<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275</id><updated>2024-11-01T14:33:09.431+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just For Laughs</title><subtitle type='html'>Humor Sense is more Valuable than Prayer</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>127</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><blogger:adultContent>true</blogger:adultContent><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-988480107472916254</id><published>2011-08-23T11:42:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-23T11:42:44.003+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;The father was reading the school report which had just been handed to him by his hopeful son, Nasrudin. His brow was wrathful as he read: &quot;English, poor; French, weak; Mathematics, poor; History, weak;&quot; and he gave a glance of disgust at the quaking lad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot; closure_uid_9uwh8f=&quot;117&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Well, Dad,&quot; said Nasrudin, &quot;It is not as good as it might be, but have you seen that?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
And he pointed to the next line, which read: &quot;Health, excellent.&quot; - OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/988480107472916254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/988480107472916254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/08/father-was-reading-school-report-which.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-4441049893735742442</id><published>2011-06-30T08:43:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-30T08:43:29.179+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;A Russian, a Cuban, a Catholic priest and Swami Deva Coconut are on a train traveling across Europe. The Russian takes out a large bottle of vodka. He pours each of his companions a drink, and then throws the half-full bottle out of the window. &quot;Why did you do that?&quot; asks Swami Coconut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;There is so much vodka in my country,&quot; replies the Russian. &quot;We have more than we can ever use.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
A little later, the Cuban passes around a box of Cuban cigars. Everyone takes one, then he throws the rest of the box out of the window.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;My god!&quot; says Coconut. &quot;Why did you do that?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Cigars,&quot; replies the Cuban, &quot;are a dime a dozen in my country. We have more of them than we know what to do with!&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Coconut sits in silence for a moment. Then he gets up, grabs the Catholic priest and throws him out of the window.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4441049893735742442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4441049893735742442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/russian-cuban-catholic-priest-and-swami.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-4411781945718199275</id><published>2011-06-28T08:57:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-28T08:57:13.771+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Mulla Nasruddin fingered a banker who was coming out of his office and said, &quot;What about two annas for a cup of coffee?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
The Mulla was looking so distraught, so sad, that the man felt for him, and he said, &quot;Here is one rupee. Take it and have eight cups of coffee.&quot; So Mulla went.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Next day he was again there on the steps of the office, and as the banker came out, he punched his face, on the nose.&lt;br /&gt;
The man said, &quot;Hey, what are you doing? And this is after I gave you one rupee just yesterday? What type of thankfulness is this?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mulla said, &quot;You and your lousy eight cups of coffee.&quot; And he punched him again on his nose and said, &quot;They kept me awake the whole night!&quot;................OSHO&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4411781945718199275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4411781945718199275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/mulla-nasruddin-fingered-banker-who-was.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-1120967592081515879</id><published>2011-06-27T09:38:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-27T09:38:29.304+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Little Ernie is looking through the family photo album when he comes across a photo of his parents&#39; wedding day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Ernie calls his father over, and pointing to his mother&#39;s wedding dress says, &quot;Was that the day that Mum came to work for us?&quot;....................OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/1120967592081515879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/1120967592081515879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/little-ernie-is-looking-through-family.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-7082047344265993198</id><published>2011-06-17T22:17:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-17T22:17:46.784+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Old Priest Pooper dies, and leaves only unpaid bills behind. After the doctors, the hospital, and all the others are settled, there is no money left to bury the old guy. So Grandma Nutcan decides she will go around the town and ask those who knew the priest to help provide a decent burial. She finds it is not an easy task, but after many long hours of devoted work, her collection is only one dollar short for the funeral.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;She looks around, but it seems she has asked everyone. Suddenly she spies a stranger sitting at the bus stop. Amazingly, it turns out to be Swami Deva Coconut. Grandma approaches him and says in a tired and worried voice, &quot;Would you give me a dollar to bury a priest?