Sports Collection 4

A woman golfer suffers a nasty bee sting and leaves the course to go see her doctor about it. "What happened?" asked the doctor. "I got stung between the first and second hole," replied the lady golfer. The doctor replied, "You must have an awfully wide stance!"

One day a man named Bob was playing a round of golf with the Pope. On the first hole,Bob hits the ball into a sand trap "Damn, I missed." says Bob. The Pope says,"you shouldn't say that it is bad. Later on in the day on the ninth hole Bob hits the ball into the water. "Damn, I missed." says Bob again. The Pope says, "Don't say that, next time you do, God will strike you down with a lightning bolt." Close to the end of the day on the last hole, Bob hits it an inch short of the hole. "Damn, I missed." says Bob once again. The Pope looks into the sky as the clouds start to split apart. Then a lightning bolt comes down from heaven, striking and killing the Pope. God's voice echos, "Damn, I missed."

It is the Olympic men's figure skating. Out comes the Russian competitor, he skates around to some classical music in a slightly dull costume, performs some excellent leaps but without any great artistic feel for the music. The Judges' scores read: Britain 5.8: Russia 5.9: United States 5.5: Ireland 6.0 Next comes the American competitor in a sparkling stars and stripes costume, skating to some rock and roll music. He gets the crowd clapping, but is not technically as good as the Russian. He slightly misses landing a triple Salchow and loses the center during a spin. But, artistically, it is a more satisfying performance. The Judges' scores read: Britain 5.8: Russia 5.5: United States 5.9: Ireland 6.0 Finally out comes the Irish competitor wearing a tatty old donkey jacket, with his skates tied over his wellies. He reaches the ice, trips straight away and bangs his nose which starts bleeding. He tries to get up, staggers a few paces then slips again. He spends his entire 'routine' getting up then falling over again. Finally he crawls off the ice a tattered and bleeding mess. The Judges' scores read: Britain 0.0: Russia 0.0: United States 0.0: Ireland 6.0 The other 3 judges turn to the Irish judge and demand in unison, "How the hell can you give that mess 6.0?!" To which the Irish judge replies "You've gotta remember, it's damn slippery out there."

Seems there was this nasty biker riding his Harley down the icy highway one cold day in Colorado, when he spotted a cat lying in the middle of the road. The biker thought to himself, "I'll cut that cat in two," and he bore down on it hard. As he got closer, though, he suddenly realized that it was not a cat, but a large piece of metal lying in the road. Too late! His front wheel plowed into it and he was sent flying over the handlebars and onto the road at 80 MPH. When he arrived in Hell, the person welcoming the new arrivals was the Devil himself. As the Devil shook the ex-biker's hand, he asked mockingly, "So, how do you like it here?" The bad-ass biker replied, "Man, this is one COOL place!" The old Devil was just a little miffed at this upstart, so he decided to crank up the thermostat a notch. The next day, the Devil sought out the biker and asked, "So, how do you like it now?" The biker responded by saying, "This is great! Reminds me of those drug runs to Sonora during the hot afternoons in August." Naturally, the Devil was only more angered, and cranked the heat up as far as it could go. The next day, Hell was unbelievable. Even some demons were melting into the floor. The Devil again found the biker, and asked how he was holding up. Undaunted, the biker proclaimed, "It's almost as hot as the time I beat and robbed those vacationers out in Death Valley. I love it!" By now the Devil was just furious, so he turned the thermostat all the way down. Way down! As far down as could ever be imagined. The next morning, he tracked down the biker again and asked, "OK smart-ass, how do you like it NOW?" With icicles hanging from every part of his body, the biker shivered and chattered, "W-w-w-what h-h-hhappened, d-d-d-did the Jets f-f-finally w-w-win the Super Bowl?"

1:00 AM: Alarm clock rings. 2:00 AM: Hunting partners arrive, drag you out of bed. 2:30 AM: Throw everything except kitchen sink into pickup. 3:00 AM: Leave for deep woods. 3:15 AM: Drive back home to pick up gun. 3:30 AM: Drive like crazy to get to the woods before daylight. 4:00 AM: Set up camp. Forgot the stupid tent. 4:30 AM: Head for the woods. 6:05 AM: See eight deer. 6:06 AM: Take aim and squeeze trigger. 6:07 AM: CLICK. 6:08 AM: Load gun while watching deer go over hill. 8:00 AM: Head back to camp. 9:00 AM: Still looking for camp. 10:00 AM: Realize that you don't know where camp is. NOON : Fire gun for help---eat wild berries. 2:15 PM: Run out of bullets---eight deer come back. 2:20 PM: Strange feeling in stomach. 2:30 PM: Realize that you ate poison berries. 2:45 PM: Rescued. 2:55 PM: Rushed to hospital to have stomach pumped, throw up instead. 3:15 PM: Arrive back at camp. 3:30 PM: Leave camp to kill deer. 4:00 PM: Return to camp for bullets. 4:01 PM: Load gun---leave camp again. 5:00 PM: Empty gun on bug that is bugging you. 6:00 PM: Arrive at camp -- see deer grazing. 6:01 PM: Load gun. 6:02 PM: Fire gun. 6:03 PM: One dead pickup. 6:05 PM: Hunting partners arrive in camp dragging deer. 6:06 PM: Repress desire to shoot hunting partners. 6:07 PM: Fall into fire. 6:10 PM: Change clothing, throw burned ones in fire. 6:15 PM: Take pickup, leave hunting partners and deer in camp. 6:25 PM: Pickup boils over due to hole shot in block. 6:26 PM: Start walking. 6:30 PM: Stumble and fall, drop gun in mud. 6:35 PM: Meet bear. 6:36 PM: Take aim. 6:37 PM: Fire gun, blow up barrel that's plugged with mud. 6:38 PM: Mess pants. 6:39 PM: Climb tree. 11:00 PM: Bear leaves. Wrap gun around tree. Midnight: Home at last. Fall on knees thanking Maker. Next day: Watch football game on TV, slowly tearing up hunting license into small pieces, place in envelope, and mail to Game Warden.