Want to hear two short jokes and a long joke?
(SPOILER)Joke. Joke. Joooooooooooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkke.
Want to hear two short jokes and a long joke?
(SPOILER)Joke. Joke. Joooooooooooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkke.
u problably all know this one:
what is green and wooshes down the hill??
(SPOILER)Skiwi
My best friend told me this one, and after she did I cried and vomited all at once. Classic dumb joke.
What did one snowman say to the other snowman?
(SPOILER)"I smell carrots...."
Haha!Originally Posted by sharkythesharkdogg
What do you get if you cross a sorceress with a millionaire?
(SPOILER) A very witch person.
A man gets a call from a beautiful woman and she says "come over, noones home"
so he goes over and knocks,
and nobody was home!
And now boys and girls, gather 'round for a fable my father told me when I was around 7 or so.
It was an incredibly frigid winter day. There was a relentless, dry, biting wind cutting through the air and the whole world appeared empty and white. A lone blue bird was trying desperately to migrate south, but had been caught by surprise of the early winter. Now she struggled desperately to fly against the cold, steady wind. Her strength draining, and her resolve almost out, she collapsed in a snowy field and waited for death. Her vision narrowed, her body grew numb, and she began to drift into darkness.
As it happened, she'd landed near a cow. It picked that opportunity to lay a cow pie right on top of the poor bird. Everything but her head and neck was now covered in manure. How could it get worse?
She sat and mourned her fate, but then noticed that she was getting warmer. The manure was warm! How joyous! From absolute despair came a small ray of hope! If she could wait out this storm in the warm cow pie she might have enough strength to fly the rest of the way!
Unable to contain her happiness in her sudden good fortune, she began to sing her happy little blue bird song. Her breath frosted in the air as she merrily warbled.
A hawk, lean and starving from the slim winter meals, noticed the commotion. In a fell swoop it dove and grabbed the little bird from the manure. She was unceremoniously devoured and eaten.
So the moral of the story is this. Just because someone puts you up to your neck in bull***t, doesn't absolutely mean they're your enemy. Just because someone pulls you out of a big pile a bull***t, it doesn't mean they're your friend.
Knowledge nuggets from your family are the best.
hahaa Skark, hail to that :P
It's been a while. So it's time for another corny, awful joke. This one is for all my azns.
wanna hear a joke about pizza?...
nah, its too cheesy
Know any good jokes about sodium?
Na.
Era Vulgaris
"My life's a chip in your pile. Ante up!" ~Setzer, FFVI
"Knights do it two-handed!" ~Drunkard, FFV
All of that makes me think of Uncle Ruckus on The Boondocks.
It made me do thisso it must be a good one.
^ lol 'Na' is the abbreviation for sodium on the periodic table
Knock knock
who's there?
Britney spears
Britney spears who?
Knock knock!
who's there?
oops i did it again!
I remember once, there was a small Catholic church in our town, and it wasn't bringing in much income. They wanted to be a larger and more powerful church, but the money wasn't coming in. Chalk it up to not enough people tithing or, perhaps a modernist progression away from religion. I don't really know or understand the politics of it all, but the priests didn't want to have to start selling off their stained glass windows or scaling down their lavish decor just to buy wine and wafers, so they decided that something had to be done in order to increase church revenue.
The solution?
Well, the priests called the friars together and suggested that they start a business. The business had to be something very Godly. It had to be a benevolent gift to the community as well as a method of acquiring donations. lawyers were out, because a lawyer priest would carry a horrible stigma. Mechanics aren't we trusted. Suddenly, one friar exclaimed, "what better business for a church than to sell flowers!"
It was a great idea, and they opened up a flower shop soon after. It was made with simple squares of plywood, and tiny shelves were built in and lined with potted plants. Seeds were planted around the structure so that a natural garden would soon grow. Decorative vines, clean walls, happy friars and lots of perfume smelling flowers made the Catholic church's flower shop an absolutely beautiful sight to behold and a most stop site for the townspeople.
People came from all over to buy flowers from the friars. And why not? Flowers are wonderful gifts for many occasions and it felt good to support the church in doing so.
This went on for months, and the church was finally making a lot of money and doing good. The financial fears faded away, and, in fact, there were surpluses of cash, which made the church's influence much stronger. The flower shop had become a beloved place in the town and an excellent business success.
Good news does not last forever, however, and one day a man came to the flower shop with no interest in buying a flower.
He said, "Friars. Hello. I am here because I am the florist down the way, and I must beg that you close down."
The friars were like, "What? Hell no!"
And the florist implored that he was about to go under, but the friars said, "This flower shop is for the benefit of the Catholic Church. Do not be so selfish." And they dismissed him.
The florist left with great sadness in his heart. He had a a wife and three beautiful girls in his home, and they had been prosperous florists in the town before the friars came in. Initially, he considered the religious men to be friendly competition, but after the months of competing, he realized that he was going to lose his business. Poverty was creeping around the corner. Still, he respected the good friars and decided to vamp up his marketing and continue to wage business warfare.
