Have Banquet -- Will Travel

There was a time, shortly after my recovery from motorcycle accident number two, when work was really difficult to come by. I ended up working in folk venues where at most they gave me a hot bowl of soup and covered my beer tab. I was expected to supply some sort of "tip" jar and work at the mercy of the gathered for the evening.

This is my tip jar. The smaller type at the bottom reads: "Give generously so that others may give".

It seems like a good idea at the time.

I am getting ready to pack gear and head down town Eau Claire to after-dinner entertain the Electric Meter Readers. Thank god for the niche I have found in "show biz".

Next week I travel to Wisconsin Dells to entertain the Wisconsin Liquid Waste Carriers where I can use my old standby:

"There's only three things you need to know to be a liquid waste carrier: Shit don'r run up hill, don't put your fingers in your mouth, pay day is Friday!"

Yes, I lead a many and very life. In February the hits just keep on coming mid-month with a banquet for the Wisconsin Cattlemen followed the next night with a banquet for the Wisconsin On Site Waste Water Association.

One of my favorite opening lines was when I did a convention of the Wisconsin Concrete Association. After my introduction, I scanned the audience for a good long time and then simply said: "Why do I get the feeling you all know where Jimmy Hoffa is?"

They were mine for the rest of the evening.

Or the time I was asked to speak at the Wisconsin State Convention on Law Enforcement. I finished my show but they wanted more. I came back onstage and said: "Okay. You asked for this." and proceeded to tell this joke:

There's this old man, hard of hearing, who every saturday takes his dog with him, ties her to a fire hydrant outside his favorite bar, and then goes in and drinks all afternoon.

One Saturday the dog goes into heat. There are dogs arriving from all over the community, some by bus, all taking a number.

There's a little old lady across the street who sees this dog orgy in progress and she calls the police.

"I can't have my daughter seeing disgusting things like this!" (her daughter is 42 years old).

The cop arrives, kicks dogs off the bitch, goes inside and asks the bartender whose dog that is outside. The bartender tells him it's the old guy at the end of the bar, but talk loud to him because he's hard of hearing.

The officer goes down to the man and says: "Excuse me, sir, is that your dog outside?"
"What?"
"I SAID IS THAT YOUR DOG OUTSIDE!'
"Yep, that's my dog."
Well, your dog is in heat."
"What?"
"I SAID YOUR DOG IS IN HEAT!"
"No, no, the heat don't bother her none. I give her a bowl of water in the morning, she's good for all day."
"No, sir -- you're not understanding me. Your dog is gonna get bred."
"What?"
"I SAID YOUR DOG IS GONNA GET BRED!
"Oh, no, no, I never give her bread. It makes her fart. So I never give her bread."
"No, you don't understand , sir, your dog is gonna get screwed!"
"What?"
"I SAID YOUR DOG IS GONNA GET SCREWED!"
"Oh .. OH! Well, go ahead -- I always kinda wanted a police dog puppy."

For some odd reason, I have never gotten hired back.


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