An old farmer had owned a large farm for many years.
He had a huge man-made pond out back with a beautiful picnic area. For years, it was the perfect place to unwind or hold a family get-together. As the farmer grew older, his “Oasis” was used less and less. It eventually became the local swimming hole, and while his neighbors occasionally took advantage of the pond, he rarely made an appearance.
One evening, the old farmer decided to go down to the pond. He hadn’t been there in a while and felt the urge to pay a visit to check on things. As he neared the pond, he heard loud playful voices giggling and laughing. As he came closer, he was astonished to see that a bunch of young women had decided to sk1nny d1p in his pond.
He made the women aware of his presence, and they all went to the deep end of the pond. One of the women shouted to him, “We’re not coming out until you leave!”
The old man replied, “I’m here to feed the alligator.”
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A southern farmer got in his pickup and drove several miles to a neighboring farm and knocked on the farmhouse door.
A young boy, about 12, opened the door. “Is yer pa home?” he asked.
“No sir, he sure ain’t,” the boy replied. “He went to town.”
“Well,” said the farmer. “Is yer ma home?”
“No, she ain’t here either. She went to town with pa.” “Well, then, how about yer brother, Joe, is he here?” “No sir, he went with pa and ma.”
The farmer stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other, and mumbling to himself.
“Is there anything I kin do fer ya’?” inquired the young boy politely. “I know where all the tools are, if you want to borry one; Or maybe I could take a message fer pa.”
“Well,” said the farmer uncomfortably, “I really wanted to talk to yer pa. It’s about your brother Joe getting my daughter, Pearly Mae, pregnant.”
The boy considered for a moment. “You would have to talk to pa about that,” he finally conceded. “I know that pa charges $500 for the bull and $250 for the boar hog, but I really don’t know how much he gets for Joe.”
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Two Texas farmers, Jim and Bob are sitting in a bar, enjoying beers.
Jim turns to Bob, and says, “You know what, I’m going to go to college!”
He then leaves the bar and makes his way over to the local college. He is met with the Dean of Administration, who is explaining to Jim what classes he is going to take.
“Alright, Jim. You are going to take 4 classes,” the Dean says. “English, Math, Science, and Logic.”
“Logic?” Jim asks. “What the hell is that?”
“Here, I’ll give you an example. Do you own a weed wacker?”
Proudly, Jim responded, “Yes, I do.”
“Well, if you own a weed wacker, then logically speaking you own a lawn,” the Dean said.
“Yes, yes I do have a lawn!”
“Well, if you have a lawn, then logically speaking you own a house.”
“Yes, yes I do have a house!”
“And if you have a house, then logically speaking you have a family.”
“Yes, yes I do have a family!”
“And if you have a family, then logically speaking you have a wife. And if you have a wife, then logically speaking you’re heteros*xual.”
“Yes, yes I do have a wife and I am heteros*xual! Wow, I can’t believe you found out all of that just because you knew I had a weed wacker!” Jim exclaimed.
“Yeah, that’s what logic is,” the Dean responded.
Jim excitedly went back to the bar, awaited by Bob.
“Bob, I’m taking 4 classes in college. English, Math, Science, and Logic,” Jim told Bob.
“Logic?” Bob asks. “What the hell is that?”
“Here, I’ll give you an example. Do you own a weed wacker?”
“No.”
“Then you’re gay.”
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One day a travelling salesman was driving down the country road at about 30 mph when he noticed a three-legged chicken running alongside his car.
He stepped on the gas, but the chicken was still keeping up. After about a mile, the chicken ran up a farm lane and into a barn behind an old farmhouse. The salesman turned around and drove up the farm lane.
He knocked at the door, and when the farmer answered, he told him what he had just seen. The farmer said that he was a geneticist and had developed this breed of chicken because he, his wife and son like drumstick.
“That’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever heard,” said the salesman. “How do they taste?”
“I don’t know,” said the farmer. “We’ve never caught one.”
