March Jokes

What do you call a troop of rabbits marching single-file in reverse? A receding hare line.

Q:Why are the avenues in Paris lined with trees? A:Because Germans like to march in the shade.

There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary littleboy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing,destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down tothe bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friendshuddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them,”What’s the Purple Wombat?””You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the children exclaimeddisgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy,always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy,confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.”Hey, Mister Bus Driver!” one of the chldren shouted. “Billy doesn’t knowwhat the Purple Wombat is!”The bus driver turned around abruptly. “You don’t know what the PurpleWombat is?” he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in thevery back of the bus, all by himself.Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went toclass. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegianceand worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then theteacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really payingattention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the PurpleWombat.Billy’s hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked,”Teacher, what’s the Purple Wombat?””You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the teacher cried in alarm,”Get yourself to the principal’s office right now, young man. No, no buts –march!”So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to theprincipal’s office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, andtimidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, satthe principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thinmustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough tofrighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost totears.”Well, Billy,” he began slowly. “What seems to be the problem?””Mr. Principal, I just don’t know what’s going on today. Everyone’s beenacting weird, and they’re all treating me really badly. Like teacher justsent me to you and stuff.””Now, Billy, I’m here to help you. I’m the princi-Pal, after all.Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone’s acting so strangely?””It’s because I don’t know what some stupid Purple Wombat is.””What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is? That’s it. I am callingyour mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended.”The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home.Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother wasstanding in the doorway waiting for him.”Billy!” she called, sobbing, “I was so worried about you! What happened?””Mom,” Billy cried, “Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in theback of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal’soffice and the principal suspended me, all because I don’t know what thePurple Wombat is!””What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” Billy’s mother shrieked.”Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!”So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed,crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doorsshutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talkingdownstairs but didn’t know what they were saying. Then he heard footstepscoming up the stairs, and his door opened.”Billy,” his father began in that lecturing-father tone, “Your mother saysyou’ve been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you’ve done?””Dad, I haven’t done anything! I just don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!””You…don’t know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you canjust stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!”Billy’s father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on hisbed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way — lyingthere, crying, wishing he would wake up.Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said:”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy.”Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find thesource of the voice, but he could not.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy.”It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on,opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat.”Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He gotto the edge of a wood.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy.”The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and veryfrightening, but Billy didn’t care. He had to find out what the PurpleWombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy.”Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he keptfalling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going,driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy.”Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the townlake.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I’m out here, Billy.”It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboatsfrom the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, itwas very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy.”The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, andthe boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way acrossthe lake, he heard: “Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I’m up here, Billy.”It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood upto look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn’tknow how to swim, so he drowned.Moral: Don’t stand up in a boat.

Q:Why are the avenues in Paris lined with trees? A:Because Germans like to march in the shade.

The cowboy lay sprawled across three entire seats in the theater. When the usher came by and noticed this he whispered to the cowboy, “Sorry, sir, but you’re only allowed one seat.” The cowboy groaned but didn’t budge. The usher became more impatient. “Sir, if you don’t get up from there, I’m going to have to call the manager. The cowboy just groaned. The usher marched briskly back up the aisle. In a moment he returned with the manager. Together the two of them tried repeatedly to move the cowboy, but with no success. Finally, they summoned the police. The cop surveyed the situation briefly then asked, “All right buddy, what’s you’re name?” “Sam,” the cowboy moaned. “Where ya from, Sam?” With pain in his voice Sam replied……. “The balcony.”

A very flat-chested woman finally decided she needed a bra and set out to the mall in search of one in her size. She entered an upscale department store and approached the saleslady in lingerie, “Do you have a size 28AAAA bra?” The clerk haughtily replied in the negative, so she left the store and proceeded to another department store where she is rebuffed in much the same manner. After a third try at another department store in the mall, she had become disgusted. Leaving the mall, she drove to K-Mart. Marching up to the sales clerk, she unbuttoned and threw open her blouse, yelling, “Do you have anything for this?” The lady looked closely at her and replied, “Have you tried Clearasil?”

Chuck Norris’ calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd; no one fools Chuck Norris.

