Love to Death

A man goes to his doctor for his annual physical complaining of all kinds of mysterious ailments -- lack of sleep, no drive, very little appetite, nervous, etc. After a complete exam, the doctor can find nothing physically wrong and suspects the man is suffering from depression. The two had been friends for many years, so the doctor did not hesitate to ask the man about his personal life. "Well, if you must know," said the patient, "I cannot stand my wife. She's made my life unbearable. I fantasize all the time about killing that damn witch. In fact, if you are truly my friend, you'll give me some kind of untraceable poison to give her, so I may end my misery."
The doctor explained that not only was that illegal, it would in fact, violate his oath to save lives. He said, "Besides, you'll get life in prison yourself, at best. I'll tell ya what though, I can give you this powerful aphrodisiac to slip into her coffee. You can then 'love her to death'.  No jury in the world is going to convict a man for loving his wife too much. She'll be gone in a month at best."  The man blessed the doctor, went home and started putting the love elixir in his wife's coffee the very next morning. Three weeks later, the doctor hasn't heard a word from his friend, and becomes concerned. After office hours, he stops by his friend's house to see if all is well. He finds his friend sitting on the sun deck, wrapped in a blanket, even though it's a warm Spring day.  The man's face was gaunt and pale, he'd lost Lord knows how much weight and looked terrible. The doctor asked, "What the Hell happened ???"
The man said, "I followed your advice to the letter. That woman and I made love like a pair of crazed rabbits, day and nite." Then, he chuckled, causing a terrible wheeze. Just then the wife appeared from inside the house. All slim and trim and dressed in tennis clothes; smiling, she said she was off for a few sets of tennis. As she leaped into her new sports car, her husband cackled and said to the doctor, "Look at that dumb crazy bitch. She hasn't a lick of sense. If she only knew she has less than a week to live she wouldn't be so God damn frisky."

Horse Country

A man took a trip out West after a harrowing divorce proceeding. He stopped in a bar, and after a few drinks stated to no one in particular, "Lawyers are horses' asses." Hearing this, one of the locals spoke up:  "Mister, watch what you say. You're in horse country."

Air Traffic Controller Comments

 Any More Complaints? The controller working a busy pattern told the 727 on downwind to make a 360 (do a complete circle, usually done to provide spacing between aircraft). The pilot of the 727 complained, "Do you know it costs us two thousand dollars to make a 360 in this airplane?" Without missing a beat the controller replied, "Roger, give me four thousand dollars worth."
What the...?! PSA was following United, taxiing out for departure. PSA called the tower and said "Tower, this is United 586. We've got a little problem, so go ahead and let PSA go first." The tower promptly cleared PSA for takeoff before United had a chance to object to the impersonation.
 A DC-10 had an exceedingly long landing rollout after landing with his approach speed just a little too high...San Jose Tower: "American 751 Heavy, turn right at the end if able. If not able, take the Guadalupe exit off of Highway 101 back to the airport."
Western Airlines had a term for its second officers. The term was "GIB," and stood for "Guy In Back." The term was strictly unofficial and was actually frowned upon by the management at Western. It seems that some wise-guy pilot had been browsing through a dictionary and had made the discovery that a "gib" is a castrated tomcat. 
It was a really nice day, right about dusk, and a Piper Malibu was being vectored into a long line of airliners in order to land at Kansas City... KC Approach: "Malibu three-two-Charlie, you're following a 727, one o'clock and three miles. "Three-two-Charlie: "We've got him. We'll follow him." KC Approach: "Delta 105, your traffic to follow is a Malibu, eleven o'clock and three miles. Do you have that traffic? " Delta 105: (long pause and then in a thick southern drawl) "Well... I've got something down there. Can't quite tell if it's a Malibu or a Chevelle, though."
Tower: "Eastern 702, cleared for takeoff, contact Departure on 124.7." Eastern 702: "Tower, Eastern 702 switching to Departure... by the way, as we lifted off, we saw some kind of dead animal on the far end of the runway." Tower: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff, contact Departure on 124.7... did you copy the report from Eastern?" Continental 635: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff... and yes, we copied Eastern and we've already notified our caterers." 
O'Hare Approach Control: "United 329, traffic is a Fokker, one o'clock, 3 miles, eastbound." United 329: "Approach, I've always wanted to say this... I've got that Fokker in sight."