*¿*<------The Grand Pooh-Bah of Humour Presents------>*¿*

<---------------------PHWeekly Joke Ezine!--------------------->
<-------The Little Sister Of Purehumour Joke Ezine------>

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Due to some terrible time problems...I am presenting a rerun of the
#50 issue of PHWeekly.  This issue is 100% ad-free.

Please don't forget to check out our new website and find all those
wasted websites that no one should see:
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Today's issue includes contributions by: Nevanish, Anni,
Rubin, Juli, SunAmy, Di Ann, Jamie, Pat, John.

If you want to see your name here...send your jokes to:
<a href=" mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]

Lets start with a quickie:

What is it when a man talks nasty to a woman?

Sexual harassment.

<*¿*--------------------------TOON TIME------------------------------*¿*>

How you put this thing together?
<a href=" http://www.Fun-lists.com/cgi-bin/g.cgi?386.12.680
">How you put

this thing together?</a>


Most women prefer sex with the lights off because they
can't bear to see a man enjoying himself.

Men like the lights on - so they can get the woman's name right.

That explains why bisexuals prefer sex under strobe lights.



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Five cannibals get appointed as engineers in a defense company.

During the welcoming ceremony the boss says, "You're all part of our
team now. You can earn good money here, and you can go to the
cafeteria for something to eat. So please don't trouble any of the
other employees".

The cannibals promised.

Four weeks later the boss returns and says, "You're all working very
hard, and I'm very satisfied with all of you.

However, one of our janitors has disappeared. Do any of you know
what happened to him?"

The cannibals all shake their heads no.

After the boss has left, the leader of the cannibals says to the
others, "Which of you idiots ate the janitor?"

A hand raises hesitantly, to which the leader of the cannibals
replies, "You fool! For four weeks we've been eating Team Leaders,
Supervisors and Project Managers and no one noticed anything, and YOU
had to go and eat the janitor!"

<*¿*-----------------------QUICK QUOTE----------------------------*¿*>

"It's not me who can't keep a secret it's the people I tell that
-Abe Lincoln

<*¿*--------------------------TOON TIME------------------------------*¿*>

3 Wishes...
<a href=" http://www.Fun-lists.com/cgi-bin/g.cgi?386.12.681



A mechanic was removing a cylinder head from the motor of a Harley, when he
spotted a world-famous heart surgeon in his shop. The heart surgeon was
waiting for the service manager to come take a look at his bike. The
mechanic shouted across the garage, "Hey Doc can I ask you a question?"

The famous surgeon, a bit surprised, walked over to the mechanic working on
the motorcycle.

The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a rag and asked, "So Doc,
look at this engine. I also can open hearts, take valves out, fix'em, put
in new parts and when I finish this will work just like a new one. So how
come I get a pittance and you get the really big money, when you and I are
doing basically the same work?"

The surgeon paused, smiled and leaned over, and whispered to the
mechanic..... "Try doing it with the engine running!


I was nervous the night my husband and I brought our three young sons to
an upscale restaurant for the first time. My husband ordered a bottle
of wine with the meal. When the waitress brought it, our children
became quiet as she began the ritual uncorking. She poured a small
amount for me to taste, and then our six-year-old piped up, "Mom
usually drinks a lot more than that!"


Three cellmates in a Cuban jail compared notes. "I was
jailed for coming to work late." mourned the first. "They
said I was trying to upset the productivity quota."

"Me? I came to work early." said the second. "They
said this proved I was a Capitalist spy."

"And I am here for always getting to work on time." added
the third. "They said this proved I had an American watch."

<*¿*--------------FROM THE BATHROOM WALL -------------*¿*>

Be wary of strong drink. It can make you shoot
at ex-lovers, and miss.


Morris Epstein Was Taking An Oral Exam Applying for his US Citizenship

He Was Asked To Spell "Cultivate" .... He Spelled It Correctly.

He Was Then Asked To Use The Word In A Sentence.