Thibodeaux was driving his car past Beaudreaux’s house and saw a sign that read: “Boat for Sale”. Thibodeaux marches up to Beaudreaux’s front porch and raps hard on the door and Beaudreaux opens it. Thibodeaux say, “Beaudreaux! How long we ban frands?” Beaudreaux say, “Well……All our lives, Thibodeaux”. Thibodeaux say, “Why don you tole me you gotta boat?” Beaudreaux say, “I ain’t gotta boat!” Thibodeaux say, “Da’ sign say; ‘BOAT for SALE’. Beaudreaux say, “OH – NO Thibodeaux!!….See dat old ‘ 72 Ford pickem’up truck over dare?” Thibodeaux say, “Yas. I see dat old pickem’up truck.” Beaudreaux say, “See dat ‘ 76 Cheverloet Ce-dan?” Thibodeaux say, “Yas, I see dat Ce-dan.” Beaudreaux say, “Well, dey boat for sale.”

Q: What were the unauthorized protestors guilty of doing? A: Marching banned.

Some of us Southerners are pretty skeptical of horoscopes and the people that read them. If we are to ever fully understand all the star signs and the people they represent, we need symbols that all true Southerners understand: See the list below… OKRA (Dec 22 – Jan 20) Are tough on the outside but tender on the inside. Okras have tremendous influence. An older Okra can look back over his life and see the seeds of his influence everywhere. You can do something good each day if you try. CHITLIN (Jan 21 – Feb 19) Chitlins come from humble backgrounds. A Chitlin, however, will make something of himself if he is motivated and has lots of seasoning. In dealing with Chitlins, be careful they may surprise you. They can erupt like Vesuvius. Chitlins are best with Catfish and Okra. BOLL WEEVIL (Feb 20 – March 20) You have an overwhelming curiosity. You’re unsatisfied with the surface of things, and you feel the need to bore deep into the interior of everything. Needless to say, you are very intense and driven as if you had some inner hunger. You love to stay busy and tend to work too much. Nobody in their right mind is going to marry you, so don’t worry about it. MOON PIE (March 21 – April 20) You’re the type that spends a lot of time on the front porch. A cinch to recognize the physical appearance of Moon Pies. Big and round are the key words here. You should marry anybody who you can get remotely interested in the idea. It’s not going to be easy. You always have a big smile and are happy. This might be the year to think about aerobics. Maybe not. POSSUM (April 21 – May 21) When confronted with life’s difficulties, possums have a marked tendency to withdraw and develop a don’t-bother-me-about-it attitude. Sometimes you become so withdrawn, people actually think you’re dead. This strategy is probably not psychologically healthy but seems to work for you. You are a rare breed. Most folks love to watch you work and play. You are a night person and mind your own business. CRAWFISH (May 22 – June 21) Crawfish is a water sign. If you work in an office, you’re hanging around the water cooler. Crawfish prefer the beach to the mountains, the pool to the golf course, and the bathtub to the living room. You tend not to be particularly attractive physically, but you have very, very good heads. COLLARDS (June 22 – July 23) Collards have a genius for communication. They love to get in the melting pot of life and share their essence with the essence of those around them. Collards make good social workers, psychologists, and baseball managers. As far as your personal life goes, if you are Collards, stay away from Crawfish. It just won’t work. Save yourself a lot of heartache. CATFISH (July 24 – Aug 23) Catfish are traditionalists in matters of the heart, although one’s whiskers may cause problems for loved ones. You Catfish are never easy people to understand. You run fast. You work and play hard. Even though you prefer the muddy bottoms to the clear surface of life, you are liked by most. Above all else, Catfish should stay away from Moon Pies. GRITS (Aug 24 – Sept 23) Your highest aim is to be with others like yourself. You like to huddle together with a big crowd of other Grits. You love to travel though, so maybe you should think about joining a club. Where do you like to go? Anywhere they have cheese, gravy, bacon, butter, or eggs and a good time. If you can go somewhere where they have all these things, that serves you well. You are pure in heart. BOILED PEANUTS (Sept 24 – Oct 23) You have a passionate desire to help your fellow man. Unfortunately, those who know you best, your friends and loved ones, may find that your personality is much too salty, and their criticism will affect you deeply because you are really much softer than you appear. You should go right ahead and marry anybody you want to because in a certain way, yours is a charmed life. On the road of life, you can be sure that people will always pull over and stop for you. BUTTER BEAN (Oct 24 – Nov 22) Always invite a Butter Bean to a party because Butter Beans get along well with everybody. You, as a Butter Bean, should be proud. You’ve grown on the vine of life, and you feel at home no matter what the setting. You can sit next to anybody. However, you, too, shouldn’t have anything to do with Moon Pies. ARMADILLO (Nov 23 – Dec 21) You have a tendency to develop a tough exterior, but you are actually quite gentle and kind inside. A good evening for you? Old friends, a fire, some roots, fruit, worms, and insects. You are a throwback. You’re not concerned with today’s fashions and trends. You’re not concerned with anything about today. You’re almost prehistoric in your interests and behavior patterns. You probably want to marry another Armadillo, but a Possum is another somewhat kinky mating possibility.

