Osho, It is really chilly again today. Would you please tell us a few jokes about Rajneesh sannyasins?
One night a great storm was raging; the wind was lashing waves up against the rocks and a boat foundered near the lighthouse. There was only one survivor, a Rajneesh sannyasin. The sannyasin, after swimming and sinking and swimming and sinking and being thrown against the rocks, finally reached the lighthouse. He crawled his way onto the shore and, exhausted, he made it to the door of the lighthouse and knocked on the door.
The lighthouse-keeper opened his small window and called out, “What do you want?”
“Nothing!” gasped the bruised sannyasin. “I was just passing by and I saw your lights on!”
The big game hunter was telling about his adventures to a group of sannyasins. In describing some of his exciting experiences in Africa he said, “One night I remember being wakened by a great roaring noise. I jumped up and grabbed my gun, which I always kept loaded at the foot of my cot. I rushed out and killed a huge lion in my pyjamas!”
At the close of his presentation he asked if there were any questions.
“Yes,” said a sannyasin sitting in the front row. “How did the lion get into your pyjamas!”
Three men broke into the studio of a famous sannyasin modernistic painter. They tied up the artist, forced open his wall safe and fled with all his money, tape recorder, TV, and all that they could put their hands upon. The next day the artist was found by other sannyasins and released. He immediately called the police.
“Would you be able to identify the robbers?” the detective said.
“Oh, certainly,” the sannyasin said. “That’s my business, remembering what things look like. I’ll draw you a picture of them.”
He drew the picture and gave it to the police. The next day they arrested a one-eyed go-go dancer, a buffalo, a garbage truck, and a Blue Diamond Hotel!
A sannyasin was swimming in a river when he heard shouts coming from a drowning man up the river. He swam to the man and managed to save him. Afterward the sannyasin found out that he had saved the Polack Pope.
“Now,” said the Pope, “you can ask of me whatever you want.”
The sannyasin was nervous, he looked about furtively and whispered to the Pope, “Just do me one favor – don’t tell anyone that it was me who saved you.”
The parents of a shapely teenaged sannyasin noticed that their daughter was starting to fool around with men.
One evening before she went off to a disco they warned her of the perils she might encounter. “Darling you must realize that men always try the same game. First he invites you to dance, then he offers you a drink. Soon he invites you up to his flat to listen to his record collection… once there, he throws you onto the bed. Then you are dishonored, your mother is dishonored, your father is dishonored.”
The daughter went off on her date and returned home very late, with reddened face and disheveled hair.
“What happened?” asked her parents nervously.
“Well, you were right,” replied the daughter. “He asked me to dance, he bought me a drink and invited me to his place to listen to his record collection. But then… I threw him onto the bed! And now HE is dishonored, his mother is dishonored and his father is dishonored!”
A woman had just received her final divorce decree from a sannyasin and was chatting with a friend about it.
“He was terrible,” she said. “At first he seemed so loving and understanding and romantic with his songs, but he turned out to be a tyrant!”
“Well,” said her friend, “I hate to say I told you so but I said time and again that you should not marry him. Everybody knows that Rajneesh sannyasins make the world’s worst husbands.”
Six months later the divorcee fell in love and married another sannyasin. The next day she received this message with a bouquet of roses from her former husband: “Congratulations and best wishes for a happy marriage – signed: the Frying Pan.”
A young woman sannyasin went to the chemist and said to the man behind the counter, “I want twelve condoms, please.”
“What size would you like?” asked the man.
“Oh, assorted sizes,” replied the young woman. “I’m going to a prick-nick!”
Osho, Philosophia Ultima, Ch 10, Q 3