Q: How do you get a lawyer out of a tree?
A: Cut the rope.

Q: Do you know how to save a drowning lawyer?
A: Take your foot off his head.

Q: Do you know how to save a drowning lawyer?
A: No? Good!

Q: What’s the difference between a lawyer and a bucket of pond scum?
A: The bucket.

Q: What is the definition of a shame (as in “that’s a shame”)?
A: When a busload of lawyers goes off a cliff.

Q: What is the definition of a “crying shame”?
A: There was an empty seat.

Q. Where can you find a good lawyer?
A. In the cemetary.

A guy had been feeling down for so long that he finally decided to seek the aid of a psychiatrist.

He went there, lay on the couch, spilled his guts then waited for the profound wisdom of the psychiatrist to make him feel better.

The psychiatrist asked me a few questions, took some notes then sat thinking in silence for a few minutes with a puzzled look on his face.

Suddenly, he looked up with an expression of delight and said, “Um, I think your problem is low self-esteem. It is very common among losers.”

A man was driving down a quiet country lane when out into the road strayed a rooster. Whack! The rooster disappeared under the car. A cloud of feathers.

Shaken, the man pulled over at the farmhouse, rang the door bell. A farmer appeared. The man, somewhat nervously said, “I think I killed your rooster, please allow me to replace him.”

“Suit yourself,” the farmer replied, “you can go join the other chickens that are around the back.”

Why do ducks have webbed feet?
To stamp out forest fires!

Why did the pig go to the casino?
To play the slop machine!

What is a pigs favorite ballet?
Swine Lake!

What do you get if you cross a hen with a dog?
Pooched eggs!

How do you stop a rooser crowing on Sunday?
Eat him on Saturday!

Why did the foal cough?
Because he was a little horse!

What is the opposite of cock-a doodle-doo?
Cock-a-doodle-don’t!

What’s the best way to keep milk from turning sour?
Leave it inside the cow!

Where do milkshakes come from?
Excited cows!

Two men, sentenced to die in the electric chair on the same day were led down to the room in which they would meet their maker. The priest had given the last rites, the formal speech had been given by the warden, and a final prayer had been said among the participants. The Warden, turning to the first man, solemnly asked, “Son, do you have a last request?” To which the man replied, “Yes sir, I do. I love dance music. Could you please play The Macarena for me one last time?”

“Certainly,” replied the warden. He turned to the other man and asked, “Well, what about you, son? What is your final request?”

“Please,” said the condemned man, “kill me first.”