A group of retirees were discussing their medical problems at the Senior Center while having their morning coffee. 

"Do you realize," said one, "my arm is so weak I can hardly hold this coffee cup." 

"Yes, I know." replied the second, "My cataracts are so bad I can't see to pour the coffee." 

"I can't turn my head," rejoined the third, "because of the arthritis in my neck."

"My blood pressure pills make my dizzy," commented the fourth, adding, "I guess that's the price we pay for getting old."

"Well, it's not all bad." piped up the first, "We should be thankful that we can still drive."

Dr. Walter Stein was a mad scientist. He would freely admit the fact, since he met all of the qualifications you'd see in any movie or comic book: brilliantly and erratically intelligent, prone to building amazing creations that defied the known laws of physics, interesting hairdo. His latest invention was a shrinking ray. He had worked nearly all the bugs out of it but was still trying to figure out a practical application for it, especially since he hadn't gotten around to making the enlarging ray yet. One day he and his lab assistant Fred were fine-tuning the aiming mechanism when the device stopped working. Walter rummaged around near the target area and realized the power cord had been hit by the ray and shrunk enough to come out of the wall socket. He got a replacement cord and as he was plugging it in he realized that he had forgotten to turn the ray off! In a matter of seconds Dr. Walter Stein was a mere six inches tall!

He called out to Fred but his tiny piping voice didn't carry far. Eventually Fred came in and noticed the ray was still firing so he shut it off. That was when he saw his boss there on the pad, frantically waving his arms. Fred rescued him and they set to work on designing the enlarging ray. Walter would write out the design on a fragment of paper and Fred would use a magnifying glass to read them and transfer them to a full-size plan to begin building it. 

Walter did fine with his regular bodily requirements, as even the smallest crumb of food was a banquet and a drop of water could last most of the day. But he began having other physical urges that he could not satisfy. He confided in Fred that he would like the company of a woman but due to his size he would not be able to find proper relief. They hatched a scheme: Fred would go and hire some prostitutes, bring them to the lab and activate the ray again so Walter would have some company. Once the enlarger was working they would be returned to normal. So Fred set out to the "right" part of town to find a couple of candidates.

He found two girls who were young and attractive and offered them double their usual rate to come to a party at his "house". They agreed and came over at the appointed time. But when Fred led them into the laboratory, with all of the weird machinery and odd smells they became suspicious. When he tried to force them onto the ray's target area they fought back and bolted from the laboratory. Walter remained unsatisfied, which proves the notion that you can lead the whores to Walter but you can't make them shrink.

What do you call a dog that likes bubble baths?
 
A shampoodle!

There was a woman who grew fruit in a village. One day after very hard work she saw the most magnificent berries she had ever seen. They were so fantastic, she asked her neighbors to come by and see them. When the neighbors saw them, they were filled with nothing but high accolades for the fruit. Word spread and soon everyone in the kingdom went to see the magnificent berries. 

The king however was not pleased. Since everyone was staring at the fruit no work was getting done. He sent his guards to get the bushes and bring them to him. 

When the guards arrives at her house, they knocked on the door. Her husband answered the door and said," Hello, have you come to pay homage to the magnificent fruit?" 

"NO", said the guard. "We come to seize her berries, not to praise them"

What is a cat’s favorite breakfast?

Mice krispies.

The patriots of the American Revolution should not have succeeded. England was one of the most powerful nations in the world and had the ragtag rebels out-manned, out-gunned, out-trained and had far deeper pockets. No one ruled the high seas like the British navy and with Redcoat troops stationed everywhere it's amazing that even one victory could have occurred, much less the birth of a new nation.

As a result, the founders had to act with utmost secrecy. Many colonists were loyal to the Crown and would turn in any of the American patriots they heard plotting against the King. These loyalists looked no different than anyone else, of course, and spies could be anywhere. The circles of rebels were careful who they let in on their plans but even then it was possible for a Loyalist to eavesdrop on meetings that were not well-guarded.

In more rural locations it was found that a hen house was the ideal meeting place. Roosters in the yard were extremely territorial, so everyone in the clandestine meetings would be alerted by the sounds of a squawking or crowing cockerel if a sneaky British sympathizer stole near. Once this was found to be effective the patriots spread the word, and it became common practice to let a chicken catch a Tory.

What do fish take to stay healthy?

Vitamin sea.

What do you call an exploding monkey?

A baboom!

Ahmed was the youngest son of a caliph but was favored by his father for his perceptiveness and wit, though certainly not for his looks. When Ahmed came of age his father decided to send him out into the world to make his fortune. As a parting gift he told his son he could go into his treasure rooms and take any one thing he wanted. The caliph's treasure room held many marvels, both of gold and jewels as well as magical items. Ahmed decided he would take the goose that laid golden eggs, as that would provide him with income for as long as he needed. The caliph congratulated Ahmed on his wise choice and tearfully bade his son goodbye.

