RunnerDuck Projects
January Jokes
These Jokes supplement our January 1st, 2005 Newsletter.


Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that our government can track a cow born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she sleeps in the state of Washington. And they tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give them all a cow.


They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq. Why don't we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it's worked for over 200 years and we're not using it anymore.


The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments in a Courthouse!

You cannot post "Thou Shalt Not Steal," "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery" and "Thou Shall Not Lie" in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians!

It creates a hostile work environment!


A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like Mother of Pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"

"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree. "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is Heaven," he answered.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind."


    The computer swallowed grandma.
    Yes, honestly its true.
    She pressed 'control' and 'enter'
    And disappeared from view.

    It devoured her completely,
    The thought just makes me squirm.
    She must have caught a virus
    Or been eaten by a worm.

    I've searched through the recycle bin
    And files of every kind;
    I've even used the Internet,
    But nothing did I find.

    In desperation, I asked Jeeves
    My searches to refine.
    The reply from him was negative,
    Not a thing was found 'online'.

    So, if inside your 'Inbox,'
    My Grandma you should see,
    Please 'Copy', 'Scan' and 'Paste' her
    And send her back to me!


In a small town, a man opened a small store selling trumpets and guns. One day his neighbor pays him a visit and says, "So how is your strange business doing?"

"What do you mean, strange?"

"You only sell trumpets and guns!"


"Well, let me put it this way: what do you sell more of, trumpets or guns?"

"It evens itself out. Each time a customer buys a trumpet, one of his neighbors buys a gun."


A visiting minister waved eloquent during the offertory prayer. "Dear Lord," he began with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his upturned face. "Without you we are but dust. . . "

He would have continued but at that moment my very obedient daughter (who was listening carefully [for a change!]) leaned over to me and asked quite audibly in her shrill little girl voice, "Mom, what is butt dust?"


Son says: "Daddy, how was I born?"

Dad says: "Ah, my son, I guess one day you will find out anyway, so here goes!

Well, you see your Mom and I first got together in a chat room on MSN. Then I set up a date via e-mail with your mom and we met at a cyber-cafe.

We sneaked into a secluded room, where your mother agreed to a download from my hard drive. As soon as I was ready to upload, we discovered that neither one of us had used a firewall, and since it was too late to hit the delete button, nine months later a blessed little Pop-Up appeared and said: "You've Got Male!"


    If I were ol' Santa, you know what I'd do;
    I'd dump silly gifts that are given to you,
    And deliver some things just inside your front door,
    Things you have lost, but treasured before.

    I'd give you back all your maidenly vigor,
    And to go along with it, a neat tiny figure.
    Then restore the old color that once graced your hair,
    Before rinses and bleaches took residence there.

    I'd bring back the shape with which you were gifted,
    So things now suspended need not be uplifted.
    I'd draw in your tummy and smooth down your back
    Until you'd be a dream in those tight fitting slacks.

    I'd remove all your wrinkles and leave only one chin,
    So you wouldn't spend hours rubbing grease on your skin.
    You'd never have flashes or queer dizzy spells
    And you wouldn't hear noises like ringing of bells.

    No sore aching feet and no corns on your toes;
    No searching for spectacles when they're right on your nose.
    Not a shot would you take in your arm, hip or fanny
    From a doctor who thinks you're a nervous old granny.

    You'd never have a headache, so no pills would you take
    And no heating pad needed since your muscles won't ache.
    Yes, if I were Santa, you'd never look stupid.
    You'd be a cute little chick with the romance of a cupid.

    I'd give a lift to your heart when those wolves start to whistle
    And the joys of your heart would be light as a thistle.
    But alas! I'm not Santa. I'm simply just me;
    The matronliest of matrons you ever did see.

    I wish I could tell you all the symptoms I've got,
    But I'm due at my doctor's for an estrogen shot.
    Even though we've grown older this wish is sincere;
    Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year.


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