Post Jokes

A tourist wanders into a back-alley antique shop in San Francisco's Chinatown. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner the price. "Twelve dollars for the rat, sir," says the shop owner, "and an extra thousand for the story behind it." "At that price, you can keep the story, old man," he replies, "but I'll take the bronze rat." The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another sewer, more rats come out and follow him. By the time he's walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon more...

What do you get when the post office burns down?
A case of black mail.

John was a clerk in a small chemist shop but he was not much of a salesman. He could never find the item the customer wanted. Peter, the owner, had had about enough and warned John that the next sale he missed would be his last.
Just then a man came in coughing and he asked John for their best cough syrup. Try as he might, John could not find the cough syrup. Remembering Peter's warning he sold the man a box of laxative pills and told him to take them all at once. The customer did as John said and then walked outside and leaned against a lamp post.
Peter had seen the whole thing and came over to ask John what had happened.
"He wanted something for his cough but I couldn't find the cough syrup. So I substituted laxatives and told him to take them all at once," John said.
"Laxatives won't cure a cough," Peter shouted angrily.
"Sure they will," John said, pointing at the man leaning on the lamp post. "Look at him! He's too afraid to more...

An article in the New York Post on Thursday gushed over Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's new baby, Shiloh: "The 12-day-old darling... has dad Brad Pitt's baby-blue eyes and mom Angelina Jolie's lush, pouty lips." The article also had kind words for Shiloh's adopted foreign-born siblings: "They haven't robbed anyone yet."

'Twas the night before Christmas, and the house was all neat.
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I then lost my boner and momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
"Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa more...