Beethoven’s Ninth
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Beethoven’s Ninth

The Boston Symphony was performing Beethoven’s Ninth. In the piece, there’s about a 20 min long passage during which the double basses have nothing to do. Rather than sit around the whole time looking stupid, some bassists decided to sneak offstage and go to the tavern next door for a quick drink. After slamming several beers in quick succession (as double bassists are pone to do), one of them looked at his watch, “Hey! We need to get back!”

“No need to panic,” said a fellow bassist. “I thought we might need some extra time, so I tied the last few pages of the conductor’s score together with string. I’ll take him a few minutes to get it untangled.”
A few minutes later they staggered back to the concert hall and took their places in the orchestra. About this time, a member of the audience noticed the conductor seemed a bit edgy and said as much to her date.
“Well, of course,” said her date. “Don’t you see? It’s the bottom of the Ninth, the score is tied, and the bassists are loaded.”

“””””

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A teenager has a crush on a girl
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A teenager has a crush on a girl

A teenager has a crush on a girl, and decides to ask her to the prom. The girls accepts, and the boy is over the moon. Because he wants this night to be perfect, he decides he needs to dress his best, so, a couple of weeks before the prom he looks to rent a tuxedo.

When he gets to the store there are already people waiting in line, but he waits anyway, and gets his tuxedo.

He wants himself and his date to arrive in style, so he looks to rent a limousine for the night. He goes to the limousine centre, and finds a line of people waiting to rent out a limo, but he patiently waits in line, and manages to hire a limo for prom night.

The morning of the prom he decides to buy his date a bunch of flowers. When he arrives at the florist, he sees a long line of people waiting for their bouquets. He’s annoyed, but he waits patiently, and manages to buy a big bouquet.

During the prom, everything is going well, the boy is dancing with his date, and having a good time. His date whispers into his ear to ask if he can get her some fruit punch. The boy looks over at the table and there was no punchline.

“””””

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On the verge of death
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On the verge of death

An old Soviet communist lies on his death bed, on the verge of death. His friends are gathered around him all somber. The old man turns to one of them and says, “Dimitri, remember in 1921 you were almost executed? Well, you should know that I ratted you out to the Cheka. I hope you forgive me.”

“Oh comrade, it is In the past and all is forgiven” says Dimitri.
The Communist then turns to another friend.
“Petya, remember being sentenced in 1937 to 25 years in the gulag? Well, it was me who went to the NKVD. Please forgive me.”

“No more hard feelings, my friend. You are forgiven,” says Petya.
“Misha, I must confess to you that I had you sent to the penal battalion in 1942. I am terribly sorry about that day.”

“Please my friend, we all forgive you. You may go in peace,” says Misha.
“Thank you, comrades, for being with me throughout all these years,” says the old communist with a tear streaming down his face. “I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you. I’m sorry for betraying you all, and I hope you will forgive me.”

His friends are visibly touched by his words. Finally, he gathers his last strength and says.
“And in honor of our deep friendship I want you to fulfill my last wish. See that cactus plant on the windowsill? As soon as I die, I want you to take it and shove it up my ass.”

Just as his friends were about to say something the old communist took his last breath.
So Petya goes to the window, takes the cactus plant off and with the other two holding up the old communist’s legs, shoves it up their dead friend’s butt. Suddenly, they hear a loud banging on the door followed by a gruff voice shouting:

“Open up, it’s the police. We’ve received information that an old Bolshevik has been tortured to death.”

“””””

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My job is worse than your job
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My job is worse than your job

My job is so fucking unbelievable. I’ll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:
First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but damn is she completely useless. The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on make-up. She is extremely self-centred and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself. She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.

The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet. Her career opportunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10. I’m not sure she even showers, much less shaves her “womanly” parts. I think she might be a lesbian, because every time we drive by the hardware store she moans like a cat in heat.

But the jewel in the crown has got to be the fucking stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead. In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I’m sure after work. He probably hasn’t been sober any time in the last ten years, and he’s only 22. He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960’s, and to make things worse, he brings his big fucking dog to work. Every fucking day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-stoned from the second-hand smoke. Hell, sometimes I even think it’s trying to talk with its constant bellowing. Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonald’s and Burger King, every single fucking day.

Anyway, I drive these fucktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and shit.

“””””

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