He Brightened Up And Said, "Last Vinter On A Very Cold Day, I Vas
Vaiting For A Bus, But It Vas Too Cultivate, So I Took The Subvay Home."

Morris passed !

<*¿*--------------------------TOON TIME------------------------------*¿*>

Booger Board...
<a href=" http://www.Fun-lists.com/cgi-bin/g.cgi?386.12.682



<A Classic!>

An Italian, an Irishman and a Polish man, all first time fathers,
are pacing nervously in a maternity ward waiting room when a nurse
rushes out of the delivery room holding up a new black newborn.

"Yours?" she asked the Italian man, who immediately curses her out
in Italian and says "No! notta my kid!"

"Yours?" The nurse asks the Irishman, who answers "It bloody well
not be!"

OK then it must be yours", she informs the Pole, who sheepishly looks
at the ground and mumbles "It must be, my wife burns everything!"

<*¿*--------------------IT'S NOT PUNNY!------------------------------*¿*>

There were two trees growing in the forest, a beech and
a birch. A new sapling had started to grow between them.

The beech asked the birch, "Is that yours or mine?"

The birch said, "I don't know, but I know how to find
out." The birch asked a woodpecker sitting in its branches
if it would check.

The woodpecker flew down to the sapling and proceeded to
peck on it to find out what kind of tree it was.

When the bird flew back into the birch tree's branches, it
said, "Well, it's not the son of a beech or the son of a
birch, but it is the finest piece of ash I've ever sunk
my pecker into."


Ten Tips for Ski Season

This is to remind you skiers how to prepare for the ski season and to
remind non-skiers why we have the sense NOT to ski.

10. Visit your local butcher and pay $35 to sit in the walk-in freezer
for half an hour. Afterwards, burn two $100 dollar bills to warm up.
9. Go to the nearest hockey rink and walk across the ice 20 times in
your ski boots carrying two pairs of skis, accessory bag and poles.
Pretend you are looking for your car.
8. For ski boot simulation at home, put a pebble in your street shoes
and tighten a C-clamp around your toes.
7. Buy an expensive pair of gloves and immediately throw one away.
6. Go to McDonald's and insist on paying $6.50 for a hamburger. Be
sure to wait in the longest line.
5. Clip a lift ticket to the zipper of your jacket and ride a
motorcycle fast enough to make the ticket lacerate your face.
4. Drive slowly for five hours - anywhere - as long as it's in a
snowstorm and you're following an 18-wheeler.
3. Fill a blender with ice, hit the pulse button and let the spray
blast your face. You'd almost believe you're skiing in front of a
2. Dress up in as many clothes as you can and then proceed to take
them off because you have to go to the bathroom.
1. Repeat all of the above every weekend.


Right after breakfast, Caesar is walking to the Forum, and he meets Brutus

Brutus says, "Good morning, Caesar."

Caesar says, "Good morning, Brutus."

Brutus asks, "Have you had breakfast yet?"

Caesar answers, "Yes, I have."

Brutus then asks,"What did you have?"

Caesar answers, "Oh, I had some eggs."

Brutus asks, "How many?"

Caesar replies, "Et two, Brutus."

And that's when he got it!

<*¿*--------------------------TOON TIME------------------------------*¿*>

Fart echo...
<a href=" http://www.Fun-lists.com/cgi-bin/g.cgi?386.12.683


<*¿*-------------------------WEIRD NEWS---------------------------*¿*>

A judge has ordered a man who attacked Cookie Monster
at a theme park to attend anger management classes.

The woman wearing the monster costume was injured
during the attack at Sesame Place park in Pennsylvania.

Lee P McPhatter from Waldorf, Maryland, was also put on
a year's probation for the assault.

Witnesses, including an employee dressed as Grover,
positively identified the 22-year-old as the monster's

Bucks County Judge Rea Boylan Thomas described the
assault as an "unfortunate situation that got out of hand."

Jennie McNelis, who was wearing the furry, blue monster's
outfit, suffered bruises and a strained neck.

