These jokes found in the Deseret News of 1888 have never before appeared on Keepa. I suspect you will ask that they never appear here again.
Lawyers are always ready to bring new suits. Tailors are not.
-oOo-
Landlord – Come, Sepp, that is the tenth match I’ve seen you strike. What have you lost?
Sepp – I’m looking for a match that I’ve dropped on the floor.
-oOo-
It is difficult for a sailor to make a tiller of the soil. He can make it of wood, though.
-oOo-
“Now is the time,” said the tramp, as he let the cover of the bin down over him for the night, “to lay in coal.”
-oOo-
“I knew a man once who never told a single lie.”
“Who was he?”
“A Chicago drummer [salesman]”
“Nonsense.”
“He used to tell two at a time.”
-oOo-
England pays $15,000,000 a year for imported eggs. Neither the sun nor the hen seems to “set” on the British territory.
-oOo-
When death tackles a job his work is generally fatal. There may be exceptions,. but they are not on record.
-oOo-
“Do you believe in luck, my good man?” asked a superstitious old lady of a tramp.
“I can’t say that I do, mum,” replied the tramp, “because I never had any.”
-oOo-
They were discussing art matters. “Have you ever been done in oil, Mr. Smith?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” he replied.
“Who was the artist?”
“He wasn’t an artist; he was a broker.”
-oOo-
Old Mrs. Bentley (in an art gallery) – The programme says that’s the Venus of Milo.
Old Mr. Bentley – I reckon she must have been killed in a railroad accident, Mirandy.
-oOo-
Two Ohio farmers recently fought a duel with rails. The reason they chose such weapons was because the challenged party thought he was no slouch at fencing.
-oOo-
The man whose step-ladder collapsed when he was hanging his father’s portrait, bringing the picture down on the top of his head, says it is a striking likeness of the old man.
-oOo-
She – Why, where have you been?
He – At the (hic) club.
She – But surely you didn’t get your hat smashed in at the club. What club was it?
He – The (hic) policeman’s club.
-oOo-
Managing Editor to Staff Poet – Mr. Sponder, have you begun your Christmas ode yet?
Staff Poet – Yes, sir; I’ve bought a lot of presents and haven’t paid a darn cent on them.
-oOo-
Guest (suspiciously eyeing the flattened pillows and crumpled sheets) – Look here, landlord, this bed has been slept in.
Landlord (triumphantly) – That’s what it’s for.
-oOo-
“I’ll never try again to surprise anybody with a New Year’s present,” remarked Billy Yerger to his friend Tommy Peterby.
“Why?” asked Tommy.
“Because I bought Pa a set of false teeth on the sly, and they don’t fit him.”
-oOo-
Higgins – For goodness sake, Wiggins, why do you wobble around the sidewalk so? Go home; you’re flustered.
Wiggins (Indignantly) – I’m not! But I can manage these new baggy trowsers in a head-wind, you now, and have to tack to get the wind on my beam.
-oOo-
Collecting old silver is the latest popular craze. It has always been popular with burglars.
I was watching a special on Bob Uecker yesterday. They told the story of a game Bob was once calling with Howard Cosell. I suppose Howard was great in calling football and boxing, but he was horrible with baseball. Didn’t know a blamed thing about the game. And it didn’t help any if he’d indulged in a bit of the ethanol.
As the story goes, Howard was going on (in his own pompous Cosell way) about how a bunt was called for in a certain situation. It was definitely NOT a bunting situation. Uecker explained at some length that a bunt was certainly not the correct play.
Howard:[you have to imagine his distinct form of diction] All right. All right. I get the message. You don’t have to be so truculent. … You probably don’t even know what truculent means.
Bob: Sure. If you had a truck and I borrowed it, it would be a truculent.
Left Field, are you trying to get yourself banned??
You started it.
Here’s the story.