Time Please

A tourist walking through Cairo asks the time from an old man standing next to a camel. The old man grabs the camel’s balls lifts them up and says, “It is now noon.” The tourist is very impressed. He goes back to his hotel and tells a fellow guest that he’s met an old man who can tell the time by the weight of his camel’s balls. Next day both of them go to the man and ask him the time. The old man lifts the camel’s balls and says, “It is half past nine.” This is correct, and the two tourists go back to the hotel and tell a third guest of their discovery. Next day all three go to the old man to ask the time and, again, the old man obliges by feeling the camel’s balls. “Say,” says the first tourist. “That’s such a great trick. Can you teach me how to do it?” “Certainly,” says the old man. “First you must grasp the testicles of the camel…” The tourist does so. “Then you must raise them to the belly of the camel…” the tourist does so. “Then you must part the two testicles with your thumbs…” The tourist does so. “And in this way we have clear view of the big clock in the tobacco shop’s window…”

Farmer's Boys

A farmer had three sons. One day his oldest came to him and said that since he was graduating from high school, he would really like to get a car. His father said, "Son, come here." He took him to the barn and pointed to the tractor and said, "This tractor is needed for the farm and I promise, as soon as it's paid for, we'll get you a car." The boy was not too happy, but was understanding. A week later, his second son approached him wanting a motorcycle. "Well", the father said, "as soon as the tractor is paid for we'll see about getting you your scooter. "Shortly after, his youngest was bugging him for a bike. Again, the father gave him the lecture about the tractor needing to be paid off first. While leaving the barn, the young boy, a little disgusted with his father's explanation, saw the farm rooster doing it's rooster duty with one of the hens. He promptly went over and kicked the rooster off the hen's back, mumbling to himself. His dad asked, "Son, now why would you do something like that? He didn't do anything to deserve that." The third son replied, "Hey, nobody around here rides anything until that tractor gets paid off!"

Dog and Cat Diary

Excerpts from a Dog's Diary:
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Excerpts from a Cat's Diary:
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.  Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am.
Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow - but at the top of the stairs. 
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...