A man comes home from work early one afternoon, and to his surprise, finds his wife in bed with another man. To retain his honor he grabs two pistols from above the mantel and tells the man, “If you want my wife that much, you need to be willing to die for her. I challenge you to a duel.”
The other man accepts the challenge. They go into another room and close the door. Then the husband whispers to the other man:
“Actually, nobody needs to get hurt. Let’s shoot into the air, and pretend we’re both dead. We’ll see who my wife runs to first, and find out which one of us she loves more.”
So they both shoot into the air and lay down on the floor. The wife bursts into the room, sees the men lying on the floor, and shouts over her shoulder:
“Honey, you can come out now – they’re both dead!”
Once upon a time there was a young monk named Sam. He belonged to an order that was renowned for beautiful choral singing. They trained, hours every day, refining their voices and their art. Their song echoed down the mountainside, enriching the lives and souls of the townspeople below.
The order spoked regularly about an octave of rumored Magical Notes. Musicians had only theorized that these notes must exist, yet no one had ever reached one.
But Sam was particularly gifted, and on his 19th birthday, in mid-song, he hit upon a beautifully intricate note of pure magic. Everyone within miles just froze in mid action, stirred to the very core of their souls by the pure bliss of the tone. And they all realized, instantly, that Sam was the first person in history to hit one of the Magical Notes.
On Sam’s 20th birthday it happened again. This time no one in the town moved, spoke, or even blinked for several minutes after. As the golden sound finally tapered off and ceased, they knew that Sam had found the Second Note.
The next year on Sam’s 21st birthday, a pattern had emerged. This time all the townspeople were present, listening in awe as Sam hit the glorious Third Note. Words could not do justice to the experience. People cried out in pure joy as the sound grew to a glorious crescendo.
And on it went for the next few years, the Magical Notes growing sweeter and sweeter, year after year… that is until Sam’s 25th birthday. At first all seemed normal until Sam hit the next Magical Note. But this new sound was not beautiful; it was jarring and discordant. Sam was visibly uncomfortable, but doubled his resolve to get to the sweet part of the next Magical Note.
Suddenly, to the horror of all, Sam spontaneously combusted! The two closest monks on stage were burned by the flames coming off of his body, and he ignited the stage curtains. Soon the entire monastery was aflame. By a miracle everyone made it out, except for poor Sam.
The townsfolk were left staring at the burning monastery in sad, stunned disbelief. The mayor approached the lead monk. “What happened?” he asked.
The old monk shook his head sadly. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said.
“Sam sung Note 7.”
Hash Marx – The family stoner, along with Hi Marx
Stretch Marx – The tallest one in the family
Punctuation Marx – Script editor
Check Marx – He kept the books
Registration Marx – Civil rights advocate
Pock Marx – The dermatologist
Skid Marx – Suffered from incontinence
Water Marx – Had a similar problem
Chalk Marx- Homicide detective
Nose Marx – The dog of the family
Bench Marx – Never was put in the game
Ear Marx – Someone was always giving him money
Bite Marx – A bit of a perv
Deutsch Marx – Their German cousin
Den Marx – Their Scandinavian cousin
Hall Marx – He never forgot a birthday
X Marx – Who didn’t like to be put on the spot
Scuff Marx – Never polished his shoes
Book Marx – He liked to bet on the ponies
Re Marx – He wouldn’t shut up
Trade Marx – Very possessive about his inventions
Birth Marx – Easy to spot when sunbathing
Land Marx – Led the way on expeditions
Beauty Marx – The family transvestite
Pencil Marx – Worked as a police sketch artist
Onya Marx – Their little-known Olympian sister
Post Marx – He always delivered
Guy Marx-Khin – Tattoo artist who married into the family
This morning we discussed a grant proposal for the Indian Community Development Block Grant. The ICDBG.
I said, that sounds like something you’d say if you spotted Barry Gibb.
“I C D B G!”
A middle-aged woman seemed sheepish when she went to see her gynecologist. “Now, now,” the doctor told the woman. “I’ve been your doctor for years. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “This one is kind of strange.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” the doctor replied soothingly. “Please tell me.”
“Well, okay,” the woman began. “Yesterday morning I went to the bathroom, and I heard a sound, plink-plink-plink, in the bowl. I took a look, and the water was full of pennies.”
“I see,” said the doctor. “Go on.”
“That afternoon I went to the bathroom again, and plink-plink-plink, the water was full of nickels,” she continued. “Before bed I went again. And plink-plink-plink, the water was full of dimes.”
“Interesting,” said the doctor. “Anything else?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Just this morning I went again, and plink-plink-plink, the water was full of quarters! Doctor, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong! I’m scared out of my wits!”
The doctor put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “There, there,” he reassured her. “It’s nothing to be scared about…”
“You’re simply going through the change.”
“I love Canada. I’m very popular there, believe me. The people love me. They welcome me into their igloos. And we share glasses of maple syrup. It’s excellent. It’s the best. But, folks, they have a country full of foreigners right in the middle. They all speak French, you have no idea what they’re saying. Although I’m sure many of them are good people, I think they should build a wall around it, just until they know what the hell is going on. I look forward to meeting with their new President, Justin Bieber.”