A man died in a horrible fire. The mortician thought it was George, but the body was so badly burned that somebody would need to make a positive identification. That task fell to George's two friends, Joe and Al.
Joe: "He's burnt pretty bad, all right. Roll him over." Joe looked at the dead man's buttocks and said, "Nope, that ain't George."
Thinking the incident strange, the mortician straightened up the body and said nothing. He brought in Al.
Al: "Wow, he's burnt to a crisp. Roll him over." Again, "Nope, that ain't George."
Mortician: "How can you tell?"
Al: "George had two *******s."
Mortician: "What? How could he have two *******s?"
Al: "Everybody knew George had two *******s. Whenever the three of us would go into town you'd hear people say, "Here comes George with those two *******s!"
A guy takes his seat on the plane, and the guy next to him is puttin' out
all these sighs and moans.
"First flight?" he asks.
"No, my problem is that we're headin' to Miami."
"So what's the problem? We're all going to Miami!"
"Oh, I just HATE to go to Miami. There's so much strife, tension, crime,
looting, social unrest down there. I just HATE it!
"Huh? Whaddya talkin' about? I LIVE in Miami; I work there. I LOVE my job,
and I've never seen anything like what you're talking about.
"Is that right? Whaddya do down there?"
"I'm a tailgunner on a Merita bread truck."
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