Here are some jokes.

From Jason: A guy took his blonde girl friend to her first football game. They had great seats right behind their team's bench. After the game, he asked her how she liked the experience.

"Oh, I really liked it," she replied. "Especially the tight pants and all the big muscles, but I just couldn't understand why they were killing each other over 25 cents."

Dumbfounded, her date asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I saw them flip a coin and one team got it, and then for the rest of the game, all they kept screaming was: 'Get the quarterback! Get the quarterback! Hel-LLLO! It's only 25 cents!"

From Gayle: A woman gets home, screeches her car into the driveway, runs into the house, slams the door and shouts at the top of her lungs, "Honey, pack your bags. I just won the lottery!"

The husband says: "Oh my God! What should I pack - beach stuff or mountain stuff?"

"Doesn't matter," she says. "Just get the hell out."

From Ellen: A three year old little boy was examining his testicles while taking a bath.

"Mama," he asked, "Are these my brains?"

Mama answered, "Not yet."

From Anne: three women - one German, one Japanese and one hillbilly - were sitting naked in a sauna. Suddenly there was a beeping sound. The German pressed her forearm and the beep stopped. The others looked at her questioningly. "That was my pager, she said. "I have a microchip under the skin of my arm."

A few minutes later, a phone rang. The Japanese women lifted her palm to her ear. When she finished, she explained, "That was my mobile phone. I have a microchip in my hand."

The hillbilly woman felt decidedly low tech. Not to be outdone, she decided she had to do something just as impressive. She stepped out of the sauna and went to the bathroom. She returned with a piece of toilet paper hanging from her behind. The others raised their eyebrows and stared at her. The hillbilly woman said, "Well, will you look at that. I'm gittin' a fax."

Now, the biggest joke of all: the inner workings of my deranged mind. Last evening, I was talking with Alan about weird dreams (like garbage dumpster obstacle skiing, see April 6, 2004) and wondering what could put such strange stuff in people’s heads. Apparently my subconscious decided to outdo itself by presenting me with something even goofier than any preceding dream in memory.

I dreamt that I was on the couch watching a movie on television, this totally sappy, maudlin piece of crap which told the torrid story of a tormented teenage love affair. Should I write “angst-ridden” or is that redundant? – anyway, totally unlike anything I would ever consent to watch in real life, when I accidentally hit a button on the remote control and changed the channel. I wasn’t all that interested in the stupid movie, but I was getting very frustrated because no matter what I did to/with the remote, I couldn’t find that movie again. I got more determined to return to the flick the longer I was unable to, and was unable to find it no matter what I did. Subliminal message that I feel out of control? Well, there’s a frickin’ news flash. So anyway, I’m continuing to mess with the remote when my brother walks into the room. He says, “I can’t believe you’re not watching the race!”

I reply, “There’s a Formula One race today?”

He is incredulous at my ignorance and replies, “Well YEAH! Only the inaugural race in BARBADOS!!!” [Is Barbados even big enough for a Formula One course? Definitely we need more races in the Caribbean.] So I switch channels to the race.

And all the drivers are pirates.

I don’t mean that the actual F-1 drivers, Michael Schumacher, David Coulthard, Jenson Button et al were dressed as pirates, I mean all the cars were being driven by actual pirates. As the open-wheeled racers flew by, you could see the velvet jackets and white, full, lacy cuffs all pirates wear on covers of bad romance novels. Everyone had a gold hoop earring. Some had head kerchiefs and others full heads of long black curls a la Disney’s rendition of Captain Hook. I didn’t see anyone using a hook to replace a crocodile-ingested hand, although one guy did have an eye patch. I wondered briefly at the FIA letting Eye Patch Guy drive - isn’t that a safety hazard, to himself and others? Bo and I were cheering for the Ferrari pirates. The Jordan pirates were doing second best but there was this renegade pirate running green-and-gold livery who was running the pirates he didn't like off the road, and one of the Jordan pirates fell victim to his onslaught. Why wasn't anyone running black cars with the skull and crossbones on the side? Why???

In my defense, there was a real live Formula One driver of the late 70s/early 80s named Jacques Lafitte, but although he did turn up for practice once in his pajamas (in Texas - it was hot), I doubt if he ever raced in full pirate regalia. Pirates. In race cars. Obviously, I blame Alan and that chicken/tomato/parmesan/mushroom dinner he fed me.

My friends are very intelligent and most are quite creative, so it’s easy to believe that when those minds run wild, unfettered by the bounds of consciousness, at least one of them must have dreamt something far stranger than the F-1 pirate race. *in a Ben Stein voice* Anyone? Anyone? Anyone?

MONTOYA DELENDA EST!