Good Morning Campers,

Well, it’s been another interesting week here at draconis speluncam.  It’s late on Thursday, so I’m not going to waste a lot of time wingeing,  and we’ll get as quickly to the laffs as possible.

Cops and donuts.  You know, in my job, we have a way to train the police department on how to figure out a hazmat situation.  We teach them to use the tools that they always have with them, in this particular case, a powdered sugar donut. 

We teach them to first, hold the donut up in the air and shake it.  In whichever direction the powdered sugar blows, they have to move in the opposite direction (up wind for the rest of us) and then they hold the powdered donut up at eye level and arms length and peer through the hole.  Then they need back up in the opposite direction from the powdered sugar blowing again until they can see the whole incident inside the hole.

Then and only then are they safe from the incident and they need to keep everyone else back at the same distance, on the same side of the incident.

The Lone Ranger was arrested in Lone Pine, California for the crime of illegally transferring silver bullets. The famed masked man had just apprehended an armed felon after shooting the gun out of his hand. As was his practice for the last eighty years, he gave a silver bullet to the outlaw’s victim.

She was a kindly old widow who was robbed and held captive by the desperado. This lady, grateful that her life and property were restored, treasured the silver bullet as a symbol that justice was done.

The trouble started when she showed the bullet to her weekly garden club. Upon seeing the gleaming memento, one lady fainted. Another lady gasped that they were all going to die. A third lady, who was also a member of CHA (California Hysterics Anonymous), warned that where there was a bullet there had to be a gun. During the shocked silence an attendee desperately summoned the Sheriff on her cell phone.

When the Sheriff heard their story he struggled to stifle a laugh. He knew the old gentleman on the big white horse. He also appreciated how many criminals the Lone Ranger had captured over the years. However, since California voters passed Proposition 63, he had to uphold the law.

Predictably, he found the masked man enjoying a Near Beer at the Dry Gulch Saloon back in town.

“Thanks for helping old widow Smith,” he said, “but did you really give her a silver bullet?”

“Yes,” replied the Lone Ranger, “after all that’s my trademark. Got a problem with that?”

“Well, yes,” hesitated the sheriff. “Ya see . . . under Proposition 63, you’ve got to be a licensed firearms dealer to give anyone a bullet.”

“Are you kidding?” asked the Lone Ranger.

“Wish I was,” said the embarrassed sheriff, “and to boot whoever receives the bullet has to be registered with the Department of Justice.”

“Holy guacamole!” exclaimed the masked man. “Did I do anything else wrong?

“Well,” said the sheriff, looking even more sheepish now, “there’s the little matter of you shooting a gun out of the outlaw’s hand.”

“What!” said the Lone Ranger. “If I hadn’t done that, the skunk would have plugged me for sure.”

“I know that,” admitted the Sheriff, “but he’ll probably sue you for failing to retreat and using unnecessary force. If they convict you, they’ll take your six-shooters away for good. Which reminds me, according to California law, your pistols have too large a capacity. If I were you, I’d convert those six-shooters into five-shooters as quick as you can.”

“Jumpin’ Junipers!” exclaimed the Lone Ranger. “I’d better tell this to my faithful Indian companion, Tonto.”

“Hold on,” said the Sheriff. “I need to remind you that Indians are now referred to as Native Americans. We privileged male palefaces have got to remember that.”

As the Lone Ranger sat in shocked silence, the sheriff explained his rights and proceeded to take him in.

Postscript:

Upon being provided an attorney at state expense, the outlaw successfully sued the Lone Ranger. He claimed that he could no longer work since he had suffered the permanent loss of his trigger finger. Lt. Governor Gavin Newsom urged imposing the maximum sentence for possession of illegal ammunition and a firearm that exceeds lawful capacity. He received a huge monetary award, forcing the Lone Ranger to sell the silver mine.

Tonto was deemed innocent but victimized by virtue of being a member of an oppressed minority. He was given land by the state and now operates a very profitable casino.

After getting out of jail, the Lone Ranger could not find a job since he was now an ex-con. Fortunately, Tonto lets him do light janitorial work at the casino and sleep in the basement.

Following the passage of Proposition 63, violent crime in California has steadily increased. Lt. Governor Newsom advises troubled property owners to protect themselves by posting signs that say:

Keep Out—Gun Free Zone

Yup, that ought to do it.

Unless you’re married, you probably really don’t understand that last cartoon.

A contractor dies in a car accident on his 40th birthday and finds himself at the Pearly Gates.

A brass band is playing, the angels are singing a beautiful hymn, there is a huge crowd cheering and shouting his name, and absolutely everyone wants to shake his hand.

Just when he thinks things can’t possibly get any better, Saint Peter himself runs over, apologizes for not greeting him personally at the Pearly Gates, shakes his hand, and says, “Congratulations son, we’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

Totally confused and a little embarrassed, the contractor sheepishly looks at Saint Peter and says “Saint Peter, I tried to lead a God-fearing life, I loved my family, I tried to obey the 10 Commandments, but congratulations for what? I honestly don’t remember doing anything really special when I was alive.”

“Congratulations for what?” says Saint Peter, totally amazed at the man’s modesty.

“We’re celebrating the fact that you lived to be 160 years old! God himself wants to see you!”

The contractor is awestruck and can only look at Saint Peter with his mouth wide open.

When he regains his power of speech, he looks up at Saint Peter and says “Saint Peter, I lived my life in the eternal hope that when I died I would be judged by God and be found to be worthy, but I only lived to be forty.”

“That’s simply impossible son,” says Saint Peter. “We’ve added up your time sheets.”

I was eating breakfast with my teenage granddaughter and I asked her, “What special day is it tomorrow?”

Without skipping a beat she said, “It’s U.S. Congressman’s Day.”

She’s smart, so I asked her “What does that mean?” I was not ready for what she was about to say.

She replied, ” U.S. Congressman’s Day is when they step out of the Capital Building and see their shadow, we have 4 more years of Bull Shit.”

You know, it hurts when hot coffee spurts out your nose.

On the back of an older woman’s T-Shirt:

I think if North Korea bombs us, the military should kneel down and let the NFL handle it.

One day, an elderly woman was walking along the street, coming home from the supermarket. Her bag of groceries was especially heavy that day, and as she passed Nathan Hale’s Used Cars, she got an idea that she could drive herself to the store and save a lot of shoe leather, time and aching muscles.

She walks into the car dealership and, as it just so happens, gets the owner himself. He asks her what kind of car she wants and she replies, “Well, sonny, I can’t remember the name exactly, but it has something to do with hate or anger.”

The dealer replies, “Well, let’s see… Oh yes, you want a Plymouth Fury! We have a couple on the lot. What color do you prefer?”

The lady has some trouble explaining the exact color to him, so she reaches into her shopping bag, takes out an ear of corn, strips down the shucks and says, “I want this color, Sonny.”

To which Nathan replies, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any in this color. Could I show you a nice blue one?”

“No son, I want this color.”

“But ma’am, they didn’t make that color! Maybe a cherry red one would suit you?” says the owner, obviously worried about losing a sale.

By this time, the old lady gets very angry, and starts throwing ears of corn at the owner, thereby chasing him out of the office and into the lot.

One of the salesmen, coming into the office from the back door, notices the disruption and asks the secretary what the old woman was so upset about. The secretary replies, “Apparently, Hale hath no Fury like the woman’s corn!”

Hey!  Don’t  blame me, it was Karl’s joke!

A hole has been found in the nudist camp fence. The police are looking into it!!!

And that’s all I have time for this week my loved campers.

Cheers!