Jean-luc Jokes / Recent Jokes

This comes from Herve' Negre's Dictionnaire des histoires droles, Livre de Poche.
Marcel was a French laborer who was intent on improving himself and his status in life. To that end, he enrolled in night classes and began all too quickly to disgust his fellow workers with his new-found knowledge.
At a lunch break one day, he started again: "I learned something last night that you don't know. What is the name of the person who prevented the Moors from taking over France? You don't know? I'll tell you... it was Charles Martel."
"And what is the name of the man who 'invented' the potato? You won't know - it was Parmentier."
"And what is the name of the scientist who cured smallpox? Let me tell you, it was Pasteur."
And on and on.
Then Jean-Luc broke in, and said, "Tell me who is Alain Lefevre? I'll bet you don't know!"
Marcel thought and thought, but he had never heard of Alain Lefevre. Jean-Luc continued, "You more...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armourery securely,
In hope that no alien would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all sung in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks)
And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face to face...
When out in the hall there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the turbos and shouted "Deck One!"
The bridge red-alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what on the viewscreen, our eyes should behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His more...

Is there a Santa Claus? The Rebuttal
(Jim Mantle, Waterloo Maple Software)
Come on, ya gotta believe! I mean, if you can handle flying furry animals, then it's only a small step to the rest! For example: As admitted, it is possible that a flying reindeer can be found. I would agree that it would be quite an unusual find, but they might exist.
You've relied on cascading assumptions. For example, you have assumed a uniform distribution of children across homes. Toronto/Yorkville, or Toronto/Cabbagetown, or other yuppie nieghborhoods, have probably less than the average (and don't forget DINK and SINK homes (Double Income No Kids, Single Income No Kids)), while families with 748 starving children that they keep showing on Vision TV while trying to pick my pocket would skew that 15% of homes down a few percent.
You've also assumed that each home that has kids would have at least one good kid. What if anti-selection applies, and homes with good kids tend to have more more...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip:
The phasers were hung in the armory securely,
In hope that no alien would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks)
And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face to face...
When out in the hall there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the turbos and shouted "Deck One!"
The bridge red-alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what on the viewscreen, our eyes should behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew much more...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armoury securely,
In hope that no alien would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks);
And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face to face...
When out in the hall there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly "Deck One!"
The bridge red-alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what on the viewscreen, our eyes should behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew more...