|A group of nuns were travelling in a car when it had a flat tire. They got out and try to change it, but being rather unworldly, they don't really know how. Luckily, a truck came along and the driver offered to change it for them. They gratefully accepted.|
As the trucker jacked up the car, it slipped from the jack and he yelled, "Son-of-a-bitch"
The eldest nun said to him, "That is not nice language. We understand that you are upset, but you mustn't use such language."
"Sorry, Sister," he said, and tried again. Again it slipped, this time almost smashing his fingers. "Son-of- a-bitch," he yelled again.
"Please, don't use such language. If changing our tire is causing you to do so, it would be better if you didn't help us."
"But I get so upset, and it just comes out."
"Well," said the nun, "Say something else when you get upset, something like 'Sweet Jesus, help me.'"
So the trucker tried to jack up the car again. And again it slipped.
He started to say, "Son.." but he corrected himself and said, "Sweet Jesus, help me."
At that, the car miraculously rose into the air all by itself.
The nuns looked at the car in wonder, exclaiming in unison, "Son-of-a-bitch!"
|The man was immaculately dressed. Fitted out more for the Ritz than the street.|
But in the street he lay dressed in black tail suit, patent leather shoes, top hat and bow tie, and very dead.
"How did he get here?" asked Patrolman Muldoon.
"He threw himself off the roof," said a bystander.
"Does anyone know the man?" said Muldoon.
"I do," said Barrie Quinn.
"What religion is he?" asked the policeman. "Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Muslim?'
"None at all," said Quinn. "He's an atheist!'
"What a shame,' said Muldoon. "All dressed up and nowhere to go!"
|At a church meeting, a very wealthy man rose to tell the rest of those present about his Christian faith.|
"I'm a millionaire," he said, "and I attribute it all to the rich blessings of God in my life. I remember that turning point in my faith. I had just earned my first dollar and I went to a church meeting that night. The speaker was a missionary who told about his work. I knew that I only had a dollar bill and I had to either give it all to God's work or give nothing at all.
"So at that moment, I decided to give my whole dollar to God. I believe that God blessed that decision, and that is why I am a rich man today."
When he finished and moved toward his seat, there was an awed silence.
As he sat down, a little old lady sitting in the same pew leaned over and said to him, "I dare you to do it again."
|The new preacher had just begun his sermon. He was a little nervous, and about ten minutes into the sermon his mind went blank.|
After a brief second of complete panic, he remembered what they had taught him in seminary about situations like this: repeat the last point. His teacher assured him this would help him remember what was supposed to come next. So he gave it a try.
"Behold, I come quickly," he said. Still his mind was blank.
He tried again. "Behold, I come quickly." Still nothing.
He tried one more time -- speaking and gesturing with such force that he fell forward, knocking the pulpit to one side, tripping over the flower pot, and falling into the lap of a little old lady in the front row.
The young preacher apologised profusely.
"That's all right, young man," said the little old lady. "It was my fault. I should have gotten out of the way. You told me three times you were coming!"