Bubba and Clem sit on the stoop in front of Bubba’s shack whittling and
drooling.
After a few hours Clem turns to Bubba and ventures:
“You’re goin’ huntin’ next week?”
“Yup”
“Be gone all week?”
“Yup”
“I was thinkin’ if while you’re gone, I stay with your wife and we have
a kid – will that make us kin?”
Bubba looks puzzled, scratches his head, readjusts his baseball cap and
finally speculates “Well – I don’t rightly know if it’ll make us kin – I
think it’ll just make us even.”
Q: How do hunters’ brain cells die?
A: Alone.
An animal-rights activist was telling a new co-worker one of his
dumb-hunter jokes. About half-way through the joke his new colleague
stopped him; looked at him very intently and declared slowly and with
exaggerated emphasis: “Do you know – that I am a hunter?”
The animal-rights activist apologized, “Oh, I’m very sorry, do you want
me to start over and talk slower?”
There was an old hunter from Arizona
Who went to run with the bulls in Pamplona
He got on the wrong plane
And was not heard from again
‘cause he went to Sweden without any krona
