Smiles :)

A man walks into a bar with a dog. The bartender says, “You can’t bring that dog in here.”
“You don’t understand,” says the man. “This is no regular dog, he can talk.”
“Listen, pal,” says the bartender. “If that dog can talk, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”
The man puts the dog on a stool, and asks him, “What’s on top of a house?”
“Roof!”
“Right. And what’s on the outside of a tree?”
“Bark!”
“And who’s the greatest baseball player of all time?”
“Ruth!”
“I guess you’ve heard enough,” says the man. “I’ll take the hundred in twenties.”
The bartender is furious. “Listen pal,” he says, “get out of here before I belt you.” As soon as they’re on the street, the dog turns to the man and says, “Do you think I should have said ‘DiMaggio’?”
A Spaniard named Jose came to Miami and wanted to attend a big league game. To his dismay he found that all the seats were sold out. However, the management gave him a high seat by the flagpole. When he returned to his home country his friends asked him, “What kind of people are those Americans?” He said, “Fine people, they gave me a special seat at the ball game and just before the game started they all stood up and sang ‘Jose can you see.’”
Two old men had been best friends for years, and they both lived to their early 90′s, when one of them suddenly falls deathly ill. His friend comes to visit him on his deathbed, and they’re reminiscing about their long friendship, when the dying man’s friend asks, “Listen, when you die, do me a favor. I want to know if there’s baseball in heaven.”
The dying man said, “We’ve been friends for years, this I’ll do for you.” And then he dies.
A couple days later, his surviving friend is sleeping when he hears his friend’s voice. The voice says, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. The good news is that there’s baseball in heaven.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“You’re pitching on Wednesday.”
The Symphony Orchestra was rehearsing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. There is an extensive section where the bass players don’t play for twenty minutes or so. One of them decided that, rather than stand around on stage looking bored and stupid, they’d all just file offstage during their tacit-time and hang out backstage, then return when they were about to play. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
On the night of the performance, the bass players filed off as planned. The last one had barely left the stage when the leader suggested, “Hey we’ve got twenty minutes, let’s run across the street to the bar for a few!”
This idea was met with great approval, so off they went, tuxedos and all, to loosen up. Fifteen minutes and a few rounds later, one of the bass players said, “Shouldn’t we be heading back? It’s almost time.”
But the leader announced, “Oh don’t worry, we’ll have some extra time – I played a little joke on the conductor. Before the performance started, I tied string around each page of his score so that he’d have to untie each page to turn it. The piece will drag on a bit. We’ve got time for another round!”
So another round they did, and finally – sloshed and staggering – they made their way back across the street to finish Ludwig’s 9th.
Upon entering the stage, they immediately noticed the conductor’s haggard, drawn and livid expression.
“Gee,” one player queried, “Why do you suppose he looks so tense?”
“You’d be tense, too,” laughed the leader “It’s the bottom of the ninth, the score is tied and the basses are loaded.”

 

Two boys are playing hockey on an inlet on a pond in suburban Chicago when one is attacked by a rabid Rottweiler. Thinking quickly, the other boy takes his stick and wedges it down the dog’s collar and twists, breaking the dog’s neck. A reporter who is strolling by sees the incident and rushes over to the boy. “Young White Sox Fan Saves Friend from Vicious Animal,” he starts writing in his notebook.
“But I’m not a Sox fan,” the little hero replied.
“Sorry, since we are in Chicago, I just assumed you were,” said the reporter, and he began writing again.
“Cubs Fan Rescues Friends from Horrific Attack,” he continued writing in his notebook.
“I’m not a Cubs fan either,” the boy said.
“I assumed everyone in Chicago was either for the Cubs or the Sox. What team do you root for?” inquired the reporter. “I’m a Yankees fan,” the child responded.
The reporter turned the page in his notebook and wrote “Little thug from New York Kills Beloved Family Pet.”