The visitor - Funny if you are over 60

[Herk7769]

Angela Merkel Leader of Germany arrives at Passport Control at Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris, France.

"Nationality?" asks the Immigration Officer.

"German," she replies.

"Occupation?"

"No, just here for a few days."

[mhartzel]

ba dum bump...

[F.R.O.G.]

Herk, I like your story, but I've always been partial to this one. I can't vouch for its veracity, but it certainly strikes me as believable.
--------------------

Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane. At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry-on.

“You have been to France before, monsieur?” the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

“Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.”

The American said, “The last time I was here, I didn’t have to show it.”

“Impossible!” said the inspector. “Americans always have to show their passports on arrival in France!”

The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained, “Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn’t find a single Frenchman to show a passport to.”

You could have heard a pin drop.
--------------------

May God bless the United States military forces!

[Herk7769]

There is another Tall Tale that occurred at Tempelhof Airport in Berlin.

Old tourist balks at Passport Control and says the last time he was here no one asked to see his papers.

The agent said why and he said it was in 1944 and he was at 18,000 feet in a B-17.

[tncruiser]

all stories great
i live in east tn about 15 miles from y12 the facility that built the "bomb"
it is being protested DONT THESE IDIOTS GET IT our strength is what has kept the free world free
i believe we are doomed as the current generation just "aint gotta clue"
brianj

[Herk7769]

OK, this is the Humor section.

The "We are doomed because" section is located at I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die-Rag Lyric Meaning - Country Joe McDonald Meanings

[DDC]

Fridge Not Working


The wife left a note on the fridge.

“It’s not working, I can’t take it anymore! Gone to stay at my Dad’s."

I opened the fridge, the light came on and the beer was cold.




Not sure what she was talking about!

[DDC]

An RAF Group Captain was about to start the morning briefing to his staff. While waiting for the coffee machine to finish its brewing, the Group Captain decided to pose a question to all assembled.

He explained that his wife had been a bit frisky the night before and he failed to get his usual amount of sound sleep.He posed the question of just how much of sex was "work" and how much of it was "pleasure?"
A Wing Commander chimed in with 75-25% in favour of work.
A Squadron Leader said it was 50-50%. A Flight Lieutenant responded with 25-75% in favour of pleasure, depending upon his state of inebriation at the time.
There being no consensus, the Group Captain turned to the Corporal who was in charge of making the coffee. What was his opinion?
Without any hesitation, the young Corporal responded, "Sir, it has to be 100% pleasure."
The Group Captain was surprised and, as you might guess, asked why?
"Well, sir, if there was any work involved, the officers would have me doing it for them."

[Herk7769]

yep, I like that one too.

[DDC]

Here's another one hope it's clean enough.



Life in the Australian Army..

Text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. (For those of you not in the know, Eromanga is a small town, west of Quilpie in the far south west of Queensland )




Dear Mum & Dad,

I am well. Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin' on the station - tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all gone! I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta get outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No bloody horses to get in, no calves to feed, no troughs to clean - nothin'!! Ya haz gotta shower though, but its not so bad, coz there's lotsa hot water and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there's no kangaroo steaks or goanna stew like wot Mum makes. You don't get fed again until noon and by that time all the city boys are buggered because we've been on a 'route march' - geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the bullock paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting medals for shootin' - dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a bloody dingo's arse and it don't move and it's not firing back at ya like the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target - it's a piece of piss!! You don't even load your own cartridges, they comes in little boxes, and ya don't have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful coz they break easy - it's not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.

Turns out I'm not a bad boxer either and it looks like I'm the best the platoon's got, and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the Engineers - he's 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders and as ya know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin' wet, but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can't complain about the Army - tell the boys to get in quick before word gets around how bloody good it is.

Your loving daughter,

Susan

[judy3972]

Originally Posted by DDC

Here's another one hope it's clean enough.



Life in the Australian Army..

Text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. (For those of you not in the know, Eromanga is a small town, west of Quilpie in the far south west of Queensland )




Dear Mum & Dad,

I am well. Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin' on the station - tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all gone! I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta get outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No bloody horses to get in, no calves to feed, no troughs to clean - nothin'!! Ya haz gotta shower though, but its not so bad, coz there's lotsa hot water and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there's no kangaroo steaks or goanna stew like wot Mum makes. You don't get fed again until noon and by that time all the city boys are buggered because we've been on a 'route march' - geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the bullock paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting medals for shootin' - dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a bloody dingo's arse and it don't move and it's not firing back at ya like the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target - it's a piece of piss!! You don't even load your own cartridges, they comes in little boxes, and ya don't have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful coz they break easy - it's not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.

Turns out I'm not a bad boxer either and it looks like I'm the best the platoon's got, and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the Engineers - he's 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders and as ya know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin' wet, but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can't complain about the Army - tell the boys to get in quick before word gets around how bloody good it is.

Your loving daughter,

Susan

Should have seen that coming but I didn't.
ABout named Sue?