It was March 6, 1836. On that fateful day, Davy Crockett woke up and rose from his bunk on the main floor of the Alamo. He then walked up to the observation post along the west wall of the fort. William B. Travis and Jim Bowie were already there, looking out over the top of the wall. These three men gazed at the hordes of Mexicans moving steadily toward them. With a puzzled look on his face, Crockett turned to Bowie and said, “Jim, are we having some landscaping done today?”

A woman went to the doctor’s office and was seen by one of the new young doctors. After about four minutes in the examination room, she started screaming and ran down the hall. An older doctor stopped her and asked what the problem was, and she told him her story. After listening, he told her to sit down and relax in another room. The older doctor marched down the hallway to the back where the first doctor was and demanded, “What’s the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 63 years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchildren, and you told her she was pregnant?” The new doctor continued to write on his clipboard and, without looking up, said, “Does she still have the hiccups?”

January – Took her new scarf back to the store because it was too tight. February – Couldn’t work in a pharmacy because the bottles wouldn’t fit into the typewriter. March – Got excited when she finished a jigsaw puzzle in 6 months because the box said “2-4 years.” April – Was trapped on an escalator for hours when the power went out. May – Couldn’t make Kool-Aid because 8 cups of water won’t fit into those little packets. June – Couldn’t learn to water ski because she couldn’t find a lake with a slope. July – After losing in a breast stroke swimming competition, complained to the judges that the other swimmers were using their arms. August – Told her blonde friend to hurry when trying to get into their locked car using a coat hanger because it was starting to rain and the top was down. September – When asked what the capital of California was: answered “C.” October – Hates M &M;’s because they are so hard to peel. November – Baked a turkey for 4 days because the instructions said 1 hour per pound and she weighed 120. December – Couldn’t call 911 because there was no “11” on any of the phone buttons.

TO: MR. JAMES THATCHER, BRAND MANAGER, PROCTER & GAMBLE. Dear Mr. Thatcher, I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core(tm) or Dri-Weave(tm) absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants. Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from “the curse”? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my “time of the month” is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call “an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.” Isn’t the human body amazing? As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers’ monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend’s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey’s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: “Have a Happy Period.” Are you f@cking kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness-actual smiling, laughing happiness-is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M; freak girl, there will never be anything “happy” about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like “Put Down the Hammer” or “Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong”? Or are you just picking on us? Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullsh*t. And that’s a promise I will keep. Always. Best, Wendi Austin, TX

Little Tommy was doing very badly in math. His parents had tried everything; tutors, flash cards, special learning centers, in short, everything they could think of. Finally in a last ditch effort, they took Tommy down and enrolled him in the local Catholic School. After the first day, little Tommy comes home with a very serious look on his face. He doesn’t kiss his mother hello. Instead, he goes straight to his room and starts studying. Books & papers are spread out all over the room and little Tommy is hard at work. His mother is amazed. She calls him down to dinner and to her shock, the minute he is done he marches back to his room without a word and in no time he is back hitting the books as hard as before. This goes on for sometime, day after day while the mother tries to understand what made all the difference. Finally, little Tommy brings home his report card. He quietly lays it on the table and goes up to his room and hits the books. With great trepidation, his Mom looks at it and to her surprise; little Tommy got an A in math. She can no longer hold her curiosity. She goes to his room and says: “Son, what was it? Was it the nuns?” Little Tommy looks at her and shakes his head. “Well then,” she replies, “was it the books, the discipline, the structure, the uniforms, WHAT was it?” Little Tommy looks at her and says, “Well, on the first day of school, when I saw that guy nailed to the plus sign, I knew they weren’t fooling around.”

January – Took new scarf back to store because it was too tight. February – Fired from pharmacy job for failing to print labels……Helllloooo!!!…..bottles won’t fit in printer! March – Got really excited…..finished jigsaw puzzle in 6 months…..box said “2-4 years!” April – Trapped on escalator for hours ? power went out!!! May – Tried to make Kool-Aid…..wrong instructions….8 cups of water won’t fit into those little packets!!! June – Tried to go water skiing…..couldn’t find a lake with a slope. July – Lost breast stroke swimming competition…..learned later, the other swimmers cheated, they used their arms!!! August – Got locked out of my car in rain storm….car swamped because soft-top was open. September – The capital of California is “C”….isn’t it? October – Hate M & M’s…..they are so hard to peel. November – Baked turkey for 4 1/2 days. Instructions said 1 hour per pound – I weigh 108!! December – Couldn’t call 911…. “duh”….there’s no “eleven” button on the stupid phone!

