Musings of the Chronologically Challenged™ Fourth Generation
Thursday, July 21, 2005
THE JOKES ARE ON US, YA'LL
Gabriel came to the Lord and said "I have to talk to you. We have some Southerners up here who are causing problems. They're swinging on the pearly gates, my horn is missing, barbecue sauce is all over their robes, their dogs are riding in the chariots, and they're wearing baseball caps and cowboy hats instead of their halos. They refuse to keep the stairway to heaven clean. There are watermelon seeds and pig feet bones all over the place. Some of them are walking around with just one wing."
The Lord said, "Southerners will be southerners, Gabriel. Heaven is Home to all my children. If you want to know about real problems, call the Devil."
The Devil answered the phone, "Hello? Hold on a minute." The Devil returned to the phone, "O.K., I'm back. What can I do for you?"
Gabriel replied, "I just want to know what kind of problems you're having down there."
The Devil said, "Hold on again. I need to check on something."
After about 5 minutes the Devil returned to the phone and said, "I'm back. Now what was the question?"
Gabriel said, "What kind of problems are you having down there?"
The Devil said, "Man, I don't believe this....Hold on."
This time the Devil was gone 15 minutes. The Devil returned and said,
"I'm sorry, Gabriel, I can't talk right now. Those Southerners have put out the fire and now they are trying to install air conditioning."
YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK IF:
Your standard of living improves when you go camping.
Your prenuptial agreement mentions chickens.
You have jacked up your home to look for a dog.
You have a relative living in your garage.
Your neighbor has ever asked to borrow a quart of beer.
There is a belch on your answering machine greeting.
You have rebuilt a carburetor while sitting on the commode.
None of the tires on your van are the same size.
You hold the hood of your car with your head while you work on it.
Your idea of getting lucky is passing the emissions test.
Your town put the new garbage truck in the Christmas parade.
Your local beauty salon also fixes cars.
Your doghouse and your living room have the same shag carpet.
You've ever slow danced in the Waffle House.
Starting your car involves popping the hood.
Your garbage man is confused about what goes and what stays.
You whistle at women in church.
You've been in a fistfight at a yard sale.
You carry a fly swatter in the front seat of the car so you can reach the kids in the backseat.
If you've ever fixed a broken coil primary wire on a car with a safety pin off your date's bra strap, and didn't think the date was unusual.
If you've got a matching set of salad bowls that all say "cool whip" on them.
If you take the Christmas lights on the front porch down in November, and only long enough to get them working again.
You've ever used duct tape to repair dental work.
You've unstopped a sink with a shotgun.
Your will states your wife can't touch your money 'til she's fourteen.
You have to pass through a metal detector to get to a family reunion.
Your coffee table is also a cooler.
Your mailing address includes the word "holler".
The first time you ever saw your wife in lingerie, you had to pay a cover charge.
You've sold a car to settle a bar tab.
The best sofa you ever had came out of a Chevrolet.
You've ever used your bathtub as a punch bowl.
If you have ever been accused of lying through your tooth.
If you have ever used a barstool as a walker.
The Alabama preacher rose with an angry red face, saying, "Someone in this congregation has spread a rumor that I belong to the Ku Klux Klan. This is a horrible lie, and one which a Christian community cannot tolerate. I am embarrassed and do not intend to accept this. Now, I want the party who did this to stand and ask forgiveness from God and this Christian family."
No one moved.
The preacher continued, "Do you have the nerve to face me and admit that this is a falsehood? Remember, you will be forgiven and in your heart you will feel wonderful. Now please stand and confess your transgression."
Again all was quiet. Then, slowly, a drop-dead gorgeous blonde with a body that would stop traffic, rose from the third pew. Her head was bowed and her voice quivered as she spoke. "Reverend there has been a terrible misunderstanding. I never said you were a member of the Ku Klux Klan. I simply told a couple of my friends that you were a wizard under the sheets!"
The preacher fainted.
Three cowboys were sitting in a bar discussing women.
"I think Southern Women are the prettiest," one of them said.
"I think Southern women are the toughest," said another.
The third said, "I think they're the most polite. . . That's why they don't like group sex."
His friends looked at him, confused. "They don't like group sex?"
"Nope, too many thank-you notes."
A man in Topeka, Kansas, decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to San Francisco, and started working east from there. Going to a very large church, he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall, and was intrigued with a sign which read, "$10,000 per minute."
Seeking out the pastor, he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that the golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven, and if he pays the price, he can talk directly to God. The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way.
As he continued to visit churches in Seattle, Salt Lake City, Denver, Chicago, Milwaukee, and around the United States, he found more such phones, with the same sign, and the same explanation from each pastor. Finally, the man arrived in the lovely state of Georgia. Upon entering a church, behold: he saw the usual golden telephone.
But THIS time, the sign read: "Calls: 25 cents"
Fascinated, the man asked to speak with the pastor. "Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I have found this golden telephone, and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven, and that I could use it to talk to God. But in 20 other churches, the cost was $10,000 per minute. Your sign says 25 cents per call Why is that?"
The pastor, smiling benignly, replied:
"Son, you're in the South now, and it's a local call."