After borrowing airfare from his mother, Pantloads took a trip to Milan to protest the World Bank during the G-8 summit. About an hour after his flight was in the air, Pantloads scurried into the first class section and sat in one of the plush seats even though he had only purchased a coach ticket.
“Excuse me, sir,” said the flight attendant, “this section is reserved for first-class passengers only.”
“Screw you,” replied Pantloads, “I’m tired of all the rich capitalist pigs taking the first-class seats while the little guy has to settle for coach! I claim this seat in the name of social justice, and I’m gonna’ sit here and drink free liquor ‘till I vomit.”
Exasperated, the flight attendant walked into the cockpit to tell the captain of her newfound problem. As the captain was about to radio ahead to the Milan airport to have security arrest Pantloads upon landing, the co-pilot perked up “Don’t bother, Jeff, I’ll take care of this. My worthless brother-in-law is a socialist and I know how to deal with this form of mental disorder.”
The co-pilot unbuckled himself, made his way back to first-class and had a short discussion with Pantloads. Pantloads listened attentively, smacked his head with his hands while shaking his head, then hastily scurried back to the coach section.
After returning to the cockpit, the flight attendant said “Roger, that was amazing. What did you say to him?”
“I told him first-class wasn’t going to Milan.”
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As part of his court-ordered community service, Pantloads had taken a job at a local horse stable performing menial task, such as mucking the stalls, grooming the horses, removing bot-fly eggs and so on. Things went very smoothly once the horses got used to the smell.
Then one day the stable foreman yelled, “Pantloads, get your lazy-ass in here and help me de-worm the horses.” As Pantloads walked into the first stall with the foreman, the foreman took a bottle of large pills and a two-foot length of plastic tubing up to the horse. He then stuck one end of the tube up the horses behind, put a pill in the other end, took a deep breath and blew the pill up the horse’s rectum.
“Here, you do the next one,” said the foreman. “Each horse gets two pills.”
Pantloads walked up to the horse, pulled the tube from the horse’s behind, reversed the tube and stuck the other end into the horse. He then placed a pill into the tube and just before he blew the pill into the horse’s rectum the foreman yelled in shocked disbelief, “Pantloads, what in God’s name are you doing?”
“Well, you don’t expect me to put my lips where you had yours, do you?”
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A young ventriloquist was touring the clubs and bars in San Francisco. He was going through his usual run of stupid socialists jokes when Pantloads, who was sitting in the fourth row, stood on his chair and said "I've heard just about enough of your denigrating socialist jokes, buddy. What makes you think you can stereotype me that way? What does a person's politics have to do with their worth as a human being? It's guys like you who keep people like me from being respected at our menial jobs and in our community ... all in the name of humor."
Flustered, the ventriloquist began to apologize, when Pantloads piped up, "You stay out of this mister. I'm talking to that little jerk on your knee."
LOL! If you are writing those, you are pretty darn talented.