Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes

by Barry Dougherty

  “Okay, honey,” his wife replied. “Smile as hard as you can.”

  Beaming down beatifically at his wife and newborn child, the man followed her instructions. “That’s not so hard.”

  She continued, “Now stick a finger in each corner of your mouth.”

  He obeyed, smiling broadly.

  “Now stretch your lips as far as they’ll go,” she went on.

  “Still not too tough,” he remarked.

  “Right,” she snapped. “Now pull them over your head.”

  Beverly Hills is so exclusive that, when a woman gives birth, she breaks Perrier.

  —FREDDIE ROMAN

  A guy calls the hospital. He says, “You gotta send help! My wife’s going into labor!”

  The nurse says, “Calm down. Is this her first child?”

  He says, “No! This is her husband!”

  This guy came into work one day with a fistful of cigars and started passing them out left and right to celebrate the birth of his son.

  “Congratulations, Eric,” said his boss. “How much did the baby weigh?”

  “Four and a half pounds,” reported the father proudly.

  “Gee, that’s kind of small.”

  What did you expect?” retorted Eric indignantly. “We’ve only been married three months.”

  I told my mother I was going to have natural childbirth. She said to me, “Linda, you’ve been taking drugs all your life. Why stop now?”

  —LINDA MALDONADO

  We delivered our child by natural childbirth, the procedure invented by a man named Lamaze, the Marquis de Lamaze, a disciple of Dr. Josef Mengele, who concluded that women could counteract the incredible pain of childbirth by breathing. I think we can all agree that breathing is not a reasonable substitute for anesthesia. That’s like asking a man to tolerate a vasectomy by hyperventilating.

  —DENNIS WOLFBERG

  I was born by C-section. This was the last time I had my mother’s complete attention.

  —RICHARD JENI

  Doctor to parents of ugly baby: “I charge five dollars if it’s a boy and five dollars if it’s a girl. Let’s just say this one’s on the house.”

  —BOB HOPE

  You have this myth you’re sharing the birth experience. Unless you’re passing a bowling ball, I don’t think so. Unless you’re circumcising yourself with a chain saw, I don’t think so. Unless you’re opening an umbrella up your ass, I don’t think so!

  —ROBIN WILLIAMS

  A woman entered the hospital to deliver her tenth child.

  “Congratulations,” said the nurse, “but don’t you think this is enough?” The woman replied, “Are you kidding? This is the only vacation I get each year.”

  Birth Control

  If men got pregnant . . . women would rule the world.

  I asked my doctor if I should have a vasectomy. He said, let a sleeping dog lie. The last time I had sex, my self-winding watch stopped.

  —LENNY RUSH

  An idealistic young doctor volunteered for two years’ service with the Peace Corps. He was put in charge of a population-control program in a remote Nepalese hill town. It turned out to be impossible for the women to keep track of birth control pills, so the doctor decided to concentrate on the use of condoms.

  His first patient was a man whose wife had given birth to six children in as many years, and neither wanted more. The doctor explained to the man how the sheaths worked, and said that if he wore one conscientiously, his wife would not get pregnant. So he was surprised when the fellow’s wife came in a month later and he found she was pregnant again.

  “What happened?” he scolded. “All your husband had to do was keep the condom on—is that so difficult?”

  “He try, he try very hard,” stammered the poor woman, “but after three days, he have to pee so bad he cut the end off.”

  Hear about the woman who loved to have sex, but refused to take birth control pills?

  Her boyfriend charged her with practicing license without a medicine.

  The young Irish bride made her first appointment with a gynecologist and told him that she and her husband wished to start a family. “We’ve been trying for months now, Doctor Keith, and I don’t seem to be able to get pregnant,” she confessed miserably.

  “I’m sure we’ll solve the problem,” the doctor reassured her. “If you’ll just take off your underpants and get up on the examining table . . .”

  “Well, all right, Doctor,” agreed the young woman, blushing, “but I’d rather have my husband’s baby.”

