Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes

by Barry Dougherty

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a great plan after all,” muttered Jack to himself, and headed back to the eighth hole with a bucket of balls. Finally he managed a hole-in-one, and when he went to collect the ball, he had to hold up the head of his penis to keep it from dragging on the ground.

  Out popped the genie. “This club is so exclusive that my magical services are available to anyone who hits a hole-in-one on this hole. Any wish you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” interrupted Jack. “Could you make my legs longer?”

  The voluptuous blond was enjoying a stroll around Plato’s Retreat, arrogantly examining everyone’s equipment before making her choice. In one room she happened against a scrawny, bald fellow with thick glasses, and to complete the picture, his penis was a puny four inches long.

  Checking it out with a sneer, the blond snickered, “Just who do you think you’re going to please with that?”

  “Me,” he answered, looking up with a grin.

  A certain couple loved to compete with each other, comparing their achievements in every aspect of their lives: salaries, athletic abilities, social accomplishments, and so on. Everything was a contest, and the husband sank into a deep depression because he had yet to win a single one. Finally, he sought professional counsel, explaining to the shrink that while he wouldn’t mind losing once in a while, his unbroken string of defeats had him pretty down.

  “Simple enough. All we have to do is devise a game that you can’t possibly lose.” The shrink thought for a moment, then proposed a pissing contest. “Whoever can pee higher on the wall wins—and how could any woman win?”

  Running home, the husband called up, “Darling, I’ve got a new game!”

  “Oooh, I love games,” she squealed, running down the stairs. “What is it?”

  “C’mon out here,” he instructed, pulling her around to the patio. “We’re going to stand here, piss on this wall, and whoever makes the highest mark wins.”

  “What fun! I’ll go first.” The woman proceeded to lift her dress, then her leg, and pee on the wall about six inches up from the ground. She turned to him expectantly.

  “Okay, now it’s my turn,” said the beleaguered husband eagerly. He unzipped his fly, pulled out his penis, and was just about to pee when his wife interrupted.

  “Hang on a sec,” she called out. “No hands allowed!”

  Male Performance

  Joe was in the corner bar having a few when his friend Phil dropped in and joined him. It didn’t take long for Phil to notice a string hanging out of the back of Joe’s shirt collar, which his friend kept tugging on.

  Finally, Phil couldn’t contain his curiosity and asked, “What the hell’s that string for?”

  “Two weeks ago I had a date with that dish Linda,” Joe explained, “and when I got her into the sack, would you believe I couldn’t perform? Made me so mad that I tied this string on it, and every time I think of how it let me down, I pull the string and make it kiss my ass.”

  I went to a meeting for premature ejaculators. I left early.

  —RED BUTTONS

  For Christmas, Freddy got the chemistry set he’d been begging for, and he promptly disappeared with it into the basement. Eventually his father went down to see how he was doing and found Freddy surrounded by test tubes, pounding away at the wall.

  “Son, why’re you hammering a nail into the wall?” he asked.

  “That’s no nail, that’s a worm,” explained Freddy, and showed his dad the mixture in which he’d soaked the worm.

  “Tell you what, pal,” suggested Freddy’s father, his eyes lighting up. “Lend me that test tube and I’ll buy you a Toyota.”

  Needless to say, Freddy handed it over, and the next day when he got home from school, he spotted a brand new Mercedes-Benz in the driveway. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” he called, running into the house.

  “The Toyota’s in the garage,” explained his father, “and the Mercedes is from your Mom.”

  To be honest with you, I adore Viagra. I take one every night. It keeps me from rolling out of bed at night.

  —FREDDIE ROMAN

  Here’s to the guy who loves me terribly. May he soon improve.

  I love her for what she is.

  Wealthy.

  Hungry for company, the young couple is delighted when a spaceship lands in a field on their very isolated farm and out steps a young, very humanoid Martian couple. They get to talking and soon the wife invites the Martians to dinner. During dinner the conversation is so stimulating and all four get along so well that they decide to swap partners for the night.

  The farmer’s wife and the male Martian get the master bedroom, and when he undresses, she sees that his phallus is very small indeed. “What are you going to do with that?” she can’t resist asking.

  “Watch,” he says smartly. He twists his right ear and his penis suddenly grows to eight inches in length—but it’s still as skinny as a pencil. And again the farmer’s wife can’t suppress a disparaging comment.

  So the Martian twists his left ear, at which his prick grows as thick as a sausage. And he and the woman proceed to screw like crazy all night long.

  The next morning the Martian couple take off after cordial farewells, and the farmer turns to his wife. “So how was it?” he asks curiously.

  “It was fabulous, really out of this world,” reports the wife with a big smile. “How about you?”

  “Nothing special,” admits the farmer. “Kinda weird in fact. All night long she kept playing with my ears.”

  Why don’t women blink during foreplay?

  They don’t have enough time.

  One day God came to Adam to pass on some news. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” God said.

  Adam looked at God and said, “Well, give me the good news first.”

