<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:28:30.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jokes both juicy 'n' juvenile</title><subtitle type='html'>"May you find 
yourselves 
in these anecdotes!"</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-5891445908614780924</id><published>2008-05-01T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T23:45:49.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CONFESSION</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Old Zeb, the backwoods Virginia farmer, has been screwing one of his favorite pigs for years. Suddenly Zeb is hit by pangs of guilt and conscience that torture him so much he decides to go and tell the priest about it in confession. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Father Fungus is shocked and he really does not know how to handle this one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Well,"says the priest to Zeb, "tell me, is this pig male or female?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"She is a female, of course," snorts Zeb."What do you think I am --- some kind of a pervert?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-5891445908614780924?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5891445908614780924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=5891445908614780924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/5891445908614780924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/5891445908614780924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/05/confession.html' title='CONFESSION'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-3147990416679920116</id><published>2008-04-30T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T20:02:13.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE NAIVE MOTHER</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Pope the Polack is on a pilgrimage in Calcutta where he makes an official visit to Mother Theresa's orphanage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Mother  Theresa is showing him around, and the Polack is bending and kissing everything in sight. Suddenly, as he bends over to kiss Mother Theresa's pride and joy, the new church organ, the pope recoils in terror. There, stretched out across the top of the organ, is a big, black condom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Purple with rage, Pope the Polack demands an explanation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"Well," says the Mother, "one of my orphans found it in a package on the street, and when I read the label it said: 'Place on organ and feel secure.'"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-3147990416679920116?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/3147990416679920116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=3147990416679920116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/3147990416679920116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/3147990416679920116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/naive-mother.html' title='THE NAIVE MOTHER'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-7483838485002360239</id><published>2008-04-30T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T19:54:35.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE CANDID EATER</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Harold, Bill, and Gabby, three tired and hungry cowboys, are sitting around a campfire about to eat dinner. Jose, the cook, a grimy, stubble-faced huge Mexican guy, throws down the pot and holds up his gun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;"The first one of you jerks who makes a fuss about your supper gets trouble from me!" says Jose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;There is careful silence as the purple and green slop is served up, and the eating begins.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;"God!" shrieks Harold, gagging and turning blue."This stuff tastes like shit."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Then, immediately eying the big Mexican, Harold adds enthusiastically, "But good shit, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; good shit."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-7483838485002360239?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/7483838485002360239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=7483838485002360239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/7483838485002360239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/7483838485002360239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/candid-eater.html' title='THE CANDID EATER'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-2896161550571739676</id><published>2008-04-25T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T05:35:10.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CAN"T DO TWO THINGS AT A TIME</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Zabriski takes Gorgeous Gloria out on a date. They are sitting in a quiet corner of the pub, sipping martinis, when Zabriski leans over and whispers in Gloria's ear, "What would you say if I asked you to marry me?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;"Nothing," replies Gloria. "I can't talk and laugh at the same time!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-2896161550571739676?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/2896161550571739676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=2896161550571739676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2896161550571739676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2896161550571739676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/cant-do-two-things-at-time.html' title='CAN&quot;T DO TWO THINGS AT A TIME'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-1721510188568336697</id><published>2008-04-25T05:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T05:30:28.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE FAITHFUL DISCIPLE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Jablonski gets married, but does not know what to do with his bride on the wedding night. So the next day he goes to ask advice from Doctor Gasbag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"It's easy," says Gasbag, and takes Jablonski to the window. He points to two dogs screwing out in the street and says, "Youdo it just like that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;A week later, Jablonski comes back. "well,"asks the doctor,"how did it go?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"Great, doc," says Jablonski proudly. "It was simple, no big deal at all. The only problem was getting my wife out into the street."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-1721510188568336697?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1721510188568336697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=1721510188568336697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1721510188568336697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1721510188568336697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/faithful-disciple.html' title='THE FAITHFUL DISCIPLE'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-8181274829679446130</id><published>2008-04-25T05:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T05:23:18.