  I’m Catholic. . . . My mother and I were unpacking and she found my diaphragm. I had to tell her it was a bathing cap for my cat.

  Two little girls from a tough neighborhood were walking down the block to school and one said to the other, “Hey, know what I found on the patio the other day? A condom.”

  “Oh, yea,” said her friend. “What’s a patio?”

  An attractive saleswoman was driving her car through Montana when she ran out of gas. Getting out of her car, she saw nothing in the barren countryside except a single rundown shack and, on closer inspection, two dim-looking country boys sitting on the front porch.

  “Hey there, where’s the nearest gas station?” asked the woman.

  “Oh, ’bout twenty-five miles west as the crow flies,” was the answer.

  It was getting dark, so the woman decided to take her chances and ask for a room for the night.

  “Fine with us . . . ’cept we only got one bed,” said the second man with an evil leer.

  “Okay,” said the woman reluctantly. But when they were getting ready for bed, she added, “I can’t help it if you two take advantage of me, but please wear these condoms.”

  Looking as though they’d never seen rubbers before, the country boys put them on.

  The next morning they gave the woman a gallon of gas and she went on her way. Three months later the guys were sitting on their porch and one says to the other, “Hey, Luke?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you really care if that lady gets pregnant?”

  “Naw, not really.”

  “Then you think we can take these things off now?”

  After the birth of his third child, Warner decided to have a vasectomy. During the operation, one of his testicles accidentally fell on the floor, and before the nurse could scoop it back up, the doctor had stepped on it. Unfazed, the doctor simply asked the nurse for a small onion, which he proceeded to suture inside the scrotum.

  Two weeks later Warner was back for his post-op checkup.

  “How’s it going?” asked the doctor.

  “I gotta tell you, I’m having some problems,” admitted the patient.

  “Such as?”

  “Well, Doc, every time I take a leak, my eyes water, every time I cum, I get heartburn, and every time I pass a Burger King, I get a hard-on!”

  I was involved in an extremely good example of oral contraception two weeks ago. I asked a girl to go to bed with me and she said no.

  —WOODY ALLEN

  A woman with eight children happened to run across a childhood friend of hers on the street corner. “Myrna,” she asked, “how come you got no kids?”

  “I practice preventive measures,” was the answer.

  “Preventive measures? What’s that?” asked Evelyn.

  “I use two saucers and a box. My husband’s a lot taller than I am and we like to screw standing up. When he gets a hard-on I pull up my dress, spread my legs, and put the two saucers on the table. He stands up on the box so he can get all the way inside me and starts jumping up and down.”

  “So where does all this get you?” asked Evelyn, confused.

  “That’s when I got to watch him very closely. When his eyes get as big as those two saucers, I kick the box out from under him.”

  One of the best things people could do for their descendants would be to sharply limit the number of them.

  —OLIN MILLER

  The newlyweds stopped at a f
armhouse and asked if they could rent a room for the night. By noon the next day they were still not up and about, so the farmer yelled up that it was last call for breakfast.

  “Don’t worry about us,” called the groom, “we’re living on the fruits of love.”

  “Okay,” screamed the farmer, “but quit throwing the damned skins out the window—they’re choking the ducks.”

  Heard anything about the “morning after” pill for men? It works by changing your blood type.

  They’ve got a new birth control pill for men now. I think that’s fair. It makes a lot more sense to take the bullets out of the gun than to wear a bulletproof vest.

  —GREG TRAVIS

  A handsome fellow was traveling across the country and was out in the middle of the Iowa cornfields when night started to fall. Coming up to a farmhouse, he asked the farmer if he could put him up for the night. The farmer explained that he didn’t want the guy sleeping under the same roof as his lovely daughter, but gave him permission to sleep in the barn. As the traveler headed for the barn, the farmer shouted after him that he was putting a barricade of eggs around his daughter’s room just in case he should get any ideas. “If a single egg’s broken in the morning,” he yelled, “I’ll shoot you in the back.”

