—JACK SIMMONS
In 1962 all the expression “safe sex” meant was that you move the bed away from the wall so you wouldn’t bang your head.
—DAVID LETTERMAN
I used to go out every night and try and get laid, and fail, and I’d call that sexual frustration. Now I go out every night and try and get laid, and fail, but I can call it a “healthy lifestyle.”
—SIMON FANSHAWE
One day a gentleman goes into a new grocery shop on the outskirts of town. Just inside he sees a sign which says: “Condoms: Sold & Fitted.”
He looks around and calls for service. An exceptionally attractive young lady emerges from the back.
“Do you work here?” he asks.
“Yes,” she replies.
“And is the statement on the sign over there true?” The lady leans over the counter and says seductively, “Yes.”
“Tell me,” he asks, “who fits them?”
“I do,” said the lady.
“Well,” said the man, “would you please wash your hands and give me a pound of tomatoes?”
Sex Toys
Eager to keep his wife out of trouble while he was away on a long business trip, a businessman went to a store that sold sex toys and started looking around. After browsing through the dildos for something special, he decided to consult the old guy behind the counter.
The old man said, “We have vibrating dildos, special attachments, and so on, but I don’t know of anything that will keep her occupied for weeks, except. . . .” and he stopped.
“Except what?” the man asked.
“Nothing, nothing.”
“C’mon, tell me! I need something!”
“Well, sir, I don’t usually mention this, but there is the ‘voodoo dick.’” The old man reached under the counter, pulled out an old wooden box carved with strange symbols, and opened it. There lay a very ordinary-looking dildo.
The businessman laughed, and commented that it looked like every other dildo in this shop.
“But you haven’t seen what it’ll do,” said the proprietor. He pointed to a door and said, “Voodoo dick, the door.” The voodoo dick rose out of its box, darted over to the door, and started screwing the keyhole. The whole door shook, then started to split down the middle, at which point the old man commanded, “Voodoo dick, back in your box!”
The voodoo dick stopped, floated back to the box and lay there, quiescent once more.
“I’ll take it!” said the businessman.
The old man said it wasn’t for sale, but finally surrendered it for seven hundred dollars in cash. Pleased as punch, the businessman gave his wife the gift, explained that all she had to do was say “Voodoo dick, my pussy” if she got lonely, and set off on his business trip.
After a few days, the wife grew unbearably horny. Feeling a little foolish, she opened the box and said tentatively, “Voodoo dick, my pussy!” The voodoo dick shot out of the box, made a beeline for her crotch, and started pumping away. It was fabulous, like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and she lay back and enjoyed the rush of pleasure. After three orgasms, she decided she’d had enough and reached to pull out the dildo. It wouldn’t budge. Nothing worked. The voodoo dick was stuck, thrusting away. Her husband had forgotten to tell her how to shut it off.
Desperate, she pulled on a skirt, got in the car, and headed for the hospital, nearly fainting with excitement and exhaustion. On the way, another orgasm nearly made her swerve off the road, and to her horror, a squad car pulled her over. First the policeman asked for her license. Then, observing her disheveled state, he asked how much she’d had to drink.
Twitching and sweating, she gasped, “I haven’t been drinking, officer. A voodoo dick is stuck in my pussy, and it won’t stop screwing!”
“Sure, lady,” said the officer after another long look at her. “Voodoo dick, my ass!”
Why don’t dumb girls use vibrators?
They are afraid they’ll chip their teeth.
“Why did the gay guy strip naked and tie a string to his dick?
He was going to a costume party as a pull toy.
Shopping
It makes no difference what it is, a woman will buy anything she thinks the store is losing money on.
—KIN HUBBARD
When I walk into the supermarket, the manager goes for a grocery cart for me. I said, “Why do you always give me a cart with a squeaky wheel?”
He said, “We’ve only got one store detective, we can’t watch everybody.”
—BOB HOPE
A blind man came into a big department store and headed for the center of the floor. Stopping, he picked up his Seeing Eye dog by the hind legs and proceeded to whirl him around in a circle.
Astonished, the department manager rushed over as the dog landed back on the ground. “Uh, can I help you with anything, sir?” asked the flustered salesman.
“No thanks,” replied the blind man. “Just looking.”
I went into a general store. They wouldn’t let me buy anything specifically.
—STEVEN WRIGHT
My father was having a lot of security problems in his lingerie store because women were stealing underwear in the dressing rooms. He installed cameras in there. He’s still getting ripped off, but he makes it all back on the video sales.
—DANNY KOCH
I went down the street to the twenty-four-hour grocery. When I got there the guy was locking the front door.
I said, “Hey, the sign says you’re open twenty-four hours.”
He said, “Yes, but not in a row.”
I used to eat while I was in the supermarket. I guess I didn’t consider it stealing ’cause I took it out inside my body.
—ARSENIO HALL
Silence
I have noticed that nothing I have never said ever did me any harm.
—CALVIN COOLIDGE
Women like silent men. They think they’re listening.
