruise to the Caribbean with mixed feelings. The thought of all those sumptuous buffets and irresistible desserts might prove too tempting. However, my more down-to-earth husband was able to provide a different perspective. He told her that if they hit rough seas, she might just have her cake and heave it too!  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 04-15-2005 02:00 PM                        Rated G A couple decide to go for a meal on their anniversary and after some deliberation decide on their local Chinese restaurant. They peruse the menu and finally agree to share the chef's special chicken surprise. The waiter brings over the meal, served in a lidded cast iron pot. Just as the wife is about to start in on the meal, the lid of the pot rises a tiny amount and she briefly sees two beady little eyes looking around before the lid slams back down. 'Oh my God, did you see that?' she asks her husband. He hasn't so she asks him to look in the pot. He reaches for it and again the lid rises, and again he sees two beady little eyes looking around before it firmly slams back down. Rather perturbed he calls the waiter over, explains what is happening and demands an explanation. 'Well sir', says the waiter, 'What did you order?' 'We both chose the same', he replies, 'the chicken surprise.' 'Oh I do apologise, this is my fault' says the waiter... 'I've brought you the Peking duck'.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 04-15-2005 02:01 PM                        Rated G Our family has had many happy camping trips together. Trips to New York, to Florida, out west, all over the country. There was one January trip, however, that will always be indelibly imprinted upon our memories. We had purchased some very inexpensive camping gear and everything that could go wrong with it, did. It was the winter of our discount tent.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 04-28-2005 10:32 AM                        Rated G Wolff Kissinger was a spy. He was the bane of the Nazis during the war, for although they sought him everywhere, they were never able to lay a hand, bullet or poisoned dart on him. The reason was that Wolff was a master of disguise. Once he was an old flower woman, calling out her posies in a quavery voice. Then her bouquet exploded with a deadly cloud and Kissinger's opposite number lay still in the street. Wolff and his disguises ran the gamut from Oriental merchant to English squire to Portuguese sailor to African tribesman. There was no role he could not play to perfection. His makeup was wondrous and his flair for dialect gifted. Meanwhile, back at Berlin HQ, the top brass of German Intelligence met to see if they could set an unbeatable trap for the Allies' most valuable undercover agent. Despite their brilliance they had no idea at all what guise their quarry would affect next. What was the point when he might just as easily be a Rommel aide or Mussolini's second in command. Sighed one of the Nazi leaders as the vexing problem was pondered, "I wonder who's Kissinger now?"  |  IP: Logged

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