  The fellow bedded down comfortably enough in the hay, but all night he was tossing and turning, thinking of the farmer’s daughter. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He ran inside, through the wall of eggs and into the girl’s room, where she showed him a very good time until it was almost dawn. Then, in something of a panic, he left the room and began frantically gluing all the eggs back together.

  The last one had just been set in place when the farmer came out of his room. “Boy have you got will power,” he commented, looking admiringly at his guest. “Not a single egg broken. Just for that, you get breakfast on the house.” Taking five eggs off the pile, the farmer took them into the kitchen and cracked the first one against the edge of a bowl. Nothing came out. He cracked the second egg and still nothing came out. And the third, fourth, and fifth. Of course, they were all empty.

  “Goddamn rooster’s been using a rubber again!” groaned the farmer.

  The phrase itself—birth control—doesn’t make sense. It’s nine months earlier that you need the control.

  When Liam decided it was time for his friend Brendan to part with his virginity, he accompanied him to the local brothel and explained Brendan’s condition to the madam.

  “Don’t worry, my boy, we’ll get a nice lass to take care of ye,” she promised. “You just do your part and make sure ye wear one of these.”

  And the madam took a condom out of her drawer and rolled it down over her thumb by way of instruction.

  Brendan parted eagerly with his money and bounded up the stairs to Room Twelve, where a cheerful farm girl soon showed him the ropes.

  After he’d cum, a frown passed over her face. “The rubber must have torn,” she muttered. “I’m wet as the sea inside.”

  “Oh no, it didn’t, Miss,” Brendan cheerfully reassured her, holding up his thumb as evidence. “It’s good as new.”

  “Mom, I’m pregnant,” announced the sixteen-year-old one morning in a belligerent tone of voice.

  Her mother paled.

  “And it’s all your fault,” continued the girl.

  “My fault?” gasped her mother, startled. “I bought you books, showed you pictures. I told you all about the facts of life.”

  “Yeah, yeah—but you never taught me how to give a decent blow job, did you?”

  Birthdays

  I think it’s wonderful that you could all be here for the forty-third anniversary of my thirty-ninth birthday. We decided not to light the candles this year—we were afraid Pan Am would mistake it for a runway.

  —BOB HOPE

  What greeting card is on sale only in Kentucky?

  “Happy Birthday, Uncle Dad.”

  It’s an awful thing to grow old alone. My wife hasn’t had a birthday in six years.

  You know you’re getting old when, by the time you’ve lit the last candle on the birthday cake, the first one has burned out.

  You know you’re getting old when the heat from the candles on the birthday cake keeps you from getting close enough to blow them out.

  Books and Writing

  First guy: Hey, did you hear Joe’s writing a book?

  Second guy: Why doesn’t he just buy one? It’s faster.

  I have a new book coming out. It’s one of those self-help deals, it’s called How to Get Along with Everyone. I wrote it with this other asshole.

  —STEVE MARTIN

  Do you realize what would happen if Moses were alive today? He’d come down from Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments and spend the next five years trying to get them published.

  I went to a bookstore and asked the woman behind the counter where the self-help section was. She said, “If I told you, that would defeat the whole purpose.”

  —BRIAN KILEY

  From the moment I picked it [a book] up until I laid it down, I was convulsed with laughter. Some day I intend reading it.

  —GROUCHO MARX (ATTRIBUTED)

  He writes so well, he makes me feel like putting the quill back in the goose.

  —FRED ALLEN

  A famous literary critic got drunk and confused at a cocktail party, and ended up in his host’s pantry, reading the phone book. After about seventy-five pages, he looked up and murmured, “Plenty of characters, but the plot’s weak.”

  I love being a writer. What I can’t stand is the paperwork.

  —PETER DE VRIES

  I just heard about the greatest book club. You send in fifteen dollars a month for a year—and they leave you completely alone!