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MISTAKEN IDENTITY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Nerdski is out of work so he goes up to Beverly Hills. He goes around from mansion to mansion, offering to do odd jobs. Finally, at one huge estate, Nerdski knocks on the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"Got any work you need doing?" he asks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"What can you do?" asks the owner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"I am a really good painter," replies Nerdski.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"Great!" says the man, handing him a can of green paint. "You can go round the back and paint the porch green. It's pretty big, so it will probably take you all day."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;But two hours later, Nerdski knocks again at the door. "I've finished that porch," he tells the owner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"Wow,' says the man. "That was really fast."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"No problem for me," says Nerdski proudly. "I'm a professional."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"Okay," says the man. "Here is the money."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;"Thanks,"says Nerdski and turns to leave. "By the way," he adds, "that's not a porch, it's a Ferrari!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-8181274829679446130?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8181274829679446130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=8181274829679446130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8181274829679446130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8181274829679446130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/nerdski-is-out-of-work-so-he-goes-up-to.html' title='MISTAKEN IDENTITY'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-7049245529129927299</id><published>2008-04-25T04:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T05:04:38.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHERE TO FIND THE TRENCH?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Dodoski&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Nerdski&lt;/span&gt; are sitting in the local jail charged with disturbing the peace and being drunk and disorderly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That afternoon, Sergeant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Crapski&lt;/span&gt; takes the boys to a big field to do some civic duty work while they serve their time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay," says the the cop. "Like I told you guys before, you can start digging that trench."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officer gives a shovel to each of them, points vaguely out at the ten-acre lot, and then walks away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Nerdski&lt;/span&gt; looks around for a while, then turning to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Dodoski&lt;/span&gt; says,"Dig &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what &lt;/span&gt;trench? I don't see any trench."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-7049245529129927299?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/7049245529129927299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=7049245529129927299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/7049245529129927299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/7049245529129927299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/where-to-find-trench.html' title='WHERE TO FIND THE TRENCH?'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-8727723123035413929</id><published>2008-04-24T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T23:34:00.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GENEROUS RESPONSE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;A man inserted an ad in the classifieds:"Wife Wanted". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The next day he received a hundred replies: "You can have mine."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-8727723123035413929?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8727723123035413929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=8727723123035413929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8727723123035413929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8727723123035413929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/generous-response.html' title='GENEROUS RESPONSE'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-7096225072928850360</id><published>2008-04-24T23:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T23:35:41.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BLIND LOVE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;After a quarrel, a wife said to her husband, "I was a fool when I married you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;The husband replied, " Yes, dear, but I was in love and didn't notice."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-7096225072928850360?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/7096225072928850360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=7096225072928850360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/7096225072928850360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/7096225072928850360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/blind-love.html' title='BLIND LOVE'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-2962810597660671955</id><published>2008-04-24T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T23:29:14.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE SYMBOLIC RING</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;At the cocktail party, one woman said to another, "Aren't you wearing your wedding ring on the wrong finger?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The other replied, "Yes, I am; I married the wrong man."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-2962810597660671955?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/2962810597660671955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=2962810597660671955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2962810597660671955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2962810597660671955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/symbolic-ring.html' title='THE SYMBOLIC RING'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-4553894139219923893</id><published>2008-04-24T01:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T23:36:14.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE RIGHT SOLUTION</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;A Jew asks his rabbi, "I have two problems. I have asked my boss for a raise a dozen times already, but he is determined to fire me at the end of the month."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;"And what is the other problem?" asks the rabbi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;"Ah, well, my wife does not get pregnant, although she stays home and prays all day."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;"You are doing it wrong," suggests the rabbi. "Next time you stay at home and pray and send your wife to ask the boss."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Three months later the happy Jew thanks the rabbi. "Your help has worked! The boss has rehired me and my wife is pregnant."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-4553894139219923893?