Witnesses said McPhatter punched Ms McNelis through the
mouth of the costume, then kicked her in the ribs and
legs when she fell to the ground.

Police said McPhatter attacked the monster after his
three-year-old daughter was pushed while she trying to
get her photo taken.

McPhatter denied the charge. He said he nudged Ms McNelis
after she'd pushed his daughter and threw a paw at his

After the verdict, Ms Mcnellis told the Bucks County
Courier Times: "People who know me know I love my work
with kids. The most horrible part of this was having
someone accuse me of doing that to a child. I would never
do something like that."

Weird News is a daily feature of Purehumour...it contains
a previously published News Report.  If you find an article
that you wish to see here..please send the article, name of
the publication and date to:
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IF you like Weird News...subscribe to my weekly ezine of
Weird News Weekly:
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A young camper at summer camp asked the chaplain if "hard on" was

The chaplain replies, "What in heaven's name are you writing home about!"

The young boy says, "I'm telling Mom and Dad about the project we worked so
'hard on'."


A priest and a rabbi are having a few drinks together.

The priest turns to the rabbi and says, "Hey rabbi, let's go find a couple
of alter boys and screw em!".

To which the rabbi replies, with his hands spread out, "Outta what?"

<*¿*--------------------------TOON TIME------------------------------*¿*>

Shall we retire??
<a href=" http://www.Fun-lists.com/cgi-bin/g.cgi?386.12.684
">Shall we



The man told his doctor that he wasn't able to do all the things around
the house that he used to do. When the examination was complete, he
said, "Now, Doc, I can take it. Tell me in plain English what is wrong
with me."

"Well, in plain English," the doctor replied, "you're just lazy."

"Okay," said the man. "Now give me the medical term so I can tell my


What is it when a woman talks nasty to a man?

$3.99 a minute.


Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz....
By Todd A. Sponsler, MD

During a church retreat on cold and snowy day in March, I had the
opportunity to go spelunking.  That means climbing in a cave, for those of
you who were wondering what bodily function that entailed.

We are requested to change into clothes that we wouldn't mind dispensing
with at some near point in the future.  In the cave, they may get dirty
(imagine that) and torn.  (Some grizzly might try to rip them off our
half-dead bodies, like a monkey peeling a banana.)  For extra measure, they
hand out paper coveralls that zip up in the front and hard hats for
everyone to wear.

So I put on these paper mechanics overalls.  There are only about six of us
who are still alive or demented enough to consider spelunking on this fine
night.  As we stand around dazed in our paper sacks, they pass around a
roll of duct tape, so that we can attach our flashlights to the hard
hats.  (Red Green would have been proud of us.)

We also put duct tape around our ankles and wrists.  I don't know exactly
why we did this, aside from the fact that someone started it, and the rest
of us were too shy to ask why, and too worried about peer pressure not to
follow suit.  It might be to keep cave dwellers from crawling inside these
amazingly stylish outfits.

We leave the comfort of a smoking log for the chilly crispness of a dark,
March night in Pennsylvania.  The stars are out and shining brightly.  I
can't help but think I will never see them again.  You think odd things
when you're facing certain death.

Did I remember my wallet?  I suppose it doesn't matter anyway.  I'm not
sure I would have been able to unzip my baggie and get to it anyway.  I
think I duct taped my wrists to my helmet.  I'm not sure where the
flashlight ended up, but when I got on the van to travel to the cave, it
was not comfortable sitting down.

We disembarked near a farmhouse.  This must have been some spectacle.  The
group of us in our white paper outfits, flashlights duct taped to our
helmets, trudging through some cow field.  I felt like an alien in some
low-budget horror movie.

I quickly discover that there is a down side to being tightly wrapped in a
paper bag.  The camp food wasn't agreeing with me (and I think my spleen
and my colon were having some sort of a dispute as well,) and as I tried to
avoid stepping on any cow paddies, I cut loose a fart that reverberated
through the night.

The guy next to me asks, "what was that?"

