While walking down the street one day, a U.S. senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem to address. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in," says the man.
"Well, I'd like to but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."
"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven," says the senator.
"I'm sorry, but we have our rules."
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance he sees a club, and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and dressed in evening attire.
They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.
They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne. Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes.
They are having such a good time that, before he realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.
The elevator goes up, up, up and the doors reopen on heaven, where St. Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit heaven."
So 24 hours pass with the head of state joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.
"Well then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity."
The senator reflects for a minute and then answers, "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell."
So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder.
"I don't understand," stammers the senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and club, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now all there is is a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?"
The devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning... Today you voted."
Little Johnny was doing his math homework. He said to himself, "Two plus six, that son of a bitch is eight. Three plus four, that son of a bitch is seven…."
His mother heard what he was saying and gasped, "What are you doing?"
Little Johnny answered, "I'm doing my math homework, Mom."
"And this is how your teacher taught you to do it?" the mother asked.
"Yes," he answered.
Infuriated, the mother asked the teacher the next day, "What are you teaching my son in math?"
The teacher replied, "Right now, we are learning addition."
The mother asked, "And are you teaching them to say two plus two, that son of a bitch is four?"
After the teacher stopped laughing, she answered, "What I taught them was, two plus two, THE SUM OF WHICH, is four."
Sardar walks into a bar, orders three pints of "Desi Daru" and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The bartender asks him, "You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time."
The Sardar replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Dubai, and I'm here in Punjab. When we all left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together."
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.
The Sardar becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: He orders three pints and drinks them in turn.
One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall silent.
When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss."
The Sardar looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs.
"Oh, no," he, says, "everyone's fine. I've just quit drinking."
George's new colleagues always met for a round of golf every Saturday. They asked George to meet them at 10:00 Saturday morning. George replied that he would love to meet them, but that he may be 10 minutes late.
On Saturday morning, George was there at exactly 10:00 a.m. He golfed right-handed and won the round.
Next Saturday rolls around, and George says that he will be there, but that he may be 10 minutes late again.
He shows up right on time, golfs left-handed, and wins the round. This continues for the next few weeks, with George always saying that he may be 10 minutes late and then always winning the round, golfing either left- or right-handed.
The other employees are getting tired of this, and decide to ask him what the deal is. They say, "George, every Saturday you say you may be 10 minutes late. You never are. Then you show up and golf either right-handed or left-handed, and always win. What's up with that?"
George replies, "Well, I am a very superstitious guy. Every Saturday when I wake up, I look over at my wife. If she is sleeping on her left side, I golf left-handed. If she is sleeping on her right side, I golf right-handed.''
"Well," one of the employees questioned, "What happens if she is lying on her back?''