&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Coconut jumps up, pulls out his wallet, and hands her some money. &quot;Lady,&quot; he says, &quot;here are five dollars. Go out and bury five of them!&quot;.................OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/7082047344265993198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/7082047344265993198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/old-priest-pooper-dies-and-leaves-only_17.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-494213892234663670</id><published>2011-06-17T11:59:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-17T11:59:57.869+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;I locked my husband out of the house last week for playing around with other women,&quot; sobs young Mrs. Bedspring in the confession box. &quot;And now he wants me to take him back. What should I do, Father?&quot;You must take him back,&quot; replies Father Fungus, patting her hand through the curtain. &quot;It is your Christian duty. But first,&quot; Fungus continues, tightening his grip, &quot;how would you like to get even with the bastard!&quot; ..OSHO&lt;!-- #EndEditable --&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/494213892234663670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/494213892234663670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-locked-my-husband-out-of-house-last.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-5894356958256909942</id><published>2011-06-16T10:50:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-16T10:50:44.490+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Paddy and his friend Sean were sitting in a bar moaning to each other, talking about how ugly their wives are -- a common topic among husbands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;My wife is so ugly,&quot; said Sean, &quot;if I want to make love to her I have to put a bag over her head.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;That&#39;s nothing,&quot; said Paddy. &quot;My wife was so ugly when she was born that the doctor slapped her mother.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5894356958256909942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5894356958256909942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/paddy-and-his-friend-sean-were-sitting.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-2567410101627153417</id><published>2011-06-15T10:13:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-15T10:13:39.658+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Quick,&quot; yells little Ernie as he rushes into the drugstore, &quot;my Dad is hanging upside down by his pants leg in a barbed wire fence!&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;What do you need?&quot; asked the druggist. &quot;Help or first aid supplies?&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Nothing like that,&quot; says Ernie breathlessly, &quot;I want another roll of film for my camera!&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2567410101627153417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2567410101627153417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/quick-yells-little-ernie-as-he-rushes.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-3927139023683616460</id><published>2011-06-14T10:09:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-14T10:09:43.050+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Mulla Nasruddin died and went immediately, or was sent immediately, to hell. There he reached Satan who had been waiting for him for a long time -- he was a man long awaited there. Satan received him, welcomed him, and Mulla Nasruddin said to the devil, &quot;Boy, am I happy being here in heaven.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The devil said, &quot;Nasruddin, you are mistaken. This is no heaven.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Nasruddin said, &quot;That may be your attitude. I am coming from India -- to me it looks like heaven.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/3927139023683616460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/3927139023683616460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/mulla-nasruddin-died-and-went.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-2945653446730440383</id><published>2011-06-13T12:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-13T12:21:54.055+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;There is a job opening at the local zoo for two men to clean out the gorilla cages. Paddy and Seamus go directly from the pub to apply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Before I give you lads the job,&quot; says Duckworth Bird, the head keeper, &quot;I want to ask you a few questions.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Okay,&quot; says Paddy, &quot;I am ready!&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;The first question,&quot; says Duckworth. &quot;What bird does not build its own nest?&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;That&#39;s easy,&quot; says Seamus. &quot;It is a canary. He lives in a cage.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;That&#39;s not it, you idiot,&quot; says Paddy, digging Seamus in the ribs with his elbow. &quot;It&#39;s a cuckoo!&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Very good, Paddy,&quot; says Duckworth Bird. &quot;How did you know?&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Ah!&quot; replies Paddy, &quot;everybody knows that a cuckoo lives in a clock!&quot;..............OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2945653446730440383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2945653446730440383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/there-is-job-opening-at-local-zoo-for.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-2751597370890368708</id><published>2011-06-12T10:06:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-12T10:06:11.330+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Ronald and Nancy Reagan are invited to dinner with Ed Meese and his wife, pope the Polack and his bishop, and Rajiv and Mrs. Gandhi. They go to a nice restaurant downtown and are seated immediately at the celebrity table. With full pomp and circumstance, head waiter Reginald the homosexual serves them cocktails and takes their orders. He returns to the kitchen and hands the order slip to Jablonski the cook.