Sport jokes (286 to 300)

Negotiations between union mem

Negotiations between union members and their employer were at an impasse. The union denied that their workers were flagrantly abusing their contract's sick-leave provisions.
One morning at the bargaining table, the company's chief negotiator held aloft the morning edition of the newspaper.
"This man," he announced, "Called in sick yesterday!"
There on the sports page was a photo of the 'supposedly' ill employee, who had just won a local golf tournament with an excellent score.
The silence in the room was broken by a union negotiator.
"Wow," he said. "Think of the score he could have had if he hadn't been sick!"

One day while on patrol, a pol

One day while on patrol, a police officer pulled over a car for speeding. He went up to the car and asked the driver to roll down her window. The first thing he noticed, besides the nice red sports car, was how hot the driver was! Blue eyes, blonde, the works.

"I've pulled you over for speeding, Ma'am. Could I see your drivers license?"

"What's a license???" replied the blonde, instantly giving away the fact that she was as dumb as a stump.

"It's usually in your wallet," replied the officer. After fumbling for a few minutes, the driver managed to find it. "Now may I see your registration?" asked the cop.

"Registration..... what's that....?" asked the blonde.

"It's usually in your glove compartment." said the cop impatiently. After some more fumbling, she found the registration.

"I'll be back in a minute." said the cop and walked back to his car. The officer phoned into the dispatch to run a check on the woman's license and registration. After a few moments, the dispatcher came back, "Ummm... is this woman driving a red sports car?"

"Yes." replied the officer

"Is she a drop dead gorgeous blonde?" asked the dispatcher

"Uh... yes." replied the cop.

"Here's what you do." said the dispatcher. "Give her the stuff back, and drop your pants."

"What!!? I can't do that. Its... inappropriate." exclaimed the cop.

"Trust me. Just do it." said the dispatcher.

So the cop went back to the car, gave back the license and registration and dropped his pants, just as the dispatcher said.

The blonde looked down and sighed..... "Ohh no... not another Breathalyzer......"

 Two Men Camping

Two young men were out in the woods on a camping trip, when the came upon this great trout brook. They stayed there all day, enjoying the fishing, which was super.
At the end of the day, knowing that they would be graduating from college soon, they vowed that they would meet, in twenty years, at the same place and renew the experience.
Twenty years later, they met and traveled to a spot near where they had been years before. They walked into the woods and before long came upon a brook. One of the men said to the other, "This is the place!".
The other replied, "No, it's not!".
The first man said, "Yes, I do recognize the clover growing on the bank on the other side.
To which the other man replied, "Silly, you can't tell a brook by it's clover."

Now that food has replaced sex

Now that food has replaced sex in my life, I can't even getinto my own pants.
Marriage changes passion. Suddenly you're in bed with arelative.
Sign in a Chinese Pet Store: "Buy one dog, get one flea..."
I got a sweater for Christmas. I really wanted a screameror a moaner.
If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport theterminal?
I don't approve of political jokes. I've seen too many of themget elected.
There are two sides to every divorce: Yours and sh*t head's.
I love being married. It's so great to find that one specialperson you want to annoy for the rest of your life.
I am a nobody, and nobody is perfect; therefore I am perfect.
Everyday I beat my own previous record for number ofconsecutive days I've stayed alive.
How come we choose from just two people to run for presidentand 50 for Miss America?
Isn't having a smoking section in a restaurant like having apeeing section in a swimming pool?

Frank always looked on the bri

Frank always looked on the bright side. He would constantly irritate his friends with his eternal optimism. No matter how horrible the circumstance, he would always reply "It could have been worse." To cure him of his annoying habit, his friends decided to invent a situation so completely bad, so terrible, that even Frank could find no hope in it.
On the golf course one day, one of them said, "Frank, did you hear about Tom?"
"He came home last night, found his wife in bed with another man, shot them both and then turned the gun on himself!"
"That's awful," said Frank, "but it could have been worse."
"How in the hell," asked his bewildered friend, "could it have been worse?"
"Well," replied Frank, "if it happened the night before, I'd be dead now!"

“After he retired, wh

“After he retired, why did the pro golfer buy a doughnut shop? He enjoyed making holes in one.”

In Over Two Months

Earl and Bubba are quietly sitting in a boat fishing, chewing tobacco and drinking beer when suddenly Bubba says, "Think I'm gonna divorce the wife... she ain't spoke to me in over 2 months."

Earl spits overboard, takes a long, slow sip of beer and says, "Better think it over... women like that are hard to find."

On their honeymoon, the new hu

On their honeymoon, the new husband told his bride, "I have a confession tomake that I should have made before, but I was concerned that it mightaffect our relationship.
"What is it?" his new bride asked lovingly.
"I'm a golf fanatic," he said. "I think about golf constantly. I'll be outon the golf course every weekend, every holiday, and every chance I get.If it comes to a choice between your wishes and golf, golf will alwayswin."
His new bride pondered this for a moment and said, "I thank you for yourhonesty. Now in the same spirit of honesty, I should tell you that I'veconcealed something about my own past that you should know about. Thetruth is, "I'm a hooker."
"No problem," said her husband, "just widen your stance a little, andoverlap your grip, and that should clear it right up."

