Geographic Jokes
A redneck farmer from the backwoods of Georgia walked twelve miles, one way, to the general store. "Heya, Wilber," said Sam, the store owner. "Tell me, are you and Nadine still making fire up there by striking flint into dry grass?" "You betcha, Sam. Ain't no other way." Why?" "Got somethin' to show ya." Somethin' to make fire. It's called a match." "Match?" "Never heard tell of such a thing." "Watch me,if you want a fire, you just do this,"says Sam, taking a match and striking it on his pants. "Huh! Well, that's somethin',but that ain't for me, Sam." "Well, why not?" "I cain't be walking twelve miles to borrow your pants every time I want a fire."


—Charlie Kenyon, Freeland, MI, Michigan

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