Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes

by Barry Dougherty

  The priest gets very angry and scolds him severely: “My son, you place yourself in great jeopardy by your words!”

  But alas, as the businessman’s ball again fails to roll where he wants it to, he yells loudly: “Damn, I missed!”

  Suddenly a lightning bolt strikes from the clear sky and reduces the priest to a pile of smoldering ash, and a booming voice from heaven shouts: “Damn! I missed!”

  “Someone stole my bike,” complained a priest to his minister friend.

  “Bring up the ten commandments in your sermon tomorrow and as soon as you mention ‘Thou shalt not steal,’ the guilty party will come forward,” the minister said confidently.

  The next day, the priest visited the minister and happily reported he’d found his bike. “Yes,” he went on, “when I came to ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery,’ I remembered where I’d left it.”

  A priest is sent to Alaska. After a few years the bishop goes to visit him. “How are you doing up here?” the bishop asks.

  “It’s really cold,” the priest answers. “If it weren’t for my Rosary and my two martinis every evening, I wouldn’t make it. By the way, would you like a martini?”

  “Sure,” the bishop says.

  The priest says, “Rosary, bring the bishop a martini.”

  —HENNY YOUNGMAN

  An ambitious new sales rep for Budweiser beer traveled all the way to Rome and managed to get an audience with the Pope himself. As soon as the two were alone together, he leaned over and whispered, “Your Holiness, I have an offer I think might interest you. I’m in a position to give you a million dollars if you’ll change the wording in the Lord’s Prayer to ‘our daily beer.’ Now whaddaya say?”

  “Absolutely not,” said the shocked pontiff.

  “Hey, I understand; it’s a big decision,” sympathized the salesman. “How about five million dollars?”

  “I couldn’t think of it,” sputtered the Pope.

  “I know it’s a tough one. Tell you what—I can go up to fifty million dollars,” proposed the salesman.

  Asking him to leave the room, the Pope called in the cardinal and whispered, “When does our contract with Pillsbury expire?”

  I am one of those cliff-hanging Catholics. I don’t believe in God, but I do believe that Mary was his mother.

  —MARTIN SHEEN

  “When the golfer went to retrieve his ball from deep in the woods, he was startled to come across a witch stirring a huge cauldron. Observing the steaming green brew with fascination, he finally asked, “What’s in there?”

  “A magic brew,” hissed the witch. “One swig and you’ll play better golf than anyone in the world. You’ll be unbeatable.”

  “Fantastic!” exclaimed the golfer, his eyes lighting up. “Let me have some.”

  “Hold your horses,” cackled the hag gleefully. “There’s a catch. You’ll pay for it with your sex life: it’ll become the worst in the world.”

  The man stopped to think it over. “No sex . . . great golf . . .” he mused. “Give me a cup.”

  Finding his ball, the golfer headed out of the woods, finished his game in no time, and went on to whip the club champion that afternoon. Soon he became the best golfer in the country, constantly on tour, but a year later he found himself on the same course. Out of curiosity he went back into the woods, and sure enough the witch was still there, stirring her brew.

  “You again,” she wheezed, looking up blearily. “How’s your golf game?”

  He recited his latest triumphs on the circuit.

  “And your sex life?” The witch tittered malevolently, but her expression changed to surprise when he answered, “Not bad.”

  “Not bad? How many times have you gotten laid this year?” The witch’s curiosity had clearly gotten the best of her.

  “Three, maybe four times,” answered the golfer.

  I’m a Catholic and I can’t commit suicide, but I plan to drink myself to death.

  —JACK KEROUAC

  A nun was driving on the highway late on a chilly October afternoon and stopped to pick up a hitchhiker. He was a handsome fellow and the nun looked him over from head to toe, then blushed and quickly looked away. But soon enough her gaze wandered over to him again, and when it happened a third time, her passenger said bluntly, “Sister, I have to come right out and say I find you very attractive and I’d like to have sex with you right now.”

