Jokes for April 21, 2025.
Hello, folks.
I did not write any jokes on Easter weekend. We have a heckler in the crowd. All right! Who said, "There IS a God!"
This is the third edition in a series in which I impersonate a Catskills era comedian. The jokes of the day are short. The single-theme narratives are longer. Most of these go over as well as the Hindenburg disaster. Let's try some out. "Oh, the profanity!"
*My friend, Hans, an electrician, was waxing his boat April 18 at a local boatyard. His son, Manny, also an electrician, was helping him.
Manny was applying a fresh coat of wax to the bow (I can recite nautical terms with the best of them). While he smoothed the wax with an electric (of course) buffer, his bluejeans were drooping. After a couple of minutes, his drawers were dropping like the Dow Jones industrial average.
I could have said, "Hey, Hans. If those breeches drop any further, Manny can moonlight as a plumber."
Get it? Moonlight?
For the young people, (most of whom would not read this blog unless it were included in the terms of a plea deal), breeches, or britches, are shortened pants worn by equestrians. The word also subs for long pants in British slang. And you might remember the family of actors. Lloyd Breeches, Jeff Breeches and Beau Breeches.
You might remember the 1948 movie "Treasure of Sierra Madre." Someone is skeptical about a bandito who claims to be in law-enforcement and asks for credentials. The bandits reaction is, "Breeches? We ain't got no breeches! We don't need no breeches! I don't have to show you any stinking breeches."
The movie, of course, might've been rated XXX for its lack of breeches.
Then there is the rabbi who put his career on hold to run for mayor of New York City. Apparently, he got too big for his brisses.
If this were a movie script, that one might not make it beyond the cutting room floor.
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