Puns of the Day...

The participants in a Xmas pageant forgot their lines, tripped on
their floor length costumes, and otherwise totally botched up the
performance.
All the same, they were foolish enough to show up for a curtain call,
at which they promptly were pelted with whatever the audience had on
hand, rather than being applauded.
As they retreated backstage to clean up, the lead player remarked to
the others,
"Well, those were certainly bows of folly."

The elves have to work very carefully as Santa wants anything he
delivers free of germs. He has a knack for telling which gifts are
contaminated by germs by looking carefully at them.
The elves call this gift Santa Eyes.

Ben was bringing the Christmas decorations down from the attic, so he
and his wife could begin decorating the house and tree.
During one trek down the stairs, heavily laden with Boxes, he slipped
and, luckily, only fell about two steps before landing square on his
behind.
His wife heard the noise, and yelled,
"What was that thump?"
"I just fell down the stairs," he called up.
She rushed to the hallway,
"Anything broken?!" she asked her husband, who was still sitting in on
the floor in the hallway, at the foot of the stairs.
"No, no, I'm fine." and embarrassed Ben replied, a bit sheepishly.
There was only the slightest pause before his loving wife said,
"No, no, not you! I meant my decorations. Are any of them broken?"

Mr. Perot doesn't need an alarm clock when he goes to sleep in Waycross, GA.

Sean O'Reilly comes into Pulaski's Bar Friday afternoon about 4PM and
hops on a barstool.
The bartender asks him what he'd like, to which he replies,
"Nothing, thanks. I'm on the wagon, but I'd lik e to just set here a spell."
Five minutes later he gets up and leaves.
The next Friday, the scene repeats, and so on, for each Friday for
months on end.
One afternoon, a patron asks the bartender,
"What was that all about?"
"Oh, nothing much," was the reply. "He's my Irish setter."

I've seen the Ghost of Christmas Past and he's shaped like a credit card.

A crafty old antique dealer is travelling through rural Somerset when
he spots a priceless Chippendale cabinet in a junk shop.
He knows he will make tens of thousands of pounds reselling it -- if
he can persuade the shop owner that it's worthless.
He offers the man twenty pounds, explaining that the only reason he's
interested is that he NEeds some firewood, and the wood should burn
well.
So, the price is agreed and the dealer explains that he'll return the
next day with his van to pick up the cabinet.
The following morning, the dealer drives up and sees a pile of old
wood sitting outside the shop.
"What's that?" he says.
"It's the cabinet," replies the shop owner. "I felt so guilty charging
twenty pounds for firewood that I've done you a favour and chopped it
up for you."

Athletes are not always MENSA material.

One Olympic champion was so proud of his medal, he had it bronzed.

The National Westminster Bank admitted last month that it keeps
personal information about its customers, such as their political
affiliation, on computer.
But now Computer Weekly reveals that a financial institution, sadly
unnamed, has gone one better and moved into the realm of personal
abuse.
The institution decided to mailshot 2,000 of its richest customers,
inviting them to buy extra services.
One of its computer programmers wrote a program to search through its
databases and select its customers automatically.
He tested the program with an imaginary customer called Rich Bastard.
Unfortunately, an error resulted in all 2,000 letters being addressed
"Dear Rich Bastard."
The luckless programmer was subsequently sacked.

A friend of mine just started his own business, making land mines that
look like prayer mats.
It's doing well.
He says Prophets are going through the roof.