A Jamaican went hunting one day in Georgia and bagged three ducks. He put them in the bed of his pickup truck and was about to drive home when he was confronted by an ornery game warden who didn’t like Jamaicans.
The game warden ordered the Jamaican to show his hunting license, and the Jamaican pulled out a valid Georgia hunting license.
The game warden looked at the license, then reached over and picked up one of the ducks, sniffed its butt, and said, “This duck ain’t from Georgia. This is a Alabama duck. You got a Alabama huntin’ license, boy?” The Jamaican reached into his wallet and produced an Alabama hunting license.
The game warden looked at it, then reached over and grabbed the second duck, sniffed its butt, and said “This ain’t no Georgia duck. This duck’s from Florida. You got a Florida license?” The Jamaican reached into wallet and produced a Florida hunting license.
The warden then reached over and picked up the third duck, sniffed its butt, and said, “This ain’t no
Georgia duck. This here duck’s from North Carolina. You got a North Carolina huntin’ license?”
Again the Jamaican reached into his wallet and brought out a North Carolina hunting license.
The game warden was extremely frustrated at this point, and he yelled at the Jamaican,”Just where the hell are you from???!!!”
The Jamaican turned around, bent over, dropped his pants, and said, “You tell me, you’re the expert.”