Chapter 353

The Chicken Farmer!!!!!

A woman walks into an accountant's office and tells him that she needs to file her taxes.

The accountant says, "Before we begin, I'll need to ask you a few questions." He gets her name, address, social security number, etc. and then asks, "What is your occupation?"

"I'm a whore," she says.

The accountant is somewhat taken back and says, "No, No, No, that won't work. Let's try to rephrase that"

The woman says, "OK, I'm a high-end call girl".

"No, that still won't work. Try again."

They both think for a moment and the woman says, "I'm an elite chicken farmer."

The accountant asks, "What does chicken farming have to do with being a prostitute?

"Well, I raised a thousand little peckers last year."

"Chicken Farmer it is."

A woman from Vancouver who was a tree hugging, Liberal and an anti-hunter purchased a piece of timberland near Kamloops BC. There was a large tree on one of the highest points in the tract. She wanted a good view of the natural splendour of her land so she started to climb the big tree. As she neared the top she encountered a spotted owl that attacked her. In her haste to escape, the woman slid down the tree to the ground and got many splinters in her crotch. In considerable pain, she hurried to a local ER to see a doctor. She told him she was an environmentalist, a Liberal, and an anti-hunter and how she came to get all the splinters.

The doctor listened to her story with great patience and then told her to go wait in the examining room and he would see if he could help her. She sat and waited three hours before the doctor reappeared. The angry woman demanded, "What took you so long?"

He smiled and then told her, "Well, I had to get permits from the Environmental Protection Agency, the Forestry Service, and the Department of Land Management before I could remove old-growth timber from a 'recreational area' so close to a waste treatment facility. I'm sorry, but due to Conservative cutbacks they turned you down...

This is from the 'Shy One'.

Last week, I took my grandchildren to a restaurant. My seven-year-old grandson asked if he could say grace.

As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good, God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Grandpa gets us ice cream for dessert. And liberty and justice for all! Amen!"

Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman remark, "That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!"

Hearing this, my grandson burst into tears and asked me, "Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?"

As I assured him that he had done a terrific job, and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table.

He winked at my grandson and said, "I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer."

"Really?" my grandson asked.

"Cross my heart," the man replied.

Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing),

"Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes."

Naturally, I bought my grandchildren ice cream at the end of the meal. My grandson stared at his ice cream for a moment, and then did something I will remember the rest of my life.

He picked up his sundae and, without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman.

With a big smile he told her,

"Here, this is for you. Shove it up your ass you grouchy old bitch!"

Touches the heart doesn't it?