A man goes up to a beautiful woman and asks if she would have sex with him for a million dollars. After thinking about it, she agrees. Then he asks her if she would have sex with him for five dollars.
"FIVE dollars?" she complains. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"We've already established what you are," he explains. "Now we're just negotiating the price."
Congratulations on your negotiated settlement, Dr. Dao.
A grown man who identified himself as a doctor was forcibly removed from a United Airlines plane when he refused to give up his seat for a United Airline employee on a sold-out flight.
ANOTHER unexpected consequence of ObamaCare.
Sadly, Kendall Jenner was nowhere around to defuse the explosive situation with a can of Pepsi, as she was too busy using the carbonated beverage to bring peace to the Middle East.
"I saw the video," commented the volatile Kim Jong-Un, "and it disgusted even me!"
"I'd like to remind the flying public that at United Airlines our prices are unbeatable," said Airline CEO Oscar Munoz, "but our customers... not so much. That is why our new motto is: 'At United Airlines, We Put The HOSPITAL In Hospitality.' And, rest assured, I will personally visit that airport in Chicago, as soon as Donald Trump lets me through that darn wall."
When asked to comment on the $900 million drop in United Airlines stock, the business-savvy CEO said, "We needed the tax break," and then considerately advised future United passengers to file their taxes "...OR ELSE!"
In an exclusive USA Today interview, Tiger Woods talked about the lessons he learned from his parents.
Apparently, "Don't Cheat On a Your Wife" wasn't one of them.
In breaking news...
Sorry, my Jewish friends, but the prophet Elijah won't be sitting in the empty chair you've saved for him this Passover. He was forcibly removed from his United Airlines flight and now refuses to fly anywhere this holiday season.
In a show of support, the Easter Bunny canceled Easter.
"I say if you buy a ticket, you bought a seat on the flight. Besides," the furry holiday icon pointed out, "what does hiding colored eggs have to do with the Resurrection anyway?"
I don't know about all that, but I will tell you this: the next time my kids don't want to get out of bed to go to school, I'm calling United Airlines.
This Fake News Brought To You By United Airlines! "You'll Be Treated Like A King... Rodney King!"
My much older and less attractive brother brought our elderly father over to my house for a visit, and then went out for a pack of cigarettes.
“I didn’t know he smoked,” I told my dad.
“He doesn’t,” my father answered.
I haven’t seen my brother since.
It didn’t happen exactly that way, but that’s the way I like to tell the story of how my father came to live with me. He’s in the later years of his life and has been widowed for some time now. He’s also been diagnosed pre-Alzheimer’s, but, really, aren’t we all pre-Alzheimer’s?
My wife, to welcome him into our home, cooked him a 5-star dinner Tom Colicchio would be jealous of, and, to top it off, she served him a nice helping of vanilla ice cream. REAL ice cream, not the cheap stuff. I save that for my mother-in-law.
Let me digress for a moment. I know some of you may have gotten the impression from my January column that I don’t like my mother-in-law, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, I’d like to take this opportunity to dedicate the rock & roll classic “Mother-In-Law” by the late, great Ernie K-Doe as an expression of my feelings for her. Meanwhile...
"This ice cream's not very good," I heard my dad tell my wife.
Let me stop right here and formally apologize to my mother for ever having been a kid. I can't begin to tell you the times my mom served me a perfectly good meal, sometimes even perfectly delicious, and it didn't meet the standards of a kid who used to eat dirt.
Don't judge me for eating dirt.
Then I had kids of my own. No matter what my wife cooked, they wanted to eat something else. I don't know about your kids, but my kids only wanted to eat food we had to pay for, preferably at a restaurant. If it was home-cooked, they’d hem and haw and complain.
“You could always eat dirt,” I’d suggest, but, sadly, my humor was lost on them.
So when my dad told my wife he didn't care for the ice cream she had just served him--and which he enthusiastically ate, judging by the speed with which he ate it--I figured he had the right not to like it. So I didn’t say anything.
"Where'd you buy it?" he wanted to know.
"Costco," my wife told him.
"Yes, Costco," she repeated.
Costco is one of those warehouse stores, along the lines of Sam’s and Price Club, where you have to buy a membership to shop there, and where you don't just buy something, you buy a LOT of something. But they do sell quality goods, and one of those quality goods is their ice cream. It's not just good, it's very good.
My dad wasn't sure.
"Oh, huh... hmmm..." he clarified. "You said you bought it at Costco?"
"They sell some of the best ice cream there," she said, trying to convince him.
My dad still wasn't sure.
"Costco..." he considered, and then considered again. "Hmmm... Costco. Huh, yeah... well, I didn't like it.”
“Why didn’t you like it?” my wife asked, humoring him.
“I just didn’t,” he said. “The PX sells better ice cream."
Because of the time he spent in the military, he was able to shop at the PX in the Army base. In fact, after he retired from the military, he even worked at their PX for a few years after that. If anybody would know the quality of the PX ice cream, it would be my father.
I remember once asking him what the letters “PX” stood for.
“I don’t know,” my father told me, in what was one of our longer conversations. Meanwhile...
My wife patiently listened to him. She was even nodding her head and making eye contact.
I've learned in life that if you make eye contact with someone it just encourages them to continue talking.
Which he did.
"Blah, blah, blah Costco. Blah, blah, blah ice cream. Blah, blah, blah coming back with those cigarettes?"
Now he was starting to get on my nerves. I happen to like Costco. They have enough of my money to prove it. I also like to go there for the food samples they hand out to their customers. Many’s the time I was saved the cost of buying my father lunch by going there and letting him snack for free.
“What did you eat?” my brother’s wife would ask when I’d drop him back off at his then home base.
“Everything,” we’d say, chuckling together conspiratorially like two naughty first graders thinking they're getting away with something.
"Yes, dad," my wife said, simmering. She likes Costco, too. "Next time we go to the PX, we'll get some for you."
I thought she handled that rather smoothly, since we never shop at the PX. My dad may have been retired from the military, but I wasn't. I had to pay for MY exclusive shopping memberships.
"Costco..." my dad kept repeating, gnawing at that name like he was a dog and it was a bone. He was shaking his head as he said it. "Costco... hmmm."