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For some time many of us have wondered just who is Jack Schitt?
We find ourselves at a loss when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt!'
Well, thanks to my genealogy efforts, you can now respond in an intellectual way.

Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, married O. Schitt, the owner of Needeep N. Schitt, Inc.
They had one son, Jack.

In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt.
The deeply religious couple produced six children:
Holie Schitt, Giva Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt.

Against her parents' objections, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school dropout.
After being married 15 years, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced.
Noe Schitt later married Ted Sherlock, and because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name.
She was then known as Noe Schitt Sherlock.

Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt, and they produced a son with a rather nervous disposition named Chicken Schitt.
Two of the other six children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt,
were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony.
The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens nuptials.
The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd and Horse.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world.
He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.

Now when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt,' you can correct them.

Sincerely,
Crock O. Schitt....
 
Bill Gates has passed away


St. Peter says, "Now Bill, you have done some good things, and you have done some bad things. Now I am going to let you decide where you want to go".

First, St. Peter shows Bill an image of Hell with beautiful women running on beaches. Then, St Peter shows Bill an image of Heaven with robed angels playing harps on clouds.

Bill chooses Hell.

About a week later, St. Peter checks in on Bill in Hell and finds him being whipped by demons.

Bill says to St. Peter, "What happened to all the beautiful women and the beaches?"

St. Peter replies, "That was just the screen saver."
 
.....

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An old man was sick in the hospital. There was one nurse that just drove him crazy. Every time she walked into his room she would talk to him like he was a child, "And how are we doing today? Are we hungry? Did we eat all of our lunch? Are we ready for a bath?" He had had enough of this particular nurse.

One day, he took the container of apple juice off of his tray and hid it under his pillow. Later in the day he was given a bottle to fill with urine to send to the lab for testing. He filled the bottle with the apple juice and handed it to the nurse. She took one look at it and said, "My, it looks like we are a little bit cloudy today". At which point he grabbed it out of her hand and drank it down quickly replying, "Well, I'll run it through one more time. Maybe I can filter it better this time." The nurse fainted.
 
I was reading in the celebrity obituary column.
It said the Guinness Book of World Records' oldest living person had died. Carrie White died at the age of 118 years old.
Last line of the obituary said, and I quote, 'Cause of death has not yet been determined.'

Let me take a wild stab in the dark on this one -- probably not crib death.
 
Noticing a mistake in St. Peter's roster, God calls Satan; "It seems you accidentally received some of my professionals down there: a teacher, a doctor and a farmer."

"Yeah," Satan replies. "All the more for me!"

God replies, "You better send them up here immediately."

Satan says, "No way. I'm keeping them."

God says, "Send them up here, or I'll sue the horns right off you."

Satan laughs uproariously, "Yeah, right. And just where are YOU going to get a lawyer?"
 
I think car horns should sound like gunshots 'cause the sound of a horn is not representin' my road rage properly.

I've never been angry with someone and had the urge to toot a trumpet.
 
I almost hit some big goof yesterday riding a 24 " bike and texting.
If there was a car in the lane next to me , that would be it for him.:mad:
 
The whole video is sort of a joke. The punchline is the very last line in it-- the whole thing is rather amusing though.
 
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A deacon is in the hospital and his good friend, a preacher, goes to visit him.

The preacher notices all the medical equipment attached to the deacon. He kneels by the bed.

The deacon motions to a pad and pen on the nightstand. The preacher hands his friend the pad and pen, and the deacon begins to write. Suddenly, the deacon dies.

At his funeral, the preacher delivers the service. He says, "I was with him when he died, and as a matter of fact, I have his last thought in my coat pocket here."

The preacher pulls out the paper and reads, "Please, get up. You're kneeling on my oxygen hose."
 
A dying man gives each of his best friends -- a lawyer, doctor and clergyman -- an envelope containing $25,000 in cash to be placed in his coffin.

A week later the man dies and the friends each place an envelope in the coffin. Several months later, the clergyman confesses that he only put $10,000 in the envelope and sent the rest to a mission in South America.

The doctor confesses that his envelope had only $8,000 because he donated to a medical charity.

The lawyer is outraged, "I am the only one who kept my promise to our dying friend. I want you both to know that the envelope I placed in the coffin contained my own personal check for the entire $25,000."
 
A lawyer is standing in a long line at the box office. Suddenly, he feels a pair of hands kneading his shoulders, back, and neck.

The lawyer turns around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm a chiropractor, and I'm just keeping in practice while I'm waiting in line."

"Well, I'm a lawyer, but you don't see me screwing the guy in front of me, do you?"
 
Elderly Banking..

Shown below, is an actual letter that was sent to
a bank by an 82-year-old woman.
The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have
it published in the New York Times.

Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my
calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my
account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire pension, an arrangement which, I admit,
has been in place for only eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of
penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally answer your telephone calls and letters, --- when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging,pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and
thereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially
to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an OFFENSE under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

Please find attached an Application Contact which
I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows
about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the
mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, at MY convenience, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me.
I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button
presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service.
As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further.

When you call me, press buttons as follows:
IMMEDIATELY AFTER DIALING, PRESS THE STAR (*)
BUTTON FOR ENGLISH
#1. To make an appointment to see me.
#2. To query a missing payment.
#3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
#4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
#5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
#6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
#7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a
later date to that Authorized Contact mentioned earlier.
#8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7 again
#9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering
#10. This is a second reminder to press* for English.

While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year?

Your Humble Client

And remember: Don't make old people mad. We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to piss us off.

Anne Mondelci
 

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