Once upon a time, a perfect man and a perfect woman met. After a perfect courtship, they had a perfect wedding. Their life together was, of course, perfect. One snowy, stormy Christmas Eve, this perfect couple was driving their perfect car along a winding road, when they noticed someone at the side of the road in distress. Being the perfect couple, they stopped to help.
There stood Santa Claus with a huge bundle of toys. Not wanting to disappoint any children on the eve of Christmas, the perfect couple loaded Santa and his toys into their vehicle. Soon they were driving along delivering the toys.
Unfortunately, the driving conditions deteriorated and the perfect couple and Santa Claus had an accident. Only one of them survived the accident.
Question: Who was the survivor ?
Answer: The perfect woman survived. She’s the only one who really existed in the first place. Everyone knows there is no Santa Claus and there is no such thing as a perfect man.
So, if there is no perfect man and no Santa Claus, the woman must have been driving. This explains why there was a car accident.
By the way, if you’re a woman and you’re still reading, this
illustrates another point: Women are curious and never listen.
A nun walks into the Mother Superior’s office and plunks down into a chair. She lets out a sigh, heavy with frustration.
“What troubles you, Sister?” asked the Mother Superior. “I thought this was the day you spent with your family.”
“It was,” sighed the Sister. “And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ.”
“I seem to recall that,” the Mother Superior agreed. “So I take it your day of recreation was not relaxing?”
“Far from it,” snorted the Sister. “In fact, I took the Lord’s name in vain today!”
“Goodness, Sister!” gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. “You must tell me all about it!”
“Well, we were on the fifth tee — and this hole is a monster, Mother — 540 yard par 5, with a nasty dogleg right and a hidden green … and I hit the drive of my life. The sweetest swing I’ve ever made. And it’s flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted … and it hits a bird in mid-flight!”
“Oh my!” commiserated the Mother Superior. “How unfortunate! But surely that didn’t make you blaspheme, Sister!”
“No, that wasn’t it,” admitted the Sister. “While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs my ball and runs off down the fairway!”
“Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!” sympathized the Mother Superior.
“But I didn’t, Mother!” sobbed the Sister. “And I was so proud of myself! And while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his paws!”
“So that’s when you cursed,” said the Mother Superior with a knowing smile.
“Nope, that wasn’t it either,” cried the Sister, anguished, “because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup!”
The Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said …
“You missed the f—ing putt, didn’t you?”
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