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Hey, wait a minute,&quot; says Jablonski. &quot;This order says `Give Nancy Reagan her favorite chicken parts.&#39;&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes, that is correct,&quot; agrees Reginald gaily. &quot;What about it?&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Well,&quot; says Jablonski. &quot;What the hell are Nancy Reagan&#39;s favorite chicken parts?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I don&#39;t know,&quot; says the waiter, &quot;but as far as I can tell, they must be right wings and assholes!&quot;...OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2751597370890368708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2751597370890368708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/ronald-and-nancy-reagan-are-invited-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-6013656301088520496</id><published>2011-06-11T09:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-11T09:53:01.682+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Little Ernie was always saying things that got him into trouble. One day his mother was having a friend to lunch who was bringing her new baby who had no ears. Ernie&#39;s mother called him and said, &quot;Ernie, don&#39;t you say anything about the baby. In fact, don&#39;t even speak at all.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Okay,&quot; said Ernie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;The friend arrived with her baby. Ernie looked at him, took his hand, and said, &quot;What beautiful little hands he has.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Ernie,&quot; warned his mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;And what beautiful brown hair he has.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes,&quot; said the proud friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Has he got good eyesight?&quot; asked Ernie.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Ernie!&quot; yells his mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Why?&quot; asked the baby&#39;s mother.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Because,&quot; says Ernie, &quot;he will never be able to wear glasses.&quot;.......................OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/6013656301088520496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/6013656301088520496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/little-ernie-was-always-saying-things_11.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-973068354508139368</id><published>2011-06-10T09:36:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-10T09:36:07.911+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Mulla Nasruddin was caught. When he came out of court he said to a friend, &quot;It has been very hard: the judge first fined me fifty rupees&quot; -- because he had kissed a woman, a stranger, on the road. So he was telling his friend, &quot;The judge first fined me fifty rupees for kissing her -- and then when he looked at the woman he fined me fifty more for being drunk!&quot; ... Because the woman was almost no woman at all -- she was so ugly that nobody could kiss her if he was in his senses!...............OSHO&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/973068354508139368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/973068354508139368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/mulla-nasruddin-was-caught.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-4459773461012916619</id><published>2011-06-09T10:40:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-09T10:40:26.638+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Paddy is a drunkard and yet Maureen has never tasted alcohol in her whole life.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hey, you drunk,&quot; she says one day, &quot;give me that bottle. I want to taste whatever it is that has made you the bum you are.Taking the bottle of cheap whiskey, she takes a good gulp from it. &quot;Yuk,&quot; she gasps, &quot;that&#39;s the most vile-tasting liquid that has ever passed my lips. It tastes terrible.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You see,&quot; says Paddy, &quot;and all these years you thought I was having a good time.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4459773461012916619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4459773461012916619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/paddy-is-drunkard-and-yet-maureen-has.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-2596140718165442017</id><published>2011-06-08T10:44:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-08T10:44:36.903+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Mulla Nasruddin came home one night very late, it must have been three in the morning. He knocked; his wife was very angry, but Mulla said, &quot;Wait! First give me one minute to explain, then you can start. I was sitting with a very sick friend.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
His wife said, &quot;A very likely story -- but tell me the name of the friend.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Mulla Nasruddin thought and thought and thought, and then he said triumphantly, &quot;He was so sick he couldn&#39;t tell me!&quot;................................OSHO&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2596140718165442017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2596140718165442017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/mulla-nasruddin-came-home-one-night.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-5597597907773002706</id><published>2011-06-06T09:29:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-06T09:29:30.782+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Old Priest Pooper dies, and leaves only unpaid bills behind. After the doctors, the hospital, and all the others are settled, there is no money left to bury the old guy. So Grandma Nutcan decides she will go around the town and ask those who knew the priest to help provide a decent burial. She finds it is not an easy task, but after many long hours of devoted work, her collection is only one dollar short for the funeral.She looks around, but it seems she has asked everyone. Suddenly she spies a stranger sitting at the bus stop. Amazingly, it turns out to be Swami Deva Coconut. Grandma approaches him and says in a tired and worried voice, &quot;Would you give me a dollar to bury a priest?Coconut jumps up, pulls out his wallet, and hands her some money. &quot;Lady,&quot; he says, &quot;here are five dollars. Go out and bury five of them!