The New York City Bartender's Joke Book (14 page)

“It tells me, my dear Watson,” says Holmes, “that someone has stolen the fucking tent!”

The Pope is in his bed, reading, when a thought pops in his head. He has never, in his whole life, experienced an orgasm. He
quickly dismisses the notion, wondering how it got there in the first place, and continues reading. But it creeps back into
his head again.

He gets out of bed and stands in front of his mirror. “I am old,” he says to himself, “and I will die without ever knowing what
an orgasm is or what it feels like.” He decides to find out.

He puts on some old work clothes and a baseball cap, goes down the back stairs to the garage, careful not to be seen by anyone.
He walks past the Popemobile and finds the gardener’s old pickup truck. In the dead of night, the Pope drives the pickup truck
out of the Vatican and into the country.

Five miles into the country, he takes a dirt road and drives five more miles and then stops the truck and gets out. It is
pitch-black out—he can barely see the nose in front of his face. Confident that no one is around, he masturbates. He orgasms,
waits fifteen minutes, and masturbates again. After he orgasms the second time, he climbs back in the truck and makes his
way back to the Vatican. He sneaks back to his bedroom, takes off the old work clothes, and falls fast asleep.

The next morning he wakes up quite refreshed. He never slept like that before. It is the best sleep he has ever had. He sings
while he is in the shower and dances around the bedroom while he is getting dressed for the day.

Full of energy and with a smile on his face, he is ready for the new day. As he walks to the door of the bedroom, he notices
a manila envelope on the floor, obviously pushed under the door. He opens the envelope and pulls out an 8x10 glossy of himself
with a baseball cap, his pants down around his ankles, and his hand wrapped around an enormous hard-on. Attached to the picture,
there is a note which says, “I saw you last night. Send $100, 000 to
the address shown and I’ll send you the negatives and the camera.”

The Pope runs to his safe and opens it, pulls out $100, 000, puts it in an envelope, addresses it, puts a stamp on it, and
runs to the post office and mails it.

Two days later, a UPS truck pulls up to the Vatican, where the Pope is waiting anxiously. He grabs his package and runs up
to his office, opens the package, and pulls out the negatives and the camera. He throws the negatives and the 8x10 glossy into
the fireplace and waits until there is nothing but ashes. Then he takes the camera and places it on the mantel as a reminder
to never do anything as stupid as that again.

One year later, the Japanese ambassador is visiting the Vatican. After a tour, the Pope takes the ambassador to his office
for cigars and cognac. As they are smoking and drinking, the ambassador notices the camera on the mantel and reaches for it
to get a closer look.

“Don’t touch that camera!” yells the Pope. “It is very expensive!”

“How much you pay for camera?” asks the ambassador.

“That camera,” says the Pope, “cost me $100, 000!”

“Oh,” says the Japanese ambassador. “They must have seen you coming!”

What do the Pope and the New York Jets

have in common?

They are the only people who can get

sixty thousand people to yell ‘Jesus Christ!’

in unison.

Did you know that half of all Japanese eye

doctors have cataracts?

The other half drive Rincon Town Cars.

What do Japanese men do when they

have erections?

They vote.

A priest in a small country parish finds out that the Pope is planning a surprise visit to his church. The priest is excited
and decides to do some research on the Pope. He finds out that the Pope loves local food and has a passion for fresh fish,
so he has his staff collect all the fresh vegetables from the local gardens while he goes fishing. He hires a fishing guide
and they head out to the local lake.

While they are on the lake, the priest hooks a big one. It takes him a half hour to reel it in, and
when he does, the fishing guide, who has never seen a fish that big in that lake, exclaims, “Will you look at that son of a
bitch!”

Surprised, the priest says, “Please, I am a man of the cloth, such language offends me.”

Embarrassed at his outburst, the guide tries to cover it up by saying, “No, you don’t understand. That’s the name of the fish.
It’s called a ‘son of a bitch!’”

“Oh, I see,” says the priest as he smiles at the big fish.

The priest goes back to the rectory, goes into the kitchen, and puts the fish on the counter. The altar boy comes in and the
priest says to him proudly, “Will you look at this son of a bitch!”

The altar boy, taken aback, says, “Father, I’ve never heard language like that from you!”

“No, no,” says the priest. “That’s the name of the fish, a ‘son of a bitch.’”

“Oh,” says the altar boy, smiling. “I’ll clean the son of a bitch!”

As the altar boy is cleaning the fish, the Mother Superior comes into the kitchen and the altar boy says, “Hey, Mother Superior,
look at this son of a bitch!”

“Young man,” says the Mother Superior sternly, “this is a house of the Lord and such language is not permitted!”

“Relax,” says the priest to the Mother Superior, “that’s the name of the fish. It’s called a ‘son of a bitch.’”

“Oh,” says the Mother Superior. “Well, I’ll cook the son of a bitch!”

The Pope arrives, and after a tour of the village and the church, the priest, the Mother Superior, the altar boy, and the guest
of honor, the Pope, sit down for dinner.

All eyes are on the Pope as he eats. After two bites of the fish, he exclaims, “This is the best fish I have ever eaten!”

The priest says, “I caught the son of a bitch!”

The altar boy says, “I cleaned the son of a bitch!”

The Mother Superior says, “I cooked the son of a bitch!”

The Pope looks at all three and says with a smile, “Hey, you fuckers are all right!”

Did you hear about the new low-fat communion wafer? It’s called “I can’t believe it’s not Jesus!”

An old couple die at the very same time and go to heaven. They are greeted by God himself. “Welcome! Come on in and enjoy!”

They walk down a beautiful path that passes a beautiful golf course. They both agree to play eighteen holes.

From the first hole on, after every shot, the old
man grumbles and swears terribly. He grumbles and swears on the front nine and he swears and grumbles on the back nine as
well.

Finally the old lady can’t take it anymore. She turns to her husband and says, “What is with you? You have either parred or
birdied every hole here. When we were on Earth, you never broke one hundred! Why are you so pissed off?”

The old man looks at her and says, “If you hadn’t put me on a low-fat, low-cholesterol diet, I’d have been here fifteen years
ago!”