Encyclopedia of Humor

The Reverend John Fuzz was a pastor of a small congregation in a little Pennsylvania town. One day he was walking down Main Street and he happened to notice a female member of his congregation sitting in the town bar, drinking beer. The reverend thought this was sinful and not something a member of his congregation should do. He walked through the open door of the bar and sat down next to the woman. “Mrs. Fitzgerald,” the reverend said sternly. “This is no place for a member of my congregation. Why don’t you let me take you home?”

“Sure,” she said with a slur, obviously very drunk. When Mrs. Fitzgerald stood up from the bar, she began to weave back and forth. The reverend realized that she had had too much to drink and he grabbed her arms to steady her. When he did, they both lost their balance and tumbled to the floor. After rolling around for a few seconds, the reverend wound up laying on top of Mrs. Fitzgerald, her skirt hiked up to her waist.

The bartender looked over the bar and said, “Here, here buddy, we won’t have any of that carrying around in this bar!”

The reverend looked up at the bartender and said, “But you don’t understand, I’m Pastor Fuzz.”

The bartender nodded and said, “Hell then, if you’re that far in, you might as well finish up.”

The Pope dies and, naturally, goes to heaven. He’s met by the reception committee, and after a whirlwind tour he is told that he can enjoy any of the myriad of recreations available.

He decides that he wants to read all of the ancient original text of the Holy Scriptures, so he spends the next eon or so learning languages. After becoming a linguistic master, he sits down in the library and begins to pour over every version of the Bible, working back from most recent “Easy Reading” to the original script.

All of a sudden there is a scream in the library. The Angels come running in only to find the Pope huddled in his chair, crying to himself and muttering, “An ‘R’! The scribes left out the ‘R’.” A particularly concerned Angel takes him aside, offering comfort, asks him what the problem is and what does he mean.

After collecting his wits, the Pope sobs again, “It’s the letter ‘R’. They left out the ‘R’. The word was supposed to be CELEBRATE!”

There was this preacher who was an avid golfer. Every chance he could get, he could be found on the golf course swinging away. It was an obsession. One Sunday was a picture perfect day for golfing. The sun was out, no clouds in the sky, and the temperature was just right.

The preacher was in a quandary as to what to do, and shortly, the urge to play golf overcame him. He called an assistant to tell him that he was sick and could not do church, packed the car up, and drove three hours to a golf course where no one would recognize him. Happily, he began to play the course.

An angel up above was watching the preacher and was quite perturbed. He went to God and said, “Look at the preacher. He should be punished for what he is doing.”

God nodded in agreement. The preacher teed up on the first hole. He swung at the ball, and it sailed effortlessly through the air and landed right in the cup three hundred and fifty yards away. A picture perfect hole-in-one. He was amazed and excited.

The angel was a little shocked. He turned to God and said, “Begging Your pardon, but I thought you were going to punish him?”

God smiled. “Think about it — who can he tell?”

A pious man, who had reached the age of 105, suddenly stopped going to synagogue. Alarmed by the old fellow’s absence after so many years of faithful attendance, the Rabbi went to see him. He found him in excellent health, so the Rabbi asked, “How come after all these years we don’t see you at services anymore?”

The old man lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you, Rabbi,” he whispered. “When I got to be 90, I expected God to take me any day. But then I got to be 95, then 100, then 105. So, I figured that God is very busy and must’ve forgotten about me, and I don’t want to remind Him!”

Two nuns, Sister Marilyn and Sister Helen, are traveling through Europe in their car. They get to Transylvania and are stopped at a traffic light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny little Dracula jumps onto the hood of the car and hisses through the windshield.

“Quick, quick!” shouts Sister Marilyn. “What shall we do?”

“Turn the windshield wipers on. That will get rid of the abomination,” says Sister Helen.

Sister Marilyn switches them on, knocking Dracula about, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns.

“What shall I do now?” she shouts.

“Switch on the windshield washer. I filled it up with Holy Water at the Vatican,” says Sister Helen.

Sister Marilyn turns on the windshield washer. Dracula screams as the water burns his skin, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns.

“Now what?” shouts Sister Marilyn.

“Show him your cross,” says Sister Helen.

“Now you’re talking,” says Sister Marilyn. She opens the window and shouts, “Get the f*** off our car!”