I dunno — this batch of funnies from the church magazines of 1919 really appeals to me as among some of the most clever we’ve seen –
“Daddy,” said little George, “I want to get married.”
“Do you, my son?” the proud parent asked. “And may I inquire to whom?”
“I want to marry Granny.”
“Do you, indeed? And do you think I would allow you to marry my mother – eh?”
“Well, why shouldn’t I?” retorted the young logician. “You married mine, didn’t you?”
Butcher – “This pound of butter you sent me is three ounces short.”
Grocer – “Well, I mislaid the pound weight, so I weighed it by the pound of chops you sent over this morning.”
“All right, I’ll Fiji.”
Tenderfoot: “Pa, are trousers plural or singular?”
Father: “Well, if you have a pair, I’d say that they were plural, but if you didn’t have a pair I’d call that singular.”
His wife had never made biscuits with anything save the finest wheat flour and her first war-flour biscuits were a dismal failure. She tried to tell hubby all about it.
“Don’t worry, dear,” said her lord and master. “I know they’re heavy, but remember, I only have to lift one at a time.”
She – “I never could see why they call a boat ‘she.’”
He – “Evidently you never tried to steer one.”
In a garage at Albuquerque is posted: “Don’t smoke round the tank! if your life isn’t worth anything, gasoline is!”
And on the wall of a barber’s shop at Taos is prominently displayed: “If you can’t raise fifteen cents, raise whiskers!”
The Question Solved
Father: “That cat was making an awful noise in the back garden last night.”
Arnold: “Yes, Father; I think that since he ate the canary he thinks he can sing.”
“I understand that you have a new motor car.”
“Do you drive it yourself?”
“Nobody drives it. We coax it.”
Gets Back at Mother
“Bertie,” said mother, sorrowfully, “every time you are naughty I get another gray hair.”
“My word!” replied Bertie; “you must have been a terror. Look at grandpa!”
Which is heavier, a half or full moon?
The half, because the full moon is as light again.
“Is this a second-hand store?”
“Well, I want one for my watch.”
“Do you think your boy will leave footprints on the sands of time?”
“He’d leave ‘em anywhere. Just look at that carpet.”
Good Breed, All Right
“My, what a destructive dog you have, sonny! He must have German blood in him.”
“No, he hasn’t, but he would have if he could find a German.”
Magistrate – “And what was the prisoner doing?”
Constable – “‘E was ‘avin’ a very ‘eated argument with a taxi driver yer honor.”
Magistrate – “But that doesn’t prove he was drunk.”
Constable – “Ah! But there weren’t no taxi-driver, yer honor.”
His First Performance
“Who’s dead?” asked the stranger, viewing the elaborate funeral procession.
“The bloke what’s inside the coffin,” answered an irreverent small boy.
“But who is it?” the stranger pursued.
“It’s the mayor,” was the reply.
“So the mayor is dead, is he?” mused the stranger.
“Well, I guess,” said the small boy, witheringly. “D’you think he’s having a rehearsal?”
Edith – “I can’t imagine how the secret leaked out.”
Betty – “Nor I. I’m sure everyone I told promised to say nothing about it.”
Tenderfoot: “Do you know the scientific name for snoring?”
Eagle Scout: “Uh, no.”
Tenderfoot: “Sheet Music.”
A Good Chance
“May I ask how old you are?” said the vacationist to the old villager.
“I be just a hundred.”
“Really? Well, I doubt if you’ll see another hundred years,” said the other, trying to make conversation.
“Wall, I don’t know so much about that,” was the ready response. “I be stronger now than when I started on the first hundred.”
President Wilson is fond of telling a story about an old teamster. This old fellow said to the treasurer of the concern one day:
“Me and that off-horse has been working for the company seventeen years, sir.”
“Just so, Winterbottom, just so,” said the treasurer, and he cleared his throat and added: “Both treated well, I hope?”
The old teamster looked dubious.
“Well,” he said, “we was both tooken down sick last month and they got a doctor for the hoss, while they docked my pay.”