—MARCEL ACHARD
If nobody ever said anything unless he knew what he was talking about, a ghastly hush would descend upon the earth.
—ALAN HERBERT
The only pay phone in sight was in use, so the woman stood off to the side politely, to wait until it was free. Minutes went by, however, and she couldn’t help noticing that the man in the phone booth was just standing there silently, not saying a word. Finally she tapped him on the shoulder and asked if she could use the phone.
“Hold your horses,” responded the fellow, covering the receiver. “I’m talking to my wife.”
It’s better to keep one’s mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and resolve all doubt.
—ABRAHAM LINCOLN
Sleep
“Doc, I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed I was the only man in a nudist colony.”
“My, my,” responded the doctor. “Did you sleep well?”
“I tried,” answered the patient, “but it was hard.”
The amount of sleep required by the average person is about five minutes more.
—MAX KAUFFMANN
Hear about the guy who had such a bad case of insomnia, the sheep fell asleep?
Smoking
The FCC came along and it said no more cigarette commercials on television. . . .
I’d much rather watch a pretty girl offer me a cigarette than an old lady ask if I’m constipated.
—MARK RUSSELL
Anybody got a cigarette? Thanks very much, sir—I left mine in the machine.
—LONDON LEE
The only thing that bothers me is if I’m in a restaurant and I’m eating and someone says, “Hey, mind if I smoke?”
I always say, “No. Mind if I fart?”
A rebel leader was finally apprehended by the military police and summarily sentenced to death. The generallissimo watched as the blindfolded man was led before the firing squad, then magnanimously came over to offer him a last cigarette.
“No thanks,” was the condemned man’s answer. “I�
�m trying to quit.”
They used to have a smoking section at the airport. No more. They now have these glass-encased rooms. You’re not just a smoker; you’re an example to other people. You’re an exhibit at a futuristic zoo. You’re in a nicotine terrarium. There ought to be a sign that says, “The addict in his natural environment.”
—MARC MARON
You know what bugs me? People who smoke cigars in restaurants. That’s why I always carry a water pistol filled with gasoline.
—PAULA PROVENZA
I quit smoking and it was a very disappointing experience. I found out my teeth are really brown.
—BILL DANA
What kind of cigarettes do Jewish mothers smoke?
Gefiltered.
Space Travel
How about the dumb guy who was sent up into space with a monkey? The first day a red light went on and the monkey took down all the instrument readings. The second day a red light went on and the monkey took out his slide rule and made all the appropriate calculations. On the third day a green light went on.
“What do I do now?” asked the dumb guy. “Feed the monkey,” said a little voice from earth.
Why don’t they let teenagers become astronauts?
Because they’d honk the horn, squeal the tires, and play the radio too loud all the way to the moon.
The first astronaut to land on Mars was delighted to come across a beautiful Martian woman stirring a huge pot over a campfire.
“Hi there,” he said casually. “What’re you doing?”
“Making babies,” she explained, looking up with a winsome smile.
Horny after the long space voyage, the astronaut decided to give it a shot. “That’s not the way we do it on earth,” he informed her.
“Oh, really?” The Martian woman looked up from her pot with interest. “How do your people do it?”
“Well, it’s hard to describe,” he conceded, “but I’d be glad to show you.”
“Fine,” agreed the lovely Martian maiden, and the two proceeded to make love in the glow of the fire. When they were finished, she asked, “So where are the babies?”
“Oh, they don’t show up for another nine months,” explained the astronaut patiently.
“So why’d you stop stirring?”
These astronauts land on a strange planet. They approach a funny-looking building near their ship. Inside they see hundreds of old men with beards and yarmulkes making suits. They’re there stitching and sewing, stitching and sewing. One of them looks up and asks, “Who are you guys?”
“We’re astronauts,” was the reply.
The old man turned to the next table and said, “Astronauts. They send us astronauts. We need pressers.”
—NORM CROSBY
Sports and Recreation
Generally speaking, I look upon [sports] as dangerous and tiring activities performed by people with whom I share nothing except the right to trial by jury.
—FRAN LEBOWITZ
The women’s uneven parallel bar event. I think I’m gonna be a little bit skeptical the next time a woman tells me I’m being too rough in bed. I’m watching these girls bang their cervix off a frozen theater rope at eighty miles per hour. You don’t see men in that event, okay?
—DENNIS MILLER
We have fun—that’s what I like about bowling. You can have fun even if you stink, unlike in, say, tennis. Every decade or so I attempt to play tennis, and it always consists of thirty-seven seconds of actually hitting the ball and two hours of yelling, “Where did the ball go?” “Over that condominium.” Etc. With bowling, once you let go of the ball, it’s no longer your legal responsibility. They have these wonderful machines that find it for you and send it right back.
—DAVE BARRY
Weight lifters are now taking steroids and the male hormone testosterone. One guy had so much testosterone in him, he had to be classified as an East German woman!
—CARL WOLFSON
Harvey’s topics of conversation had always been limited to work and sports, and once he retired, he spent every waking minute attending games, glued to the sports channel, or reading Sports Illustrated. At first his wife, Shirley, was glad he had a hobby to keep him busy, but his obsession grew irritating, and eventually infuriating.
