Indian Jokes

A cowboy and an Indian were out on the plains looking for buffalo. The Indian puts his ear to the ground and says, “Buffalo come.”

The cowboy asks, “How do you know?”

The Indian replies, “Face is sticky”

The Lone Ranger and his faithful Indian companion Tonto, found themselves surrounded by hostile Apache braves on the warpath.

“I don’t see any way out, Tonto,” said The Lone Ranger.
“It looks like we’re going to be killed by those Indians.”

Tonto turned to his friend. “What you mean WE, kemo sabe?”

Q: Did you hear about the Indian who drank 24 cups of tea?

A: He died in his teapee.

On my first day of classes at Ballstate University in Muncie, Indiana, I took a front row seat in my literature course. The professor told us we would be responsible for reading five books, and that he would provide us with a list of authors from which we could choose.

Then he ambled over to the lectern, took out his class book and began . . . Baker, Black, Brooks, Carter, Cook . . .

I was working feverishly to get down all the names when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The student in back of me whispered, “Relax, he’s taking attendance.”

When the new school year started, the history teacher was so excited because there were three little American Indian boys in her class. She was beside herself with excitement. So she asked the first little Indian boy to stand up and tell the class what tribe he was from and how he knew this.

The little boy stood up and proudly threw out his chest. Then he took his fist and hit it on his chest. He said in a booming voice, “I am a Cherokee. My father and I walked for many moons and one day my father said, ‘Son, you see all this land. This is Cherokee land. So, I know I am a Cherokee.”

“Wonderful,” the teacher said, and then asked the next little Indian boy to stand.

The little boy stood up and proudly threw out his chest. Then he took his fist and hit it on his chest. He said in a booming voice, “I am a Comanche. My father and I walked for many moons and one day my father aid, ‘Son, you see all this land. This is Comanche land.’ So, I know I am a Comanche.”

The teacher was growing more excited by the moment and asked the last little Indian boy to stand.

The little boy stood up and proudly threw out his chest. Then he took his fist and hit it on his chest. He said in a booming voice, “I am a Fuckawee.”

The teacher looked dumbfounded and said, “I don’t think there is any such tribe as the Fuckawee.”

The little boy said, “My father and I walked for many days and many nights. And many nights and many days. We ran out of water, but we kept walking. With no rest, we were getting weary. Finally, one day my father stopped and with his hand to shield the sun from his eyes, looked around. He said, ‘Hmmmm, where the Fuckawee…’”