Q: Know why the Indian got a table at the restaurant?
A: He had a reservation.
Q: Know why the Indian got a table at the restaurant?
A: He had a reservation.
“I heard something about Native Americans having their own Olympics. Hope they don’t have a dance competition, because it would probably get rained out.
Besides, I thought they already had their own games. It was called ‘The World Series of Poker.'”
– Matt Sussman
O Christmas Tree, Santa Baby, Here Comes Santa Claus, White Christmas, the list goes on. How many songs have we heard a million times? How many versions of the same songs must we choke down?
A horrendous onslaught of holiday music is upon us every time we get into the months of November and December, as Christmas, the month-long holiday is the time we love to be tortured by it.
Not only do we have to buy buy buy, but we have to listen to millionaire corporate slaves sing yet another version of that “Do You Know What I Know” song that takes forever to listen to. We’re already tossing hordes of cash out the windows into the pockets of companies in the RIAA — couldn’t they possibly hire some fuckers to write some new songs? Isn’t 300 versions of each Christmas song from each new generation of singers enough?
Oh goody, DJ Whatshisface made a remix of Joy to the World and DJ Megaloser made O Christmas Tree v. Santa Baby. Or let’s have Britney Spears sing the 12 Days of Christmas — that’s new and exciting!
What is even more annoying is that each time the song is remade, the singer adds their own little “flair” to it, so you would remember that in BigBoobedMovieStarNowASinger said “Yeayyeeyeahheeyaa!” at the end of each sentence in the song. It’s crap!
Sometimes bands make new Christmas songs, I’m sure, so why can’t we just stop dragging on those same fucking songs we have to listen to over and over? They’re so fucking old! Fuck them all! And where are the Thanksgiving songs?! I want to hear songs about how we screwed the Native Americans and killed turkeys!
An Indian chief was feeling very sick, so he summoned the medicine man.
After a brief examination, the medicine man took out a long, thin strip of elk hide and gave it to the chief, instructing him to bite off, chew and swallow one inch of the leather every day.
After a month, the medicine man returned to see how the chief was feeling. The chief shrugged and said, “The thong is ended but the malady lingers on.”
An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun in one hand pulling a male buffalo with the other and says to the waiter, “Want coffee.”
The waiter says, “Sure thing, coming right up.”
He gets the Indian a tall mug of coffee. After drinking the coffee down in one gulp, the Indian turns and blasts the buffalo with the shotgun, then just walks out of the place!
The next morning the Indian returns. He has his shotgun in one hand, pulling another male buffalo with the other. He walks up to the counter and says to the waiter, “Want coffee!”
The waiter says, “Whoa, mister! We’re still cleaning up your mess from yesterday. What the heck is all this about, anyway?”
The Indian smiles and proudly says, “Training for upper management. Come in, drink coffee, shoot the bull, leave mess for others to clean up, disappear for rest of day.”
Q: What did the famous Indian fighter call his fast food ice cream chain?
A: Custard’s Last Stand!
“The Indians our going to leave. The Indians want to leave. We will battle the Indians until they leave their to the goverment.”
– from somewhere around davepoobond’s high school
“and its clear that the Indians didn’t rip off the settlers! They paid 22.50 for this piece of dirt! If they put it into the bank then, they’d have enough to buy the whole Manhattan Island back!”
– Dr. OldNBald
New York City is so polluted that yesterday the mayor tried to sell Manhattan Island back to the Indians for about twenty-four dollars. The Indians didn’t want any part of the deal.