  Smiling, God explained, “I’ve got two new organs for you. One is called a brain. It will allow you to be very intelligent, create new things, and have intelligent conversations with Eve. The other organ I have for you is called a penis. It will allow you to reproduce your now intelligent life form and populate this planet. Eve will be very happy that you now have this organ and can give her children.”

  Adam, very excited, exclaimed, “These are great gifts you have given to me. What could possibly be bad news after such great tidings?”

  God looked upon Adam and said with great sorrow, “The bad news is that when I created you, I only gave you enough blood to operate one of these organs at a time.”

  There are these two friends, a Latin man and an American man. One evening, they’re in a bar arguing over which of them can have sex the most times in one night. They decide to settle the issue by going to the local brothel and gathering experimental evidence.

  So they get to the brothel, pair off with a couple of the ladies, and go to their respective rooms. The American guy energetically balls his woman and, reaching up with a pencil, makes a “1” mark on the wall. Then he falls asleep. He wakes up in a couple of hours and screws her again, albeit a little less enthusiastically this time. Again, he reaches back and marks a “1” on the wall. Again, he falls asleep. He wakes up again in a couple of hours and lethargically humps the hooker again. He drowsily marks another “1” on the wall. Then he falls asleep for the rest of the night.

  The next morning, the Latin guy barges into the other guy’s room to see how he did. He takes one look at the wall and exclaims, “A hundred and eleven? You beat me by three!”

  Manners

  A car is useless in New York; essential everywhere else. The same with good manners.

  —MIGNON MCLAUGHLIN

  Never drink from your finger bowl—it contains only water.

  —ADDISON MIZNER

  I dreamed that God sneezed, and I didn’t know what to say to him.

  —HENNY YOUNGMAN

  The woman was more than a little upset when her car stalled in the middle of the main street, and even more so when no amount of cajoling could get it started a
gain. As the light turned from red to green a third time and the car still failed to respond, the honking of the fellow in the car behind her grew even more insistent. Finally the woman got out and walked over to his door. “Excuse me, sir,” she said politely, “if you’d like to help out by trying to get my car started yourself, I’ll be glad to sit here and honk your horn for you.”

  What do you get when you cross a great painter with a really rude person?

  Vincent Van Go Fuck Yourself.

  A good listener is generally thinking about something else.

  —KIN HUBBARD

  Monroe’s mother couldn’t wait for her first visit to the Air Force base in Nevada where he was stationed. Dutifully he showed her around and answered her many questions—except one about where the road behind the mess hall led. He ignored the question a second time, which was enough for his mother to launch into a lecture about good manners, respecting one’s elders—

  “Mom,” Monroe interrupted, “lay off, will you? If I tell you, I’ll have to shoot you.”

  The very well-dressed man was approached by a shabby, unkempt fellow. “Could you spare a dollar for a cup of coffee?” asked the bum.

  “A cup of coffee is only fifty cents,” he responded icily.

  “Oh, I know,” replied the bum breezily. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

  The trouble with being punctual is that there’s nobody there to appreciate it.

  —HAROLD ROME

  Marriage

  Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same thing.

  When a man brings his wife flowers for no reason, there’s a reason.

  —MOLLY MCGEE

  Ohrenstein was less than pleased with the doctor’s remedy for the constant fatigue that was plaguing him. “Give up sex completely, Doctor?” he screamed. “I’m a young guy. How can you expect me to just go cold turkey?”

  “So get married and taper off gradually,” advised the physician.

  I told my wife that black underwear turns me on, so she didn’t wash my shorts for a month.

  —MILTON BERLE

  Many poor husbands were once rich bachelors.

  We’re happily married. We wake up in the middle of the night and laugh at each other.

  —BOB HOPE

  Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?

  —GROUCHO MARX

  My parents have been married for fifty years. I asked my mother how they did it. She said, “You just close your eyes and pretend it’s not happening.”

  —RITA RUDNER

  When the traveling salesman got the message at the hotel desk that his wife had given birth, he rushed to the phone. “Hi, honey,” he cried happily. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “Irving, Irving,” sighed his wife wearily, “is that all you can think about? Sex, sex, sex?”

  Sex when you’re married is like going to a 7-Eleven. There’s not as much variety, but at three in the morning, it’s always there.

  —CAROL LEIFER

  Did you know that once you get married, you can look forward to three different kinds of sex?

  First there’s house sex, when you make love all over the house; on the floor, on the kitchen table, in the garage, anywhere, any time.

  Then comes bedroom sex; after the kids are bathed and fed and asleep, the shades are pulled down and the door locked, you make love in the bedroom.

  Last comes hall sex. That’s when you pass each other in the hall and snarl, “Fuck you.”

  My wife and I were happy for twenty years. Then we met.

  —HENNY YOUNGMAN

  Do you know what it means to come home at night to a woman who’ll give you a little love, a little affection, a little tenderness? It means you’re in the wrong house, that’s what it means.

  —HENNY YOUNGMAN

  There is something magical about the fact that success almost always comes faster to the guy your wife almost married.

  An extravagance is anything you buy that is of no use to your spouse.

