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What is Clinton’s worst nightmare?
An intern with braces.

Starr:
I’m here to ask as you’ll soon see…
Did you grope Miss Lewinsky?
Did you grope her in your house?
Did you grope beneath her blouse?

Clinton:
I did not do that here or there…
I did not do that anywhere!
I did not do that near or far…
I did not do that Starr you are!

Starr:
Did you smile? Did you flirt? Did you
peek beneath her skirt?
And did you tell the girl to lie
when called upon to testify?

Clinton:
I do not like you Starr you are…
I think that you have gone too far!
I will not answer any more…
Perhaps I will go start a war!
The public’s easy to distract…
when bombs are falling on Iraq!

George W. Bush, Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso have all died.

Due to a glitch in the mundane/celestial time-space continuum,
all three arrive at the Pearly Gates more or less simultaneously,
even though their deaths have taken place decades apart.

The first to present himself to Saint Peter is Einstein. Saint
Peter questions him. “You look like Einstein, but you have NO
idea the lengths certain people will go to, to sneak into Heaven
under false pretenses. Can you prove who you really are?”

Einstein ponders for a few seconds and asks, “Could I have a
blackboard and some chalk?” Saint Peter complies with a snap of
his fingers.

The blackboard and chalk instantly appear. Einstein proceeds to
describe with arcane mathematics and symbols his special theory
of relativity.

Saint Peter is suitably impressed. “You really *are* Einstein!
Welcome to heaven!”

The next to arrive is Picasso. Once again Saint Peter asks for
his credentials. Picasso doesn’t hesitate. “Mind if I use that
blackboard and chalk?” Saint Peter says, “Go ahead.”

Picasso erases Einstein’s scribbles and proceeds to sketch out a
truly stunning mural. Bulls, satyrs, nude women: he captures
their essences with but a few strokes of the chalk.

Saint Peter claps. “Surely you are the great artist you claim to
be! Come on in!”

The last to arrive is George W. Bush. Saint Peter scratches his
head. “Einstein and Picasso both managed to prove their identity.
How can you prove yours?”

George W. looks bewildered, “Who are Einstein and Picasso?”

Saint Peter sighs, “Come on in, George.”

THE SHADY BUNCH
(To the tune of “The Brady Bunch”)

Here’s the story,
of a First Lady,
who was fighting off three very naughty girls.
All of them have had her man, like the others,
the youngest one… oral.

It’s the story, of a man Slick Willie,
who was busy with three sharks of his own.
They were four men, dodging each other,
over a land deal blown.

Till the one day when Lewinsky met this fellow
and they lied about the times he was her lunch.
Then this group, it somehow became scandel.
That’s the way they all became The Shady Bunch.

The Shady Bunch…….
The Shady Bunch…….
That’s the way… they became… The Shady Bunch!

While Bill, Hillary and Chelsea were vacationing at Camp David the housekeeper was tasked with looking after their pet parrot. They hadn’t been gone for more than a couple of days when the parrot was found dead in the bottom of it’s cage.

The housekeeper knew the first family would be desolate at the loss of one of their family pets, so she set out to find a replacement bird and visited nearly every pet store in Washington. After nearly two days of looking non-stop, she came across an almost exact duplicate of the bird.

As she purchased the parrot, the shop owner cautioned her that the bird had previously be owned by a Madam and had lived for several years in a house of ill-repute. The housekeeper replied that no one would ever know and she took the bird back to the White House.

The morning after the Clintons return to the White House, Chelsea walked through the room and the bird said, “Too young.”

A little later Hillary came into the room and the bird responded with, “Too old.”

Late that afternoon the President entered the room and the bird said, “HI, BILL!”



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