A final diagnosis
Thought I'd let my doctor check me,
'Cause I didn't feel quite right. . .
All those aches and pains annoyed me
And I couldn't sleep at night.

He could find no real disorder
But he wouldn't let it rest.
What with Medicare and Blue Cross,
We would do a couple tests.

To the hospital he sent me
Though I didn't feel that bad.
He arranged for them to give me
Every test that could be had.

I was fluoroscoped and cystoscoped,
My aging frame displayed.
Stripped, on an ice cold table,
While my gizzards were x-rayed.

I was checked for worms and parasites,
For fungus and the crud,
While they pierced me with long needles
Taking samples of my blood.

Doctors came to check me over,
Probed and pushed and poked around,
And to make sure I was living
They then wired me for sound.

They have finally concluded,
Their results have filled a page.
What I have will someday kill me;
My affliction is old age.

Bad Investment
Shultz, a lawyer, bribed a man on the jury to hold out for a charge of manslaughter, as opposed to the charge of murder which was brought by the prosecution.

The jury was out for nearly a week before they returned to court with the manslaughter verdict.

When Shultz paid the juror, he asked him if it had been hard to persuade the other jurors to get the charge of manslaughter.

"Sure did," the juror replied, "all the others wanted to acquit him."