&quot;...OSHO&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5597597907773002706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5597597907773002706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/old-priest-pooper-dies-and-leaves-only.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-8676600126702532049</id><published>2011-06-05T09:18:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-05T09:18:26.689+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Little Ernie was always saying things that got him into trouble. One day his mother was having a friend to lunch who was bringing her new baby who had no ears. Ernie&#39;s mother called him and said, &quot;Ernie, don&#39;t you say anything about the baby. In fact, don&#39;t even speak at all.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Okay,&quot; said Ernie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;The friend arrived with her baby. Ernie looked at him, took his hand, and said, &quot;What beautiful little hands he has.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Ernie,&quot; warned his mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;And what beautiful brown hair he has.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes,&quot; said the proud friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Has he got good eyesight?&quot; asked Ernie.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Ernie!&quot; yells his mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Why?&quot; asked the baby&#39;s mother.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Because,&quot; says Ernie, &quot;he will never be able to wear glasses.&quot;.......................OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/8676600126702532049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/8676600126702532049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/little-ernie-was-always-saying-things.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-5173148721956794390</id><published>2011-06-04T09:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-04T09:36:07.509+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Ronald Reagan goes to see Doctor Bones for a complete check-up. He is very depressed and says to Bones, &quot;Doctor, it&#39;s terrible, I get up in the morning and look in the mirror and I&#39;m just a mess!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Really?&quot; says Bones, raising his eyebrows, &quot;tell me about it.&quot;Yes, Doc,&quot; continues Reagan, &quot;I look in the mirror and my cheeks are sagging and I have blotches all over my face, my hair is falling out, and I look so ugly. What is it?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I have no idea what it is,&quot; replies Bones, &quot;but your eyesight is perfect!&quot; ........OSHO&lt;!-- #EndEditable --&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5173148721956794390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5173148721956794390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/ronald-reagan-goes-to-see-doctor-bones.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-1940556891064292219</id><published>2011-06-03T08:11:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-03T08:11:12.226+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;An Indian guru ran into a buxom blonde he had met casually at a bar a few nights before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Great seeing you again,&quot; he said, &quot;It just happens there is a groovy party happening tonight and I would like you to come. I won&#39;t take no for an answer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Where is it at?&quot; asked the pretty doll.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;At my ashram, baby, and it is gonna be a gas. Lots of music, dancing and love. And it could last all weekend.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Sounds good,&quot; said the girl eagerly. &quot;Who is gonna be there?&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Ah,&quot; said the guru, &quot;just you and me!&quot;....................OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/1940556891064292219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/1940556891064292219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/indian-guru-ran-into-buxom-blonde-he.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-34097792391353210</id><published>2011-06-02T10:04:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-02T10:44:55.713+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Once Mulla Nasruddin went to a doctor -- and doctors have learned the trick from the priests: they write in Latin and Greek, and they write in such a way that even if they have to read it again it is difficult. Nobody should understand what they are writing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;So Mulla Nasruddin went to a doctor and he said, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;Listen, be plain. Just tell me the facts. Don&#39;t use Latin and Greek.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;The doctor said, &quot;If you insist, and if you allow me to be frank, you are not ill at all. You are just plain lazy.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Nasruddin said, &quot;Okay, thank you. Now write it in Greek and Latin so I can show it to my family.&quot;...OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/34097792391353210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/34097792391353210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/once-mulla-nasruddin-went-to-doctor-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-3105752127481933629</id><published>2011-06-01T09:51:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-01T09:51:00.450+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Little Ernie&#39;s parents are horrified. Their four-year-old son is just learning to talk fluently, which is charming, but he uses the word `fucking&#39; in almost every sentence -- which is very impolite. They try every strategy to get him to stop, but nothing seems to work so they try bribery.