Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes

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Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes Page 39

by Barry Dougherty


  The foreigner starts to yell, “Run, boy, run!”

  His host, with a bemused smile explains, “He doesn’t have to run; he has four balls.”

  The foreigner stands up and shouts, “Walk proudly, boy, walk proudly.”

  It was only her second date with the diehard baseball fan, and Helene was a little nervous. It was her fault that they arrived at the stadium a full hour after the game had begun. Taking her seat, Helene glanced up at the scoreboard. It was a tight pitcher’s battle, bottom of the fifth, 0-0.

  “Look, Charlie,” she exclaimed in relief, “we haven’t missed a thing!”

  Baseball’s been called the national pastime. It’s just the kind of game someone deserves who has nothing better to do than to try to pass his time.

  —ANDY ROONEY

  A Boston woman, unable to bear the indifference of her baseball-crazy husband any longer, yelled at him, “You love the Red Sox more than you love me!”

  He turned around and replied, “I love the Yankees more than I love you!”

  Men know that if a woman had to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant’s life, she would probably save the infant’s life without even considering whether there were men on base.

  —DAVE BARRY

  A couple of Yogi Berra’s waggish teammates on the New York Yankees swear that one night the legendary catcher was horrified to see a baby toppling off the roof of a cottage across the way from him. He dashed over and made a miraculous catch, but then force of habit proved too strong for him. He straightened up and threw the baby to second base.

  —JOEY ADAMS

  I saw this guy at the baseball game all year, holding up a sign: “John-13.” I looked it up. It said, “Go, Mookie!”

  —ALAN HARVEY

  Baseball’s very big with my people. It figures. It’s the only time we can shake a bat at a white man without starting a riot.

  —DICK GREGORY

  Football

  I give the same halftime speech over and over. It works best when my players are better than the other coach’s players.

  —CHUCK MILLS

  The exercise during history class one day was for each of the students to list whom they considered to be the eleven greatest Americans. After half an hour, everyone had turned in their papers except Irwin, who was still scratching his head and thinking furiously. “What’s up?” asked the teacher. “Can’t you come up with eleven great Americans?”

  “I’ve got all but one,” the student explained hastily. “It’s the quarterback I can’t decide on.”

  A football fan is a guy who’ll yell at the quarterback for not spotting an open receiver forty-five yards away, then head for the parking lot and not be able to find his own car.

  A man died and went to heaven. After reaching the gates to heaven, the man was talking with St. Peter and he asked, “I know I was good during my life, and I really appreciate being brought to heaven, but I’m really curious—what does hell look like?”

  So St. Peter thought about it a moment and finally said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you see what hell looks like before you are officially entered into heaven. Come with me.”

  And so St. Peter lead the man to an elevator and said, “Take this elevator to the very bottom floor. When the door opens, you will see what hell looks like, but whatever you do, do not get out of the elevator.”

  “Thank you,” replied the man, who climbed into the elevator and hit the button for the lowest floor.

  After nearly an hour waiting in the elevator, the doors opened and the man peered out. Before him was a lifeless frozen wasteland. All the man could see were huge mountains of ice through blankets of snow. Remembering what St. Peter said, the man quickly pushed the button for the top floor, the doors closed and he traveled back up to heaven.

  After returning to heaven, the man approached St. Peter and said, “I’m ready to enter into heaven now, but before I do, I have just one more question.”

  “Go ahead,” replied St. Peter, and so the man asked, “I thought hell would be fire and brimstone, but instead all I saw was snow and ice. Is that what it’s really like?”

  St. Peter thought about this for a second and finally answered, “Snow and ice, huh? I guess the Buffalo Bills finally won a Super Bowl.”

  If a man watches three football games in a row, he should be declared legally dead.

  —ERMA BOMBECK

  Football is not a contact sport. It’s a collision sport. Dancing is a good example of a contact sport.

