These are from actual resumes:

“Personal: I’m married with 9 children. I don’t require prescription
drugs.

“I am extremely loyal to my present firm, so please don’t let them
know of my immediate availability.”

“Qualifications: I am a man filled with passion and integrity, and I
can act on short notice. I’m a class act and do not come cheap.”

“I intentionally omitted my salary history. I’ve made money and lost
money. I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. I prefer being rich.”

“Note: Please don’t misconstrue my 14 jobs as ‘job-hopping’. I have
never quit a job.”

“Number of dependents: 40.”

“Marital Status: Often. Children: Various.”

“Here are my qualifications for you to overlook.”

REASONS FOR LEAVING THE LAST JOB:

“Responsibility makes me nervous.”

“They insisted that all employees get to work by 8:45 every morning.
Couldn’t work under those conditions.”

“Was met with a string of broken promises and lies, as well as
cockroaches.”

“I was working for my mom until she decided to move.”

“The company made me a scapegoat - just like my three previous
employers.”

JOB RESPONSIBILITIES:

“While I am open to the initial nature of an assignment, I am
decidedly disposed that it be so oriented as to at least partially
incorporate the experience enjoyed heretofore and that it be
configured so as to ultimately lead to the application of more
rarefied facets of financial management as the major sphere of
responsibility.”

“I was proud to win the Gregg Typting Award.”

SPECIAL REQUESTS & JOB OBJECTIVES:

“Please call me after 5:30 because I am self-employed and my employer
does not know I am looking for another job.”

“My goal is to be a meteorologist. But since I have no training in
meteorology, I suppose I should try stock brokerage.”

“I procrastinate - especially when the task is unpleasant.”

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES:

“Minor allergies to house cats and Mongolian sheep.”

PERSONAL INTERESTS:

“Donating blood. 14 gallons so far.”

In a small southern town there was a “Nativity Scene” that showed
great skill and talent had gone into creating it. One small
feature bothered me.

The three wise men were wearing firemen’s helmets.

Totally unable to come up with a reason or explanation, I left. At
a “Quik Stop” on the edge of town, I asked the lady behind the
counter about the helmets. She exploded into a rage, yelling at me,
“You stupid Yankees never do read the Bible!” I assured her that
I did, but simply couldn’t recall anything about firemen in the Bible.

She jerked her Bible from behind the counter and ruffled through
some pages, and finally jabbed her finger at a passage. Sticking
it in my face she said “See, it says right here, the three wise
man came from afar.”
The Cost Of A Vet …

Michael the Dragon Master was an official in King Arthur’s court.
He had a long-standing obsession to nuzzle the beautiful Queen’s
voluptuous breasts. But he knew the penalty for this would be death.

One day he revealed his secret desire to his colleague, Horatio,
who was the King’s chief physician. Horatio said,”I can arrange it,
but I will need 1,000 gold coins to pay bribes”.

Michael the Dragon Master readily agreed.

The next day Horatio made up a batch of itching lotion and poured a
little of it into the Queens brassiere while she was taking a bath.
Soon after she dressed the itching commenced and grew in intensity.

Upon being called to the royal chambers, Horatio told the King that
only a special saliva, if applied for four hours, would cure this
type of itch, and that tests had shown such a saliva was only to be
found in Michael the Dragon Master’s mouth.

King Arthur summoned Michael the Dragon Master.

Michael the Dragon Master slipped the antidote to the itching lotion,
which Horatio had given him, into his mouth and for the next four
hours worked passionately on the Queen’s magnificent breasts.

Satisfied, he returned to his chamber and found Horatio demanding
payment. However, with his obsession now satisfied, he refused to
pay Horatio anything and shooed him away, knowing that Horatio could
never report this matter to the King.

The next day, Horatio slipped a massive dose of the same itching
lotion onto King Arthur’s loincloth.
King Arthur summoned Michael the Dragon Master…..

Moral of the story: Pay your bills.

Arriving for her artificial insemination, Mrs. Aldiss
was surprised when the attendant locked the door behind
them and began taking off his clothes. “And just what
do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “Sorry,” said
the young man, “but we’re all out of the bottled stuff.
I’ve got to give you draft.”

An Army grunt stands in the rain with a 35-pound pack on his back,
15 lb. weapon in hand, after having marched 12 miles, and says,
“This is shit!”

An Army Airborne Ranger stands in the rain with a 45 lb. pack on his
back, weapon in hand, after having jumped from an airplane and marched
18 miles, and says with a smile,
“This is good shit!”

A Navy SEAL lies in the mud, 55 LB pack on his back, weapon in hand,
after swimming 10 miles to shore, crawling through a swamp and marching
25 miles at night past the enemy positions, says with a grin,
“This really is great shit.”

A Marine, up to his nose in the stinking, bug infested mud of a swamp
with a 65 LB pack on his back and a weapon in both hands after jumping
from an aircraft at high altitude, into the ocean, swimming 12 miles
to the shore, killing several alligators to enter the swamp, then
crawling 30 miles through the brush to assault an enemy camp, says,
“I love this shit.”

The Air Force NCO sits in an easy chair in an air-conditioned office,
and says,
“My e-mail’s out? What kind of shit is this?”

