Don't forget the punchline!

[BarbaraTherese]

I had to share this which landed in my Inbox, I think it is a real gem............

A preacher, who shall we say was "humor impaired," attended a
conference to help encourage and better equip pastors for their
ministry.

Among the speakers were many well known and dynamic speakers. One such boldly approached the pulpit and, gathering the entire crowd's attention, said, "The best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman that wasn't my wife!" The crowd was shocked! He followed up by saying, "And that woman was my mother!" - The crowd burst into laughter and delivered the rest of his talk, which went over quite well.

The next week, the pastor decided he'd give this humor thing a try,and use that joke in his sermon. As he surely approached the pulpit that sunny Sunday, he tried to rehearse the joke in his head. It suddenly seemed a bit foggy to him.

Getting to the microphone he said loudly, "The greatest years of mylife were spent in the arms of another woman that was not my wife!"
The congregation inhaled half the air in the room. After standing
there for almost 10 seconds in the stunned silence, trying to
recall the second half of the joke, the pastor finally blurted out,


"...and I can't remember who she was!"

[BarbaraTherese]

Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

"Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael O'Grady's grave, and God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87."

"That's nothing," says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Tool, it says here that he was 95 when he died." Just then, Seamus yells out, "Hey, here's a fella that got to be 145!"
"What was his name?" asks Paddy. Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, "Miles, from Dublin."

[LRThunder]

Originally Posted by BarbaraTherese

Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

"Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael O'Grady's grave, and God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87."

"That's nothing," says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Tool, it says here that he was 95 when he died." Just then, Seamus yells out, "Hey, here's a fella that got to be 145!"
"What was his name?" asks Paddy. Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, "Miles, from Dublin."

[Pier]

Originally Posted by LRThunder

Ditto!

[LRThunder]

A doctor, a rabbi and a lawyer were traveling to a convention when their car lost two front tires. The doctor said, "Let's ask the farmer in that farm house if we can spend the night."

The farmer said, "Sure, but I only have two extra beds. One of you will have to spend the night in the barn." The doctor volunteered.

An hour later, the doctor knocked on the door and said, "I can't sleep out there. The conditions are too unsanitary." The rabbi volunteered to go.

A short time later, the rabbi knocked on the door and said, "I can't sleep out there. Sleeping among pigs and other animals is against my religion." So the lawyer volunteered.

A short time later, the pigs knocked on the door.

[BarbaraTherese]

Originally Posted by LRThunder

A doctor, a rabbi and a lawyer were traveling to a convention when their car lost two front tires. The doctor said, "Let's ask the farmer in that farm house if we can spend the night."

The farmer said, "Sure, but I only have two extra beds. One of you will have to spend the night in the barn." The doctor volunteered.

An hour later, the doctor knocked on the door and said, "I can't sleep out there. The conditions are too unsanitary." The rabbi volunteered to go.

A short time later, the rabbi knocked on the door and said, "I can't sleep out there. Sleeping among pigs and other animals is against my religion." So the lawyer volunteered.

A short time later, the pigs knocked on the door.

[puzzleannie]

in good keeping with the title, I love to tell this story about Bishop Fitzpatrick, who was driving down from San Antonio with another priest after a conference. They stopped in a small town to get a cup of coffee, and on the way in were debating about the pronunciation of the town's name--is it:
Fahl-FUR-ee-us
Fal-for-EYE-us
FAL-furr-yus

when they got to the counter of the restaurant they asked the young lady to settle the argument, "How do you pronounce the name of this place?"
she looked at them, and answered slowly and distinctly:
"Dai-ry Queen"

bishop's point when he retold the story is that to get the right answer you need to ask the right question.