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Mindconnection has its own humor list. If you want FREE jokes delivered to you (somewhat spasmodically), select from one of these two:
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Some IRS Jokes

The finals of the National Youth Poetry Contest last year came down to two finalists. One was the child of a hard-working parents who had instilled in him their traditional values. The other kid's parents were both IRS employees, so they had no values to instill in their kid.

The rules of the contest required each finalist to compose a four-line poem in one minute or less, and the poem had to contain the word "Timbuktu."

The kid with the hard-working parents went first. About thirty seconds after the clock started he jumped up and recited the following poem,

"'Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked the dusty caravan.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination – Timbuktu"

The audience went wild! How, they wondered, could the IRS kid top that?
The clock started again and the IRS kid sat in silent thought. Finally, in the last few seconds, he jumped and recited,

"Tim and me, a-campin' we went.
Met three taxpayers in a pop-up tent.
They was three, we was two,
So I bucked one and Timbuktu"

 

***

The IRS decides to audit Roger, and summons him to the IRS office. The IRS auditor is not surprised when Roger shows up with his attorney.

The auditor says, "Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I'm not sure the IRS finds that believable."

"I'm a great gambler, and I can prove it," says Roger. "How about a demonstration?"

The auditor thinks for a moment, then agrees to it.

Roger says, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye."

The auditor thinks a moment and says, "It's a bet."

Roger removes his glass eye and bites it. The auditor's jaw drops.

Roger says, "Now, I'll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye."

The auditor can tell Roger isn't blind, so he takes the bet. Roger removes his dentures and bites his good eye. The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Roger's attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.

"Want to go double or nothing?" Roger asks. "I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between."

The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there's no way this guy could possibly manage that stunt, so he agrees again. Roger stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, but although he strains mightily, he can't make the stream reach the wastebasket on the other side, so he pretty much urinates all over the auditor's' desk.

The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win. But Roger's attorney moans and puts his head in his hands.

"Are you okay?" the auditor asks.

"Not really," says the attorney. "This morning, when Roger told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty-five thousand dollars that he could come in here and piss all over your desk and that you'd be happy about it."

 

***

The local bar was so sure its bartender was the strongest man around that they offered a standing $1000 bet. The bartender would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass, and hand the lemon to a patron. Anyone who could squeeze one more drop of juice out would win the money.
Many people had tried over time, including the professional wrestlers and bodybuilders, but nobody could do it. One day a scrawny little man came in, wearing a tie and a pair of pants hiked up past his belly button.

He said in a squeaky annoying voice, "I'd like to try the bet." Even the hillbilly chicks burst into laughter.
After the laughter had died down, the bartender said, "Ok," grabbed a lemon, and squeezed away. He then handed the wrinkled remains of the rind to the little man.

But the crowd's laughter turned to total silence as the man clenched his fist around the lemon and six drops fell into the glass. As the crowd cheered, the bartender paid the $1000, and asked the little man, "What did you do for a living? Are you a lumberjack, weight lifter, or what?"

The man replied, "I work for the IRS."

***



Dear Abby,

We are expecting a baby boy. I want to name our son Enos, after his grandfather who was a war hero. My husband is concerned about how the enormous national debt and other problems will make it hard for our boy to find work and support himself. He thinks that instead of naming the boy Enos, we should name him Anus to guarantee him a job at the IRS.

I was aghast that my husband would even consider such a thing. When a parent envisions his child growing up to be a murderer, rapist, drug dealer, or IRS worker, isn't there something seriously wrong? And if our son eventually takes a job at the IRS, does that mean we have utterly failed as parents? I've hardly slept since my husband suggested such a terrible future for our child.

Concerned Parent

***

Last wish

An old pastor lay dying. He sent a message for an IRS agent and his lawyer to come to the hospital. When they arrived, they were ushered up to his room.

As they entered the room, the pastor held out his hands and motioned for them to sit on each side of the bed. The pastor grasped their hands, sighed contentedly, smiled, and stared at the ceiling.

For a time, no one said anything.

Both the IRS agent and lawyer were touched and flattered that the old man would ask them to be with him during his final moments. They were also puzzled because the pastor had never given any indication that he particularly liked either one of them.

Finally, the Lawyer asked,
"Pastor, why did you ask the two of us come here?"

The old pastor mustered all his strength, then said weakly,
"Jesus died between two thieves, and that's how I want to go, too."

 

***

IRS T-Shirts

IRS T-shirts

IRS:
Organized crime
Backed by govt


IRS:
Power without conscience


IRS:
Darth Vader never had it so good

IRS:
It's not about taxes.
It's about power.


IRS:
Useless but lethal


IRS:
Where terrorism is legal

IRS:
Your pain is our gain

IRS:
We stole 4300 computers from
our own offices


IRS:
Mental illness on steroids

IRS:
New frontiers in anal sex


IRS:
Eat your heart out, Hitler

IRS:
What rights?

IRS:
To err is human
To steal is divine
We do both

IRS:
To us, you're just another target

IRS:
Sick fantasies made real

IRS:
Morals be damned

IRS:
Because torturing small animals
Is no longer enough

Free prostate massage
With every tax return

IRS:
Sadism on steroids

IRS:
When ordinary crime isn't enough

IRS:
Setting new standards in abuse

IRS:
Absolute idiots with absolute power

IRS:
Personal trainer, no.
Personal terrorist, yes.

IRS:
Setting new standards in sadism

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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