Den of Iniquity

           Psych

Me: You have a troubled marriage.

Her: No.

Me: There's been a recent death in the family.

Her: No.

Me: You're having financial problems.

Her: Nope. You aren't really a psychic, are you?

Me: Aha! I knew you were going to say that!

* * * * *

Friend: What does that R on your cap stand for?

Me: Milwaukee.

Friend: Dude, I'm pretty sure Milwaukee starts with an M.

Me: Don't blame me if the people who made this cap don't know how to spell.

* * * * *

All I've ever wanted out of life is to find someone who would love me, and understand me, and give me 30 million dollars. I realize now how selfish and unrealistic I was. I'd settle for 3 million bucks and a limo.

* * * * *

Me: Forgive me, Father, for I have ginned.

Priest: Anything else?

Me: Let me see, . . . oh, I toniced as well. Is that a sin?

Priest: What kind of gin?

Me: Beefeater.

Priest: Now, that's a sin. What else?

Me: I really can't think of anything else.

Priest: Say two Hail Marys and leave a bottle of Tanqueray in the rectory. There's a little shelf behind the . . .

Me: Yeah, I know. Same place I found the Beefeater.

* * * * *

I love living in the South. Mild winters, friendly people, fried food that is to die for (and from). There are, however, areas that need improvement. For example, people in some remote rural areas still have to drive up to a quarter of a mile to reach the nearest church.

* * * * *

I once had a friend, Annie Jackson, who insisted that all our communication must be in the form of a limerick. She was pretty, so I gave it a try.

With amorous words soporific

Your work is, at least, quite prolific.

Although I ignore you,

You know I adore you,

But I cannot be more specific.

Your words I have read and reread.

Your eloquence soars over head.

Touche, Annie J,

What can I say?

I have no idea what you said.

I don't want to come out to play.

I must go now without delay.

You are a nice guy,

But this is goodbye.

I'm asking you, please go away.

You don't know how much you will miss me,

Or how off you sometimes can piss me.

But this is the end.

So long, my good friend.

Limericks suck, anyway.