  —DUFFY DAUGHERTY

  Golf

  Jesus and Moses went golfing, and were about even until they reached the fifteenth hole, a par five. Both balls landed about twenty feet from the edge of a little pond that stood between them and the hole. Moses took out a five-wood and landed his ball in excellent position. Jesus took out a five-iron.

  “Hang on, hang on,” cautioned Moses. “Use a wood—you’ll never make it.”

  “If Arnold Palmer can make that shot with a five-iron, so can I,” said Jesus. His ball landed in the middle of the lake. Moses parted the waters, retrieved the ball, and sighed when he saw Jesus still holding the five-iron.

  “If Arnold Palmer can make that shot with a five-iron, so can I,” maintained Jesus. Again Moses had to part the waters to retrieve the ball. By this time there were a number of people waiting to play through, and Moses said firmly, “Listen, Jesus, I’m not fetching the ball another time. Use a wood.”

  Jesus, however, still insisted, “If Arnold Palmer can make that shot with a five-iron, so can I.” Splash!

  Moses shook his head. “I told you, I’m not budging. Get it yourself.”

  So Jesus walked off across the water toward where the ball had landed.

  At this, the onlookers gaped in astonishment. One came over to Moses and stammered, “I can’t believe my eyes—that guy must think he’s Jesus Christ!”

  In response, Moses shook his head gloomily. “He is Jesus Christ. He thinks he’s Arnold Palmer.”

  What’s the difference between a golf ball and a woman’s G-spot? A man will spend half an hour looking for a golf ball.

  Jason, looking depressed, says to his business partner, “My doctor tells me I can’t play golf.”

  “So he’s played with you, too,” the partner responds.

  Golf is a lot like business. You drive hard to get in the green, and then wind up in the hole.

  The avid golfer was out on the course with his wife one day. He played a shot on the fifth that sliced so badly, it ended up in the gardener’s equipment shed. Looking in the door, the couple saw the ball sitting right in the middle of the room. “Look,” volunteered the golfer’s wife, “if I hold the door open, you can play a shot from here to the green.”

  This struck the golfer as an interesting challenge, but, alas, the ball missed the open door and struck his wife on the temple, killing her instantly.

  Many years later, the widower was playing with a friend when he hit the exact same slice. The two of them walked into the shed, and, sure enough, there sat the ball in the center of the room. “I tell you what,” said the friend. “If I hold the door open, I bet you can get the ball back onto the green.”

  “Oh, no,” said the golfer, shaking his head. “I tried that once before and it took me seven shots to get out.”

  The club grouch was unhappy about everything: the food, the assessments, the parking, the other members. The first time he hit a hole-in-one, he complained, “Damn it, just when I needed the putting practice!”

  —JOEY ADAMS

  Give me my golf clubs, fresh air, and a beautiful partner, and you can keep my golf clubs and the fresh air.

  —JACK BENNY

  If you watch a game, it’s fun. If you play it, it’s recreation. If you work at it, it’s golf.

  —BOB HOPE

  I play in the low eighties. If it’s any hotter than that, I won’t play.

  —JOE E. LEWIS

  One of the nicest things abou
t golf is that you can play it for years and years. There were these two old friends who’d been playing together since they were kids, every Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon. Lester was eighty-two and his friend Ralph was eighty-one.

  One day, on the eighth tee, Lester suddenly gave up. He turned to his pal and said, “Ralphie, old boy, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to quit. I just can’t see anymore. I hit the ball, but I don’t know where it goes.”

  Ralph said to him, “You can’t quit. We’ve been playing together all these years. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “But what can I do?” asked Lester.

  “You just leave it up to me. You go ahead and hit, and I’ll keep my eye on it,” said Ralph.

  So Lester teed up and let fly. They stood silently for a few seconds. Then Lester said, “Well, Ralph, that sounded pretty good. Did you see where it went?”

  “Of course I did!” said Ralph.

  Lester said, “Well, where did it go?”

  Ralph thought for a few seconds and said, “I forgot.”