  Turning beet red, the nun began protesting that it would be absolutely impossible. Not only was she the bride of Christ, she had taken a vow of celibacy, and besides, it would be a sin.

  “Good point,” admitted the hitchhiker coolly, “but if you don’t let me have sex with you, I’ll kill myself—and that’ll be a mortal sin for me. How could you have that on your conscience?”

  The nun thought hard, then asked, “Are you Catholic?”

  The hitchhiker assured her that he was.

  “Are you married?”

  “I’m as single as you are, Sister,” he promised.

  “All right,” she said, “then I’ll agree to having anal intercourse with you. That will only be a venial sin.” She pulled over, they went off into the woods and had sex, and then got back in the car. A few miles down the road, the hitchhiker admitted he had a confession to make. “I really enjoyed that, Sister, but I lied to you: I’m Protestant.”

  The nun blanched.

  “And that’s not all,” the hitchhiker went on unhappily. “I’ve got a wife and two kids.”

  The nun turned even paler, and her hands trembled on the steering wheel. But after a few minutes of silence, she said, “Well, there’s something you should know about me, too. My name’s Bob, and I’m on my way to a Halloween party.”

  Did you hear the one about the man who opened a dry-cleaning business next door to a convent? He knocked on the door and asked the Mother Superior if she had any dirty habits.

  I like when people give up chocolate for Lent. Ooh, just like being nailed to a cross.

  —GREG GIRALDO

  Following the Vatican declaration that women cannot become priests because they do not resemble Christ, sources reported that Colonel Sanders declared that he would not employ anyone who didn’t resemble a chicken.

  —JANE CURTIN

  The Pope and Jesse James die at the same time and meet on the way to their prospective destinations. After a brief discussion, they proceed on, but due to some unforeseen confusion, Jesse winds up in heaven and the Pope goes to hell!

  After a few hours, the error is caught and they again meet on the way to their final resting places.

  The Pope says, “Boy, I was worried for a while. I always wanted to meet the Virgin Mary.”

  Says Jesse, “I think you’re too late.”

  Mother Superior: Sister Maria, if you were walking through town at night, and you were accosted by a man with bad intentions, what would you do?

  Sister Maria: I would lift my habit, Mother Superior.

  Mother Superior (shocked): And what would you do next?

  Sister Maria: I would tell him to drop his pants.

  Mother Superior: (even more shocked) And what then?

  Sister Maria: I would run away. I can run much faster with my habit up than he can with his pants down.

  Paddy O’Casey was on his deathbed when his wife, Colleen, tiptoed into the bedroom and asked if he had any last requests.

  “Actually, my dear, there is one thing I really would like before I go off to that great shamrock patch in the sky,” Paddy whispered. “A piece of that wonderful chocolate cake of yours.”

  “Oh, but you can’t have that,” his wife exclaimed. “I’m saving it for the wake.”

  A priest asks a nun if he can walk her back to the convent. She says, “Just this once.” Upon arriving, he asks if he can kiss her.

  She replies, “Well, all right, as long as you don’t get into the habit.”

  A priest decides to pay a visit to a nearby convent. The convent is in a rundown neighborhood, and as the pr
iest walks down the street, several prostitutes approach and proposition him, “Twenty bucks a trick!”

  These solicitations embarrass the priest, who lowers his head and hurries on until he gets to the convent. Once inside, he displays his naiveté by asking the Mother Superior, “What is a trick?”

  She answers, “Twenty bucks—just like on the outside!”

  This guy went to confession. I went with him, we were kids. And he confessed that he had had sex with a girl in his parish. The priest asked, “Was it Mary Agnardi?” He said no.

  “Was is Felice Endrini?” asked the priest. He said no.

  “Was it Elise Guini?” He said no.

  The priest said, “You’re gonna do fifty Hail Marys and give me half your allowance on the plate for the next three weeks.”

  My friend came out of the confessional and I asked, “How’d you do?”

  He said, “Not too bad, and I got three good leads!”

  —BUDDY HACKETT

  A nun goes to confession. “Oh, Father, I am ashamed. I was golfing with the other sisters, and I said the ‘F’ word.”

