The Lone Ranger was arrested.........
The Lone Ranger was arrested in Lone Pine, California today for the crime of illegally transferring silver bullets. The famed masked man had just apprehended an armed felon after shooting the gun out of his hand. As was his practice for the last eighty years, he gave a silver bullet to the outlaw’s victim.
She was a kindly old widow who was robbed and held captive by the desperado. This lady, grateful that her life and property were restored, treasured the silver bullet as a symbol that justice was done.
The trouble started when she showed the bullet to her weekly garden club. Upon seeing the gleaming momento, one lady fainted. Another lady gasped that they were all going to die. A third lady, who was also a member of CHA (California Hysterics Anonymous), warned that where there was a bullet there had to be a gun. During the shocked silence an attendee desperately summoned the Sheriff on her cell phone.
When the Sheriff heard their story he struggled to stifle a laugh. He knew the old gentleman on the big white horse. He also appreciated how many criminals the Lone Ranger had captured over the years. However, since California voters passed Proposition 63, he had to uphold the law.
Predictably, he found the masked man enjoying a Near Beer at the Dry Gulch Saloon back in town.
“Thanks for helping old widow Smith,” he said, “but did you really give her a silver bullet?”
“Yes,” replied the Lone Ranger, “after all that’s my trademark. Got a problem with that?”
“Well, yes,” hesitated the sheriff. “Ya see…under Proposition 63, you’ve got to be a licensed firearms dealer to give anyone a bullet.”
“Are you kidding?”, asked the Lone Ranger.
“Wish I was,” said the embarrassed sheriff, “and to boot whoever receives the bullet has to be registered with the Department of Justice.”
“Holy guacamole!”, exclaimed the masked man. “Did I do anything else wrong?”
“Well,” said the sheriff, looking even more sheepish now, “there’s the little matter of you shooting a gun out of the outlaw’s hand.”
“What!”, said the Lone Ranger. “If I hadn’t done that, the skunk would have plugged me for sure.”
“I know that,” admitted the Sheriff, “but he’ll probably sue you for failing to retreat and using unnecessary force. If they convict you, they’ll take your six-shooters away for good. Which reminds me, according to California law, your pistols have too large a capacity. If I were you, I’d convert those six-shooters into five-shooters as quick as you can.”
“Jumpin’ Junipers!”, exclaimed the Lone Ranger. “I’d better tell this to my faithful Indian companion, Tonto.”
“Hold on,” said the Sheriff. “I need to remind you that Indians are now referred to as Native Americans. We privileged male pale faces have got to remember that.”
As the Lone Ranger sat in shocked silence, the sheriff explained his rights and proceeded to take him in.
Postscript:
Upon being provided an attorney at state expense, the outlaw successfully sued the Lone Ranger. He claimed that he could no longer work since he had suffered the permanent loss of his trigger finger. Lt. Governor Gavin Newsom urged imposing the maximum sentence for possession of illegal ammunition and a firearm that exceeds lawful capacity. He received a huge monetary award, forcing the Lone Ranger to sell the silver mine.
Tonto was deemed innocent but victimized by virtue of being a member of an oppressed minority. He was given land by the state and now operates a very profitable casino.
After getting out of jail, the Lone Ranger could not find a job since he was now an ex-con. Fortunately, Tonto lets him do light janitorial work at the casino and sleep in the basement.
Following the passage of Proposition 63, violent crime in California has steadily increased. Lt. Governor Newsom advises troubled property owners to protect themselves by posting signs that say:
Keep Out—Gun Free Zone
Lawyer on Call
Groaner alert: Retired Sailor Piano Player
A gray-headed old man shuffled into a downtown bar holding his head up high. His hands shook as he took the "Piano Player Wanted" sign from the window and handed it to the bartender.
"I'd like to apply for the job," he said. "I was a Navy Sea Wolf pilot, flying Huey`s in support of the Navy SEALS, spec war operators back in 'Nam, but when they retired the Sea Wolves, all the thrill was gone, and soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to play the piano at Officers' Club happy hours, so here I am."
The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking old guy,but it had been quite a while since he had a piano player and business was falling off. So, why not give him a try.....?
The old pilot shuffled his way over to the piano while several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music, every voice was silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike anything heard in the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place.
The bartender took the old Sea Wolf pilot a beer and asked him the name of the song he had just played. It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls To The Wall For You" he said. After along pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he said "I wrote it myself."
The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player just went on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the place jumping. After he finished, the Sea Wolf pilot acknowledged the applause, downed a second offered mug, and told the crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light."
He then launched into another mesmerizing song and everyone in the room was enthralled. He announced that it was the latest rendition of his song, "Spread 'em Baby, It's Foggy Out Tonight and I Need To See The Centerline", excused himself and headed for the john.
When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Hey, fly boy, the job is yours; but do you know your fly is open and your pecker is hanging out?"
"Know it?" the old fighter pilot replied, "Hell, I wrote it!":yikes: