The General Humor Thread

A farmer had three daughters, all young and very pretty. He guarded them with a shotgun.
Friday night came and he heard a knock at the door. The farmer answered with his gun. A young man in suit and tie stood there with flowers.
The farmer exclaimed “What do you want boy?"
The young man replied “ Hi, I'm Eddie, I'm here for Betty, we're going out for spaghetti, is she ready?"
The farmer laughed and said" You are a clever young man!"
Eddie replied” We rhyme. all the time!".
"Well come in, Betty will be ready to go soon."

A second knock at the door. The farmer again answers with his gun. Another well dressed man stood there with flowers.
The farmer exclaimed, “Young man what do you want? “
The young man sheepishly answered " Hello, my name is Joe I'm here for Flo, I would like to take her to a show, may she go?
The farmer laughed and said" you are a clever young man."
Joe said” We rhyme. all the time!"
"Come on in Flo will be ready to go real soon!"

A third knock at the door. The farmer again answers with his gun. Another well dressed man stood there with flowers. The farmer exclaimed, “Young man what do you want? “
The young man said“Hi my name's Chuck. “
The farmer shot him.
 
I think this story really applies to us oldies, especially when ask how we feel and the inquirer doesn't want to hear the entire story necessary to explain why we answer the way we do.

Farmer Brown believed his injuries from the accident were serious enough to take the trucking company to court. But the company’s slick, high-priced lawyer was ready to tear his case apart.

“Mr. Brown,” the lawyer said, straightening his designer tie, “is it true that at the scene of the accident, you told the responding officer, ‘I’m fine’?”

Farmer Brown scratched his head. “Well now, I was just about to load my favorite mule, Bessie, into—”
“I don’t need a story,” the lawyer interrupted sharply. “Just answer yes or no—did you or did you not say, ‘I’m fine’?”
Brown frowned. “Well, like I was saying, I was loading up Bessie, and we were headed down the—”
“Objection, Your Honor!” the lawyer huffed. “The witness is being evasive.”

But the judge, now curious, leaned forward. “Actually, I’d like to hear what he has to say about Bessie.”
Farmer Brown smiled. “Thank ya, Judge. Now, as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie into my trailer, and we were driving along when this big ol’ semi blew right through a stop sign and smashed into us. BOOM! My truck flipped, I flew one way, and poor Bessie went the other.”

He shook his head. “I was hurt bad—couldn’t even move—but I could hear Bessie moanin’ something awful. Next thing I know, a highway patrolman shows up. He walks over to Bessie, listens to her groanin’, shakes his head, pulls out his gun, and BANG! Puts her down right then and there.”

The courtroom gasped.

Farmer Brown continued, “Then, the patrolman walks over to me, still holding his gun, and says, ‘Your mule was in bad shape, so I had to put her down. Now… how are YOU feeling?’”

The jury erupted in laughter. The lawyer slumped in his seat, defeated. And Farmer Brown? Well, he walked out of that courtroom with a fat settlement—and a brand-new mule named Lucky.
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