Local jokes

The pastor of the local church calls on the congregation for volunteers for Bible sales.

A gentleman with a severe stutter approaches the pastor after Sunday service.

"I-i-i... I-i-id like to v-v-v-v-vol-vol-vo-volunteer to s-s-s-se-sell b-b-b-bi-b-bibles, f-fff-f-f-fa-fa-father..."

"That would be wonderful, my son. We'll start you with one box. Please go door to door throughout the community and sell what you can. You can give these away, but donations are always accepted since the word of God is the most important message."

"T-t-t-t-th-th-th-thank you f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father... i-i-i-i-i-i-I'll s-s-s-s-se-se-sell what I c-c-c-cc-can..."

The pastor sends the man on his way.

About an hour later to the pastor's surprise, the stuttering man returns with an empty box and $200 cash.

The pastor is completely shocked, but is ultimately filled with joy as the church could use the funds more than ever, not to mention the community is that much closer to God's message.

So without asking questions, he happily sends the stuttering man on his way with 2 more boxes of Bibles.

"T-t-t-t-t-t-th-th-th-th-tha-thank you f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father, i-i-i-i-i-i-I'll be back s-s-s-s-s-soo-soo-soo-soon."

Exactly 2 hours later the stuttering man returns, only this time carrying 2 empty boxes and $500 cash.

The pastor is at a loss for words. So much so, that he's questioning whether the stuttering man is coming across these funds legitimately.

He pulls the man aside and asks, "Son, while myself and the church thank you for your efforts in selling these bibles, we want to make sure not to take advantage of common people. Most of my volunteers take upwards of a month to sell a single box of Bibles, and you've sold 3 boxes in a few hours. May I ask what you're telling these people when you approach their home?"

"W-w-w-w-we-we-well f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father it-it-it-it-its qui-q-q-q-qui-quite s-s-s-s-s-s-si-sim-simple."

"I ju-ju-ju-ju-just ask the-the-th-th-th-the-them if th-th-th-th-the-the-they'd l-l-l-l-li-li-li-li-lik-like to b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bu-bu-buy a b-b-b-bi-bi-bi-bible or if they w-w-w-w-w-wa-wa-wa-wan-want me to re-re-re-rea-read it to them."

I'm just gonna say it, and don't get offended, but I'm so sick of the media being on the female side. It never shows what life is like for a male.

Yes, women do have it hard in life because they have to give birth, etc.

But men have it pretty hard too, if not harder. Males are criticized for showing emotions.

Men have to go to war on the front lines.

Boys have less support from their friends because showing any emotion is a sign of weakness.

Boys have to wear trousers in schools where they practically burn to death in summer, meanwhile girls get to wear dresses and skirts. And now we hear girls complaining about them not being allowed to wear trousers. Yet we haven't ever heard anything about boys protesting about wearing shorts to school. It's because no one will take a man's protest seriously because the media is always against the men.

Man-rape is unheard of in the media, and I've never seen anything in any form of news accusing a woman as a rapist.

We are expected to gather up our guts [and] ask a girl to be their girlfriend. We have to take them on dates, pay the bill, [and] buy them gifts when the girls never do anything like that for us males. We have to get a job while they put on makeup and go out with their friends and spend 3 months' worth of the money the man has made.

And the women say we only rape women and that we restrict women from doing certain things like fighting in world wars.

It's because most males do not want females to get hurt, yet we are criticized for this.

I propose an idea that on the 19th of September every year (until we get the point across) all males do not go to work, etc.

Who's going to put out all the fires? The two "firewomen" at the local fire station? Who is going to work in the major corporations? The secretary's and the receptionist?

Women are always saying that the world will be a better place if they're are no men around. Let's show them how wrong they are.

(This event can be done worldwide.)

Share this with as many people who still believe in the rights of the males.

(I'm not against feminism; it's just that everything in the media is about some stupid problem women are complaining about + hatred for males everywhere.

But I think that nowadays women have more rights than men because they can wear what they want, do what they want, and never get criticized or face any consequences.)

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Because the chicken had 4 chicks and a cheating hen who all sucked out all his money he got from his extremely boring job, and he finally got some peace for himself and was going to the local bar, which was on the other side of the road.

He walked in the door, wings sagging, feathers catching on his claws. The bartender eyes him as he sits on a bar stool. "Chuck, how ya doin'? The missus doin' good?"

"Just give me the hardest stuff you got. I'm done."

This caught the bartender by surprise. "Chuck, come on, don't be sayin' that. Just look to the future and you'll be fine."

"What future?" Chuck replied in a huff. "My wife and chicks are so goddamn pestering sometimes, you know? But if I leave, they'll all suffer, and I don't want that either. Oh, God, Phil, I don't know what to do."

"You know, you've got a good heart for a rooster your age," Phil answered. "We need that in these parts. I'm tellin' ya, there will be more than what's happenin' right now, ya know, life's got all its gears turning for ya, and there's just a bit slow right now. The gears haven't been oiled in a while, but who's the only one who can fix that?"

Chuck knew the answer. "Me."

Phil returned with his drink. "McClucken's Whiskey, on the house."

Chuck glanced at his glass. He held it up to the light. His face reflected in an aura around it, neither looking forward to the light and not backward, either.

"No thanks, Phil," Chuck sighed, "But thanks anyways."

He went to get up out of his chair. Phil called as he walked out the door, "Just remember to oil the gears every now and then, eh?"

Chuck's comb flapped in a cool breeze brought in by the season. A bench was nearby, staring across to the other side. And he just sat there, sat there thinking. Cars blurred to a colorfully colorless nothingness as he thought in silence.

He could see an open window in his mind, full of chickens: a sassy hen, two identical sportish chick; another, older than the two, and body bristling with blue comb-dye and the latest thing he watched online fresh on his Chickstagram page; finally, the first of the bunch, shy, bookish, with a secretly courageous soul. They all looked... worried, worried for the rooster who guided them, helped them grow, supported them... and all looking out of the window back at him.

A single tear welled in Chuck's eye.

The chicken walked back across the road to his family, to his friends, and to the life he was content with.