  —BOB KALIBAN

  Mrs. Jones began to get nervous when dark fell and her husband hadn’t returned from his regular Saturday golf game. Dinnertime came and went and she became more and more anxious, so when she heard his car pull in, she rushed out to the driveway. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been worried sick!” she exclaimed.

  “Harry had a heart attack on the third hole,” her husband explained.

  “Oh, no! That’s terrible.”

  “You’re telling me,” moaned her husband. “All day long it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry. …”

  My neighbor was crying because her husband had left her for the sixth time. I consoled her, “Don’t be unhappy, he’ll be back.”

  “Not this time,” she sobbed. “He’s taken his golf clubs.”

  —JOEY ADAMS

  What do you call a woman who can suck a golf ball through fifty feet of garden hose?

  Darling.

  A shipwrecked man had spent ten years alone on a desert island, so he was overjoyed when a woman washed ashore one day. Tattered and clutching only a small watertight bag, she was the sole survivor of a pleasure boat that wrecked on the island’s coral reef. The man could hardly wait to tell her of his survival by his wits alone for all that time.

  “You mean you’ve been marooned for ten years?” asked the woman, awestruck.

  “That’s right,” said the man, hanging his head modestly.

  “Say, did you used to smoke?”

  “You bet. Why?”

  “I’d be delighted to offer you your first cigarette in ten years.” With a smile, the woman pulled one out of her bag.

  “Wow! Thanks a lot,” said the man, taking a grateful puff.

  “You didn’t happen to be a drinking man, did you?” asked the woman shyly.

  “I’ve been known to enjoy a glass or two,” the man confessed, happily blowing smoke rings.

  “Well, here you go,” she said, pulling a flask out of her bag. As the man was gratefully taking a swig, the woman blushed. “Gee, I just realized it’s been ten years since you, uh, played around, right?”

  “Don’t tell me,” said the guy, a look of ecstasy coming over his face. “Have you got a set of golf clubs in that bag?”

  One of the quickest ways to meet new people is to pick up the wrong ball on a golf course.

  “You must be the worst caddie in the world,” said the dejected golfer after a disastrous afternoon on the links.

  “I doubt it, sir,” replied the caddie. “That would be too much of a coincidence.”

  Eric: You know what your main trouble is?

  Ernie: What?

  Eric: You stand too close to the ball after you’ve hit it.

  —ERIC MORECAMBE AND ERNIE WISE

  Three men went out on Sunday to play some golf. On the fourth hole, Fred chipped a shot into the rough. “You all play on ahead,” he insisted. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  Off they went, but after half an hour had gone by with no sign of their friend, Charlie said, “I’ll go check on him.”

  The last guy played on for a while, but couldn’t help wondering what on earth had happened to his companions. So, he too, finally turned back to check matters out.

  An astonishing sight greeted him when he returned to the fourth hole: poor Fred was bent over the backseat of his golf cart, with his buddy energetically screwing him up the ass.

  “Charlie, Charlie, what the hell are you doing!” he yelled, breaking into a run.

  “It was horrible,” gasped a red-faced Charlie. “When I got here, Fred had a massive heart attack.”

  “You’re supposed to give him a heart massage, you idiot,” cried the third guy, “and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

  “I know that,” retorted Charlie indignantly. “How do you think this got started?”

  While playing golf today, I hit two good balls. I stepped on a rake.

  —HENNY YOUNGMAN

  Hear about the naive golf widow who wanted to surprise her husband on his birthday?

  She went into a sporting-goods store and asked the salesperson if she could see a low handicap.

  I don’t play golf. Personally, I think there’s something psychologically wrong with any game in which the person who gets to hit the ball the most is the loser.

  Some golfers are just natural cheaters. My brother-in-law cheats so much that the other day he had a hole-in-one and he marked a zero on his score card.

  —JOEY ADAMS

  Why do businessmen play golf?

  So they can dress up like pimps.

  A guy is standing in front of his locker at the country club, admiring a golf ball in his hand. One of his golfing buddies says to him, “New ball?”

