You are. And that is enough.
Two attorneys went into a diner and ordered two drinks. Then they produced sandwiches from their briefcases and started to eat.
The owner became quite concerned and marched over and told them, “You can’t eat your own sandwiches in here!”
The attorneys looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and then exchanged sandwiches.
Lawyer: Did you actually see the accident?
Witness: Yes, sir.
Lawyer: How far away were you when the accident happened?
The Witness: Thirty-one feet, six and one-quarter inches.
Lawyer (thinking he’d trap the witness): Well, sir, will you tell the jury how you knew it was exactly that distance?
The Witness: Because when the accident happened I took out a tape and measured it. I knew some annoying lawyer would ask me that question.
In the book I’ve been reading to prepare for the bar exam, it provides an example for the risk of loss when selling goods. It includes a brief “with all due respect to German-Americans, Bob Knight, and Trey Parker and Matt Stone,” then begins…
Karl, a grocer in New Ulm, Minnesota ordered coffee from a New York seller. Even though the coffee was shipped in the best available containers, rats “infiltrated” the coffee while it was in transit. The coffee was delivered; the grocer paid for the coffee. The grocer then opened the packages of coffee and wrote the following letter of complaint:
Schentlemens:
Der last two pecketches ve got from you off koffee was mit rattschidt gemitz. Der koffee may be gute enuff, but der rattsdurds schbeels der trade. Ve did not see der rattschidt in der sambles vich you sent us for examination. It takes so much time to peck der rattsdurds from der koffee.
Ve order der kelen koffee und you shipt schidt mit der koffee; it vas a muschtake, YA? Ve like you to schipp us der koffee in van sak und der rattschidt in a udder sak. Den ve mix it to suit our kostomer.
Write please if ve shutd shipp der schidt bak und keep der koffee or if ve shudt keep der schidt und shipp der koffee bak or schipp der whole schidten verks bak. Ve vant to do rite in der madder, but ve don’t like dis rattschidt bizziness.
Mit mutch respeckts,
Karl Brummenschidt
Counsel: I would like to say that the reason that I did not show up to court is that before I am a lawyer I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ and everything I do is subject to Him, and He told me…
Judge: Who told you?
Counsel: Jesus Christ.
Judge: He told you?
Counsel: That I should not go to court on Thursday or Friday and that He instructed me not to even call in on Friday, and that is why I did not come in, and when He allows me to come in, I come in. I go where He allows me to go and I do what He tells me to do. I cannot let any court supersede that. That is a right set up by the founding fathers of this country.
Judge: What is the message today?
Counsel: The message today was to come in.
Judge: As of now, the message is going to be that you are going into custody.
On a group of beautiful deserted tropical islands in the middle of nowhere, the following people are suddenly stranded by, as you might expect, a shipwreck:
One month later on these same absolutely, stunningly beautiful desert (and deserted) islands in the middle of nowhere, the following things have occurred:
One Italian man killed the other Italian man for the Italian woman.
The 2 French men and the French woman are living happily together in a menage-a-trois.
The 2 German men have a strict weekly schedule of alternating visits with the German woman.
The 2 Greek men are sleeping with each other and the Greek woman is cleaning and cooking for them.
The 2 English men are waiting for someone to introduce them to the English woman.
The 2 Bulgarian men took one look at the endless ocean, another long look at the Bulgarian woman, and started swimming…
The 2 Japanese men faxed Tokyo and are awaiting instructions.
The 2 Chinese men have set up a pharmacy, a liquor store, a restaurant, and a Laundromat and got the Chinese woman pregnant in order to supply employees for the store.
The 2 American men are contemplating the virtues of suicide because the American woman keeps endlessly complaining about her body, the true nature of feminism, how she can do everything they can do, the necessity of fulfillment, the equal division of household chores, how sand and palm trees make her look fat, how her last boyfriend respected her opinion and treated her nicer than they do, how her relationship with her mother is improving, and at least the taxes are low, and it isn’t raining….
The 2 Irish men have divided the Island into North and South and set up a distillery. They do not remember if sex is in the picture, because it gets sort of foggy after the first few liters of coconut whiskey. But they are satisfied because at least the English aren’t having any fun.
I like monkeys.
The pet store was selling them for five cents apiece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand dollars. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. Then they punched me in the genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn’t adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They just sorta dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn’t know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn’t work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while until they began to decompose. It started to smell really bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn’t want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately, there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time, so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it wouldn’t go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn’t improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away, but the garbage man said that the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn’t take that one, either. I didn’t bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn’t know quite what to say. They pretended that they liked them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So, I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