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/4553894139219923893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=4553894139219923893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/4553894139219923893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/4553894139219923893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/right-solution.html' title='THE RIGHT SOLUTION'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-8232139924948981743</id><published>2008-04-24T00:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T01:00:06.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BIRDS OF THE SAME FEATHER</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;A man is standing at the bar and another guy walks up to him and says,"Are you Joe Smith?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The man says,"Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The guy says,"Were you in Chicago a few weeks ago?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Joe says,"Just a minute," and takes out his notebook, turns some pages, and then says,"Yes, I was in Chicago a few weeks ago."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The guy says," Were you in room two one three?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Joe looks in his notebook and says,"Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The guy says, "Did you meet Mrs. Wentworth in room two one four?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Joe looks in his notebook and says,"Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The guy says,"Tell me, did you make love to Mrs. Wentworth?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Joe scans his notebook again and says,"Yes, I made love to Mrs. Wentworth."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The guy says, "Well, I'm Mr. Wentworth and I don't like it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Again Joe looks in his notebook and says, "You know that's funny. I did not like it either."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-8232139924948981743?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8232139924948981743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=8232139924948981743' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8232139924948981743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8232139924948981743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/birds-of-same-feather.html' title='BIRDS OF THE SAME FEATHER'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-6461353961171632965</id><published>2008-04-23T06:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T07:01:10.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE INSIGHTFUL SON</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;It seems there was captain in the KGB, whose stupid son had great difficulty in understanding the concepts of the party, the motherland, the unions and the people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;The captain told the boy to think of his father as the party, his mother as the mother land, his grandmother as the union, and himself as the people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Still, the did not understand. In a rage the father locked the boy in the parental bedroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;That night the boy was still in the wardrobe when the father began making love to the mother. The boy, watching through the keyhole, said," Now I understand: the party rapes the motherland while the union sleeps and the people have to stand and suffer."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-6461353961171632965?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6461353961171632965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=6461353961171632965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6461353961171632965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6461353961171632965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/insightful-son.html' title='THE INSIGHTFUL SON'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-8656889474986213121</id><published>2008-04-23T06:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T06:51:29.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE BRAGGARTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;I have heard about two men, great friends, who have were talking to each other. One said," Boy, last night was the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I had gone fishing and caught such great fish that even to carry one alone,by myself, was so tiring: it was such a burden. The fish was so long you wouldn't believe it. And not one, I caught so many. The whole night I have been carrying them, just carrying them."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The second man said,"This is nothing, you don't know what happened to me last night. I dreamt that on my one side is Sophia Loren...in my bed, under my blanket. I said, 'My God!' because I looked at the other side and saw Marylin Monroe. It was such a juicy night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The first man who had been catching fish the whole night said," You idiot. Why did you not call me?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The second man said," I did call you, but your wife said you had gone fishing."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-8656889474986213121?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8656889474986213121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=8656889474986213121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8656889474986213121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/8656889474986213121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/braggarts.html' title='THE BRAGGARTS'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-1176826400849204574</id><published>2008-04-23T06:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T06:37:34.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE RUDE AWAKENING</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The pretty young thing came slamming into her apartment after a blind date and announced to her roommate,"Boy, what a character! I had to slap his face thrice this evening!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The roommate inquired eagerly,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;"What happened? What did he do?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;"Nothing," muttered the girl. "I slapped him to see if he was awake."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-1176826400849204574?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1176826400849204574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=1176826400849204574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1176826400849204574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1176826400849204574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/rude-awakening.html' title='THE RUDE AWAKENING'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-2272573858963048218</id><published>2008-04-23T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T06:33:23.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE PERFECT SOLUTION</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Two women in a train were engaged in an argument. At last, one of them called the conductor. "If this window is open," she said, "I will catch cold and probably will die."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;"If the window is shut," the other announced, "I shall suffocate."