Bad jokes
Okay, so since nobody got the Meadow joke, I might as well explain. Jokes that need to be explained aren't funny any more, but... You've heard of that critically acclaimed show, The Sopranos? It's about a New Jersey mob boss named Tony Soprano. He has a beautiful daughter named Meadow. Jersey girl, Meadow... ok, never mind. Really lame joke.
But while we're on the subject, have you noticed that the art of actually telling jokes is pretty much gone? Do you remember anyone telling you a joke in person in the past, oh, ten years or so? Especially something other than a one-liner?
The internet has killed joke telling. You don't tell jokes any more. You forward them.
So now I shall contribute to the problem by passing along some bad jokes via the internet. I can't tell two of these three at work anyway...
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A drunk walks into a bar with a box. "What's in the box?" asks the bartender.
"Check thish out," says the drunk, and opens the lid. Inside the box is a tiny piano, and a tiny man playing the piano.
"Wow!" shouts the bartender. "That's amazing! Does he do requests? Where did you get this?!"
"Well, thur wass this genie, see," says the drunk. "An' he gave me treeh wishhess. Fer my firsht wish, I wished fer a gallon of whiskey. Annnn' I drank it. Fer my shecond wishh, I asked fer a gallon of rrrum. An' uhh. Wull, I drank that too. Affter that it gets a lil fuzzy, becaush I don't remember my third wish," he says.
"But I'm pretty sure it wasn't for a twelve-inch pianist."
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A small farmer got a visit from the local government employment office.
"I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them," demanded the agent. "We need to make sure you're paying fair wages to your staff."
"Well," replied the farmer, "there's my farm hand who's been with me for 3 years. I pay him $400 a week plus free room and board. The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $450 per week plus free room and board."
"Then there's the half-wit. He works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night. He also sleeps with my wife occasionally."
"I'm going to need to talk to the half-wit," says the agent.
The farmer replies, "You're talkin' to him right now..."
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An American relocates to the English countryside to set up a small farm. After purchasing some land, he decides to meet some local farmers, in hopes of buying some livestock. He starts walking toward town.
He sees a small cottage a ways up the road. He notices it has a chicken coop. "Fresh eggs!" he says to himself, "and meat too! Perfect."
He knocks on the door of the cottage. After introducing himself to the lady of the house, he inquires about buying one rooster and one hen.
"Certainly," says the woman, "but you should know that around here we say 'pullet' instead of 'hen', and we say 'cock' instead of 'rooster.' "
"Thank you, ma'am, I'll try to remember that," he says. After paying her, he takes one bird in each arm, and turns back toward home.
On the way back, he notices a donkey alone in a pasture. "A donkey could help me plow!" he thinks, "and provide manure for fertilizer. Perfect!"
He knocks on the door of the nearby house, and a crusty old gentleman opens the door.
"I'm interested in your donkey," he says.
"He's all yours," says the old man. "I'm too old, and he's too stubborn."
"By the way," he adds, "around here we don't call 'em 'donkeys.' We say 'asses.'"
"Right, right," says the American. "I'm still learning the little differences."
"Oh and one more thing," the old man adds, "If he won't walk, just give 'im a tickle and he'll get goin'."
"Thanks again!" says the American. With a chicken in each arm, he decides to try riding the donkey home.
When he's almost back, the donkey stops suddenly, and starts leisurely munching some grass along the roadside. The man tries to reach around and tickle the donkey, but the birds in his arms make it too awkward.
He puzzles over what to do next. He notices the woman who lives next to him coming up the road. "Excuse me!" he shouts. "Could you hold my cock and pullet while I tickle my ass?"
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My sincere apologies...
Labels: humor
2 Comments:
Hello, How do I get in touch with you? There is no email or contact info listed .. please advise .. thanks .. Mary. Please contact me maryregency at gmail dot com
Google tells me you've posted this comment on a lot of blogs. Can you give me an idea why you're looking to contact me?
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