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A stingy old lawyer who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness was determined to prove wrong the saying, “You can’t take it with you.”
After much thought and consideration, the old ambulance-chaser finally figured out how to take at least some of his money with him when he died. He instructed his wife to go to the bank and withdraw enough money to fill two pillow cases. He then directed her to take the bags of money to the attic and leave them directly above his bed so that when he died he could grab them on his way to heaven.
Several weeks after the funeral, the deceased lawyer’s wife, up in the attic cleaning, came upon the two forgotten pillow cases stuffed with cash.
“Oh, that darned old fool,” she exclaimed. “I knew he should have had me put the money in the basement.”
The bartender asks the guy sitting at the bar, “What’ll you have?” The guy answers, “A scotch, please.” The bartender hands him the drink, and says “That’ll be five dollars,” to which the guy replies, “What are you talking about? I don’t owe you anything for this.”
A lawyer, sitting nearby and overhearing the conversation, then says to the bartender, “You know, he’s got you there. In the original offer, which constitutes a binding contract upon acceptance, there was no stipulation of remuneration.”
The bartender was not impressed, but says to the guy, “Okay, you beat me for a drink. But don’t ever let me catch you in here again.”
The next day, same guy walks into the bar. Bartender says, “What the heck are you doing in here? I can’t believe you’ve got the audacity to come back!”
The guy says, “What are you talking about? I’ve never been in this place in my life!” The bartender replies, “I’m very sorry, but this is uncanny. You must have a double.”
To which the guy replies, “Thank you. Make it a scotch.”
A guy walks into a bar and orders a drink. After a few more he needs to go to the can. He doesn’t want anyone to steal his drink so he puts a sign on it saying, “I spat in this beer, do not drink!”. After a few minutes he returns and there is another sign next to his beer saying, “So did I!”
The phone rings and the lady of the house answers, ‘Hello.’
‘Mrs. Sanders, please.’
‘Mrs. Sanders, this is Doctor Jones at Saint Agnes Laboratory. When your husband’s doctor sent his biopsy to the lab last week, a biopsy from another Mr. Sanders arrived as well. We are now uncertain which one belongs to your husband. Frankly, either way the results are not too good.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mrs. Sanders asks nervously.
‘Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer’s and the other one tested positive for gonorrhea. We can’t tell which is which.’
‘That’s dreadful! Can you do the test again?’ questioned Mrs. Sanders.
‘Normally we can, but Medicare will only pay for these expensive tests one time.’
‘Well, what am I supposed to do now?’
‘The folks at Medicare recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town. If he finds his way home, don’t sleep with him.’
A wise old gentleman retired and purchased a modest home near a junior high school. He spent the first few weeks of his retirement in peace and contentment. Then a new school year began. The very next afternoon three young boys, full of youthful, after-school enthusiasm, came down his street, beating merrily on every trash can they encountered. The crashing percussion continued day after day, until finally the wise old man decided it was time to take some action.
The next afternoon, he walked out to meet the young percussionists as they banged their way down the street. Stopping them, he said, “You kids are a lot of fun. I like to see you express your exuberance like that. In fact, I used to do the same thing when I was your age. Will you do me a favor? I’ll give you each a dollar if you’ll promise to come around every day and do your thing.” The kids were elated and continued to do a bang-up job on the trashcans.
After a few days, the old-timer greeted the kids again, but this time he had a sad smile on his face. “This recession’s really putting a big dent in my income,” he told them. “From now on, I’ll only be able to pay you 50 cents to beat on the cans.”
The noisemakers were obviously displeased, but they accepted his offer and continued their afternoon ruckus. A few days later, the wily retiree approached them again as they drummed their way down the street.
“Look,” he said, “I haven’t received my Social Security check yet, so I’m not going to be able to give you more than 25 cents. Will that be okay?”
“A lousy quarter?” the drum leader exclaimed. “If you think we’re going to waste our time, beating these cans around for a quarter, you’re nuts! No way, mister. We quit!” And the old man enjoyed peace and serenity for the rest of his days.