Two long-time golfing buddies...

Two long-time golfing buddies got to the course one day and decided that this day they would play the ball where it lies ... "No matter what!"
On the 14th hole, one of them sliced his drive and it ended up on the cart path. As he reached down to pick up his ball to get relief, his friend said, "Wait a minute! We agreed that we would not improve our lies! Remember? No matter what!"
The first player tried to explain that he was entitled to this relief, that it was in the rules of golf. But the second fellow would not allow it. Throwing up his hands in disgust, the man went to the cart and grabbed a club. As he stood near his ball, he took a few practice swings, each time scraping the club on the pavement and sending out showers of sparks. Finally, he took his shot. The club hit the path again, sparks went flying but his ball shot straight towards the green, landed and rolled to a stop two inches from the cup.
"Great shot!" his friend exclaimed. "What club did you use?"
The man gave him a wry smile, "Your 7 iron!"

In school one day, the teacher...

In school one day, the teacher decided that for science class she would teach about raw materials. She stood in the front of the class and said,
"Children, if you could have one raw material in the world, what would it be?"
Little Stevie raised his hand and said "I would want gold, because gold is worth a lot of money and I could buy a Corvette."
The teacher nodded and called on little Susie. Little Susie said, "I would want platinum because platinum is worth more than gold and I could buy a Porsche"
The teacher smiled and then called on Little Adam. Little Adam stood up and said, "I would want silicon."
The teacher said, "Adam, why silicon?"
"Because my mom has two bags of it and you should see all the sports cars parked outside of our house!!"

Antelope is opposed...

“Antelope is opposed to jogging.”

One does not select...

“One does not select a gun by rifling through the hunting section.”

One fine day, a bus driver wen...

One fine day, a bus driver went to the bus garage, started his bus, and drove off along the route. No problems for the first few stops, a few people got on, a few got off, and things went generally well.
At the next stop, however, a big hulk of a guy got on. Six foot eight, built like a wrestler, arms hanging down to the ground. He glared at the driver and said, "Big John doesn't pay!" and sat down at the back. Did I mention that the driver was five feet three, thin, and basically meek? Well, he was. Naturally, he didn't argue with Big John, but he wasn't happy about it.
The next day the same thing happened - Big John got on again, made a show of refusing to pay, and sat down. And the next day, and the one after that, and so forth. This grated on the bus driver, who started losing sleep over the way Big John was taking advantage of him. Finally he could stand it no longer. He signed up for body building courses, karate, judo, and all that good stuff. By the end of the summer, he had become quite strong; what's more, he felt really good about himself.
So on the next Monday, when Big John once again got on the bus and said, "Big John doesn't pay!", the driver stood up, glared back at the passenger, and screamed, "And why not?"
With a surprised look on his face, Big John replied, "Big John has a bus pass."

