NobleWorks

A young attorney called his witness to the stand. She was a thin, frail, small and elderly woman.

“Miss Smith,” the attorney said. “Do you you know me?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Wang. I’ve known you since your family first moved here. I have to admit that you’ve been a huge disappoint to me. You lie, cheat on your wife, hurt people, manipulate girls and talk about people behind their backs,” Miss Smith said. “You think you’re going to be a big-shot lawyer, but we all know you’ll never amount to much. Yes, I know you, Mr. Wang.”

Shocked, the lawyer pointed across the courtroom.

“Do you know the defense attorney, Miss Smith?” Mr. Wang asked.

Miss Smith crinkled her nose.

“Yes, I know Mr. Banks. I watched him grown up to the man he is today. I used to babysit for his parents. Sadly, he has been a huge disappointment as well. He is stupid, racist, rude, fat and can’t keep a healthy relationship with a normal, young woman. His law practices is a joke. Yes, Mr. Wang, I know Mr. Banks,” Miss Smith said.

The judge quieted the whispers in the courtroom.

With a stern tone, the judge said, “If anyone asks if she knows me, you’ll both be sent to jail.”

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My name is Jennifer, and I was waiting in the office to talk to the new dentist.

I saw the diploma on his wall matched the name of a tall, handsome boy from my high school science class 10 years ago.

Is there a possibility that this was the same guy I had a crush on all those years ago?

When he walked into the office, I quickly laughed at my orginal thought.

In front of me was a balding, tired-looking man with graying hair that I thought was too old to be my classmate.

After he looked at my teeth, I asked if he had gone to school in Queens.

“Why, yes I did,” he said wistfully.

“What class were you?” I asked.

“Class of 2002. Why?” he asked.

“You were in my class!” I said.

He looked at me intently.

Then that ugly,

Stupid,

Old,

Gray-haired,

Potbelly,

Badly dressed,

Ugly,

Lazy mo’ fo asked,

“What did you teach?”

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A young, East Indian man walked into a Manhattan bank, and asked to talk to the loan officer.

“What do you need?” asked the loan officer.

“I want to take out a $4,000 loan because I am going to India for the next two weeks,” he said.

“Well, you’re not a member of this bank, so I don’t think that will be possible,” the loan officer said.

“What if I leave my Lamborghini as collateral?” asked the Indian man.

The loan officer talked to his manager, and then said it would be okay. They parked the car in the bank basement.

Two weeks later, the Indian man returned, and repaid the $4,000 loan, plus the $15 of interest he accrued in cash. He asked for his car keys and title back.

The manager wanted to see him.

“Sir, while you were gone, we did a little research on you, and found out you are a millionaire. Why would you take out a loan for $4,000?” the manager asked as he handed over the keys and paper.

“Where else in New York could I park a luxury car for $15 for 14 days and know it would be there when I got back?” the Indian man asked.

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OLD DANCERS never die, they merely step away.

OLD DAREDEVILS never die, they get discouraged.

OLD DEANS never die, they can’t keep their faculties.

OLD DENTISTS never die, they just lose their pull.

OLD DIETERS never die, they just waist away.

OLD DIVERS never die, they just flop.

OLD BANKERS never die, they just expire.

Luckily we have nothing to worry about!

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A man stands in a hot, Texas courtroom. The judge holds up the papers, and looks over to the man across from him.

“I have looked over your case very carefully. Your wife has been with you for a long time and is entitled to money,” the judge says.

The man nods, and then looks to his divorce attorney. His ex-wife is on the other side with her head down.

“I’ve decided to give your ex-wife $250 dollars a week,” the judge says.

“Wow,” the man says in disbelief.

“Wow?” the judge asks. “It’s the normal rate.”

“No, no. It’s more than fair. I’ll try to even kick in a little of my own money,” the man says.

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A man was driving around an old neighborhood in New Jersey when he saw a sign in front of house that said, “Talking Dog For Sale.”

He stopped the car, got out, rang the bell and asked to see the dog. The owner directed him to the backyard.

There was a normal-looking brown dog sitting on the porch.

“Can you talk?” he asked.

“Of course, ” the dog replied.

After the guy recovered from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he asked the dog what his life story was.

The dog looked up and said, “Well, I discovered I could talk when I was pretty young. I thought my talents could be best used at the FBI.

‘In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.’

‘I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running…’

‘But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals.’

‘I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I’m just retired.’

The guy was amazed. He went inside the house and inquired about the price of the dog.

“Ten dollars,” the owner said.

“Only ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him for that amount?” the man asked the owner.

“Because he’s a Bullshitter. He’s never been out of the yard,” the owner said.

Staaaay Happy! Happy Birthday!

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A female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time.

So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site.

She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.

“Pardon me, sir, I’m Rebecca Smith from CNN. What’s your name?

“Morris Feinberg,” he replied.

“Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?”

“For about 60 years.”

“60 years! That’s amazing! What do you pray for?”

“I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims.”

“I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop.”

“I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responsible adults and to love their fellow man.”

“I pray that politicians tell us the truth and put the interests of the people ahead of their own interests.”

“How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?”

“Like I’m talking to a fucking wall.”

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A priest was being honored at his retirement dinner after 25 years in the parish. A leading local politician and member of the congregation was chosen to make the presentation, and to give a little speech at the dinner.

However, he was delayed, and the priest decided to say his own few words while they waited:

I got my first impression of the parish from the first confession I heard here.  I thought I had been assigned to a terrible place.

The very first person who entered my confessional told me he had stolen a television set and, when questioned by the police, was able to lie his way out of it. He had stolen money from his parents, embezzled from his employer, had an affair with his boss’s wife; he had taken illegal drugs and gave a disease to his girlfriend.  I was appalled. But, as the days went on, I learned that my people were not all like that and I had, indeed, come to a fine parish full of good and loving people.

Just as the priest finished his talk, the politician arrived full of apologies at being late. He immediately began to make the presentation and gave his talk,

“I’ll never forget the first day our parish priest arrived, said the politician. In fact, I had the honor of being the first person to go to him for confession.”

Moral of the story: Never, never, ever be late…

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Saying Artie Mason was down on his luck was an understatement. His life began to sound like a bad country song. He was fired over being late because he couldn’t afford to fix his truck, which broke down and made him late. His wife ran off with his brother. His dog died. The final straw that broke the camel’s back was an eviction notice on the trailer he was renting.

He decided to rob the bank, but got there late (he had to walk), and the place was closed.

He decided to rob the grocery store. He headed over to the produce section. An older man was thumping a melon. Artie came up behind him and stuck his finger in the man’s back.

“Hand over your money!” Artie demanded.

The man handed him a crumpled up dollar.

“Are you kidding me?” Artie screamed, and choked the man to death.

Quickly, two employees ran to the produce section to stop him. They fought violently, and somehow, with each hand, Artie chocked them both.

It wasn’t long until the police came to take him away. The newspaper headline the next day read, “Arti Chokes Three For $1 At Local Supermarket.”

Happy birthday!

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I finally figured it out this morning. Everything is right in the world now.

It’s all because of the shampoo I use. It oozes down my entire body, and it clearly says on the label FOR EXTRA VOLUME AND BODY! No wonder why I have been gaining weight.

Don’t worry, I’ll never do something so dumb again. I got rid of the shampoo, and I will start using Dawn dish soap in the morning. The label says DISSOLVES FAT THAT IS OTHERWISE DIFFICULT TO REMOVE. My problem is solved!

If you don’t hear from me, I’ll be in the shower!

Life's a beach, and then you have another birthday.

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