Blakk Frogg Joke Blog

Dear Abby,

I am a crack dealer in Council Bluffs who has recently been diagnosed as a carrier of the HIV virus. My parents live in a suburb of Des Moines and one of my sisters, who lives in Ames, is married to a transvestite.

My father and mother have recently been arrested for growing and selling marijuana. They are financially dependent on my other two sisters, who are prostitutes in Iowa City.

I have two brothers. One is currently serving a non-parole life sentence in Bettendorf for the murder of a teenage boy in 1994. My other brother is currently in jail awaiting trial on charges of sexual misconduct with his three children.

I have recently become engaged to marry a former prostitute who lives in Davenport. She is still a part time ‘working girl’.

All things considered, my problem is this. I love my fiance and look forward to bringing her into the family. I certainly want to be totally open and honest with her.

Should I tell her about my cousin who is a Cornhusker fan?

Signed,

Worried About My Reputation

==========================

Dear Worried,

Can I have your sisters’ phone number?

Signed,

Abby’s Husband

Sarcastic MySpace Motivational Poster Comments

After getting all of Pope Benedict’s luggage loaded into the limo, (and he doesn’t travel light), the driver notices that the Pope is still standing on the curb.

“Excuse me, Your Holiness,” says the driver,” Would you please take your seat so we can leave?”

“Well, to tell you the truth,” says the Pope, “they never let me drive at the Vatican when I was a Cardinal, and I’d really like to drive Today.”

“I’m sorry, Your Holiness, but I cannot let you do that. I’d lose my job! And what if something should happen?” protests the driver, wishing he’d never gone to work that morning.

“Who’s going to tell? Besides, there might be something extra in it for you,” says the Pope with a smile.

Reluctantly, the driver gets in the back as the Pope climbs in behind the wheel. The driver quickly regrets his decision when, after exiting the airport, the Pontiff floors it, accelerating the limo to 105 Mph. (Remember, he’s German.)

“Please slow down, Your Holiness!” pleads the worried driver, but the Pope keeps the pedal to the metal until they hear sirens. “Oh, dear God, I’m gonna lose my license — and my job!” moans the Driver.

The Pope pulls over and rolls down the window as the cop approaches, but the cop takes one look at him, goes back to his motorcycle, and gets on the radio.

“I need to talk to the Chief,” he says to the dispatcher. The Chief gets on the radio and the cop tells him that he’s stopped a limo Going a hundred and five.

“So bust him,” says the Chief.

“I don’t think we want to do that, he’s really big,” said the cop.

The Chief exclaimed, “All the more reason!”

“No, I mean really important,” said the cop with a bit of persistence.

The Chief then asked, “Who ya got there, the Mayor?”

Cop: “Bigger.”

Chief: “The Governor?”

Cop: “Bigger.”

Chief: “The President?”

Cop: “Bigger.”

“Well,” said the Chief, “Who is it?”

Cop: “I think it’s God!”

The Chief is stumped, “You been drinking, John?”

Cop: “No Sir.”

Chief: “Then what makes you think it’s God?”

Cop: “He’s got the Pope as a chauffeur….”

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