As the airliner pushed back from the gate, the flight attendant gave
the passengers the usual information regarding seat belts, etc.
Finally, she said “Now sit back and enjoy your trip while your captain,
Judith Campbell, and crew take you safely to your destination.”
Marvin sitting in the eighth row thought to himself, “Did I hear her
right; is the captain a woman?
I think I better have a whiskey and water.”
When the attendants came by with the drink cart, he said,
“Did I understand you right? Is the captain a woman?”
“Yes,” said the attendant. “In fact, this entire crew is female.”
“My God,” said Marvin, “I’d better have two whiskeys and water.
I don’t know what to think of all those women up there in the cockpit.”
“That’s another thing,” said the attendant.
“We no longer call it the cockpit.
Now it’s the box office.”

A photographer for a national magazine was assigned to take
pictures of a great forest fire. He was advised that a small
plane would be waiting to fly him over the fire.

The photographer arrived at the airstrip just an hour before
sundown. Sure enough, a small Cessna airplane was waiting. He
jumped in with his equipment and shouted, “Let’s go!” The tense
man sitting in the pilot’s seat swung the plane into the wind
and soon they were in the air, though flying erratically.

“Fly over the north side of the fire,” said the photographer,
“and make several low-level passes.”

“Why?” asked the nervous pilot.

“Because I’m going to take pictures!” yelled the photographer.
“I’m a photographer, and photographers take pictures.”

After a long pause, the “pilot” replied: “You mean, you’re not
my instructor?”

by Mullah Mohammed Omar

‘Twas the night before Ramadan, and all through the cave
Not a creature was stirring; it felt like a grave.
The turbans were hung by the fire pit with care,
In hopes that the Air Force would not soon be there.

The soldiers were restless without any beds,
While visions of air strikes flashed into their heads.
Osama in his burkha and I in my goatskin cap,
Had just settled down for a cold, winter’s nap,

When out on the ledge there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed my Kalashnikov to see what was the matter.
Away from the racket I ran like a child,
Tripped over a goat; and fell in a pile.

The moon shone down on the new-fallen snow
And lit up the valley with an ominous glow,
When, what (to my one good eye) should appear,
But a dozen Apaches, and tanks in the rear,

And their leader, so fearless, his troops he did push,
I knew in an instant it must be George Bush.
More rapid than eagles his forces they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called out our names;

“Now Omar! Osama! Muhammad! Abdul!
We come for you now; we’ve taken Kabul!
To the top of the cliffs! To the back of their caves!
When you chose this war, you dug your own graves!”

As the dry leaves that before the assault choppers fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, light up the sky,
So up to the ledge his forces they flew
With full magazines, and flamethrowers too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard with a thud
The explosions of Tomahawks; not one was a dud.
As I chambered my rifle, and was turning around,
Osama was there, disguised in a gown.

He was dressed all in drag, from his head to his toes,
And he said he would flee while I held off his foes;

A bundle of money he had stuffed in his pack,
He said “I’m going to Baghdad and I’m not looking back!”

His eyes were all glassy; he trembled with fear;
The American bombs, they rang in his ears.
He saddled his goat, then turned tail and fled,
But a Marine Corps sniper got him right in the head.

I watched with cold fear as his body did slump;
The goat threw him off; he fell with a thump.
And so, there I stood, my plans all destroyed,
About to suffer a fate I could not avoid;

I dropped to my knees; asked Allah for help,
His voice boomed in my ears, “You ignorant whelp!
I gave you the Bible, the Torah and Koran,
But you were too arrogant to understand,

I told you to honor your neighbors and wives;
Not to enslave them, or degrade their lives!
You invoke My name to sanction your deeds,
But you are the last thing that this world needs.

And so, I’ll send you and bin Laden to Hell.”
The last words I heard, as the bombs fell,
Were from George Bush himself as he mounted the wall,
“One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all!”

Kathryn’s 5-year-old developed a strong interest in spelling once
she learned to spell STOP. After that, she tried to figure out her
own words. From the back seat of the car she’d ask, “Mom, what does
FGRPL spell?”

“Nothing,” Kathryn said.

Sitting at breakfast she’d suddenly ask, “Mom, what does DOEB spell?”

“Nothing,” Kathryn answered.

This went on for several weeks. Then one afternoon as they sat
coloring in her room she asked, “Mom, what does LMDZ spell?”

Kathryn smiled at her and said, “Nothing, sweetheart.”

The 5-year-old carefully set down her crayon, sighed and said,
“Boy, there sure are a lot of ways to spell Nothing!”

A professor of mathematics sent a fax to his wife. It read:

“Dear Wife: You must realize that you are 54 years old, and I
have certain needs which you are no longer able to satisfy. I
am otherwise happy with you as wife, and I sincerely hope you
will not be hurt or offended to learn that by the time you
receive this letter, I will be at the Grand Hotel with my
18-year-old teaching assistant. I’ll be home before midnight.
– Your Husband”

When he arrived at the hotel, there was a faxed letter waiting
for him that read as follows:

“Dear Husband: You, too, are 54 years old, and by the time you
receive this letter, I will be at the Breakwater Hotel with the
18-year-old pool boy. Being the brilliant mathematician that you
are, you can easily appreciate the fact that 18 goes into 54 a
lot more times than 54 goes into 18. Don’t wait up.”