A rancher goes to the bank to borrow money to buy a bull so he can increase his stock. The transaction is made and the banker who lent the money comes by a week later to see how his investment is doing. The farmer complains that the bull just eats grass and won't even look at the cows. The banker suggests that a veterinarian have a look at the bull.

The next week the banker returns to see if the vet helped. The farmer looks very pleased: "The bull has taken care of all my cows, broke through the fence, and has even serviced all my neighbor's cows!"

"Wow," says the banker, "what did the vet do to that bull?"

"Just gave him some pills," replied the rancher.

"What kind of pills?" asked the banker.

"I don't know, but they sort of taste like peppermint."

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.

Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant, linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense
That nothing that flew could slip through our defense.

When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter;
I increased the gain and then, quick as a flash,
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.

And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded:
An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded.
"Alert status red!" went the word down the wire,
As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE!"

On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk,
And scramble our fighters--let's send the whole flock.
Launch decoys and missiles, use chaff by the yard!
Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!

They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged.
Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,
And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,
As the foe met his fate in the high arctic night.

So we sent out some recon to look for debris,
Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea
Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,
Broken sleigh bells, white hair, and a deer's parachute.

Now it isn't quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down.
There are unhappy kids in each village and town.
For the Spirit of Christmas can't hope to evade
All the web of defenses we've carefully made.

But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day,
All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh.

So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,
For the future has hope: Santa's coming by stealth!

　

After hearing that one of the patients in a mental hospital had saved another from a suicide attempt by pulling him out of a bathtub, the hospital director reviewed the rescuer's file and called him into his office.

"Mr. Haroldson, your records and your heroic behavior indicate that you're ready to go home. I'm only sorry that the man you saved later killed himself with a rope around the neck."

"Oh, he didn't kill himself," Mr. Haroldson replied. "I hung him up to dry."

　

A couple is doing yard work and the wife goes to take a shower. Her husband is looking for a rake and can''t find it. He yells up to his wife, but she motions to him from the window like she can''t hear. So he points to his eye, hits his knee, and then makes raking motions. ("I need the rake.") She replies by pointing to her eye , grabbing her left breast, slaps her ass, then rubs her crotch. The man is confused and runs upstairs.

"What? What was that?"

"Eye, left tit, behind, the bush."