Snowboarding Lesson

When you're 47 years old, you sometimes hear a small voice inside you that says: "Just because you've reached middle age, that doesn't mean you shouldn't take on new challenges and seek new adventures. You get only one ride on this crazy carousel we call life, and by golly you should make the most of it."
This is the voice of Satan.
I know this because recently, on a mountain in Idaho, I listened to this voice, and as a result my body feels as though it has been used as a trampoline by the Budweiser Clydesdales.
I am currently on an all-painkiller diet. "I'll have a black coffee and 250 Advil tablets" is a typical breakfast order for me these days.
This is because I went snowboarding.
For those of you who, for whatever reason, such as a will to live, do not participate in downhill winter sports, I should explain that snowboarding is an activity that is popular with people who do not feel that regular skiing is lethal enough.
These are of course young people, fearless people, people with 100 percent synthetic bodies who can hurtle down a mountainside at 50 miles per hour and knock down mature trees with their faces and then spring to their feet and go, "Cool."
People like my son. He wanted to try snowboarding, and I thought it would be good to learn with him, because we can no longer ski together.
We have a fundamental difference in technique: He skis via the Downhill Method, in which you ski down the hill; whereas I ski via the Breath-Catching Method, in which you stand sideways on the hill, looking as athletic as possible without actually moving muscles (this could cause you to start sliding down the hill).
If anybody asks if you're OK, you say, "I'm just catching my breath!" in a tone of voice that suggests that at any moment you're going to swoop rapidly down the slope; whereas in fact you're planning to stay right where you are, rigid as a statue, until the spring thaw.
At night, when the Downhillers have all gone home, we Breath-Catchers will still be up there, clinging to the mountainside, chewing on our parkas for sustenance.
So I thought I'd take a stab at snowboarding, which is quite different from skiing.
In skiing, you wear a total of two skis, or approximately one per foot, so you can sort of maintain your balance by moving your feet, plus you have poles that you can stab people with if they make fun of you at close range.
Whereas with snowboarding, all you get is one board, which is shaped like a giant tongue depressor and manufactured by the Institute of Extremely Slippery Things. Both of your feet are strapped firmly to this board, so that if you start to fall, you can't stick a foot out and catch yourself. You crash to the ground like a tree and lie there while skiers swoop past and deliberately spray snow on you.
Skiers hate snowboarders. It's a generational thing. Skiers are (and here I am generalizing) middle-aged Republicans wearing designer space suits; snowboarders are defiant young rebels wearing deliberately drab clothing that is baggy enough to cover the snowboarder plus a major appliance. Skiers like to glide down the slopes in a series of graceful arcs; snowboarders like to attack the mountain, slashing, spinning, tumbling, going backward, blasting through snowdrifts, leaping off cliffs, getting their noses pierced in midair, etc.
Skiers view snowboarders as a menace; snowboarders view skiers as Elmer Fudd.
I took my snowboarding lesson in a small group led by a friend of mine named Brad Pearson, who also once talked me into jumping from a tall tree while attached only to a thin rope.
Brad took us up on a slope that offered ideal snow conditions for the novice who's going to fall a lot: Approximately seven flakes of powder on top of an 18-foot-thick base of reinforced concrete.
You could not dent this snow with a jackhammer. (I later learned, however, that you COULD dent it with the back of your head.)
We learned snowboarding via a two step method:
Step One: Watching Brad do something.
Step Two: Trying to do it ourselves.
I was pretty good at Step One. The problem with Step Two was that you had to stand up on your snowboard, which turns out to be a violation of at least five important laws of physics.
I'd struggle to my feet, and I'd be wavering there and then the Physics Police would drop a huge chunk of gravity on me, and WHAM my body would hit the concrete snow, sometimes bouncing as much as a foot.
"Keep your knees bent!" Brad would yell, helpfully.
Have you noticed that whatever sport you're trying to learn, some earnest person is always telling you to keep your knees bent? As if that would solve anything. I wanted to shout back, "Forget my Knees! Do Something About these Gravity Chunks!"
Needless to say my son had no trouble at all. None. In minutes he was cruising happily down the mountain; you could actually see his clothing getting baggier. I, on the other hand, spent most of my time lying on my back, groaning, while space-suited Republicans swooped past and sprayed snow on me.
If I hadn't gotten out of there, they'd have completely covered me; I now realize that the small hills you see on ski slopes are formed around the bodies of 47-year-olds who tried to learn snowboarding.
So I think, when my body heals, I'll go back to skiing. Maybe sometime you'll see me out on the slopes, catching my breath. Please throw me some food.

The Biology Song 03

ODE TO A CLONE
By John Scalzi
(This originally appeared in America Online's "Howdy" area on March 6th.)
Oh clone, my clone, how can you bear it
To exist knowing you have only one parent?
No zygote you, when haploid cells met
You were produced with a full chromosome set.
And now I can see that you are confused
To discover your genes have arrived slightly used.
To answer your questions is the aim of this poem
You who are like me, my clone, oh my clone.
You were not produced from between sweaty sheets
In fact, you arose from cells scraped off of my cheek.
Your genes gently placed in an egg we provided
And then shocked with a current until they divided.
You sat there a while till it was time to fish
That thing that was you from that petri dish.
(And though it may seem churlish at this time to mention,
we suspect that the dish had post-partum depression).
Oh clone, my clone, don't feel angst or feel grief
Because the genes that you have are not bought but are leased.
You have no mother, but that's no impediment
Indeed, you've bypassed the whole Complex of Oedipus.
To your one parent you can always relate
To do otherwise is a form of self hate.
Who can tell us apart when we answer the phone?
No one at all, my clone, oh my clone.
Think of all the experiences we'll have!
(That is, once they allow you to go from the lab).
I'll take you to places that I've already been
So you can see them once more for the first time again.
Let's go to work, where I think we will find
That we'll get twice as much done in just half the time.
And should we play tennis, our opponents have troubles
As they must play singles, but we shall play doubles.
Oh clone, my clone, I see you are vexed
By ethical issues admittedly complex.
If you are my clone, are you wed to my wife?
And would having two husbands cause marital strife?
Suppose that we clone her? Then what would that be?
Bigamy, polygamy, or polyandry?
Oh, the guilt I would have would go to the bone
If I accidentally slept with your wife, oh my clone.
Perhaps it would be better if we lived all our days
Away from each other -- and go separate ways.
I would stay here and live with my mate
And you would take yours to some other state
Perhaps to Alaska, with Northern Lights blue
To live off the land, in a hut or igloo.
And with a deep sense of pride all my friends would be shown
Many pictures of your house, a Nome clone dome home.
Oh clone, my clone, you impressive feat
The one person born with no help from gametes.
When you have troubles getting yourself to sleep
Do you think on your compatriot, Dolly the sheep?
It's true that we both share our genetic information
But I know that your mind performs its own peregrinations.
In the end I am me, and you are just you alone
You are your own person, my clone, oh my clone.