  “Oh, Sister, what made you say the ‘F’ word?”

  “Well, I teed off the fifth hole, and sliced it into the woods.”

  “Sister, for that you said the ‘F’ word?”

  “Oh no, I got out of that mess okay, only to land in a sand trap.”

  “Sister, for that you said the ‘F’ word?”

  “Oh no! I got a good hit out of the trap, it bounced on the green, and rolled into the trap on the other side.”

  “Sister, for that you said the ‘F’ word?”

  “Oh no, I hit it out of the trap, and came up six inches from the hole.”

  “Oh, Sister, for that you said the ‘F’ word?”

  “Oh, heavens no, Father.”

  Then the priest interrupts and asks, “Sister, don’t tell me you missed a fucking six-inch putt!”

  Old Timothy O’Daly was clearly on his deathbed. So his son, Liam, was completely taken aback when the old man plucked at his sleeve, drew him close, and said, “My boy, it’s time for you to go for the Protestant minister.”

  “But, Dad,” gasped Liam, “what on earth would a good Catholic like yourself be wanting with a minister at a time like this—meaning no disrespect, of course.”

  “Get the minister,” ordered O’Daly fiercely, and after a few more sputtering protests, his son hurried off to honor what might be his father’s last request. He was back with the Reverend Wilson within forty-five minutes, and listened in dismay outside the door as the minister converted his father and administered the Protestant last rites.

  His distress, however, paled beside that of Father McGuire, who hurried up the stairs past the departing Reverend Wilson. “Tim, Tim, why?” he cried, bursting into the old man’s room. “We went to St. Joseph’s together. We were altar boys at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart. I was there at your First Communion and you attended the first Mass I performed. How in the world could you do such a thing?”

  “Paddy,” said old O’Daly, leaning back against his pillows, “I figured if somebody had to go, better one of them than one of us.”

  Three nuns were walking along the street and one was describing with her hands the tremendous grapefruit she’d seen in Florida.

  The second nun, also with her hands, described the huge banana she’s seen in Jamaica.

  The third nun, who was a little deaf, asked, “Father who?”

  Old Andrzej was a priest in a small Polish town. He had always been a good man and lived by the Bible. One day, God decided to reward him with the answers to any three questions Andrzej would like to ask.

  Old Andrzej did not need much time to consider, and his first question was: “Will there ever be married Catholic priests?”

  God promptly replied, “Not in your lifetime.”

  Andrzej thought for a while, and then came up with the second question: “What about female priests then, will we have that one day?”

  Again God had to disappoint old Andrzej: “Not in your lifetime, I’m afraid.”

  Andrzej was sorry to hear that, and he decided to drop the subject. Then, after thinking for a while, he asked the last question: “Will there ever be another Polish Pope?”

  God answered quickly and in a firm voice: “Not in my lifetime.”

  Father Harris was motoring along a country lane in his parish on a spring afternoon when all of a sudden he got a flat tire. Exasperated, the priest stopped his car, got out, and assessed the damage. Luckily, a four-wheel-drive jeep rounded the bend and pulled to a stop behind the disabled vehicle. The door of the jeep opened and out stepped a powerful hulk of a man. “Good afternoon, Father,” greeted the stranger. “Can I give you a hand?”

  “Heaven be praised!” rejoiced the priest. “As you can see, my son, I have a flat tire, and I must admit, I’ve never changed one before.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Father. I’ll take care of it.” And without skipping a beat, the bruiser picked up the front of the car with one hand and removed the lug nuts from the base of the flat tire with the other. “Why don’t you get the spare from the trunk?” he asked.

  “Why, ahh, yes, of course, my son,” stuttered the amazed Father Harris. The priest rolled the spare around to the strong man, who casually lifted it up with his free hand, maneuvered it into place, and proceeded to tighten the lug nuts.

  “Do you need the wrench?” the priest asked.

  “That’s okay,” the fellow told him. “These nuts are as tight as the nuns I know.”