Some of us Southerners are pretty skeptical of horoscopes and the people that read them. If we are to ever fully understand all the star signs and the people they represent, we need symbols that all true Southerners understand: See the list below… OKRA (Dec 22 – Jan 20) Are tough on the outside but tender on the inside. Okras have tremendous influence. An older Okra can look back over his life and see the seeds of his influence everywhere. You can do something good each day if you try. CHITLIN (Jan 21 – Feb 19) Chitlins come from humble backgrounds. A Chitlin, however, will make something of himself if he is motivated and has lots of seasoning. In dealing with Chitlins, be careful they may surprise you. They can erupt like Vesuvius. Chitlins are best with Catfish and Okra. BOLL WEEVIL (Feb 20 – March 20) You have an overwhelming curiosity. You’re unsatisfied with the surface of things, and you feel the need to bore deep into the interior of everything. Needless to say, you are very intense and driven as if you had some inner hunger. You love to stay busy and tend to work too much. Nobody in their right mind is going to marry you, so don’t worry about it. MOON PIE (March 21 – April 20) You’re the type that spends a lot of time on the front porch. A cinch to recognize the physical appearance of Moon Pies. Big and round are the key words here. You should marry anybody who you can get remotely interested in the idea. It’s not going to be easy. You always have a big smile and are happy. This might be the year to think about aerobics. Maybe not. POSSUM (April 21 – May 21) When confronted with life’s difficulties, possums have a marked tendency to withdraw and develop a don’t-bother-me-about-it attitude. Sometimes you become so withdrawn, people actually think you’re dead. This strategy is probably not psychologically healthy but seems to work for you. You are a rare breed. Most folks love to watch you work and play. You are a night person and mind your own business. CRAWFISH (May 22 – June 21) Crawfish is a water sign. If you work in an office, you’re hanging around the water cooler. Crawfish prefer the beach to the mountains, the pool to the golf course, and the bathtub to the living room. You tend not to be particularly attractive physically, but you have very, very good heads. COLLARDS (June 22 – July 23) Collards have a genius for communication. They love to get in the melting pot of life and share their essence with the essence of those around them. Collards make good social workers, psychologists, and baseball managers. As far as your personal life goes, if you are Collards, stay away from Crawfish. It just won’t work. Save yourself a lot of heartache. CATFISH (July 24 – Aug 23) Catfish are traditionalists in matters of the heart, although one’s whiskers may cause problems for loved ones. You Catfish are never easy people to understand. You run fast. You work and play hard. Even though you prefer the muddy bottoms to the clear surface of life, you are liked by most. Above all else, Catfish should stay away from Moon Pies. GRITS (Aug 24 – Sept 23) Your highest aim is to be with others like yourself. You like to huddle together with a big crowd of other Grits. You love to travel though, so maybe you should think about joining a club. Where do you like to go? Anywhere they have cheese, gravy, bacon, butter, or eggs and a good time. If you can go somewhere where they have all these things, that serves you well. You are pure in heart. BOILED PEANUTS (Sept 24 – Oct 23) You have a passionate desire to help your fellow man. Unfortunately, those who know you best, your friends and loved ones, may find that your personality is much too salty, and their criticism will affect you deeply because you are really much softer than you appear. You should go right ahead and marry anybody you want to because in a certain way, yours is a charmed life. On the road of life, you can be sure that people will always pull over and stop for you. BUTTER BEAN (Oct 24 – Nov 22) Always invite a Butter Bean to a party because Butter Beans get along well with everybody. You, as a Butter Bean, should be proud. You’ve grown on the vine of life, and you feel at home no matter what the setting. You can sit next to anybody. However, you, too, shouldn’t have anything to do with Moon Pies. ARMADILLO (Nov 23 – Dec 21) You have a tendency to develop a tough exterior, but you are actually quite gentle and kind inside. A good evening for you? Old friends, a fire, some roots, fruit, worms, and insects. You are a throwback. You’re not concerned with today’s fashions and trends. You’re not concerned with anything about today. You’re almost prehistoric in your interests and behavior patterns. You probably want to marry another Armadillo, but a Possum is another somewhat kinky mating possibility.