Ahmed traveled for several days to a nearby city, collecting a golden egg each morning. When he got there he traded them for coins and began building his new life. Soon, with the aid of the goose plus his own innate business sense, Ahmed became quite a success. He spent every waking hour working on new ways to make money and improve his business prospects, barely taking time to sleep or eat. Within a few years his wealth rivaled that of most of the richest princes in the land! He constructed a palatial house for himself and even managed to find a male goose to impregnate his own. Soon she laid a special egg which hatched into a female gosling who, when grown, would also produce the golden eggs. 

One thing Ahmed's success could not bring was an end to his loneliness. He didn't have time to find a wife, and any women who flirted with him, he decided, were probably more interested in his money than his heart. Then one day a representative of the sultan came to see him.

"Ahmed, I see you have all that wealth can buy. And rumor is that you have a goose which lays golden eggs which will keep you all the days of your life." the emissary said.

"That is true," Ahmed responded.

"Yet you are not happy. The Sultan knows of this and also how to cure your woes. He also knows that you have a young goose who will one day lay golden eggs as well. He proposes a trade."

"A trade?" Ahmed asked. "For what would I give a source of perpetual wealth that would be worthy?"

"Why, wives, of course!" the emissary answered. "Thirty beautiful wives, of all sizes and shapes. Some tall, some short, some buxom, some slim. All catering to your every desire. And all dancers of the top caliber! For the young goose, the Sultan will provide them to you. You will be the envy of every man in the country!"

Ahmed thought it over. That would address his problem with the women wanting him for his wealth. And with thirty of them, all would be competing with the others for his favor. He wouldn't miss the young goose since he already had one. This was a wonderful idea!

He agreed to the terms and the emissary said he would return in a week. Ahmed ordered rooms prepared for his new wives and each day became more and more excited.

The next week the emissary returned. "I will take the goose now," he said, "and the women will be along in the next week or so."

"That was not our agreement!" Ahmed stormed. "What are you trying to pull? If I hand over the goose I may never see the promised wives!"

"I assure you, the Sultan's word is as good as mine!" the emissary protested.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ahmed countered. "But you know my terms: no harem, no fowl!"

Why shouldn’t you put a baby’s dirty diapers in the laundry bin? 

You wouldn’t want to hamper his movements!

Holmes and Watson were summoned to the manor house of the Barclay-Alston estate. Sir Wilfred Barclay-Alston had been found dead in his bed while his young and beautiful wife Edwina was out of town. The family physician had been called and declared him dead of natural causes but the late lord's nephew Philip suspected foul play. 

The pair arrived and began interviewing all of the staff. The maid and butler heard and saw nothing out of the ordinary and the gardener had been watching television in his cottage before going to bed and had seen no horses or carriages come or go.

When they talked to the physician, who had been a guest of the manor the night of the death, he showed them the body of Sir Wilfred. The elderly man had several lingering health problems, so death from one of those was not unexpected.

Holmes and Watson insisted on conducting a thorough examination of the corpse themselves. Holmes peered into the eyes and sniffed at the mouth of the late lord and pondered a moment. "Watson," he announced, "Double check the body, looking for a puncture wound somewhere. Probably in a fleshy place near a large muscle."

Watson undertook the additional examination, borrowing Holmes' magnifying glass to look everywhere. "Aha!" he exclaimed. "Here, Holmes! I've found it!"

Holmes hurried over. Watson had turned the body over and pointed to a small red pinprick on the left buttock of Lord Barclay-Alston. "Here, just on the side. There is a small hole. And here on his nightshirt is a tiny spot of blood where he was injected with something!"

The pair of them moved the body off the bed and after a search found a syringe which had been cleverly placed under the mattress so that when the old man climbed into his usual spot it would pierce the gluteal muscle, his weight depressing the plunger. Holmes removed the syringe and, sniffing the empty barrel, announced, "Curare! Just as I had suspected. It's evident the Lady Edwina and the doctor were having an affair and did Lord Wilfred in while she was away to deflect suspicion."

Watson goggled at his friend. "How did you ever deduce that I should check for a puncture wound?" he inquired.

"It was elementary, Watson. The lord showed all the signs of having been fatally affected by a nerve toxin. I didn't detect any residue on his breath. The physician mentioned having spent some time as a missionary in South America, so he would have known about curare. And when you found Lord Wilfred had been punctured in the backside it confirmed that it was a case of arse nicked poisoning."

What does a cat say when somebody steps on its tail?

Me-ow!

Millions of viewers followed the weekly antics of the castaways on Gilligan's Island. But not much is known of their lives following their inevitable rescue.

The Howells, of course, returned to their opulent lives. But never one to pass up a prime business opportunity, Thurston discovered the lush tropical island had no owner and he secured it for himself. Soon he built a fabulous resort there. Jonas Grumby wrote a best-selling book about their adventures and opened a bar at the Howell's resort where his gregariousness and interesting stories made it a success. Roy Hinkley wanted to return to teaching but the Howells bankrolled some of his invention ideas which were remarkable successes for both of them. 

Ginger Grant returned to Hollywood but her absence from the spotlight for so long doomed her to starring in sleazy exploitative B movies. Mary Ann Summers was the surprise, as she agreed to pose nude as a Playboy magazine centerfold. Her life-sized poster, wearing nothing but a bit of her famous coconut cream pie in strategic places, adorned the wall of nearly every teenage boy in America.

