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Pastimes : Laughter is the Best Medicine - Tell us a joke -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: The Rabbit who wrote (11499)	9/13/1999 3:20:00 PM
From: Feathered Propeller	Respond to of 62550

This guy walks into a bar and two steps in, he realizes it's a gay bar. "But,what the heck", he says, "I really want a drink." The gay bartender approaches, and with a smile asks, "What's the name of your penis?" The customer says, "Look, I'm not into any of that. All I want is a drink." The gay bartender says, "I'm sorry but I can't serve you until you tell me the name of your penis. Mine for instance is 'Nike', for the slogan 'Just Do It'. That guy down at the end of the bar calls his 'Snickers', because 'It really Satisfies'. The customer looks dumbfounded, so the bartender tells him he will give him a second to think it over. So the customer asks the man sitting to his left, who is sipping on a beer, "Hey bud, what's the name of your penis?" The man looks back and says with a smile, "Timex." The thirsty customer asks, "Why Timex?" The fella proudly replies, "Cause it takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin!" A little shaken, the customer turns to the fella on his right, who is sipping a fruity Margarita and says, "So, what do you call your penis?" The man turns to him and proudly exclaims, "Ford, because Quality is Job 1." Then he adds, "Have you driven a Ford lately?" Even more shaken, the customer has to think for a moment before he comes up with a name for his penis. Finally, he turns to the bartender and shouts, "The name of my penis is "Secret". Now give me a beer!" The bartender begins to pour the customer a beer, but with a puzzled look asks, "Why Secret?" The customer says, "Because it's STRONG ENOUGH FOR A MAN, BUT MADE FOR A WOMAN!"

To: The Rabbit who wrote (11499)	9/13/1999 5:08:00 PM
From: Wooly	Respond to of 62550

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands. With labored breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven: there, spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand, shakingly made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. "You stay out of those," she said, "They're for the funeral."