Do you know someone like this? A guy walks into the local welfare office for his monthly check. He marches straight up to the Desk sits down and says, “Hi. You know, I just HATE coming in here drawing welfare month after month. I’d really much rather have a job”. The social worker behind the desk says, “Your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a chauffeur -bodyguard for his nymphomaniac daughter. You’ll have to drive around in his Mercedes, but he’ll supply all of your clothes. Because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You’ll be expected to escort her on her overseas holiday trips. You’ll have a two-bedroom apartment above the garage. The starting salary is $100,000 a year.” The guy says, “You’re bullsh*tting me!” The social worker says, “Yeah, well, you started it.”

Q: What is the most military day of the year? A: March 4th.

There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat. Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them, “What’s the Purple Wombat?” “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children. “Hey, Mister Bus Driver!” one of the chldren shouted. “Billy doesn’t know what the Purple Wombat is!” The bus driver turned around abruptly. “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself. Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat. Billy’s hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, “Teacher, what’s the Purple Wombat?” “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the teacher cried in alarm, “Get yourself to the principal’s office right now, young man. No, no buts — march!” So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal’s office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears. “Well, Billy,” he began slowly. “What seems to be the problem?” “Mr. Principal, I just don’t know what’s going on today. Everyone’s been acting weird, and they’re all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff.” “Now, Billy, I’m here to help you. I’m the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone’s acting so strangely?” “It’s because I don’t know what some stupid Purple Wombat is.” “What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is? That’s it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended.” The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him. “Billy!” she called, sobbing, “I was so worried about you! What happened?” “Mom,” Billy cried, “Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal’s office and the principal suspended me, all because I don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!” “What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” Billy’s mother shrieked. “Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!” So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn’t know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened. “Billy,” his father began in that lecturing-father tone, “Your mother says you’ve been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you’ve done?” “Dad, I haven’t done anything! I just don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!” “You…don’t know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!” Billy’s father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way — lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up. Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy.” Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy.” It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat.” Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy.” The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn’t care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy.” Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy.” Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I’m out here, Billy.” It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy.” The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: “Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I’m up here, Billy.” It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn’t know how to swim, so he drowned.

The day finally arrived; Forrest Gump dies and goes to Heaven. He is at the Pearly Gates, met by St. Peter himself. However, the gates are closed and Forrest approaches the Gatekeeper. St. Peter says, “Well, Forrest, it’s certainly good to see you. We have heard a lot about you. I must tell you, though, that the place is filling up fast, and we’ve been administering an entrance examination for everyone. The test is short, but you have to pass it before you can get into Heaven.” Forrest responds, “It shor is good to be here , St. Peter, sir. But nobody ever tolt me about any entrance exam. Shor hope the test ain’t too hard; life was a big enough test as it was.” St. Peter goes on, “Yes, I know, Forrest, but the test is only three questions. First: What two days of the week begin with the letter T? Second: How many seconds are there in a year? Third: What is God’s first name?” Forrest leaves to think the questions over. He returns the next day and sees St. Peter, who waves him up and says, “Now that you have had a chance to think the questions over, tell me your answers.” Forrest says, “Well, the first one — which two days in the week begin with the letter “T”? Shucks, that one’s easy. That’d be Today and Tomorrow. The Saint’s eyes open wide and he exclaims, “Forrest, that’s not what I was thinking, but you do have a point, and I guess I didn’t specify, so I’ll give you credit for that answer. How about the next one?” asks St. P eter. “How many seconds in a year?” “Now that one’s harder,” says Forrest, “but I thunk and thunk about that and I guess the only answer can be twelve.” Astounded, St. Peter says, “Twelve? Twelve!? Forrest, how in Heaven’s name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?” Forrest says “Shucks, there’s gotta be twelve: January 2nd, February 2nd, March 2nd. . . ….” “Hold it, ” interrupts St. Peter. “I see where you’re going with this, and I see your point, though that wasn’t quite what I had in mind….. but I’ll have to give you credit for that one, too. Let’s go on with the third and final question. Can you tell me God’s first name”? “Sure”, Forrest replied, “its Howard.” “Howard?!” exclaimed an exasperated and frustrated St. Peter. “Ok, I can understand how you came up with your answers to my first two questions, but just how in the world did you come up with the name Howard as the first name of God?” “Shucks, that was the easiest one of all, ” Forrest replied. “Don’t you know the Our Father? Our father who art in heaven, Howard be thy name. . .” St. Peter opened the Pearly Gates and said: “Run Forrest, run.”

