My son and I were driving home from a friend’s place the other day. He was staring out the window, looking ever-so-bored. Since I don’t get nearly as much time to spend with him as I’d like, I decided that he needed entertaining. After all, time with Dad should not be ever-so-boring. I decided to tell him the following joke:
Joe was walking down the street, and passed another going the opposite direction. The man was snapping his fingers in a very stylized rhythm similar to a jazz band playing rag time. Curious, the Joe asked the second, “What are you doing?”
The second man smiled and said, “I’m feeling the beat man. I’m feeling the beat.”
Joe continued walking, and soon came across another man that was walking along snapping his fingers. This man seemed to be snapping faster as if a disco tune were playing in his head. Joe asked, “What are you doing? Feeling the beat?”
The third man said, “Naw, I’m feelin’ the groove man. I’m feeling the groove!”
Smiling, Joe walked on.
He soon encountered another man who was walking along snapping (rather unsuccessfully) his fingers. Smiling, Joe again asked a question, “Excuse me sir,” he said, “are you feeling the beat?”
Still snapping wildly, the man replied, “Nope.”
“Well, are you feeling the groove then?” the first man asked.
“Nope,” replied the fellow again.
Frustrated, and tired of being nearly slapped in the face, Joe said in an exasperated tone, “Well then, what ARE you doing?”
Still flinging his hand about rhythmically, the third man responded, “I got a booger on my finger an’ I can’t get it off.”
This joke, combined with the appropriate gesticulations and such drove my son into fits of apoplectic funny-bone exercises.
Apparently, I can still entertain an eleven year old boy.
So, tell me a joke…