A Russian communist is lying on his deathbed 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, no worries buddy,” 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 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 never knew you loved me that much despite me being a stool pigeon.”

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 rushes to the window, takes the cactus plant off and together they shove it up their dead friend’s butt. Suddenly, the friends 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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A store that sells new husbands has opened in New York City, where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates:

You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the value of the products increase as the shopper ascends the flights. The shopper may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but cannot go back down except to exit the building!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:

Floor 1 – These men Have Jobs. She is intrigued, but continues to the second floor, where the sign reads:

Floor 2 – These men Have Jobs and Love Kids. “That’s nice,” she thinks, “but I want more.” So she continues upward. The third floor sign reads:

Floor 3 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, and are Extremely Good Looking. “Wow,” she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going. She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 4 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help With Housework. “Oh, mercy me!” she exclaims, “I can hardly stand it!” Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 5 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop- dead Gorgeous, Help with Housework, and Have a Strong Romantic Streak. She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor, where the sign reads:

Floor 6 – You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.

PLEASE NOTE:
To avoid gender bias charges, the store’s owner opened a New Wives store just across the street.

The first floor has wives that love sex.

The second floor has wives that love sex and have money and like beer.

The third, fourth, fifth and sixth floors have never been visited.

“””””

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For a gimmick intended to draw customers, the local Innkeeper put up a sign:

“500 gold pieces to anyone who can make my horse laugh. But if ye cannot, ye owe ME 500 gold pieces.”
After a couple young fools tried and lost, the legend grew, but few were interested in actually taking the wager. Business boomed as travellers flocked to the inn with hopes of seeing some poor fool attempt the impossible.

One day, a short, decrepit old man wandered into the tavern and said he’d like to attempt the challenge.
The innkeeper chuckled, knowing that horses don’t actually laugh, and told the old man to have at it. “But, just so you know,” said the innkeeper, “if he doesn’t laugh, you owe ME 500 gold pieces.”

The man happily agreed, and the innkeeper and other patrons followed the old-timer outside. The old man moved slowly up to the side of the horse and whispered something in its ear that none but he and the horse could hear.

The horse immediately started laughing so hard that it shook the building. The patrons and innkeeper stared in disbelief, but the innkeeper knew he was bested. He paid the man and retired the challenge.

Before the tale could spread too far, the Innkeeper introduced a new challenge, this time certain it was impossible for him to lose. Emboldened by his certainty, the innkeeper upped the stakes: “1000 gold pieces to anyone who can make my horse cry. But if ye cannot, ye owe ME 1000 gold pieces.”

This time however, barely a week passed, and the old man returned. “I’m here about the challenge.”, He said. Cautious but eager to embarrass the old man who had bested his previous challenge (and taken his coin), the innkeeper agreed to let the man attempt his challenge.

The old man walked out to the horse, innkeeper and patrons following closely behind.

Standing directly in front of the horse the old man promptly dropped his trousers.

And the horse burst into tears.

“What the hell is going on?!!”, shouted the irate innkeeper to the back of the old man, furious at both having been bested again, and the old man’s exposing of himself.

“Simple”, said the old man, turning his neck to look back at the crowd.

“Last week, I told yer horse my cock was bigger than his.

And now, I’ve shown him!”

“””””

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“Sixty is the worst age to be,” said the 60-year-old.

“You always feel like you have to pee. And most of the time, you stand at the toilet and nothing comes out!”

“Ah, that’s nothin’,” said the 70-year-old. “When you’re seventy, you can’t even crap anymore. You take laxatives, then you sit on the toilet all day and nothin’ comes out!”

“Actually,” said the 80-year-old, “80 is the worst age of all!”

“Do you have trouble peeing too?” asked the 60-year-old.

“No, not really. I pee every morning at 6:00. I pee like a racehorse on a flat rock; no problem at all.”
“Do you have trouble crapping?” asked the 70-year-old.

“No, I crap every morning at 6:30.”

With great exasperation, the 60-year-old said, “Let me get this straight. You pee every morning at 6:00 and crap every morning at 6:30.

So what’s so tough about being 80?”

“I don’t wake up until 7:00!”

“””””

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