Quick Joke...

I can't actually take credit for this joke... My good friend Bill Burke told this joke a few times, but I can't help laugh everytime I hear it!

An Air Force Colonel dies and when he gets to the Pearly Gates, St Peter is there waiting to meet him. He says, "Welcome, Colonel. You've led and exemplary life, almost exclusively free from sin, you've been a faithful husband, a good father, attended Church almost every single week of your adult life, and served your country proudly for 30 years. The path of enlightenment is before you, if you would just follow me..."

"Hang on a sec there, St Peter. I've got an important question... You got any Naval Aviators in there? Cuz if you do, I'll be damned if I follow you in there."

"Are you telling me that you would really be willing to face eternal damnation just because of a few Naval Aviators?"

"You better believe it... I just can't stand ‘em. Can't stand to be around those cocky son's a bitches... uhh s'cuse my French, Saint Peter. To me, being in their presence, and knowing that they'd made it to heaven, would be worse than the eternal flames of hell."

"Well, I think that's a bit extreme, but I guess I can see your point... " St Peter chuckled. I do understand, somewhat. Alas, my boy, rest assured, there are no Naval Aviators here."


So St Peter leads this man along beautiful lanes of large comfortable homes and boasts that the COL, because he'd lived such a clean, pure life, would be granted one of the homes along the golf course, with its own pool. He would be joined eventually by his soul mate, and would have joy and bliss all the rest of his days.


So several weeks later, the Colonel is at the 19th hole, just having played a perfect round (72) of golf, with his gorgeous soul mate caddying quietly (it's heaven, okay - we know this doesn't really happen...) when the doors to the bar blast open and in marches this Naval Aviator.

He's loud and obnoxious and has both arms wrapped adoringly around what appears to be Maureen O'Hare and Betty Grable, a large glass of Single Malt Scotch in one hand and a long smelly Cuban in the other. He's so obnoxious that he's actually wearing a flight suit and his leather flight jacket adorned with a fur lined collar and patches galore, Aviator shades hung just low enough he could peer over the top. The foursome takes their seats in the corner as he loudly describes HIS 18 under round of golf, as the crowd gathers. Then he begins telling tall tales and rauchy jokes...

The Colonel rushes from the bar and hunts down St Peter, dragging him handily back to the clubhouse fuming and stammering along the way. As they push thru the bar doors he stammers and gasps, "Y-y-y-y-OU SWORE tt-t-t-to me that there w-w-w-w-would be NO N-N-N-n-n-naval.... Naval...." unable to finish the sentence and red with fury.

St. Peter put his hand on the Colonel's shoulder and sighed, "That's not a Naval Aviator, my son.... That's GOD.... He just WISHES HE WAS ONE!!!"