  As he got into bed, the husband was very much in the mood, but was hardly surprised when his wife pushed his hand off her breast. “Lay off, honey. I have a headache.”

  “Perfect,” he responded, without missing a beat. “I was just in the bathroom powdering my dick with aspirin.”

  We would have broken up except for the children. Who were the children? Well, she and I were.

  —MORT SAHL

  George Bush says that gay people getting married would violate the sanctity of marriage. Is anybody here married? Does it feel like a gift from God to you?

  —GREG GIRALDO

  A girl is getting married and she asks the priest what she should wear. The priest says, “If it’s your first marriage, to signify purity, you wear white. If you’ve been married before, you wear lavender.” So he asks what she’s going to wear and she says, “A white dress with a little bit of lavender.”

  —STEWIE STONE

  A middle-aged man confided to his doctor that he was tired of his wife and wished there were some way of doing her in so that he could have some good years left to himself. “Screw her every day for a year,” counseled the doctor. “She’ll never make it.”

  As chance would have it, it was about a year later when the doctor happened to drop by his patient’s house. On the porch sat the husband looking frail and thin; his wife, tan and robust, could be seen out back splitting wood.

  “Say, Sam, you’re looking good,” said the doctor uneasily, “and Laura certainly is the picture of health.”

  “Little does she know,” hissed Sam with a wicked little smile, “she dies tomorrow.”

  One day the Israeli soldier at the checkpoint on the military highway addressed the Arab riding along on his donkey, his aged wife trudging before him. “I’ve been watching you go by every morning for months,” the guard commented, “and you always ride and your wife is always on foot. Why?”

  “Wife no have donkey,” replied the Arab with a shrug.

  “I see. But why does she walk in front of you? Is that the custom of your people?”

  The Arab shook his head. “Land mines,” he explained.

  My wife’s an earth sign. I’m a water sign. Together we make mud.

  —HENNY YOUNGMAN

  The aged farmer and his wife were leaning against the edge of the pigpen when the old woman wistfully recalled that the next week would mark their golden wedding anniversary. “Let’s have a party, Homer,” she suggested. “Let’s kill the pig.”

  The farmer scratched his grizzled head. “Gee, Elmira,” he finally answered, “I don’t see why the pig should take the blame for something that happened fifty years ago.”

  Sex in marriage is like medicine. Three times a day for the first week. Then once a day for another week. Then once every three or four days until the condition clears up.

  —PETER DE VRIES

  An aspiring actor called home to announce with great pride that he’d been cast in an off-Broadway play. “It’s a real opportunity, Dad,” he said. “I play this guy who’s been married for twenty-five years.”

  “That’s great, son,” enthused his father. “And one of these days you’ll work up to a speaking part.”

  [He] has decided to take himself a wife, but he hasn’t decided yet whose. . . .

  —PETER DE VRIES

  Having been invited to his friend’s wedding anniversary party, the man asked which apartment he should go to.

  “Go to the eleventh floor,” the friend instructed. “Find apartment G, push the buzzer with your elbow, and when the door opens, quickly put your foot against it.”

  “Why such an elaborate plan?” asked the perplexed guest.

  “Well,” cried the host, “you’re not planning on coming empty-handed are you?”

  The only thing that holds a marriage together is the husband bein’ big enough to step back and see where his wife is wrong.

  —ARCHIE BUNKER

  Woman to ma
rriage counselor: “The only thing my husband and I have in common is that we were married on the same day.”

  Marrying a man is like buying something you’ve been admiring for a long time in a shop window. You may love it when you get it home, but it doesn’t always go with everything else in the house.

  —JEAN KERR

  Wife: Honey, what is the meaning of this vase of flowers on the breakfast table?

  Husband: Today’s your wedding anniversary.

  Wife: Really! Well, do let me know when yours is so I can reciprocate.

  I belong to Bridegrooms Anonymous. Whenever I feel like getting married, they send over a lady in a housecoat and hair curlers to burn my toast for me.

  —DICK MARTIN

  In Hollywood all marriages are happy. It’s trying to live together afterward that causes all the problems.

  —SHELLEY WINTERS (ATTRIBUTED)

  The dread of loneliness is greater than the fear of bondage, so we get married.

  —CYRIL CONNOLLY

  One day during his lunch hour, a careworn man went to consult a fortuneteller.

  She gathered her shawl around her, gazed deeply into her crystal ball, and solemnly intoned, “I see . . . I see a buried treasure. . . .”

  “I know, I know,” her customer interrupted wearily, “my wife’s first husband.”

  A man in love is incomplete until he has married. Then he’s finished.

  —ZSA ZSA GABOR

  Before marriage, a man will lie awake all night thinking about something you said; after marriage, he’ll fall asleep before you finish saying it.

  —HELEN ROWLAND

  Easy-crying widows take new husbands soonest; there’s nothing like wet weather for transplanting.

  —OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, SR.

  Whoever perpetrated the mathematical inaccuracy, “Two can live as cheaply as one,” has a lot to answer for.

  —CAREN MEYER

  The trouble with marrying your mistress is that you create a job vacancy.

  —SIR JAMES GOLDSMITH