Rule One:

If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:

You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:

I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:

I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:

It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."

Rule Six:

I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:

As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:

The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:

Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:

Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

A young gay man calls home and tells his Jewish mother that he has decided to go back into the closet because he has met a wonderful girl and they are going to be married. He tells his mother that he is sure she will be happier since he knows that his gay lifestyle has been very disturbing to her. She responds that she is indeed delighted and asks tentatively: "I suppose it would be too much to hope that she would be Jewish?" He tells her that not only is the girl Jewish but from a wealthy Beverly Hills family. She admits she is overwhelmed by the news, and asks, "What is

her name?"

He answers, "Monica Lewinsky".

There is a pause, then his mother asks: "What happened to that nice black boy you were dating last year?"

At the height of a political corruption trial, the prosecuting attorney attacked a witness. "Isn't it true," he bellowed, "that you accepted five thousand dollars to compromise this case?"

The witness stared out the window, as though he hadn't heard the question.

"Isn't it true that you accepted five thousand dollars to compromise his case?" the lawyer repeated. The witness still did not respond.

Finally, the judge leaned over and said, "Sir, please answer the question.""Oh," the startled witness said, "I thought he was talking to you."

You might be a Redneck if...

You steal the red cellophane from your kid's art project and use it on your brake light cover.

Collards is green, my dog's name is Blue and I'm so lucky to have a sweet thang like you.

Yore hair is like cornsilk a-flapping in the breeze. Softer than Blue's and without all them fleas

You move like the bass, which excite me in May. You ain't got no scales but I luv you anyway.

Yo're as satisfy'n as okry jist a-fry'n in the pan. Yo're as fragrant as "snuff" right out of the can.

You have some'a yore teeth, for which I am proud; I hold my head high when we're in a crowd.

On special occasions, when you shave under yore arms, well, I'm in hawg heaven, and awed by yore charms.

Still them fellers at work, they all want to know, what I did to deserve such a purdy, young doe.

Like a good roll of duct tape yo're there fer yore man, to patch up life's troubles and fix what you can.

Yo're as cute as a junebug a-buzzin' overhead. You ain't mean like those fire ants I found in my bed.

Cut from the best cloth like a plaid flannel shirt, you spark up my life more than a fresh load of dirt.

When you hold me real tight like a padded gunrack, my life is complete; Ain't nuttin' I lack.

Yore complexion, it's perfection, like the best vinyl sidin'. despite all the years, yore age, it keeps hidin'.

Me 'n' you's like a Moon Pie with a RC cold drank, we go together like a skunk goes with stank.

Some men, they buy chocolate for Valentine's Day; They git it at Wal-Mart, it's romantic that way.

Some men git roses on that special day from the cooler at Kroger. "That's impressive," I say.

Some men buy fine diamonds from a flea market booth. "Diamonds are forever," they explain, suave and couth.

But for this man, honey, these won't do. Cause yor'e too special, you sweet thang you.

I got you a gift, without taste nor odor, more useful than diamonds...... IT'S A NEW TROLL'N MOTOR!!

Luv, from yor romeo

A farmer walked into a drug store and said to the pharmacist, "I want me one of them thar condoms with pesticides on it. Where do I find 'em?"

The pharmacist replied, "Oh sir, you must mean that you want the condoms with SPERMICIDE, not pesticide. They're on aisle 4."

"No, no, I want me them thar condoms with PESTICIDE on it," growled the farmer.

"Sir," said the pharmacist, exasperated from explaining, "PESTICIDE is for killing insects, SPERMICIDE is for killing sperm. I'm sure that you mean spermicide instead of pesticide."

"Listen here," argued the farmer, "I want condoms with PESTICIDE on it, my wife's got a bug up her ass, and I aim to kill it....

A blonde decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lessons or prior experience. She mounts the horse unassisted and the horse immediately springs into motion.

It gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, but the blonde begins to slip from the saddle. In terror, she grabs for the horse's mane, but cannot seem to get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse's neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway.

The horse gallops along, seemingly impervious to its slipping rider. Finally, giving up her frail grip, she leaps away from the horse to try and throw herself to safety. Unfortunately, her foot has become entangled in the stirrup and she is now at the mercy of the horse's pounding hooves s her head is struck against the ground again and again. As her head is battered against the ground, she is mere moments away from unconsciousness when ........

........ the Wal-Mart manager runs out to shut the horse off..

In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual label instructions on consumer goods:

On Sears hairdryer:  Do not use while sleeping. 

On a bag of Fritos:    You could be a winner! No purchase nesessary. Details inside. 

On a bar of Dial soap:   Directions: Use like regular soap. 

On some Swann frozen dinners:    Serving suggestion: Defrost 

On a hotel provided shower cap in a box:    Fits one head.

On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert:(printed on bottom of the box)    Do not turn upside down.

On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding:    Product will be hot after heating.

On packaging for a Rowenta iron:    Do not iron clothes on body.

On Boot's Children's cough medicine:    Do not drive car or operate machinery.

On Nytol sleep aid:    Warning: may cause drowsiness.

On a Korean kitchen knife:    Warning keep out of children.

On a string of Chinese-made Christmas lights:    For indoor or outdoor use only.

On a Japanese food processor:    Not to be used for the other use.

On Sainsbury's peanuts:    Warning: contains nuts.

On an American Airlines packet of nuts:    Instructions: open packet, eat nuts.

On a Swedish chainsaw:    Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals.

On a childs superman costume:    Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly.

The old cowhand came riding into town on a hot, dry, dusty day. The local sheriff watched from his chair in front of the saloon as the cowboy wearily dismounted and tied his horse to the rail a few feet in front of the sheriff.

"Howdy, stranger..."

"Howdy, Sheriff..."

The cowboy then moved slowly to the back of his horse, lifted its tail,and placed a big kiss were the sun don’t shine. He dropped the horse’s tail, stepped up on the walk, and aimed towards the swinging doors of the saloon.

"Hold on, Mister..."

"Sheriff?"

"Did I just see what I think I just saw?"

"Reckon you did, Sheriff...I got me some powerful chapped lips..."

"And that cures them?" the Sheriff asked.

"Nope, but it keeps me from lickin’ em.