  The guy says, “Would you believe this is the greatest golf ball ever made? You can’t lose it. You hit it into the rough and it whistles. You hit it into the woods and a bell goes off. You drive it into the lake and a big burst of steam goes off six feet in the air for two whole minutes.”

  “That’s amazing,” says his friend. “Where’d you get it?”

  And the guy says, “I found it.”

  —SOUPY SALES

  The prime minister of Israel invited the Pope to play a game of golf, and since the Pope had no idea how to play, he convened the College of Cardinals to ask their advice. “Call Jack Nicklaus,” they suggested, “and let him play in your place. Tell the prime minister you’re sick or something.”

  Honored by His Holiness’s request, Nicklaus agreed to represent him on the links. The Pope, again on the advice of his staff, appointed him a cardinal to make the arrangement seem more legitimate. “So how’d you do?” he asked eagerly when Nicklaus returned to the Vatican.

  “I came in second,” was the reply.

  “Second! You mean to tell me the prime minister of Israel beat you?” howled the Pope.

  “No, Your Holiness,” said Nicklaus. “Rabbi Palmer did.”

  A guy wakes up in the hospital with severe head injuries and the nurse says, “What happened to you?”

  “Well,” he says, “I was playing golf yesterday with my wife and we teed off at the second hole. I hit a beautiful drive two hundred and eighty yards down the middle of the fairway. My wife teed off and she sliced the ball into a field full of cows. We searched for several minutes and then I lifted up the tail of one of the cows and spotted the ball lodged up it’s ass. All I said was ‘this looks like yours, dear’ and that’s the last thing I remember.”

  There was a foursome of doctors golfing. One was a guest. One by one the other three were “beeped” to their respective offices so the guest was left alone to finish out his round. When he finished, he went to the locker room.

  Upon leaving the shower, he heard female voices and he realized he was in the wrong locker room. He decided to put a towel over his head so no one would see his face.

  But as he was running out of the locker room, three women golfers saw
him.

  The first one said, “He’s not my husband!”

  The second said, “He’s certainly not my husband!”

  The third one chimes in, “Hell, he isn’t even a member of this club!”

  Hunting and Fishing

  If God didn’t want man to hunt, he wouldn’t have given us plaid shirts.

  —JOHNNY CARSON

  What really happened to the buffaloes is just what you might expect if you’ve ever seen one in a suit—the moths got into them.

  —WILL CUPPY

  Stuffed deer heads on walls are bad enough, but it’s worse when you see them wearing dark glasses and having streamers around their neck and a hat on their antlers, because then you know they were enjoying themselves at a party when they were shot.

  —ELLEN DEGENERES

  The fishing party was hopelessly lost in the deep woods. The sun was going down and the mosquitoes were starting to bite when one of the fishermen growled, “I thought you said you were the best damn guide in Minnesota.”

  “Oh, I am,” replied the guide firmly, “but I’m pretty sure we’re in Manitoba by now.”

  A fishing pal said to his buddy, “It seems that when you start talking about the fish you caught, the size changes depending on who you are talking to. How come?”

  “Well,” said the friend, “I never like to tell someone more than I think they’ll ever believe.”

  While sports fishing off the Florida coast in Key West, a tourist capsized his boat. He could swim, but his fear of alligators kept him clinging to the overturned craft. Spotting an old beachcomber walking on the shore, the tourist shouted, “There wouldn’t by chance be any alligators in these waters?!”

  “No,” the old man hollered back, “haven’t been any for years!” Feeling relieved, the tourist started swimming leisurely toward the shore. About halfway toward shore he asked the old man, “Say, how’d you get rid of the gators, anyway?”

  “We didn’t do anything,” the old man said. “The sharks got ’em.”

  I fish, therefore I lie.

  Then there was Jake and Sal’s fishing expedition. Sal went ahead to set up camp, only to realize that the rocky shores around Jackson Hole would make it impossible to maneuver their big boat to the water. Hiking into the nearest town, he sent his buddy a telegram instructing him to bring punts and a canoe instead.

 

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