A priest, a minister, and a rabbi get hammered at a bar and decide to see which of them is the best at his job. So they each go into the woods, find a bear, and attempt to convert it. Later they get together to brag about their success. The priest begins: “When I found a brown bear, I read to him from the Catechism and sprinkled him with holy water. Next week is his First Communion and he’s expressed an interest to become a priest among the other bears.” “I found a black bear by the stream,” says the minister, “and preached God’s holy word. He was so mesmerized that he let me baptize him and is now preaching God’s word to the other bears.” They both wait for the Rabbi to comment. Finally he speaks up through the mouth hole in the bandages he’s wrapped in from head to toe: “Looking back,” he says, “maybe I shouldn’t have started with a circumcision on the grizzly bear.”
A string walks into a bar and the bartender stops him, "Sir, I'm sorry but we don't serve strings here." "No problem," the string replied and walked outside, turning into the alley. He ties a knot at the top and walks back in. The bartender says, "Sir aren't you the string that was just in here?" The string replied, "Sorry, I'm a frayed knot!"
This is not really a joke, but I feel I have to tell this. A very good friend and former coworker is in charge of the Parking Bureau in a NH city. They had given a woman a ticket for an expired handicap placard. She went in to contest the ticket and this was the conversation with my friend. Woman: "I need to renew this expired handicap tag. I have the tag for my husband, who was in the car when I got the ticket" My friend had checked the local obits before the woman arrived and found the husband had died 2 years previous. Friend: "You say your husband was in the car? Hasn't he passed away?" Woman: "Yes, but I have his ashes in an urn and it was in the car. I should be able to use the handicap tag if I have the urn in the car." Final disposition: woman paid a $250 fine.
A little Native American boy goes up to his father who’s a chief of their tribe and and asks him, “daddy, where do Native American children get their names from?” and the chief says, “from the last thing the mother sees before she gives birth. That’s why your younger sisters name is magnificent rainbow, that’s why your brother is named running red deer, and that is why your older sister is named crystal waters. Oh, so why do you ask this question to me, two-dogs-fucking?”