A missionary who had spent years showing a tribe of natives how to farm and build things to be selfsufficient gets word that he is to return home.
He realizes that the one thing he never taught the natives was how to speak English, so he takes the chief and starts walking in the forest. He points to a tree
and says to the chief: "This is a tree."
The chief looks at the tree and grunts: "Tree."
The missionary is pleased with the response.
They walk a little farther and the padre points to a rock and says: "This is a rock."
Hearing this, the chief looks and grunts: "Rock."
The padre is really getting enthusiastic about the results when he hears a rustling in the bushes. As he peeks over the top, he sees a couple in the midst of heavy romantic activity. The padre is really flustered and quickly responds: "Riding a bike."
The chief looks at the couple briefly, pulls out his blow gun and kills them!
The padre goes ballistic and yells at the chief that he has spent years teaching the tribe how to be civilized and kind to each other! How could he just kill these people in cold blood that way?
The chief replied: "My bike."
A very logical and somewhat cold calculating professor of mathematics sent this fax to his wife:
You must realize that now you are 54 years old, and I have certain needs which you are no longer able to satisfy. I am otherwise happy with you as a wife, and I sincerely hope you will not be hurt or offended to learn that by the time you receive this letter, I will be at the Grand Hotel with my 18 year old teaching assistant. I'll be home before midnight.
Professor Malone When he arrived at the hotel, there was a faxed letter waiting for him that read as follows:
You, too, are 54 years old and by the time you receive this letter, I will be at the Breakwater Hotel with the 18 year old pool boy. Since you are a mathematician, you will appreciate that 18 goes into 54 more times than 54 goes into 18.