The final castaway, Gilligan, reenlisted in the Navy to try and model himself on his friend and mentor the Skipper. Unfortunately his careless nature and lack of common sense led to his being the recipient of frequent additional duties, some designed to teach him better naval skills. One night, to teach him more meticulousness in his duties, he was tasked to count the links in an anchor chain and note whether he had to clean the dried seaweed and any barnacles from each using the provided broom. He listed each one on a sheet and as he started to brush the first one a seahawk landed on it and proceeded to defecate on it. That annoyed him, so he swung the broom at the bird to shoo it away. The bird fluttered for a moment and landed on the chain again, squawking annoyingly at him. He swung at it again, missing, and the bird landed again on the chain. This went on for some time, making Gilligan more and more perturbed at the persistent avian as time went on.

Just as the sun peeked over the horizon the executive officer, who had assigned him the task, came by to check on his progress. Seeing the sad state of the anchor chain he called Gilligan to attention and insisted that he give an accounting for why he had not completed the job.

"I'm sorry sir," Gilligan apologized sheepishly. "I tossed a tern all night and couldn't sweep a link!"

How does a dog stop a video?

He presses the paws button.

Young Tim had always wanted to be a wizard. He went from tower to tower but none of the magicians or thaumaturgists had any openings. He was about to give up when he happened across a magic shop and went in to inquire if the owner knew of anyone looking to apprentice an eager lad such as himself.

It turns out that the owner, Reginald the Magnificent, was himself looking for an apprentice, so they worked out an agreeable arrangement and Tim moved into the loft over the store. Tim worked sweeping and keeping inventory until he learned the ways of the shop. When he had proven himself capable Reginald decided it was time to teach him how he made some of the items he sold. Tim started with simple healing salves, then moved to potions for gout and eventually love potions and more complex mixtures. After a few months Reginald decided that Tim had a good enough grasp to move on to some more complex items.

"Tim, my lad," Reginald said one day, "today you are going to learn to make a talisman for luck. It's one of our biggest sellers and fairly simple to make, though the ingredients needed are rather difficult to come by. I'll give you a list and you go find the items and bring them here and we'll get to work making them." 

Tim looked over the list. There were all sorts of things listed: four-leafed clovers, hair from a black cat, a lodestone, a tortoise shell, etc. But one thing stood out. "Reggie, you said these were hard to find. What's so hard about finding the shell of a chicken egg? Those are everywhere."

"Ah, but it can't be just any egg shell," Reginald cautioned. "This is the shell of an egg where, when the chick was born, instead of pecking his way out of the shell he pulls the pieces inward! Quite rare, you know."

Tim thought that was ridiculous. Who had ever heard of a chick hatching like that? But he set off with his pack and his list, planning to be gone for a couple of days. Once on the road he stopped in a clover field and found a number of the four-leafed variety after some searching. He went into the forest and found the tortoise shell, and by the river he found the loadstone. He gathered the items one by one until he was down to the last two. He happened by a farmhouse and saw a black cat outside, so he went to the farmer mending the winch on his well and asked if he could have a tuft of the fur. The farmer agreed and asked Tim what he needed it for.

"It's for something my master is making," he said. Then he noticed some chickens in the yard. "Say, do you happen to have any egg shells I can have?"

"Certainly," the farmer replied. "We've got as many as you can probably carry."

"These are special ones," Tim continued. He explained the hatching process to the farmer, who looked at him sideways for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

"Boy, your master is having you on! No chick ever hatched that way! He's sent you on a fool's errand, he has."

Tim was beside himself, first angry and then embarrassed. It must be some sort of trick masters played on their new apprentices to teach them wisdom or something. Tim thanked the farmer and took a handful of the eggshells he had in the henhouse before setting off back to town.

When he returned Reginald looked over the supplies with surprise. He told Tom he had done better than he had expected and they would get to work the next morning making the talismans. Tim spent the rest of the afternoon cutting thongs for the devices.

The next morning Reginald showed Tim the steps needed to make the lucky charm. He did it an assembly-line fashion, making about a dozen at once. Tim added each part, stirring so many times in this direction, or hopping on one foot as he heated something up, all according to Reginald's instruction. Then the time came to add the final ingredient, the ground-up chicken eggshells. Tom spooned the proper amount on each of the nearly finished talismans and stood back.

Suddenly a high-pitched keening filled the air. The just-made talismans began twitching and rocking back and forth, then jumping up and down on the workbench! Reginald called for Tim to take cover and they flipped a table over and hid behind it. The room was rocked with a dozen loud explosions and bits of the magical constructs bounced off of the walls and ceiling.

When all calmed down and their ears stopped ringing, Reginald looked at Tim sternly. "You didn't get the egg shells I told you to, did you?" he asked bluntly.

"N-no, sir," Tim stammered. "The farmer...he said that there was no such thing! I thought you were playing a trick on me!"

Reginald sighed. "I tell you there is such a thing, and that it is a rare one. I should have suspected you took a shortcut and got regular-hatching shells instead of the proper ones when you brought so many. You cannot take shortcuts with magic. Listen to me and listen well, Tim. You can't make an amulet with out-breaking eggs."