General Sherman is marching through the South, and passes Stone Mountain in Georgia. On top is a lone rebel, hurling insults down on the Yankees. Sherman sends ten men up to deal with the rebel. Twenty minutes pass, the men don’t return, and the rebel appears again on top of the mountain, yelling insults. Sherman sends a hundred men up to deal with the rebel. Twenty minutes pass, the men don’t return, and the rebel appears again on top of the mountain, yelling insults. Finally, Sherman sends a thousand men up to deal with the rebel. Twenty minutes pass, a one wounded man crawls back down. “General,” he gasps, “it’s a trap! There’s two of ’em!”

A blonde dies and arrives at the Pearly Gates, where she is greeted by St. Peter. “Welcome!” he says. “Because we are currently operating at 99% capacity, we can only let a limited number of souls into heaven. Therefore, you must answer my questions correctly to gain entrance.” “Okay,” says the blonde. “Here’s your question: name two days of the week that begin with the letter T.” “That’s easy. Today and tomorrow!” “Well, that’s not the answer I was thinking of, but I’ll give you another question. How many seconds are there in a year?” “That’s easy. Twelve!” “Twelve?” “January second, February second, March second–” “Okay, okay. I can see you misunderstood this question as well. Okay, one more chance. What’s God’s name?” “That’s easy. Howard!” “Howard?” “You know — ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, Howard be thy name…”

OK, I’m the only female in a house full of guys. 4 sons and a hubby. Toilet seat is never down…etc. SOOOOoooooooooo I’m the only one who would be using Female products…..correct? A STRANGE thing was happening at my house. Tampons were disappearing. * Insert Twilight Zone theme here * Ok….A few months ago I went to my cupboard to get out a tampon and there was ONLY one left. I could have sworn I had just bought a box the month before. So, I go back to the store, buy a new box and forget about it. The next month (T.O.M) I go back to the cupboard…..and VOILA….there is only ONE tampon left again. What’s going on here? Gremlins??? I go to the store and buy another box, and forget about it. WELL…..I decided to clean out my two youngest sons closet and LOW and BEHOLD….at the bottom of their closet are the wrappers, applicators and the tampons themselves. I am starting to FREAK!!! Dear God, what are they doing with them?????? I get a hold of myself and tell myself that I am an adult and can handle this, despite the bizarre thoughts running through my mind. I’m thinking, “Do I have enough money saved up in the bank for MAJOR THERAPY?” I go to the top of the stairs and yell for my two youngest sons to “COME HERE!!!!” They march up the stairs and find me in their room staring into the bottom of their closet. I said “What are you doing with THOSE? THOSE are MINE!” My 12 year old looks like a deer caught in the headlights and is silent. My 10 year old looks at me all innocent and says. “Well, Mom, we were playing with our G.I. Joes and stuff… and THOSE make really good SCUD missiles… What do YOU use them for?” “NEVER MIND!! GO PLAY!!!!”

A man was in his yard mowing the grass when his blonde neighbor came out of the house and went straight to the mailbox. She opened it then slammed it shut and stormed back into the house. A little later she came out of her house again went to the mail box and again opened it, slammed it shut again. Angrily, back into the house she went. As the man was getting ready to edge the lawn, she came out again, marched to the mailbox, opened it and then slammed it closed harder than ever. Puzzled by her actions the man asked her, “Is something wrong?” To which she replied, “There certainly is!” My stupid computer keeps saying, “You’ve Got Mail.”

Why did the piccolo player join the marching band? To get a little more flute-ility in their life!

That’s my first trip now booked for 2023. I’m hopefully going to Iceland in February…If that goes well, I’ll probably look at going to Sainsburys in March!

Dear JB HATERs I owe my life to Justin. On March 9th, 2009 I was in a coma for 6 months after a terrible car crash. One day my nurse turned the radio to Justin’s song, so I got up, and turned the radio off.

Happy March 14th to all the MEN out there…. (not sure what it is?? GOOGLE IT)

Can February march? No, but April May.

I asked my wife when her birthday was.She said, “March 1st.”So I walked around the room and asked again!

I asked my wife when her birthday was.She said March 1st. So I walked around the room and asked again.

Me: What day is it?… Daughter: March 1stMe, marching around the room: Okay, what day is it?

I asked my friend when their birthday was. He said March 1st.I stood up, walked around the room, and asked again.

I asked my wife when her birthday was. She said March 1st.So I walked around the room and asked again.