A quiet little man was brought before a judge. The judge looked down at the man and then at the charges and then down at the little man in amazement.
"Can you tell me in your own words what happened?" he asked the little man.
"I'm a mathematician dealing in the nature of proof," said the little man.
"Yes, go on," said the astounded judge.
"Well. I was at the library and I found the books I wanted and went to take them out. They told me my library card had expired and I had to get a new one. I went to the registration office and got in another line. I filled out my forms for another card. I got back in line for my card."
"And?" said the judge.
"And the clerk asked me, 'Can you prove you're from New York City?'"
"What happened next?" the judge asked.
"I punched him."
A married couple was enjoying a dinner out when a statuesque blonde walked over to their table, exchanged warm greetings with the husband, and walked off.
"Who was that?" the wife demanded.
"If you must know," the husband replied, "that was my mistress."
"Your mistress? That's it! I want a divorce!" the wife fumed.
The husband looked her straight in the eye and said, "Are you sure you want to give up our big house in the suburbs, your Mercedes, your furs, your jewelry, and our vacation home in Mexico?"
For a long time they continued dining in silence. Finally, the woman nudged her husband and said, "Isn't that Steve over there? Who's he with?"
"That's HIS mistress," her husband replied.
"Oh," she said, taking a bite of dessert. "Ours is much cuter."
Bob was sitting on the plane at Cleveland waiting to fly to Chicago, when a guy took the seat beside him. The guy was an emotional wreck, pale hands shaking in fear.
"What's the matter, afraid of flying?" Bob asked.
"No, it's not that. I've been transferred to Chicago. The people are crazy there, right? Lots of shootings, gangs, race riots, drugs, poor schools, and the highest crime rate in the USA."
Bob replied, "I've lived in Chicago all my life. It's not as bad as the media says. Find a nice home, go to work, mind your own business, and enroll your kids in a nice private school. I've worked there for 14 years and never had the slightest trouble."
The guy relaxed and stopped shaking and said, "Oh, thank you. I've been worried to death, but if you've lived and worked there all those years and say its OK, I'll take your word for it. What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a tail gunner on a Budweiser truck..."