Shakey went to a psychiatrist. "Doc," he said, "I ve got a trouble. Every time I get into bed, I think there's somebody under it. I get under the bed; I think there's somebody on top of it. Top, under, top, under, you got to help me, I'm going crazy!" "Just put yourself in my hands for two years," said the shrink. "Come to me three times a week, and I'll cure your fears." "How much do you charge?" "A hundred dollars per visit." "I'll sleep on it," said Shakey. Six months later the doctor met Shakey on the street. "Why didn't you ever come to see me again?" asked the psychiatrist. "For a hundred buck's a visit? A bartender cured me for ten dollars." "Is that so! How?" "He told me to cut the legs off the bed!"
Late one night a preacher was making his weary way home. As he traveled the hilly, curving country road, he overtook a car. The slow moving car was weaving from one side of the road to the other in a most disturbing manner. Being familiar with most residents of the area he recognized the car as belonging to a member of his congregation.
"Oh no," said the preacher to himself, "Joe has fallen off the wagon again. The way that car is weaving, he must be really plastered
Banta sees his buddy, Santa, in a bar and says, "You're not going to believe this, but I've got a wild nymphomaniac in my car out in the parking lot. She's wearing me out! Can you go out to the car and keep her busy? The dome light is off, so she won't know you're not me!" Santa agrees and goes out to his car. They climb into the back seat and start going at it. A few minutes later, a cop sees them and starts banging on the window, shining his flashlight inside. "What the hell do you two think you're doing?" Santa says, "Oh, there's nothing wrong, she's my wife." The cop says, "Oh, sorry, I didn't know." Santa says "Neither did I until you shined that light in here."