His eyes dart around in the dim light, momentarily falling on me.

I stop and look around, playing up the part.

I shrug my shoulder. "Must be some wild animal or something," I lie.

He looks around again.

"Sounds pretty nasty whatever it is."

You should smell it too.  Fortunately for him, this glad bag I'm duct taped
into held the gaseous explosion intact.  I think my back end actually
puffed out a little after it happened.  If I fart again, I'm going to look
like the Michelin tire man.  The odor is now slowly making it's way up to
the only open aperture at my neck.  Curse this duct tape.

"We better catch up. We don't want to lose the rest of the group."

Yes, God forbid we miss the caving expedition.

He starts heading further into the night, after the others.

I, on the other hand, am getting a little woozy from the fart.  More of it
is working its way up to my head.  I stagger after him, knowing that if I
keel over, they likely won't find me until morning.  I pass by a cow,
standing quietly next to a tree.  As I walk by, the animal must have caught
a whiff of my aroma.  I'm no sooner past him, when I hear this thud.  I
look back, and the cow has fallen over on its side.

I would really be embarrassed if the others were to catch a hint of this,
and I would be even more distraught to be responsible for injuring another
of my fellow man, so as I stumble along behind them (and fortunately
downwind) I pat my paper clothes trying to force out the noxious vapors as
rapidly as possible.  I stop behind a tree and pick up a stick.  I poke it
through the side of my coveralls by my thigh, and try to milk more of the
air out through the hole.

By the time I catch up, I'm nearly dead from the fumes, but I think the
aroma has passed.  I'm not sure, since I don't think I'll be able to smell
anything for a month.  My nose hairs are singed and falling out.  And now I
have a draft down below.

The others have already slid down into a gully or ravine or gulch or some
kind of sinister looking sinkhole.  At the bottom, is the entrance to the cave.

Now I have been in several caves in my lifetime.  Some were quite
fascinating.  I distinctly remember walking upright into each and every one
of them, usually through a nicely decorated entrance.  In one, I actually
got to ride in a nice little boat.  I am pretty sure I never had to get
down on the ground on all fours and crawl between a couple of rocks.  The
need for the paper overalls was becoming alarmingly clear.  And I thought
they were just a strange fashion statement.

I looked up at the sky, and prayed.  I have never prayed so much in one day
in my whole life.  With that, I crouch down on all fours, bang my rear end
against the rock to turn my flashlight on, and crawl into this animal lair
between the rocks.

It's dark inside the cave.  (I distinctly remember there being electric
wiring and light bulbs in those other caves.  This is indeed the low budget

After slithering and sliding through crevices almost too small to pass a
finger through, we finally get to a place where the cave opens up.  We are
helped by the plethora of mud and running water that not only lubricates
our tired, scraped, and banged up bodies, but also adds to the pleasant
ambience of the expedition.

Okay, so 'opens up' is not exactly the right term for this.  The narrow
crevice gets a little less narrow.  You still can't stand up without
banging your helmet into a rock or stalactite.

Our leader asks that we turn off our lights, so as to experience the total
darkness of this hell hole we have climbed down into.  I sit down to douse
my light.

In the silent darkness, I don't know, maybe ten miles beneath the earth's
surface, it's a strange and eerie sensation.  It is deathly quiet—like a
tomb.  Well, we are underground so it's exactly like a tomb.

The guy next to me whispers, "do you smell something?"

It's dark, and my nose hairs are singed and gone.

"Yea, I think I saw a dead bat back there."

"It must be really rotten."

I nod my head to agree, but he can't see me in the dark anyhow.

It is silent again. You can hear the water trickling. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Peaceful. Quiet. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I come to a realization.  A revelation.  Here, below the earth's surface,
far away from the amenities of a cultured civilization. . .

I have to pee.

Sometimes, you start to notice the feeling, and then, over a period of
time, it becomes stronger and stronger.  But sometimes, it just hits you
all of a sudden.  It's like your kidneys decide to dump everything they
have all at once, and your bladder suddenly expands to twice its size.

