What do you call a pastors alternate personality?

Chapaev, a famous Russian civil war general, is sitting and having lunch with his assistant Petka. Earlier on, Petka’s colleague Anka asked him what is logical thinking? Petka didn’t know, so he thought he will ask his boss later on. “General Chapaev, may I ask, what is logical thinking?” Chapaev says: “Okay, Petka, let me demonstrate. Do you have any matches on you?” Petka replies, “Yes.” Chapaev continues, “If you have matches, then logically, you smoke, right?” Petka nods, “Right.” “If you have smoke, logically, you must like to drink.” “Of course.” “If you like to drink, logically, you love parties.” “Yes, that’s true.” “If you love parties, logically, you must love people.” “Sure.” “If you love people, logically, you must love women.” “Absolutely!” “And if you love women, logically, you’re not gay.” Petka proudly agrees, “Right!” Satisfied, Petka seeks out Anka and says to him “Comrade, I now know what is logical thinking.” “Can you explain it to me?” “Of course, tell me, do you have any matches on you?” Anka replies “No, I don’t” Petka stops for a second and says “Well then, logically, you are gay.”

It’s a shame they’ll never meet

Apparently he is on a diet.

As he finishes, he notices Reynard the fox watching him. Chanticleer looks down loftily. "How did you enjoy my song?" he asks. "No more than middling well," yawns Reynard. "Your father was better. I doubt you will ever meet his measure." "Why?" bridles Chanticleer. "In what respect was my performance lacking?" "In all respects," says Reynard. "But in the fundamentals, you simply lack the commitment that your sire showed. When he crowed the sunrise, he put his heart and soul into it." "How so?" says the cockerel. "Whatever you can put a name to, I can match, and outmatch at that." "Item the first," says the fox. "He took the deepest breath, right down to his toes." "Like this?" says Chanticleer, inhaling mightily. "Aye, something like," says Reynard. "And then he screwed his eyes tight shut and opened his beak wider than the mouth of your coop itself." "Like this?" says Chanticleer, suiting the action to the word. "Aye," says Reynard, "and then he wound himself up to the fullest, as the archer draws the arrow to its very tip." "Like this?" says Chanticleer, drawing up every fibre like the bowstring. "Aye," says Reynard, "and then he stretched out his neck as far as it would reach, and let fly with every ounce of his strength." "Like this?" says Chanticleer, beginning to let rip with the mightiest crow that was ever crowed. \--But he was cut off in the flow of his note as the fox's jaws closed around his throat, and at once Reynard was out and away with his prize, with every creature in the farmyard setting up a hue and a cry of "Thief! Butcher! Murderer!" Three parts strangled, Chanticleer felt his sight dimming and, with the last of his vision, saw the woods drawing near where Reynard would carry him away to dinner with the fox's mate and cubs. He croaked out, "Much good will it do them to pursue you now, clever one. Do kindly give their useless selves an earful with my blessing." "I will at that," growled Reynard. "HEY, LOSERS...!" And as the fox opened his mouth wide to yell, Chanticleer gave an urgent wriggle and a flap of both wings, and moments later was safely a-roost in the lower branches of a sturdy tree.

She was one of a kind.

Me : it’s ok, i balance it with a low level of sex magik.

Where else would you hear all of these sayings? "Put it in the hole." "You nailed that one." "Pull it out? No, leave it in!" "Threesomes" "I've got a stiff shaft." "Hang on a moment. I've got to wash my balls. "Snuck that one in the back door." "Keep your head down and spread your legs a bit more." “This looks a little tight. I’m gonna have to wedge it.” "Try my wood and see what you think." "Try griping down on the shaft." "Excuse me, but I believe your shaft is bent and no longer functional."

They're hill areas.

A veteranarian

LET’S GO CATCH IT *stole this from my uncle after my aunt sneezed :)