Jack-in-the-box

A man in Phoenix calls his son in New York the day before Thanksgiving and says, "I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough."

"Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams.

"We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the father says. "We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her."

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "No way they're getting divorced!" she shouts, "I'll take care of this." She calls Phoenix immediately and screams at her father, "You are not getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, do you hear me?" and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay," he says, "they're coming for Thanksgiving and paying their own way."

For the record, searching for this joke in newsgroups shows it first appeared on November 24, 2000, in the alt.callahans group. Searching further, there's some evidence this version metastasized from a Jewish joke. Maybe some future Ph.D. can use this as a launchpad for their dissertation on how ethnic humor is transformed into all-inclusive, more PC humor.

Jack-in-the-box

Popcorn Turkey
1 (12- to 14-pound) turkey
1 cup melted butter
3 cups stuffing
2 cups uncooked popcorn
salt/pepper to taste

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Brush turkey well with melted butter, salt and pepper. Fill cavity with stuffing and popcorn.
3. Place in baking pan with the neck end toward the back of oven.
4. Listen for popping sounds. When the turkey's rear end blows, the oven door will open and the turkey will fly across the room. At this point, the turkey is done.

Yield: 8 servings, with leftovers.

A lenghtier version of this recipe (including a warning not to try it at home—it's only a joke!) can be found at Petunia Press.

Jack-in-the-box

A little ditty that landed on my inbox, titled Black November:

When I was a young turkey, new to the coop,
My big brother Tom took me out on the stoop.

Then he sat me down and he spoke really slow
And told me there was something I had to know.

His look and his tone I'll always remember,
When he told me of horrors come November.

"Come just about August, now listen to me,
Each day you'll get six meals instead of just three.

"And soon you will be thick, where once you were thin,
And you'll grow a rubbery thing on your chin.

"And then one morning, when you're warm in your bed,
The farm wife will come in and hack off your head.

"She'll pluck out your feathers so you're bald n' pink,
And scoop out your innerds right there in the sink.

"Then comes the worst part," he said, "I'm not bluffing,
She'll spread your cheeks wide and pack you with stuffing."

The rest of his words were too grim to repeat.
I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat.

And decided that to avoid being cooked,
I'm gonna lay low to remain overlooked.

I began a new diet of granola,
High-roughage salads, juice and diet cola.

And as they ate pastries, chocolate, and crepes
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes.

I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half
And acted all sick when the bigger birds laughed.

For 'twas I who was laughing under my breath
As they chomped and they chewed, closer to their death.

And sure enough when late November rolled 'round,
I was the last turkey in all the compound.

So now I'm a pet in the farmer's wife lap;
I haven't a worry, so I eat and I nap.

She holds me all day while sewing and humming,
And smiles at me and says, "Christmas is coming."

Now, for the archeological part: Searching for this joke in newsgroups shows it first appeared on December 8, 1998, in the alt.support.stop-smoking group. Authorship is, as usual, unknown.