In an age when everyone seems to be playing the name game of glorifying job titles, the man in charge of the meat department at a store in Wichita Fall, Texas, deserves a round of applause. On his weekly time card he describes himself as “Meat Head.”

Smoking a cigarette won’t send you to hell. It just makes you smell like you’ve been there.

Joe: What’s so unusual about your girlfriend?

Moe: She chews on hernails.

Joe: Lots of girls chew on their nails.

Moe: Toenails?

“My name is T-t-t-t-tom.”

“I’ll call you Tom for short.”

Ken: There’s nothing like getting up at 5 in the morning and taking an ice-cold shower and a 5-mile jog before breakfast.

Bob: How long have you being doing this?

Ken: I start tomorrow.

“Remember on our vacation when we spent money like there was no tomorrow? Well, it’s tomorrow.”

Once when C.H. Spurgeon, then a young man, was passing by the house of a woman with a poison tongue, she let him have a volley of impolite words. “Yes, thank you, I am quite well,” Spurgeon said. Then she let out another volley. “Yes, it does look as if it’s going to rain,” he replied.

Surprised, the woman exclaimed, “Bless the man, he’s deaf as a post! What’s the use of talking to him?”

Ken: My dog swallowed a tapeworm and died by inches.

Bob: That’s nothing—my dog crawled up in my bed and died by the foot.

Ken: I can beat that. I had a dog that went out of the house and died by the yard.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” grumbled the motorist as the police clerk handed him a receipt for his traffic fine.

“Keep it,” the clerk advised. “When you get four of them, you get a bicycle.”

“Be quiet! You’re interrupting my train of throught.”