The New York City Bartender's Joke Book (9 page)

Another two years go by before the prospector finds a couple of gold nuggets. He puts them in his pouch, cleans up a bit, and
heads for town.

He stops at the nearest saloon—the only saloon in town—walks up to the bar, dumps the gold nuggets on the bar, points to the
gold nuggets, and says to the bartender, “Bartender, I want to get likkered up and I want me a woman!”

The bartender says, “Well, I can get you good and likkered up, but we haven’t had any women here for a few years, but we do
have Injun Joe behind that door.”

“Oh, no, no!” says the prospector, “I don’t go in for that kind of stuff!” So he drinks until the gold nuggets are gone and staggers
back up the mountain.

One more year goes by and the prospector hits it big! Four huge gold nuggets! He shoves the nuggets into his pockets, doesn’t
bother to clean himself up, and heads for town.

He stops at the nearest saloon—which is still the only saloon in town—runs up to the bar, slams the gold nuggets on the bar,
and yells, “Bartender! I want to get likkered up!” He grabs the bartender by the tie. “
And I need a woman
!”

The bartender says, “Well, I sure can get you all the liquor you want, but there ain’t no women in town, they left a while back, but
we do have Injun Joe behind that door.”

“Oh, no, no,” says the prospector, “I don’t go in for that kind of stuff.” But as he drinks, he starts to get a little randy.
He calls the bartender over and says, “Bartender, how much do you charge for that Injun Joe behind that door?”

The bartender says, “Fifty dollars.”

“Fifty dollars!?” says the prospector. “How do you justify fifty dollars?”

“Well,” says the bartender, “we give Injun Joe ten dollars, and twenty dollars apiece for two guys
to hold him down, ’cause Injun Joe don’t go in for that kind of stuff either.”

A guy is riding his snowmobile in Alaska. He’s out on the tundra, twenty-five to thirty miles from the nearest town, when
all of a sudden the snow-mobile stops running. He can’t get it started and panic sets in because the sun is setting and he’ll
freeze to death if he is stranded there overnight.

Then, to his amazement, he sees an Eskimo riding a snowmobile along the horizon, so he starts jumping up and down, waving his
arms, hoping to get the Eskimo’s attention.

The Eskimo sees him and heads toward him. Fifteen minutes later, the Eskimo pulls up next to him and asks, “What’s the problem?”

The guy says, “I don’t know. I’m riding along when all of a sudden it stops and I can’t get it started.”

“Well,” says the Eskimo, “I’m an expert snowmobile mechanic, let me take a look at it.” He opens the engine cover, looks at
the engine, goes back to his snowmobile, gets some tools, and starts tinkering with the motor. After a couple of minutes,
he says, “I found the problem.”

The guy asks, “What is it?”

The Eskimo says, “You blew a seal.”

“Oh, no,” the guy says. “That’s just snow on my lip!”

After picking up a few items at a pharmacy, a guy goes up to the counter with a can of shaving cream, razor blades, soap,
and toothpaste. The woman at the counter rings up the items and asks the guy, “You’re single, aren’t you?”

“Why, yes,” answers the guy. “How can you tell?”

“Because you’re fucking ugly!” replies the woman.

How can you tell when a woman is about to say

something important?

She starts by saying, “A man once told me…”

A young boy gets a train set for Christmas. His parents help him set it up and they all play with it. Eventually, the father
goes into the den to catch up on
football scores and the mother goes into the kitchen to clean the Christmas dinner dishes. The boy is left alone in the living
room playing with his train.

All of a sudden, the mom, in the kitchen, hears the boy, in the living room, say, “59th Street station, anyone who wants to get
on, get the fuck on, anyone who wants to get off, get the fuck off!”

Not quite sure of what she heard, the mother stands next to the living-room door to listen. Much to her dismay, she hears her
son say, “42nd Street, anyone who wants to get on, get the fuck on, anyone who wants to get off, get the fuck off!”

The mother rushes into the living room and grabs the boy by the neck and says, “I don’t know where you learned that kind of
language, certainly not from me and I hope not from your father. You are not to use that language
ever
!” With that, she drags the boy up the stairs and throws him in his room and says, “Now you stay in here until you have learned
your lesson!”

She storms out and goes back downstairs to the kitchen, fuming. After an hour, she cools down and goes upstairs to the boy’s
room and says, “Have you learned your lesson?”

The boy says, “Yes, ma’am, I’ve learned my lesson, real good.”

“All right,” says the mother, “you can go back downstairs and play with your train set again.”

Not quite sure if he learned his lesson or not, the mother stands near the living-room door to listen. She hears the boy say, “59th
Street, anyone who
wants to get on, get on, anyone who wants to get off, get off.”

But just to be sure, the mother listens further, and she hears the boy say “42nd Street, anyone who wants to get on, get on, anyone
who wants to get off, get off.”

Satisfied that he has learned his lesson, she goes back into the kitchen to continue cleaning the Christmas dinner dishes.

There is a long pause. Silence from the living room. Then the mother hears the boy say, “14th Street, anyone who wants to get
on, get on, anyone who wants to get off, get off.

“If anyone has any complaints about the delays in the system,” the boy continues, “see the fucking bitch in the kitchen!”

Did you hear about the Energizer Battery bunny?

He died. Someone put the batteries in

backwards and he kept coming and coming

and coming…

It was comedy night at the Comic Strip, and this night featured a ventriloquist. Everything was going great, he had the audience
in the palm of his hand, laughing, until he started with the Polish
jokes—the ventriloquist and his dummy, back and forth with the Polish jokes, one after the other.

All of a sudden, a Polish guy stands up and yells, “Hey, I’m Polish, and we—yes, I’m speaking for all of us—we resent those
jokes. As a matter of fact, they are not jokes to us! They are not funny. They are degrading, humiliating, and insulting!
Please stop it!”

The ventriloquist is stunned. He has never encountered anything like this in his whole career. He stands up, still holding
the dummy, and very apologetically says to the Polish guy, “I am very sorry, sir, to you and all the Polish people I have
offended. From this moment on I will never, ever utter another Polish joke as long as I live, and I will urge my fellow comedians
to follow suit. I apologize to you, sir, and anyone I have offended.”

“Hey,” says the Polish guy, “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the little guy!”