Finally Jokes / Recent Jokes

Last year, a guy went to a doctor because he was losing weight.
He found out he had a tapeworm, and was instructed by the doctor to bring a muffin, a Twinkie and a cookie with him on his next visit.
When he was being examined the doctor shoved the muffin, the Twinkie, and finally the cookie up the guy's ass. The patient protested, but the doctor calmed him down, saying it was part of the therapy.
This treatment continued for several weeks and every time the doctor shoved a muffin, a Twinkie and a cookie up his ass.
Finally, after many visits, the Doctor instructed the patient to bring a muffin, a Twinkie and a mallet for the next visit.
The day arrived and this time the doctor shoved only the muffin and the Twinkie up the patient's ass.
After a few minutes the tapeworm appeared out of his asshole and demanded, "Where's my cookie!?" WHAM!!!

After Mrs. Jacobs found out her husband was sterile, the couple decided to hire a proxy father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Jacobs kissed his wife and said 'I'm off to work, Lydia. The guy should be here soon.' Wouldn't you know it, a door-to-door baby photographer came by half an hour later, hoping to make a sale. Mrs. Jacobs answered the door. 'Good morning, ma'am. You don't know me, but I've come to...' 'Oh yes, I know why you're here. Harry told me you'd be coming soon.' 'He did? But I...' 'Come right in! No use wasting time .' 'Very well, then.' The photographer took out his briefcase and sat down. 'As you may already know, I've made a specialty of babies.' 'Good, I'm glad,' said Mrs. Jacobs. 'That's just what Harry and I were looking for.' 'I usually like to try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed,' said the photographer. 'The living room floor is fun too...you can really spread out.' 'Bathtub? Living room more...

A noted sex therapist realizes that people often lie about the frequency of their encounters, so he devises a test to factually tell how often someone has sex.
To prove his theory, he fills up an auditorium with people, and goes down the line, asking each person to smile. Using the size of the person's smile, the therapist is able to accurately guess their frequency of sexual activity.
Finally, he comes to the last man in line, who is grinning from ear to ear. "Twice a day," the therapist guesses, but is surprised when the man says no. "Once a day, then?" Again the answer is no. "Twice a week?" "No." "Twice a month?" "No." The man finally says yes when the doctor gets to "once a year".
The therapist is angry that his theory isn't working, and asks the man, "What the heck are you so happy about?"
The man answers, "Tonight's the night!"

This is the story of the night my ten-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine. Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and fifteen minutes of fame.

My husband, Rich, and I had just returned from a vacation in the Cayman Islands, where I had been sick as a dog the whole time, trying to convince myself that if I had to feel lousy, it was better to do it in paradise. We had arrived home at 9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I still had illness-related vertigo, and because of the flight delays, had not been able to prepare the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the next morning. I sat down at my desk to think and around ten more...

Jesus and Satan were having an ongoing argument about who was better on
his computer. They had been going at it for days, and God was tired of
hearing all of the bickering. Finally God said, ''Cool it. I am going to set
up a test that will run two hours and I will judge who does the better job.''
So down Satan and Jesus sat at the keyboards and typed away. They moused.
They did spreadsheets. They wrote reports. They sent faxes. They sent
e-mail. They sent out e-mail with attachments. They downloaded. They did
some genealogy reports. They made cards. They did every known job. But ten
minutes before their time was up, lightning suddenly flashed across the sky,
thunder rolled, the rain poured and, of course, the electricity went off.
Satan stared at his blank screen and screamed every curse word known in the
underworld.
Jesus just sighed.
The electricity finally flickered back on, and each of them restarted
their computers. Satan more...

Finally, Serbian hackers hacked the navigation systems of "Tomahawk" missiles - now they're called "Boomerang."

The Golds were never very observant. They would mark Yom Kippur by abstaining from ham-if they remembered. But one thing they always told little Billy was: "Make sure you marry a nice Jewish girl." Well, Billy Gold grew up much like mom and dad, and one brought home a lovely fiance, but she was definitely not at all Jewish. Billy's mother took him aside and told him: "We've always told you one thing: Marry a nice Jewish girl." Billy, expecting this, triumphantly announces: "Don't worry, Mom. Patricia has agreed to convert." But nothing molifies the parents: "She is a shiksa and will always be a shiksa." The parents don't want to even come to the wedding: they take a month-long cruise that starts the day before the wedding, and for a month after that, they refuse to talk to Billy. Finally, Billy's mother can't resist. She comes and visits Billy, walking in in a huff with her copy of the key. To her amazement, Billy is dressed in black and is more...