A little girl went up to her mother one day while holding her stomach and said, “Mommy, my stomach hurts.” Her mother replied, “That’s because it’s empty, you have to put something into it!”

Later that day when the preacher and his wife were over for dinner, the preacher’s wife began to feel bad. Holding her head, she said, “I have such a terrible headache!”

The little girl looked up at her, giving her the sweetest smile that any little child could give. Then she said, “That’s because it’s empty, you have to put something into it!”

 

A ventriloquist was sitting in a bar with his dummy, telling jokes. Halfway through a blond joke, a blonde woman stood up and said: “Why do you always have to criticize us and call us stereotypes? We’re just as good as anyone else and the color of our hair has no effect on how we work, talk, act or do anything.” The ventriloquist looked embarrassed and started to apologize, and then the woman said: “You stay out of it, mister, I was talking to the little jerk on your knee!”

 

The Presbyterian Church, the Baptist Church, the Methodist Church, and the Catholic Church were overrun with pesky squirrels.

One day, the Presbyterian Church called a meeting to decide what to do about the squirrels. After much prayer and consideration they determined that the squirrels were predestined to be there and they shouldn’t interfere with God’s divine will.

In the Baptist Church, the squirrels had taken up habitation in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a cover on the baptistery and drown the squirrels in it. The squirrels escaped somehow and there were twice as many there the next week.

The Catholic group got together and decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God’s creation. So, they humanely trapped the squirrels and set them free a few miles outside of town. Three days later, the squirrels were back.

But the Methodist Church came up with the best and most effective solution. They baptized the squirrels and registered them as members of the church. Now they only see them on Christmas and Easter

 

A man walks into a bar in Salt Lake City, orders three mugs of beer and sits in the back room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender approaches and tells the man, “You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time.”

The man replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Australia, the other is in Dublin, and I’m here, of course in Utah. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days we drank together. So I drink one for each of my brothers and one for myself.”

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there. The man becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way.

One day, he comes in and orders two mugs. All the regulars take notice and fall silent.

When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss.”

The man looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns and he laughs. “Oh, no, everybody’s just fine,” he explains, “It’s just that my wife and I joined the Mormon Church and I had to quit drinking…

. . . It hasn’t affected my brothers though.”

 

A man who smelled like a distillery, flopped on a subway seat next to a priest. The man’s tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes, the disheveled guy turned to the priest and asked, “Say, Father, what causes arthritis?”

“My son, it’s caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, and a contempt for your fellow man.”

“Well, I’ll be darned,” the drunk muttered, returning to his paper.

The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?”

“I don’t have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.”