Live Longer With Laughter
(Aye, it's a fact!)

Irish Viagra

An Irish woman of advanced age visited her physician to ask his help in reviving her husband’s libido.

“What about trying Viagra?” asks the doctor.

“Not a chance,” she said. “He won’t even take an aspirin!”

“Not to fret,” replied the doctor. “Give him an Irish Viagra.”

“What’s an Irish Viagra, Doctor?”

“That’s where you just drop the Viagra into his morning coffee, He won’t even taste it,” replied the doctor. “Give it a try, and call me in a week to let me know how things went.”

It wasn’t a week later that she called the doctor, who directly inquired as to the progress.

The poor dear exclaimed, “Oh, faith, bejasus and begorrah! t’was horrid, jost terrible, doc!”

“Really” What happened?” asked the doctor.

“Well, I did as you advised me to do and slipped the Viagra into his morning coffee and it took effect immediately. He jumped hisself straight up, with a twinkle in his eye and with his pants a-bulging fiercely! With one swoop of his arm, he sent the cups and tablecloth a flying, ripped me clothes to tatters and took me then and there, making wild, mad, passionate love to me right on the tabletop! T’was a nightmare, I tell you, an absolute nightmare!”

“Why so terrible?” asked the doctor. “Do you mean the sex your husband gave you wasn’t any good?”

“Oh, no, no, no, doctor, the sex was fine indeed! T’was the best sex I’ve had in twenty-five years! But sure as I’m sittin’ here, I’ll never be able to show my face in Starbucks again!”

Ireland Declares War

Jacques Chirac, The French President, is sitting in his office when his telephone rings.

"Hallo, Mr. Chirac!" a heavily accented voice says..... "This is Paddy down at the Harp Pub in County Clare, Ireland. I am ringing to inform you that we are officially declaring war on you!"

"Well, Paddy," Chirac replied, "This is indeed important news! How big is your army?"

"Right now," says Paddy, after a moment's calculation, "there is myself, me Cousin Sean, me next door neighbor Seamus, and the entire darts team from the pub. That makes eight!"

Chirac paused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100,000 men in my army waiting to move on my command."

"Begoora!" says Paddy. "I'll have to ring you back."

Sure enough, the next day, Paddy calls again.

"Mr. Chirac, the war is still on. We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!"

"And what equipment would that be Paddy?" Chirac asks.

"Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy's farm tractor."

Chirac sighs amused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6,000 tanks and 5,000 armored personnel carriers. Also, I have increased my army to 150,000 since we last spoke."

"Saints preserve us!" says Paddy. "I'll have to get back to you."

Sure enough, Paddy rings again the next day.

"Mr. Chirac, the war is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We have modified Jackie McLaughlin's ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four boys from the Shamrock Bar have joined us as well!

" Chirac was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military bases are surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I have increased my army to 200,000!"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" says Paddy, "I will have to ring you back."

Sure enough, Paddy calls again the next day.

"Top o' the mornin', Mr. Chirac!

I am sorry to inform you that we have had to call off the war."

"Really? I am sorry to hear that," says Chirac. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well," says Paddy, "we had a long chat over a few pints of Guinness, and decided there is no fookin' way we can feed 200,000 prisoners."


Paddy O'Reilly is driving home after a few pints of Guinness down at the local pub. He turns a corner and, much to his dismay, he sees a tree in the middle of the road. He swerves to avoid it and, almost too late, realizes that there is yet another tree directly in his path. He swerves again and discovers to his horror that his drive home has turned into a slalom course, causing him to veer from side to side to avoid all the trees.

Moments later he hears the sound of a police siren and brings his car to a stop. Officer O'Malley approaches Paddy's car and asks him what on earth he was doing.

Paddy tells his story of the trees in the road when the officer stops him in mid-sentence and says, "Ah, Jasus, Paddy, that's yer air freshener!"

A moment of silence...

An Irishman, young Joey Stewart, having had a bit too much to drink, is driving home
from the city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently all over the road.

A cop, doing his duty, pulls him over.
"So," says the cop "where have you been?"
"Why, I've been to McCafferty's Pub of course," Joey admits without hesitation.
"Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink this evening."
"I did all right", Joey says with a wink.

"Did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms
across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of
your car?"

"Ah, Jasus, thank God for that!" sighs Joey.
"For a minute there, I thought I went deaf!"

What a way to go!

The young and lovely Mrs. Curtis is home making dinner, as usual,
when Peter Green arrives at her door.
"Dear sweet Colleen, may I come in?" he asks, "I've somethin' to tell ya."
"Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Peter.
But where's my husband?"

"That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya...
There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery...."

"Oh, God no!" cries the newly married Colleen. "Please don't tell me..."
"It's true. Your husband Sean is dead and gone. I'm sorry."

Through her tears, she sobs softly: "How did it happen, Peter?"
"It was terrible. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned."
"Oh dear Jasus! But you must tell me true, Peter. Did he at least go quickly?"

"Well, no Fact is, he got out three times to pee."

Fly in my Guinness

An Irishman, Englishman and Scotsman go into a pub and each order a pint of Guinness.
Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and one lands in each of the pints.
The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away and demands another pint.
The Scotsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow.
The Irishman reaches in to the glass, pinches the fly between his fingers and shakes him while yelling,
"Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"

Last Request

Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.
He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"
She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."
The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, did he have any last requests?"
She says, "That he did, Father......!"
The priest says,
"Well, what did he ask, Mary?"
She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun!'"

A Son Helps His Father

An old Irish man lived alone in the country, County Donegal, it was.
He wanted to dig his potato garden
but it was very hard work as the ground was hard.
His only son, Sean, who used to help him,
was in prison for Insider Trading and Stock Fraud.
The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

"Dear Sean:
I am feeling pretty bad because
it looks like I won't be able to plant my potato garden this year.
I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot.
If you were here, all my troubles would be over.
I know you would dig the plot for me.
Signed: Your Loving Father"

A few days later the old man received a letter from his son:

"Dear Dad:

For heaven's sake, don't be digging up that garden!
That's where I buried the money & stocks.

Love, Sean"

At 4 am the next morning, a team of FBI agents and local police
arrived at the old man's house and dug up the entire garden area
without finding any money or stocks.
They apologized to the old man and left.

That same day the old man received another letter from his son:

"Dear Dad:
Go ahead and plant the potatoes now.
That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love, Sean"

(Sent to me by David Shefrin, and rewritten for the Irish persuasion.)

Lost Navigator

The scene is sometime in the old era when cockpits had round dials plus flight engineers and navigators.
The crusty old-timer captain is breaking in a brand new navigator.

The captain opens his briefcase, pulls out a .38 and rests it on the glare panel.
He asks the navigator, "Know what this is for?"

"No, sir," replies the newbie.

"I use it on navigators that get us lost," explains the captain, winking at his first officer.

The navigator then opens his briefcase, pulls out a .45 and sets it on his chart table.

"What's THAT for?" queries the surprised captain.

"Well, sir," replies the navigator, "I'll know we're lost before you will."

(From Airways Magazine June 05 issue, sent to me by Stephen Chang, fellow Waco biplane pilot.)

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