Cowboy Joe was telling his fellow cowboys back on the ranch about his first visit to a big-city church. "When I got there, they had me park my old truck in the corral," Joe began.

"You mean the parking lot," interrupted Charlie, a more worldly fellow.

"I walked up the trail to the door," Joe continued.

"The sidewalk to the door," Charlie corrected him.

"Inside the door, I was met by this dude," Joe went on.

"That would be the usher," Charlie explained.

"Well, the usher led me down the chute," Joe said.

"You mean the aisle," Charlie said.

"Then, he led me to a stall and told me to sit there," Joe continued.

"Pew," Charlie retorted.

"Yeah," recalled Joe. "That's what that pretty lady said when I sat down beside her."

Four old cowboys are having a discussion about what is the fastest thing in the world. First cowboy says, "I believe it's thinking, 'cause when you prick your finger or touch a flame, the pain instantly becomes thought and hits the brain."

Second cowboy says, "Well, I think its blinking. When you blink and open your eyes again, you immediately see everything. Nothing is changed."

Third cowboy says, "Well, I think it's light, 'cause as soon as you press that light switch, you go from dark to instant light."

Fourth cowboy says, "Well, I think it's the Mexican-two-step diarrhea."

All the others ask simultaneously, "Diarrhea? Why?"

Fourth cowboy says, "I'll explain it to you. I went across the border to a saloon last night and drank a buncha homemade Mexican tequila. On the way home from the saloon, I stopped off at Lupe's cafe and ate two helpings of her Mexican Special, which had been warmed over a time or two, and a buncha jalapeno and some chili peppers I never saw before."

First cowboy asks, "So, what's that got to do with speed or diarrhea?"

Fourth cowboy says, "Well, later on when I was in bed, I felt this fire and fierce rumbling in my belly, and before I could think, or blink, or turn that damn light on..."

A kid walked up to a guy wearing a 10-gallon hat, leather vest, leather chaps, and sneakers. The kid asked him, "Mr. Cowboy, why do you wear that big hat?"

The cowboy replied, "Well, son, the big hat protects me from hot sun and driving rain, and at night I put it over my face when I sleep on the range, so it protects me then, too."

"Why do you wear that leather vest?" asked the kid.

"It also helps to keep the weather off me, and it has pockets where I can keep my valuables," replied the cowboy.

"Well, why do you wear leather chaps?"

"They protect my legs when I'm driving my horse through mesquite and cactus."

"Well, Mr. Cowboy," the kid finally asked, "Why do you wear sneakers?"

"That's so somebody won't think I'm a damn truck driver."

This young Cowboy in the Old West wanted to be the best gunfighter alive. One night as he was sitting in a saloon, he spotted an old man who had the reputation of being the greatest gunfighter in his day. The young Cowboy walked up to the old man and told him his dream.

The old man looked him up and down and said, "I have a suggestion that is sure to help." "Tell me, tell me," said the young Cowboy. "Tie the bottom of your holster lower onto your leg." "Will that make me a better gunfighter?" "Definitely," said the old man.

The young Cowboy did what he was told and drew his gun and shot the bow tie off the piano player. "Wow, that really helped. Do you have any more suggestions?" "Yeah, if you cut a notch in the top of your holster where the hammer hits, the gun will come out smoother." "Will that make me a better gunfighter?" "It sure will," said the old man.

The young Cowboy did what he was told and drew his gun and shot a cufflink off the piano player. "This is really helping me. Is there anything else you can share with me?" "One more thing," said the old man. "Get that can of axle grease over there in the corner and rub it all over your gun."

The young Cowboy didn't hesitate but started putting the grease on the barrel of his gun. "No, the whole gun, handle and everything," said the old man.

"Will that make me a better gunfighter?" "No," said the old man, "but when Wyatt Earp gets done playing that piano he's going to shove that gun up your ass, and it won't hurt as much!"