A day after this post from Ritu, I got this image in a mail :-
That sums it all, doesn’t it?
(And also explains why I’m not that active on any of these sites )
Came across these jokes some time back. It was in the context of changing ‘joke-trends’, about how the jokes have evolved over the ages. These are the jokes from early 1900. I enjoyed them, hope you do too
PS: They might not be rip-roaring funny, but they are definitely in good taste
The father of a certain charming girl is well known in this town as “a very tight old gentleman.” When dad recently received a young man, who for some time had been “paying attention” to the daughter, it was the old gentleman who made the first observation:
“Huh! So you want to marry my daughter, eh?”
“Yes, sir; very much, indeed.”
“Um–let me see. Can you support her in the style to which she has been accustomed?”
“I can, sir,” said the young man, “but I am not mean enough to do it.”
This is the way the agent got a lesson in manners. He called at a business office, and saw nobody but a prepossessing though capable-appearing young woman.
“Where’s the boss?” he asked abruptly.
“What is your business?” she asked politely.
“None of yours!” he snapped. “I got a proposition to lay before this firm, and I want to talk to somebody about it.”
“And you would rather talk to a gentleman?”
“Well,” answered the lady, smiling sweetly, “so would I. But it seems that it’s impossible for either one of us to have our wish, so we’ll have to make the best of it. State your business, please!”
Alderman Curran, of New York City, worked his way through Yale College. During his course he was kept very busy by the various jobs he did to help with his expenses. On graduation he went to New York, and was even busier than he had been in New Haven.
After some months of life in New York, a friend met him and said,”Henry, what are you doing?”
“I have three jobs,” replied Mr. Curran, “I am studying law, I am a newspaper reporter, and I am selling life insurance.”
“How do you manage to get it all in?” said the friend.
“Oh,” replied Mr Curran, “that’s easy enough. They’re only eight-hour jobs.”
A bellhop passed through the hall of the St. Francis Hotel whistling loudly.
“Young man,” said Manager Woods sternly, “you should know that it is against the rules of this hotel for an employee to whistle while on duty.”
“I am not whistling, sir,” replied the boy, “I’m paging Mrs. Jones’s dog.”
“Excuse me,” began the visitor, who was more or less visibly embarrassed; “but—my name is Tompkins! Er—did—er—my wife—er—leave an order here for cigars, to be delivered to my home on—er—Christmas Eve?”
“Tompkins?” said the cigar man. “Just one minute! D. B. Tompkins? Yes, sir. One hundred flor de Hobokianos! Price, $2.50! Ordered banded in red and gold and a card enclosed, with the felicitations of Mrs. D. B. Tompkins!”
“Exactly! Well, I’m D. B. Tompkins. Now, I’ll tell you what I’d like you to do. You take those red-and-gold-banded stinkarees my wife ordered and hand them to some fireworks man to be utilized as punk along about the Fourth of next July. Use the box thus provided for a hundred good, clear Havanas at about $9.50. I’ll pay the difference! Understand? And in the meantime—mum—‘M-U-M’—is the word! Do you get me?”
“I’m wise in a second!” replied the cigar man. “What you want me to do is to take the present incumbents of the box ordered by Mrs. Tompkins out on the hillside somewhere and bury them deep down in the yawning sod. In their places you want a practical smoking cigar of the kind that is usually sold without an accident policy! And you stand ready to pay the difference!”
Tompkins handed over a greenback and received his change.
The cigar man smiled appreciatively.
On Christmas Day Tompkins opened the box and abstracted therefrom a good, big, black Havana.
“You seem to enjoy that cigar,” suggested Mrs. Tompkins, as he blew rings of soft blue curling smoke at the chandelier.
“Enjoy them?” echoed Tompkins. “Why, they’re simply delicious!”
Mrs. Tompkins purred her delight at this wholly unexpected tribute.
“And yet,” said she musingly, “there are men who are mean enough to say that a woman doesn’t know anything about buying cigars!”
Charming, aren’t they?
How sad it is that we now delight in jokes that are openly double-meaning and full of profanity , not to mention, the distinct lack of grammar and deplorable choice of words!!
Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to hunt for the link where these came from. If you find them, do let me know