A bus full of politicians were driving down a country road, when the bus ran off the road and crashed into a tree in an old farmer's field. The old farmer, after seeing what happened, went over to investigate. A few days later, the local sheriff came out looking for the missing politicos, saw the crashed bus, and asked the farmer where all the politicians had gone. The farmer said, "I buried 'em all... out back." The sheriff then asked, "Were they ALL dead?" The old farmer replied, "Well, some of them said they weren't, but you know how them politicians lie."
A man nervously dialed the office of his attorney. "I'd like to speak to my lawyer," he told the secretary who answered the phone. "I'm sorry, sir," the secretary told him, "but he has passed away. He's dead." The man hung up with a mumbled "Thank-you." A week later, though, he called back. "Could I talk to my lawyer?" he asked. "Haven't we spoken before, sir?" the secretary inquired. "I could have sworn I talked to you last week. He's dead." "OK," said the caller. "Sorry to bother you." Only seven days afterward, though, the secretary heard a by-now-familiar voice at the other end of the line. "Is there any chance you could connect me with my lawyer?" the man wanted to know. By now, the secretary was exasperated. "I know we've spoken before, sir. I've told you: he's dead! Why do you keep calling back? Don't you get it? He's dead!" The man paused before he answered. "I know, I know . . . . I just enjoy hearing it so much!"
An artist asked the gallery owner if there had been any interest in his paintings currently on display. "I've got good news and bad news," the owner replied. "The good news is that a gentleman inquired about your work and wondered if it would appreciate in value after your death. When I told him it would, he bought all fifteen of your paintings." "That's wonderful!" the artist exclaimed, "What's the bad news?". With concern, the gallery owner replied, "The guy was your doctor."
A man nervously dialed the office of his attorney. "I'd like to speak to my lawyer," he told the secretary who answered the phone. "I'm sorry, sir," the secretary told him, "but he has passed away. He's dead." The man hung up with a mumbled "Thank-you." A week later, though, he called back. "Could I talk to my lawyer?" he asked. "Haven't we spoken before, sir?" the secretary inquired. "I could have sworn I talked to you last week. He's dead." "OK," said the caller. "Sorry to bother you." Only seven days afterward, though, the secretary heard a by-now-familiar voice at the other end of the line. "Is there any chance you could connect me with my lawyer?" the man wanted to know. By now, the secretary was exasperated. "I know we've spoken before, sir. I've told you: he's dead! Why do you keep calling back? Don't you get it? He's dead!" The man paused before he answered. "I know, I know . . . . I just enjoy hearing it so much!"
An artist asked the gallery owner if there had been any interest in his paintings currently on display. "I've got good news and bad news," the owner replied. "The good news is that a gentleman inquired about your work and wondered if it would appreciate in value after your death. When I told him it would, he bought all fifteen of your paintings." "That's wonderful!" the artist exclaimed, "What's the bad news?". With concern, the gallery owner replied, "The guy was your doctor."
