Hillbilly Stories & Jokes

Bubba in the military

Bubba`s first military assignment was to a military induction center, and, because he was a good talker, they assigned him the duty of advising new recruits about the government benefits, especially the GI insurance to which they were entitled.

Before long the Captain in charge of the induction center began noticing that Bubba was getting a 99% sign up for the top GI insurance.

This was odd, because it would cost these poor inductees nearly $30.00 per month more for their higher coverage than what the government was already granting.

The Captain decided that he would not ask Bubba about his selling techniques but that he would sit in the back of the room and observe Bubba's sales pitch.

Bubba stood up before his latest group of inductees and stated, "If you have the normal GI insurance and go to Iraq and are killed, the government pays your beneficiary $6,000. If you take out the supplemental GI insurance (which will cost you an additional $30.00 per month), the government pays your beneficiary $200,000.

"NOW," Bubba concluded, "which bunch do you think they're gonna send into battle first?"

Marijuana-Filled Firewood

'Hello, is this the Sheriff's Office?'

'Yes. What can I do for you?'

'Ah'm calling to report 'bout my neighbor Virgil Smith....He's hidin' marijuana inside his firewood! Don't quite know how he gets it inside them logs, but he's a-hidin' it there.'

'Thank you very much for the call, sir.'

The next day, the Sheriff's Deputies descend on Virgil's house. They searched the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood, but find no marijuana. They sneer at Virgil and leave.

Shortly, the phone rings at Virgil's house.

'Hey, Virgil! This here's Floyd....Did the Sheriff come?'

'Yeah sure did!'

'Did they chop all-a ya firewood?'

'Yep!'

'Happy Birthday, buddy!'  

The Farmer and The City Slicker

The driver, a young man in a Bryony suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the cowboy, "If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, will you give me a calf?"
The farmer looks at the man, obviously a city slicker, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, Why not?"  The farmer thinks it over, it's a huge herd so he accepts the bet.
The city slicker parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite navigation system to get an exact fix on his location.  From there he feeds the data to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.
 Within seconds he receives a message on his Smartphone that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with email on his phone and, after a few minutes, receives a response.  Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer and finally turns to the farmer and says, 'You have exactly 1,423 cows'.

The farmer is astonished because the city slicker's figure is exactly correct.  He says, 'OK, I'm a man of my word, take a cow.'  The investment city slicker selects one of the animals and begins to walk away.

'Wait,' yells the farmer, 'Let me have a chance to get even.  Double or nothing that I can guess your exact occupation.' The city slicker agrees readily.

'You are a Congressman for the U.S. Government,' says the farmer.

'Good grief!' splutters the city slicker, 'You are exactly right, tell me, how did you deduce that?'

'Easy,' says the farmer, 'give me back my dog, and I will tell you.'

"No guessing required.' answered the farmer. 'You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked. You tried to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don't know the difference between a dog and cows.

Hillbilly Knows Best

A hillbilly farmer from back in the hills walked twelve miles, one way, to the general store.
'Heya, Wilbur,' said Ron, the store owner. 'Tell me, are you and Myrtle still making fires up there by rubbing stones and flint together?'
'You betcha, Ron. Ain't no 'tother way. Why?'
'Got something to show you. Something to make fire. It's called a "match".
'Match? Never heard of it.'
'Watch this. If you want a fire you just do this,' Ron says, taking a match and striking it on his trousers.
'Huh. Well, that's something, but that ain't for me, Ron.'
'Well, why not?'
'I can't be walking twelve miles every time I want a fire and borrow your trousers.'

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