  I never think at all when I write. Nobody can do two things at the same time and do them both well.

  —DON MARQUIS

  Getting a phone message from one of her authors, the editor called back. “What can I do for you, Tom?” she asked cordially.

  “It’s about my manuscript,” said the writer. “The one I sent you a couple of months ago?”

  “Uh, yes . . . yes. Can’t wait to read it,” stammered the editor, scratching her head, unable to summon up the slightest memory of the manuscript. “But remind me, Tom, is it a historical novel?”

  “No,” replied the writer dryly, “or at least, it wasn’t when I sent it in.”

  I just got out of the hospital. I was in a speed-reading contest. I hit a bookmark.

  —STEVEN WRIGHT

  Why pay a dollar for a bookmark? Use the dollar as a bookmark.

  —FRED STOLLER

  Looking down sternly from the bench, the judge asked the defendant why, after a blameless six decades, she had turned to a life of crime.

  “Your Honor, I began working on my memoirs,” she explained, “and they were just too damn boring.”

  Boredom

  “Now that you’ve made it to the top, Mike, what’s the best thing about it?” asked the executive VP.

  After a thoughtful pause, the new CEO replied, “These days, when I bore people, they think it’s their fault, not mine.”

  She has the reputation of being outspoken—by no one.

  —JACK PAAR

  No one really listens to anyone else, and if you try it for a while, you’ll see why.

  —MIGNON MCLAUGHLIN

  If you can’t stand solitude, maybe you bore others, too.

  —BOB GORDON

  Bosses

  The irritable director of a big agency had just concluded a presentation to a major client. Sensing it hadn’t gone too well, he turned furiously on his hapless secretary and snarled, “Where the hell’s my pen?”

  “Why, behind your ear, Mr. Montclair,” she stammered.

  “Goddamit Brenda, you know how busy I am,” he howled back. “Which ear?”

  Definition of a power struggle: When your boss has the power and you have the struggle.

  A man had been walking
across a street, when all of a sudden he was clobbered by a hit-and-run driver. He died and was welcomed into Heaven by St. Peter.

  “Life here is very similar to life down there,” the saint said, pointing down to earth. “You can still get hurt up here, but it’s offset by the fact that nothing is illegal and everything is free. Just be careful, and enjoy yourself.”

  Amazed and somewhat bewildered, the man started to take in the sights. Not watching where he was going, he stepped off the curb and was almost run over by an Oldsmobile Cutlass. “Wow, who the heck was that?” the man wondered aloud.

  “That was Mr. Olds,” said St. Peter. “He’s a driving maniac, but you’ve got to be careful if you’re going to stay here.”

  The newcomer nodded and continued on. A minute later, as he was carefully crossing over to a striptease joint, a speeding Cadillac nearly ran him over.

  “Goddamn it! Who the hell was that asshole?” he screamed at St. Peter, who was still keeping an eye on him.

  “None other than Mr. Ford. As you can see, the idiot enjoys driving fast,” replied St. Peter. “I know it’s difficult, but do try to be careful.”

  The man made extra sure before he attempted a third crossing, but just as he was about to reach the other side successfully, a Maserati driven by some long-haired freak appeared out of nowhere and bumped him back across the street.

  “Okay, who the fuck was that?” he screamed as he lay sprawled at the saint’s feet.

  “Keep your voice down,” St. Peter hissed. “That’s the boss’s son.”

  The boss, Ms. Bennett, always scheduled the weekly staff meetings for four thirty on Friday afternoons. When one of the employees finally got up the nerve to ask why, she explained, “I’ll tell you why—I’ve learned that’s the only time of the week when none of you seem to want to argue with me.”

  After the annual office Christmas party, Dawkins woke up with a pounding headache, cotton-mouthed, and utterly unable to recall the events of the preceding evening. After a trip to the bathroom, he was able to make his way downstairs, where his wife put some coffee in front of him.