So three guys die and end up outside the pearly gates. St Peter wants to know why they should come through the gates.

First Guy: I've been a dedicated doctor, healing thousands in my lifetime, often for free. In he goes.

Second guy: I have been a rich philanthropist and gave of my wealth to many worthy causes throughout my long life.
St Peter immediately swings open the gate.

Third guy: I have been a musician and entertainer my whole life, working hard for never enough money yet entertaining and bringing joy to thousands over my long life.
St Peter looks up from whatever he's doing and says oh yeah, if you could just go around back and bring your stuff in through the kitchen... ;)

lol that was pretty funny. I've never heard it before

hehe Never heard that one before!

Hi.

Thanks, that was a new one to me also.

Sam

Not heard that joke before but ive heard the last line loads of times. It wasnt funny then but is now

I've never heard that one, before, pretty funny.

But I have heard one very similar, with a slightly different ending.

Third guy: I have worked hard my entire life, yet spent most of it in poverty.

Peter exclaims, "Cool! What instrument did you play??" :rolleyes:

Some of my faves are here (http://www.jtblues.com/jokes.html).

Ha!!! I love it

This is one of my personal favourites. Thanks for posting it!

My own joke-
How do you tell when a stage is level?
When the drummers passes out drunk, he falls onto his back completely flat!

This is one of my personal favourites. Thanks for posting it!

My own joke-
How do you tell when a stage is level?
When the drummers passes out drunk, he falls onto his back completely flat!

Even better than that, you know when the stage is level when drool comes out of both sides of the drummers mouth...

...so this drummer decides he's ready to take his skillset to the next level by taking a few weeks to go to Africa, study the ancient tribal rhythms, and explore himself and his playing on a spiritual level. He books a flight and plans a 3 week trip; when he arrives, as soon as he gets off the plane, he can hear, far, far off in the distance, 'boomp badda badda bomp badda bommp bomp boomp..' - the faint, far away sounds of ancient tribal rhythms filtering through the bustle of of city life, even near the airport. Mystified, he asks his cabbie on teh way to his hotel room: "Hey man, what are those drums I can hear in the distance?" His cabbie looks in the mirror, and cryptically offers this simple reply: "Mana, the drums, dey got to play, always. Always." The days pass, and the drummer travels into the bush, and listens and learns. He grows physicially learning new patterns and rhythms. He grows mentally, centering himself within a newfound focus garnered from extended periods spent in the proximity of the ancient masters of rhythm, who learned to play from their fathers before them, over thousands of years. He grows spiritually, realizing how his instrument is simply an extension of his soul, and he gains new insight on how to use his ever growing skills to reach, move and heal listeners of all kinds. And all through his travels, he continues to hear the faint 'boomp badda badda bomp badda bommp bomp boomp..' of the ancient drums in the distance. Regardless of who he asks, however, the answer remains the same regarding the persistent presence of the ancient drums in the distance: "The drums, dey got to play. Always." Eventually, his time runs short, and he begins his journey home. As he approaches the airport in the cab, his mind is awhirl with newfound knowledge. Windows down, he enjoys the wind, the sights, the smells, and the faint sounds of the ever-present ancient drums in the distance. Suddenly, just as the airport comes into view: 'bidda bidda, boppa boppa, bunda bunda, BOMP.', and the ancient drums stop. He sees the cabbies eyes go wide, as he signals and pulls the cab to the side of the road. Elswhere, the drummer can see others reacting - other cars pulling over, women picking up their babies, covering their ears and wailing, doors slamming, shopkeepers shooing patrons from their stalls as children run for their parents. The frantic drummer asks his cabbie "What is it? What does it mean? What's happening?? What does it mean when the drums stop??" The cabbie, who's resting face-down on his crossed arms, resting on the steering wheel. The cabbie raises his head and, with an expression of infinite sadness in his yellowing eyes, says "Bass Solo."