  “Hmmm,” mused Father Harris. “I’d better get the wrench.”

  When the Mother Superior answered the knock at the convent door, she found two leprechauns shuffling their feet on the door sill. “Aye an’ begorrah, Mother Superior,” said the foremost one after an awkward pause, “would ye be havin’ any leprechaun nuns in your convent?”

  The nun shook her head solemnly.

  The little man shuffled his feet a bit more, then piped up, “An’ would there be any leprechaun nuns in the church?”

  “No, my boys,” said the Mother Superior gravely.

  “Ye see, laddy,” cried the first leprechaun, whirling around to his companion triumphantly. “I told you ye been fucking a penguin!”

  Did you hear about the three nuns who were expelled from the nunnery?

  They were caught doing pushups in the cucumber patch.

  When the nuns were returning to their convent after their annual retreat in the mountains, the bus went over an embankment and four nuns were instantly killed. They materialized at the pearly gates, where St. Peter asked the first sister whether she had sinned during her time on earth. She blushed and confessed to having kissed a boy the day before taking her vows.

  “Wash your lips in the holy water,” ordered St. Peter, “and proceed into heaven. And you, Sister, have you sinned?”

  The second nun blushed deeply and stammered, “St. Peter, I once touched a man’s penis.”

  “Wash your hands in the holy water and you shall be cleansed and admitted into heaven.” He turned expectantly to the remaining nuns, only to be startled by the sight of both of them fighting for position in front of the font of holy water. “Ladies, ladies,” he remonstrated. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”

  “It’s like this, St. Peter,” replied one of the nuns. “I was last in line, but don’t you think I should be allowed to gargle in the holy water before Bridget has to sit in it?”

  The Pope calls a meeting of all the cardinals. After they have assembled in the meeting hall at the Vatican, the Pope says, “I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I just talked to Jesus. He has been resurrected, so our faith in his existence has been justified.”

  One of the cardinals stands up and says, “What’s the bad news?”

  The Pope replies, “He was calling from Salt Lake City.”

  When the Eisenbergs moved to Rome, little Jamie came home from school in tears. He explaine
d to his mother that the nuns were always asking these Catholic questions and how was he, a nice Jewish boy, supposed to know the answers?

  Mrs. Eisenberg’s heart swelled with maternal sympathy and she determined to help her son out. “Jamie,” she said, “I’m going to embroider the answers on the inside of your shirt and you just look down and read them the next time those nuns pick on you.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” said Jamie, and he didn’t bat an eye when Sister Michael asked him who the world’s most famous virgin was. “Mary,” he answered.

  “Very good,” said the nun. “And who was her husband?”

  “Joseph,” answered the boy.

  “I see you’ve been studying. Now can you tell me the name of their son?

  “Sure,” said Jamie. “Calvin Klein.”

  A guy is walking into the doctor’s office when a nun comes running out, screaming and crying.

  The guy walks in and says, “Doc, what’s with the nun?”

  The doctor says, “Oh, I just told her she’s pregnant.”

  The guy says, “The nun’s pregnant?”

  The doctor says, “No. But it certainly cured her hiccups.”

  During Bible study class, Freddie was much more interested in his new hot rod than in the lesson. His fidgeting didn’t escape the nun’s notice, so she decided to give him a spot quiz. “Who was God’s son, Freddie?” she asked.

  The girl behind Freddie poked him hard with her pencil and he cried out, “Jesus!”

  “Very good,” said the nun. “Now, who is the first member of the Holy Trinity?”

  The girl poked Freddie even harder. “God Almighty!” he blurted.

  “All right,” said the Sister, deciding to throw him a trick question. “Now tell me what Eve said to Adam their first week together.”

  Once more the girl jabbed Freddie, and he screamed, “You prick me with that one more time and I’m going to shove it up your ass!”

  When I was growing up, my mother wanted me to be a priest, but I think it’s a tough occupation. Can you imagine giving up your sex life and then once a week people come in and tell you all the highlights of theirs?