My kidneys have dumped.  It's made all that more uncomfortable by the
darned flashlight.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

About an hour later (it may have only been five or ten minutes) our leader
announces that we should head back up to the surface.  Praise be to God,
again and again.

I quickly volunteer to bring up the rear, and make sure everyone gets
out.  As soon as the last flashlight dims in the tunnel up ahead, I set
about the task of figuring out how to get into my pants.  This is not such
an easy task.

My gloves are duct taped to my paper sleeves.  (One of my hands is still
stuck to my helmet, I think.  It's hard to tell since I'm kind of contorted
so that I can fit through the tunnel.)  With my gloves on, I can't manage
to unzip the zipper on the coveralls.  I spend several minutes trying anyway.

"Hey, are you coming?"

"Right behind you," I lie.

Fumble, fumble, fumble.  It is really bad now.  I am pretty sure that I am
going to pee myself, and I know that my bladder has swollen too much to
allow me to get through some of the tight spots up ahead.

I work my finger into the stick hole and rip the paper around in front of
myself.  Aha!  I am a college graduate after all.

Another zipper!

Several thoughts—which are totally inappropriate for a church retreat—race
through my mind.

Muffled voices. . ."I don't know if he's back there or not."

Muffled sounds. "Do you want me to check?"

"I'm fine," I call out. "I'm just checking out some rock formations."

I grasp the duct tape on my gloved hand in my teeth and pull.  I succeed in
attaching my other hand to my face.  I try to spit out the tape, but it's
stuck between my teeth.

All right. Just calm down and think.

Think, think, think.

I can't think because I have to pee so badly that I can almost taste it.

"Do you need any help?"

Yes, but it's not something I really feel comfortable asking another man to
do.  Some things you just have to do for yourself.  Instead I say, "No, I'm

My voice is cracking with the pain, but I think I fooled them.  I start
crawling up the tunnel, hoping to free up one or the other of my hands.  I
do what any normal, intelligent, God-fearing, reasonably insane man would
do: I throw a fit.  I thrash this way and that, banging into rocks.  Duct
tape and paper shreds are flying everywhere.  It is actually quite warm
down in the cave, compared to what awaits us up at the surface.  But now, I
am working up quite a sweat.

I'm not sure where my flashlight is shining anymore, but I'm having trouble
seeing up ahead.  I soon realize, I have duct tape stretched across my
eyes.  I manage to pull it off.  Now, in addition to no nose hair, I've
lost my eyebrows.

I struggle once more, ferociously.  I figure if I could only pull my pants
down far enough, then I could go.  So I'm kicking and tearing and pulling,
and praying.  And in the end, I have succeeded in:

             1.  Almost entirely removing my paper overalls,
             2.  Tearing the seam of my jeans,
             3.  Losing my flashlight completely (I only hope it's
somewhere in the cave,)
             4.  Not being able to remove my gloves, and
             5.  No longer requiring the restroom facilities.

I climb back to the surface, humbled and awed by the power of the dark side.

"What happened to you?" our leader asks.

I look down at my shredded outfit.  Fortunately the mud and water
adequately disguise any trace that I had a urinary retention problem.

I shrug my shoulders. "I got stuck in there, but God pulled me through it."

"Amen, brother."

© 2001 by Todd A. Sponsler, MD


When Todd A. Sponsler isn't busy writing illegible prescriptions, he passes
the time composting (er, composing) a humor column at his website:
www.geocities.com/psulionsden, the most unofficial site for Penn State
Football, and THE SITE for humor dispensed in nearly fatal doses. He
believes that laughter is the best medicine, but hasn't figured out how to
bill Medicare for it yet. You can also reach him at [EMAIL PROTECTED]

Your article length submissions are welcome...send your
humourous submissions of between 300 and 500 words to:
<a href=" mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]

Editorial comments expressed here are copyright the writer and
may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the expressed
written consent of the writer and also the editor of Purehumour.

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