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;The two glared at each other. The conductor was at a loss, but he welcomed the words of a man who sat near.These were,"First, open the window; that will kill one. Next, shut it: that will kill the other.Then we can have peace."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-2272573858963048218?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/2272573858963048218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=2272573858963048218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2272573858963048218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2272573858963048218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/perfect-solution.html' title='THE PERFECT SOLUTION'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-6829606648580872405</id><published>2008-04-23T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T06:27:12.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE MAJORITY IS ALWAYS RIGHT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;A man had gone to picnic with his wife, and the wife stopped at a place near a pond with beautiful trees, and said," This seems to be the right spot."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;The man said,"Certainly. Fifty million mosquitoes cannot be wrong."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-6829606648580872405?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6829606648580872405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=6829606648580872405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6829606648580872405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6829606648580872405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/majority-is-always-right.html' title='THE MAJORITY IS ALWAYS RIGHT'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-4956456720912473467</id><published>2008-04-23T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T06:23:28.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE PURITAN</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;It was the first day of the new term at Princeton, and a black freshman was learning his way around the campus. Stopping a distinguished looking upper class man he inquired,"Say, can you tell me where the library is at?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;"My good fellow," came the reply, "at Princeton we do not end our sentences with a preposition."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;"All right," said the freshman, "can you tell me where the library is at, asshole?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-4956456720912473467?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/4956456720912473467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=4956456720912473467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/4956456720912473467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/4956456720912473467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/puritan.html' title='THE PURITAN'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-1139793144179062402</id><published>2008-04-23T04:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T04:22:35.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE NAG</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A little old Jewish lady sits down on a plane next to a big Norwegian. She keeps taring and staring at him. Finally she turns to him and says,"Pardon me, are you Jewish?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"No," he replies. A few minutes go by and she looks at him again and says," You can tell me- you are Jewish, aren't you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;He answers,"Definitely not."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;She keeps studying him, and says again, "I can tell you are Jewish!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;To get her to stop annoying him, the man says, "Okay, I am Jewish."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;She looks at him and shakes her head back and forth and says,"Really, you don't look it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-1139793144179062402?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1139793144179062402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=1139793144179062402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1139793144179062402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1139793144179062402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/nag.html' title='THE NAG'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-1105836328422629193</id><published>2008-04-23T04:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T04:14:04.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE OLD MAN WITH A DEAD WEAPON</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;I have heard that ninety-year-old Herbie, who tried to seduce a fifteen-year-old girl, was areested for assault with a dead weapon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-1105836328422629193?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1105836328422629193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=1105836328422629193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1105836328422629193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/1105836328422629193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/old-man-with-dead-weapon.html' title='THE OLD MAN WITH A DEAD WEAPON'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-2225803081414961353</id><published>2008-04-23T03:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T03:39:58.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE GOOD WOMAN</title><content type='html'>Artie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Finkelstein&lt;/span&gt; was advised by his doctor that he had a rare disease, and the only remedy was a daily glass of fresh mother's milk. Artie finally found a young lady who was willing to sell her milk, and Artie sat down and nursed on her breast. after about five minutes, the woman looked at him and breathlessly asked," Is there anything else you would like?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said Artie, "Er... maybe a cookie?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-2225803081414961353?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/2225803081414961353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=2225803081414961353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2225803081414961353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/2225803081414961353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/good-woman.html' title='THE GOOD WOMAN'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-6020757323976946444</id><published>2008-04-23T03:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T03:28:52.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE UNFAITHFUL</title><content type='html'>Ginsberg returned home from a trip abroad on business to find out that his wife had been unfaithful. Very upset, he interrogated his wife,&lt;br /&gt;"Was it that dung heap Goldberg?"&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;"Was it that pile of filth, Lewinsky?"&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;"Was it that swine, Morrie Levy?"&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;Finally Ginsberg exploded, "What's the matter with my friends? Not good enough for you?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-6020757323976946444?