One night as they lay in bed together, Harvey raptly watching a Rumanian soccer match, Shirley decided she’d had enough. She got up, walked across the room, and unplugged the television.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” he protested.
“Listen to me, Harvey,” she screeched. “I’m sick of sports. You’ve barely talked to me in weeks, not to mention actually touching me. It’s time to talk about sex.”
“Uh . . . okay,” agreed her startled mate. “So how often do you think Michael Jordan gets laid?”
There’s an old, seedy, rundown gymnasium on the lower West Side catering to young and old boxers. Amid the yelling, the smell of fighters sweating, punching bags and each other, one of the boxers comes over to his corner after three rounds of heavy hitting and says to his manager, “I really want a shot at the Kid, Kid Jackson. I know I’m getting old and a little punchy, but before I retire I just want one chance in the ring with him!”
And the manager, wiping his fighter’s face with a towel, says, “Look, if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a hundred times: you’re Kid Jackson!”
—SOUPY SALES
The Olympics is really my favorite sporting event. Although I think I have a problem with that silver medal. ’Cause when you think about it, you win the gold, you feel good; you win the bronze, you think, “Well, at least I got something.” But when you win that silver, it’s like, “Congratulations, you ‘almost’ won. Of all the losers, you came in first of that group. You’re the number one ‘loser.’ No one lost ahead of you!”
—JERRY SEINFELD
I wrestled in college . . . of course now they call it “date rape.”
—TOM COTTER
Three old women are at an exclusive health club in Miami. They are debating how much to tip the towel boy. Edith says, “I’ll give him five bucks.” Esther says, “I’ll give him ten.”
“What about you, Rose, what are you going to tip him?” asked Edith.
“I’m going to give him sex,” she said.
“Huh? Are you crazy?” asked Esther.
“No. In fact, I was wondering about this yesterday. So I called my husband, and I says, Benny, how much should I tip the towel boy?”
“Fuck ’em,” he said.
A cowboy just won first place in a rodeo in a small western town. So proud of his horse was he that he rode him to the neighborhood saloon. After tieing the horse to a post, he went inside for a couple of brews. When he came out of the bar a few hours later, he noticed that someone had painted the horse’s balls red. Furious, he barged back into the bar like a madman. At the top of his lungs, he asked who painted his horse’s balls red. Suddenly, towards the rear of the bar, a tall, shirtless muscular man stands up. He’s a good six feet six with nineteen-inch biceps. Tattoos cover his upper body. Scars are all over his face and chest. Two long Bowie knives are strapped to his waist. “I did,” said the tough guy. “And what about it?”
“Just wanted to let you know,” said the cowboy, “the first coat is dry.”
There’s this magician working on a small cruise ship. He’s been doing his routines every night for two years now. The audiences appreciate him, and they change over often enough that he doesn’t have to worry too much about new tricks. However, there is a parrot who sits in the back row and watches him night after night. Finally, the parrot figures out how all the tricks work and starts giving it away for the audience. For example, when the magician makes a bouquet of flowers disappear, the parrot squawks, “Behind his back! It’s behind his back!” Well, the magician finally gets really annoyed, but doesn’t know what to do. The parrot belongs to the captain, so he can’t just kill it.
One day, the ship springs a leak and sinks. The
magician manages to swim to a plank of wood floating by and grabs on. Low and behold, the parrot is sitting on the other end. They just stare at each other as they drift and drift. They drift for three days and still don’t speak. On the morning of the fourth day, the parrot looks over at the magician and says: “Okay, I give up. Where did you hide the ship?”
It was a boring Sunday afternoon in the jungle, so the elephants decided to challenge the ants to a game of soccer. The game was going well with the elephants beating the ants ten goals to nil, when the ants gained possession.
The ants’ star player was dribbling the ball toward the elephants’ goal when the elephants’ left back came lumbering toward him. The elephant trods on the little ant, killing him instantly.
The referee stops the game. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you call that sportsmanship, killing another player?”
The elephant replied, “Well, I didn’t mean to kill him—I was just trying to trip him up.”
At a posh Las Vegas casino, a blackjack dealer and a player with a thirteen count in his hand were arguing about whether or not it was appropriate to tip the dealer. The player said, “When I get bad cards, it’s not the dealers fault. Accordingly, when I get good cards, the dealer obviously had nothing to do with that either, so why should I tip him?”
The dealer said, “When you eat at a restaurant do you tip the waiter?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, he serves you food. I’m serving you cards so you should tip me.”
“Okay, but the waiter gives me what I ask for . . . I’ll take an eight.”
Jim and George are in a bar, talking about horseracing. Jim is going on and on about how he understands the sport and always wins at the track. When he finally gets around to asking George what happens to the horses he follows, George says, “The horses I follow usually end up following the other horses.”
Baseball
An American takes a foreigner to a baseball game. The foreigner is just beginning to get into cheering batters as they run to first, when a batter draws a walk.
Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes Page 38
