Funnies from the Church magazines of 1968, some with local flavor:

The Latter-day Saint woman on the train was anxious to use the “golden questions,” so as soon as she could, she asked the man in the seat next to her, “How much do you know about the Mormon Church?”

“Oh, a little,” came the answer.

“Would you like to know more?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I am a stake president, and I need all the help I can get.”


You can’t pick a lock with a pickle,
You can’t cure the sick with a sickle,
Pluck figs with a figment,
Drive pigs with a pigment,
Nor make your watch tick with a tickle.

You can’t slacken your gait with a gaiter,
And can’t get a crate with a crater,
Catch moles with a molar,
Bake rolls with a roller.
But you can get a wait from a waiter!


A college student was surprised by a warm “Hi, Steve,” as he entered his institute class on the first day of the semester. He sat down and peered over his shoulder at the source of the greeting – a nice-looking but unknown coed. Curious about how she knew his name, he scribbled on a piece of paper, “How much do you know about me?” the answer came back in a minute: “Just your name.” then the student’s face lit up brightly as he wrote back, “Would you like to know more?” And she did.


The assignment was written on the seminary classroom blackboard: “Why do we need a church?”

All of the students began to write busily except one. He wrote a few words, then turned to his mathematics book. The teacher, his temperature rising with each step, marched back to him, his red pencil poised to mark “F” on the paper. Then he saw what the boy had written: “To keep the GO in the GOspel.”


A man asked to be excused from jury duty because he was deaf in one ear. “I don’t think that will matter,” said the judge. “We hear only one side of a case at a time.”


A scientist rushed into the control room of the missile center and announced a new discovery. “Gentlemen,” he shouted, “there are women on the moon. We just shot up a communication rocket and got a busy signal!”


My son Robert, as a child, had a slight speech impediment that he was quite sensitive about. When he was in the fourth grade, his teacher told the class that Utah was settled by pioneers who came, for the most part, from foreign countries. Then she told them to ask their parents about the nationalities of their forefathers. When I told Robert his ancestors were Danish, German, English, Scotch, and Spanish, his face lit up. “Well!” he exclaimed. “No wonder I can’t talk plain!”


“Have I told you about my grandchildren?”

“No, and I appreciate it.”


The opening exercises of our MIA were being held up because so many of the boys wouldn’t quit playing basketball outside, despite the pleading and scolding of the leaders.

Finally the bishop’s wife, who was an MIA teacher, said she thought she could get them to come in. A petite woman, she went out to where the boys were playing and challenged them: “If I can make a basket from the foul line, will you fellows promise to come inside to MIA?” They laughingly agreed.

She walked calmly over to the foul line and sank a basket, as the awe-struck boys watched. They meekly followed her inside to opening exercises.

They didn’t know she had been a gym teacher by profession.


Actor: “The last time I played in this part, the people could be heard applauding ten blocks away.”

Second Actor: “Is that so? What was going on there?”


While investigating the Church, my family attended Sunday school with the missionaries. Later we asked my little sister how she liked her Junior Sunday School class.

“Well,” she said, “my class was just full of mean little boys who teased me.” Then she brightened and added, “but any church that can turn such bratty little boys into such nice elders just has to be true.”


As I was traveling by train during a New Zealand mission transfer, a young lady sitting in the seat in front of me suddenly turned around and said, “Excuse me, but you’re an American, aren’t you?”

“No,” I replied;”I’m an Australian.”

At this she looked apologetic and turned back in her seat. After thinking about her question for a minute, I tapped her shoulder and asked, “Pardon me, but what made you suppose that I was American?”

Her answer was stunning. “Because you look so much like a Mormon.”


A mission had been in the mind of our son since he was old enough to plan, so when his call came to go to South Germany, excitement ran high. The weeks to follow were crowded with memorizing lessons, medical and dental appointments, shopping, obtaining a passport, and numerous other activities.

With a head full of missionary thoughts, he stopped at the bank one day to buy travelers’ checks. “What denomination?” asked the bank teller.



“Oh,” the missionary looked chagrined, “Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

When the teller still looked puzzled, he suddenly blushed as he realized what denomination he meant.

“Ten dollars, please!”


A country minister posted this notice on the church door: “Brother Smith departed for heaven at 4:30 p.m.”

The next day he found penciled below his note: “Heaven, 9:00 a.m.: Smith not in yet – great anxiety.”


Our Taber Third Ward elders recently held an outing with their wives. After a delicious Chinese dinner, the quorum president, to our great amusement, found these words inside his fortune cookie: “In order to achieve success, you should always consult your elders.”


My husband, a patriarch, one day met on the street a business associate who was accompanied by a Catholic priest. In introducing my husband to the priest, the friend said, “You’re something pretty important in your church, too, Ernie. What are you called?”

“A high priest,” was my husband’s reply.

“Well,” retorted the priest, “you outrank me!”


“Mother’s in the hospital,” explained the six-year-old boy when a neighbor called, “and me and Daddy and Georgie and Margaret and the twins are here all alone.”


Keeping up with the Joneses is bad enough, but passing them on a hill is worse.

Can’t Lose

If I have an umbrella
That’s pretty and new
And leave it somewhere,
The result is “adieu.”

If I leave this umbrella,
Well in its decline,
Someone’s sure to come running
And ask if it’s mine!

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