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6020757323976946444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=6020757323976946444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6020757323976946444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6020757323976946444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/unfaithful.html' title='THE UNFAITHFUL'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-5297970510134744744</id><published>2008-04-23T03:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T03:18:02.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A VASE FOR THE FLOWER</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Stella and &lt;/span&gt;Eunice&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt; are in the kitchen preparing vegetables and gossiping on a Friday night when &lt;/span&gt;Eunice&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt; looks out of the window. She sees her husband, Bernie, coming up the walkway with a bouquet of flowers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Eunice turns to Stella and says, "Oh, no! He's bringing flowers. That means the whole weekend I will be on my back with my legs up in the air."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Stella replies," What's the matter? Don't you have a vase?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-5297970510134744744?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5297970510134744744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=5297970510134744744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/5297970510134744744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/5297970510134744744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/vase-for-flower.html' title='A VASE FOR THE FLOWER'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-404798074935578484</id><published>2008-04-23T03:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T03:08:38.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE INCORRIGIBLE OPTIMIST</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Fifteen minutes after the Titanic sank, Morie and Louis find themselves on the same overturned raft. The water is freezing, sharks are cruising by, and the raft is slowly sinking. "Ah well, " said Louis, "it could have been worse."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;"Worse? How could it be worse?"screamed Morie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;"Well, we could have bought return tickets!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-404798074935578484?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/404798074935578484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=404798074935578484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/404798074935578484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/404798074935578484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/incorrigible-optimist.html' title='THE INCORRIGIBLE OPTIMIST'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-517200121537970658</id><published>2008-04-23T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T02:59:19.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE SUBJECTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Two white rats were chatting through the bars of their laboratory cages.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;"Tell me," said the first rat, "how are you getting along with Dr. Smith?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;"Just fine," replied the second. "It took a while, but I have finally got him trained. Now, whenever I ring the bell, he brings me my dinner."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-517200121537970658?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/517200121537970658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=517200121537970658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/517200121537970658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/517200121537970658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/subjects.html' title='THE SUBJECTS'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-5881564875892667333</id><published>2008-04-23T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T02:50:18.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE TIRED BISHOP</title><content type='html'>At a party an elderly bishop tired of social engagements sank wearily into a chair.&lt;br /&gt;His hostess rushed up suggesting that he have a cup of tea.&lt;br /&gt;"No tea," grunted the bishop.&lt;br /&gt;"Coffee?"&lt;br /&gt;"No coffee," was the solemn reply.&lt;br /&gt;"Scotch and water?"&lt;br /&gt;"No water."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-5881564875892667333?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5881564875892667333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=5881564875892667333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/5881564875892667333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/5881564875892667333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/tired-bishop.html' title='THE TIRED BISHOP'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-6133048824350565010</id><published>2008-04-23T02:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T02:33:34.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE DANGER OF WAITING</title><content type='html'>A woman was filling out an application form at the bank when she came to the space for age. She hesitated a long time. Finally, the clerk leaned over and said, " The longer you wait, the worse it gets."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-6133048824350565010?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6133048824350565010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=6133048824350565010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6133048824350565010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/6133048824350565010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/danger-of-waiting.html' title='THE DANGER OF WAITING'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2695076564633247230.post-3978487238462337076</id><published>2008-04-23T02:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T02:26:54.417-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE POWER OF FLATTERY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Two old men meet on a street corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;" Where have you been for the past eight eight weeks?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"In jail," says the second man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"In jail? How come?" says the first man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The second old man replies," Well, about eight weeks ago I was standing on a street corner and this beautiful young woman rushes up with a policeman and says, 'He is the man, officer. He is the one who attacked me.' And you know, I felt so flattered, I admitted it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2695076564633247230-3978487238462337076?l=jokechoke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/feeds/3978487238462337076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2695076564633247230&amp;postID=3978487238462337076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/3978487238462337076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2695076564633247230/posts/default/3978487238462337076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jokechoke.blogspot.com/2008/04/power-of-flattery.html' title='THE POWER OF FLATTERY'/><author><name>C. M. Rajan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
