Main Street

Roger Allen, publisher. “Rockford is the Humor Capital of the World”

Fingers crossed

A week has gone by since election day, so I think my crossed fingers may have done some good – no re-counts or major protests have popped up to give the news channels something to fill their time with.

On the other hand, I should have crossed them about General Petraeus, head of the CIA. But who would think?

I’ll leave them crossed until the “fiscal cliff” is dealt with, wisely, in a BIPARTISAN manner. This makes it hard to type, but let’s not take any chances with something so important.

 

Speaking of gambling

A woman who played cards one night each month with a group of friends was concerned because she always woke up her husband when she came home around 11:30.

One night after cards she decided to try not to awaken him. She undressed in the living room and, purse over her arm, tiptoed nude into the bedroom –only to find her husband sitting up in bed, reading.

“Good lord, woman!” he exclaimed. “Did you lose everything?”

 

Speaking of problem solving

A man was walking into the hospital for a routine exam. Just as he reached the main entrance, another man, one who had just exited the hospital, keeled over on the sidewalk. The first guy ran toward the second and saw that he was, obviously, dead.

The man rushed into the hospital, grabbed the first doctor he could find in the hallway, and screamed, “Doctor, Doctor! I just saw a man walk out of the hospital and drop dead on the sidewalk! What should I do?”

The doctor thought about it for a few moments, then suggested, “Spin him around. Make it look like he was coming in.”

 

Speaking of not nice

A guy walks into a bar and orders a beer. He has brought only enough money for one beer, however. As he’s drinking his beer he realizes he has to go to the men’s room. Not wanting to take any chances with his one and only beer, he gets a slip of paper out of his pocket and writes on it, “I SPIT IN THIS BEER.” Then he goes off to the men’s.

When he comes back a few minutes later, there’s an addition to the note he left next to his beer. It says, “I SPIT IN IT, TOO.”

 

Just survived the edit

Two detectives down in Mexico were investigating the murder of Juan Gonzalez.

“How was he killed?” asked one detective.

“With a golf gun,” the other detective replied.

“A golf gun? What’s a golf gun?”

“I don’t know. But it sure made a hole in Juan.”

 

And, for closers:

Have you heard the joke about the 13-inch ruler?

Never mind. It’s too long.

 

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