The first cow says to the second cow, "Holy wow, this whole mad cow disease thing is really scaring me. What do you think?"
The second promptly says, "*I* don't know *what* you are talking about. *I* am a helicopter. *whooshwhooshwhoosh*"
A mage, a thief, and a fighter walk into a bar, and the bartender says, "Hey, is this a party?"
A Buddhist monk, a rabbi, and a pastor get together often to go fishing. On this particular occasion, they all climb in the boat and row out a ways.
Suddenly, the monk stands up and cries "I forgot my lunch!" He hops out of the boat, walks back to shore, grabs his lunch, and walks back, stepping back into the boat with only a little water on his shoes. The preacher adjusts his collar uncomfortably. "He can walk on water! He must be holier than me!" he thinks.
Suddenly, the rabbi stands up and cries "I forgot my hat!" He hops out of the boat, walks back to shore, grabs his hat, and walks back, stepping back into the boat with only a little water on his shoes. The priest is starting to sweat. "He must also be more holy than me! I must prove that I am as holy!" he resolves.
Suddenly the pastor stands up and cries "I forgot my Bible!" He hops out of the boat. SPLASH!
The stunned rabbi turns to the monk, who is shaking with laughter, and says, "I guess I forgot to tell him about the stepping stones!"
Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame, was ready to retire. The call went out for replacements. Dozens of men and women of all ages answered and applied. Each had to demonstrate their skill to Quasimodo, as it was he who would choose his successor. Weeks went by, disappointment after diasappointment. No one lived up to Quasimodo's standards, no one had the finesse he brought to the job.
Then, when he'd given up hope, a young man arrived.
"I'd like to apply for the bell ringer position," he said.
"Thank you, good sir," Quasimodo replied, a bit uneasy. "But---well, I don't mean to be rude, but---you have no arms."
"I know," the man replied, smiling with confidence. "Nonetheless, I'd like to apply."
"I'll ring the bell with my head."
"Your head?" Quasimodo repeated.
Quasimodo began to dissuade him, but he could see in the man's eyes a firece determination. So, Quasimodo shrugged and stepped away from the bell and said, "Have at it."
The man backed up as far as the bell tower allowed, braced himself, and ran at the bell. At the last moment he sprung into the air, thrusting his head at the bell. He missed it only by inches and landed on his feet.
He repeated the process. Same result. Again, same result. This went on for some time. The hunchback began glancing at his watch.
Quasimodo felt embarrassed for the poor fellow. "Look, " he said, "maybe you---"
"I can DO this," the young man growled.
"Whatever," Quasimodo said.
The young man braced himself, sprinted once again, and leapt, lunging at the bell. His face hit the bell head on. There was a resounding peal. Unfortunately, the young man bounced off the bell and plunged over the edge of the bell tower, his scream trailing until it was cut off.
"Shit," Quasimodo muttered, running to look over the edge. "Just what I need."
Sure enough, the man was splattered on the cobbles below, a crowd beginning to gather.
Quasimodo ran down the many flights of stairs. By the time he got to the courtyard, he was sweating and breathing heavily. The crowd had increased, with much murmuring going on. A gendarme stood over the young man's body, careful not to step in any of the stuff splattered around.
"Quasimodo," the gendarme said. "Do you know this man?"
No," Quasimodo admitted, "but his face rings a bell.
So, anyway, the NEXT day, ANOTHER armless guy comes in. Looks a whole lot like the first one. Quasimodo says, "Look, yesterday, a different guy without arms tried for this same job. It didn't end well."
Guy nods. "Yeah, he was my brother. Both of us grew up admiring you, and the skill you brought to your job, and we both are dedicated to bell-ringing. We worked out our technique together. It's a tragedy what happened yesterday, but at least he died trying for what we both believed in, and I want to give it the same try."
Quasimodo's quite moved by this, so he lets the guy up. Guy backs up across the belltower, charges full-speed across, ricochets off the bell, goes flying out the steeple, and crashes to the ground.
The same gendarme is there when he gets there. "Okay, Quasimodo -- what about THIS guy? What can you tell me about HIM?"
Quasimodo shrugs. "I never learned his name, but he's a dead ringer for his brother."
Q. What lies at the bottom of the sea and shivers?
A. A nervous wreck.
(I got this joke in a Christmas cracker one year and wouldn't stop telling it to my family for the rest of the vacation. Finally my sister got so annoyed that when I asked the question, she replied "A CLUBBED SISTER.")
How many members of SFWA does it take to change a light bulb?
None. Light bulbs are for Luddites. Science Fiction writers read by the backlight on their funky futuristic electronic reading devices, and Fantasy writers use oil lamps, rushlights or glowing wands or gemstones.
(If I didn't raise a laugh with that, I hope it was at least worthy of a smile.)