A woman walks into the downtown welfare office, trailed by 15 kids . . .
“WOW, ” the social worker exclaims, “are they ALL YOURS???”
“Yep they are all mine, ” the flustered mamma sighs, having heard that question a thousand times before.
She says, “Sit down Leroy.”
All the children rush to find seats.
“Well, ” says the social worker, “you must be here to sign up. I’ll need the names of all of your children.”
“This one’s my oldest – his name is Leroy” the woman says, “and this one is Leroy also.”
The social worker raises an eyebrow but continues.
One by one, through the oldest four, all boys, all named Leroy. Then she is introduced to the eldest girl, named Leighroy!
“All right, ” says the caseworker. “I’m seeing a pattern here. Are they ALL named Leroy?”
Their Mamma replied, “Well, yes – it makes it easier. When it is time to get them out of bed and ready for school, I yell, ‘Leroy!’ And when it’s time for dinner, I just yell ‘Leroy!’ and they all comes a running. An’ if I need to stop the kid who’s running into the street, I just yell ‘Leroy’ and all of them stop. It’s the smartest idea I ever had, namin’ them all Leroy.”
The social worker thinks this over for a bit, then wrinkles her forehead and says tentatively, “But what if you just want ONE kid to come and not the whole bunch?”
“Then I call them by their last names.”
Sadly for taxpayers like me, there ARE people like that, wish a flock of kids, all with different fathers, ALL living off benefits. The next generation is going to be even worse.