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;They tell Ernie that he can go to Janet&#39;s birthday party if he stops swearing. His father has asked Janet&#39;s mom to send Ernie home at once if she hears the filthy, disgusting word. On Saturday at two-thirty Ernie sets off, but at three o&#39;clock he is back again in tears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;I told you not to use that disgusting word,&quot; his father cried.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I did not use the fucking word,&quot; shouts Ernie. &quot;The fucking party is not till next fucking Saturday.&quot;....OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/3105752127481933629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/3105752127481933629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/06/little-ernies-parents-are-horrified.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-4686336442237908870</id><published>2011-05-31T08:41:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-31T08:41:41.273+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Jack Jerk is watching as his wife, Jill, tries on her new &quot;Betty Boobs&quot; brand bra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;What the hell did you buy that thing for?&quot; asks Jack Jerk. &quot;You have nothing to put into it!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Cool it, Jack!&quot; snaps Jill. &quot;Do I complain about you wearing underpants?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4686336442237908870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/4686336442237908870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/jack-jerk-is-watching-as-his-wife-jill.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-5650466160013216089</id><published>2011-05-30T07:30:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-30T07:30:31.381+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Mulla Nasruddin and his wife were sitting on a park bench hidden behind a row of palms. Suddenly a young couple came on the other side of the palms. The young man immediately started to talk in a very romantic way, in a very poetic way. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mulla Nasruddin&#39;s wife became fidgety, uneasy. She said, whispered in Nasruddin&#39;s ear, &quot;It seems that young man is not aware that we are here, so you whistle to make them aware. And the young man seems so much in love that I feel that he is just about to propose.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Nasruddin said, &quot;Why should I whistle? Nobody ever made me alert, nobody whistled when I was proposing.&quot;..............................OSHO&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5650466160013216089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/5650466160013216089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/mulla-nasruddin-and-his-wife-were.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-2515166873481392797</id><published>2011-05-29T12:08:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-29T12:08:19.907+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;Little Ernie&#39;s parents are horrified. Their four-year-old son is just learning to talk fluently, which is charming, but he uses the word `fucking&#39; in almost every sentence -- which is very impolite. They try every strategy to get him to stop, but nothing seems to work so they try bribery.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;They tell Ernie that he can go to Janet&#39;s birthday party if he stops swearing. His father has asked Janet&#39;s mom to send Ernie home at once if she hears the filthy, disgusting word. On Saturday at two-thirty Ernie sets off, but at three o&#39;clock he is back again in tears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&quot;I told you not to use that disgusting word,&quot; his father cried.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I did not use the fucking word,&quot; shouts Ernie. &quot;The fucking party is not till next fucking Saturday.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
OSHO&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2515166873481392797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/2515166873481392797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-ernies-parents-are-horrified.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-289281253685839275.post-8047723532907694391</id><published>2011-05-28T09:28:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-28T09:28:09.747+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #999999;&quot;&gt;An unshaven, dirty, bedraggled panhandler, with bloodshot eyes and teeth half gone, asks Paddy for a dime.&quot;Do you drink, smoke, or gamble?&quot; asks Paddy.&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Mister,&quot; says the bum, &quot;I don&#39;t touch a drop, or smoke the filthy weed, or bother with evil gambling.&quot;&quot;Okay,&quot; says Paddy, &quot;if you will come home with me I will give you a dollar.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
As they enter the house, Maureen takes Paddy aside and hisses, &quot;How dare you bring that terrible looking specimen into our home!?&quot;Darling,&quot; says Paddy, &quot;I just wanted you to see what a man looks like who doesn&#39;t drink, doesn&#39;t smoke, and doesn&#39;t gamble.&quot;................... OSHO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/8047723532907694391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/289281253685839275/posts/default/8047723532907694391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justforlaughing.blogspot.com/2011/05/unshaven-dirty-bedraggled-panhandler.html' title=''/><author><name>Utsav</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13587348646085239695</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>