Sidney is cruising along the highway when his car starts
misfiring, losing power and, finally, stalling. Sidney
steers the car to the side of the road and tries to
re-start the engine without any luck. He calls AAA
whose service man arrives a short while later, listens
to the Sidney’s account of the car’s failure and lifts
the hood of the car to start work. As he knows nothing
about engines, Sidney wanders off a little way for a
smoke. As he is returning to his car, the engine suddenly
starts and runs without a single misfire or puff of
smoke from the exhaust. “Brilliant!” declares Sidney,
“You managed to fix it. Was it easy to do?”. “Yeah”,
says the AAA service man “Just shit in the carburetor”.
Sidney thinks for a second and says, “OK. How often
should I do that then?”

There was a clerk in a small town general store in the South. One
day, a tall man entered the store and began filling a shopping
cart with items.

This man was so distinctive in that he could have been the official
spokesperson for Quaker Oats. He was dressed in black, very tall
and had a hat just like the Quaker Oats man on the box.

The clerk had never seen a Quaker before, let alone talked to one.
When the man reached the counter with his selections the clerk
could hardly contain himself.

“Are you a Quaker”? he asked as he was ringing up the merchandise.

“Yes,” the tall man said, coldly

“No joke?” asked the clerk, “You’re really a real Quaker?”

The man, looking a little annoyed, said, “Yes, I am a real Quaker.”

Wow!” the young clerk said, “I never seen a real Quaker before.
Would you say something in Quaker talk for me?”

The tall man ignored this request and waited for his merchandise
to be tallied up.

As clerk finished ringing up the sale he said, “Please mister, say
something in Quaker talk?”

The man finally leaned over the counter in a gesture of secrecy.
The clerk leaned forward in order to hear the quiet reply.

The man said, “Screw thee.”

Two men, sentenced to die in the electric chair on the same day,
were led down to the room in which they would meet their maker.
The priest had given them last rites, the formal speech had been
given by the warden, and a final prayer had been said among the
participants.

The warden, turning to the first man, solemnly asked, “Son, do you
have a last request?” To which the man replied, “Yes sir, I do. I
love dance music. Could you please play the Macarena for me one
last time?” “Certainly,” replied the warden.

He turned to the other man and asked, “Well, what about you, son?
What is your final request?” “Please,” said the condemned man,
“kill me first.”