The little church in the suburbs suddenly stopped buying from its regular office supply dealer. So, the dealer telephoned Deacon Brown to ask why. "I'll tell you why," shouted Deacon Brown. "Our church ordered some pencils from you to be used in the pews for visitors to register." "Well, interrupted the dealer, "didn't you receive them yet?" "Oh, we received them all right," replied Deacon Brown. "However, you sent us some golf pencils...each stamped with the words, 'Play Golf Next Sunday.'"
Chris was a very avid golfer who had played at each and every course in the country. One day while teeing off, he collapsed from a heart attack and found himself standing in front of the Pearly Gates.
St Peter said that though he wasn't a bad person, he also did his share of un-heavenly things, and so he was being given a choice of where to go.
So Chris took the tour of all of Heaven's mansions and flowing wine, etc., etc.
Then he was taken down to Hell where the devil himself took some time out to show him around.
While on tour, Chris saw the best course he'd ever seen. Small streams, beautiful sand traps, rolling greens. Unlimited access to the course, his own cart, finest golf clubs, and golden tees. Chris was astounded and informed St. Peter that he would making his eternal home Hell.
Chris immediately sets off for the first tee, looks around for a ball to begin his first nine hole. When he couldn't find one he turned to Satan and asked where are the golfballs?
The devil replied, "*That's* the hell of it."
Two men met for the first time while playing golf and decided to carry on playing there round together. Early on in their conversation they brought up the subject of their respective occupations.
First Man : I'm a car salesman.
Second Man: Well my job is quite secretive, you see, I'm a hit man.
First Man : No shit!!
Second Man: No it's true. Look I'll show you. I have golf clubs that can be assembled into a high powered rifle.
So the hit man takes his golf clubs and in minutes has assembled a high powered rifle complete with telescopic sights. He hands it to the other man who starts looking through the sights and after a few minutes realises he can see his own house with the telescopic sights.
First Man : Shit!! My wife is sun bathing naked in the back yard.... What's this?!! The neighbour is jumping over the fence and he's naked too!... How much do you charge for a hit?
Second Man: $5000 a pop.
First Man : Alright. Shoot them both and I'll pay you the 10 grand.
Second Man: Okay. Where abouts do you want them shot?
First Man : Well let me see.... Shoot the wife in the mouth, the moaning bitch.... and shoot the neighbour in the balls, the randy bastard.
So the hit man lines up his gun and takes aim. After a few minutes the hit man still hasn't fired.
First Man : What's taking you so long?
Second Man: If you wait a minute I might be able to save you $5000!
This has to be one of the best engines for your internet searches
Recommended by Budster
How clever of you to highlight this text just to see what it says!! Now that you have taken the time and trouble to do this, hear what I have to say: ... I would have to guess that the internet has been around so long that folks just don't pay attention to guestbooks anymore. For instance, my guest book rarely gets an entry, and i know by the stat folks and counters and all that other fancy web stuff that there a lot of visitors to my pages, and that i give them an opportunity to sign my guest book on almost every page, but do they? NO, so, what about you? You've taken the time to read this small print, take a little more time to sign my book. TIA
Can't get to my guestbook? Send me an e-mail by touching my frog
Main Page |
Corvette Page |
Harley Page |
JG Design Services |