That determination only lasted so long, and after another week, the florist knew that he had no chance. His landmark shop was old and grungy. He was not holy as the church, and he did not have the ability to put on religious shows or save souls. He returned to the friars' shop, begging desperately for them to stop so that he would not go bankrupt. He pleaded on the behalf of his wife and daughters, but his requests were denied. The friars did not appreciate his assault on their business, which had become so important to the church, and they chastised him, saying he was blasphemous for demanding that the church pull back and not minister to the citizens of the town.
Awestruck and dumbfounded, the florist found himself walking toward his home at dusk. He was on his last few dollars. He reached into his pocket and pulled out 6 crumpled bills. It was not enough to bring home a sufficient dinner to his family. Looking forward, he did not see the trees before him but only visions of foreclosure on his shop, the loss of his house, the starvation of his children, his failure as a man and a provider. As he daydreamed in pitiful sorrow, he did not watch where he was heading. His wandering took him to the outskirts of town, near the dark forests, which were heavy with thieves and animals and other creepy dangers that most townsfolk were better off avoiding. Just before he took his first step into the haunted grove, he awoke from his daze. He peered on into the darkness, for the sun had set hours ago and the moon was high in the sky, and his inhibitions left him. He did not care whether he lived or died. If a mugger attacked him, they would get 6 dollars. If muggers attacked him, he would attack them!
The florist, dressed like a businessman and with no food or water to justify his plunge into the wilderness began to follow one path after another. Some paths disappeared and others formed, the common maze trap that can kill an untrained explorer. Still the florist was hell-bent on forcing his own destruction. He needed an answer to his problem, and the only clear thought beyond the delirium was that, somehow, the answer was in this forest!
Suddenly, as he passed around a bend, he saw the most amazing and unexpected sight he could've seen. A bar! It did not have a proper name, but the letters on the top read SALOON.
Actually, that's not true. One of the Os was missing, so the bar actually was called the SALO N. The wooden walls were strong, yet old, and the windows were dark. Yet faint light could be seen from inside. The night was dark, but the bright moon glinted off a brass door handle, and the florist, without complete awareness of the fact that he was doing what he was doing placed his hand on the door handle, turned it, and opened the door.
There, in the darkness, shady folks played poker in the dark, bedraggled travelers guzzled whiskey, and a pool table was being scraped up by yet another set of bloodthirsty roughnecks. None of these men were the type that the florist would generally associate with and as he stood in the doorway, letting the light of the moon shower over everybody and their dirty dealings, he was too afraid to move. Everybody in the bar turned to see this unusual creature that had intruded upon their space, and they glowered with violent hatred in their eyes. For an imperceptibly small moment that felt like an eternity, the florist faced off with these men before the bartender hollered, "Shut the damn door!"
The florist shut the door, but he continued to stand in place, so the bartender said, "What the hell are you here for? To stand there? We don't know you. I don't know you. I'm thinking you better come up with a reason for being here before we make one up ourselves, eh?"
The florist, paniced, looked around the room. He was truly afraid and allowed his mouth to speak before his mind thought and the words that came out were, "I am here to play a game of poker!"
"Then go on ahead and sit down," the bartender said.
Suddenly, the atmosphere had returned to normal. The men in the shadows resumed their drinking, their playing and their dealing. Meanwhile, the florist couldn't believe his luck. He had a pretty stone face for a game like this, and it seemed like a miracle that despite his incoherence, his being lost and his mental disruption, he had found a place where the possibility of making a few bucks was totally real. All he had to do was win a few games and presto! His family would have food on the table. He could return and rethink what his next plan of action was. He could already feel victory in the impending hand. Sitting down at the table, he almost wanted to grin (but he didn't). These losers were no problem for the likes of him. He quickly tossed in a 5 dollar annie. The cards were dealt, the hand was done, and in seconds, the florist was penniless, and the fiends were laughing at him.
What had just happened? He had so much hope! So much of everything returned and then taken away and then and then and then- It was time to annie up for the next game, and the dealer was yelling at him, "Annie up fancy pants! Hurry! We only got all night!"
The florist muttered, "I';m broke."
When he said that, everybody at the table started shouting at once, but the dealer quieted them down and said, "Look little man. We don't know who you are or what kind of insanely idiotic idea you formed in your head when you decided to waltz in here all dressed up like your rich and all broke and penniless, but I bet I could sell those clothes of yours for a find wad of cash. Your body ain't worth much though. I might have to bury it out behind the bar. What do you think of that? Is that wise? Or do you have titanium or aluminum in your bones somewhere that I could recycle?"
The florist had no idea how to respond. He looked at the men who were going to kill him, essentially satisfying his personal mission for the night, but he was too distraught and too afraid to think badly, less properly, and finally, he could not keep his cool composure. He broke down and started crying, and the criminals asked, "Why, sucker, how dare you cry here? You only lost a few dollars. Get ahold of yourself! I'll get ahold of your car keys!"
And the florist said, "you don't understand! I'm the town florist, and the friars have run me into the ground. I just bet all the last bits of money I had on this game so that I could make some money to feed my family! I have three girls and they're gonna starve and my shop is gone and my life is over and I just can't-"
He continued to cry. Then a miracle happened. Somehow, he touched the ice cold heart of the card dealer. The man looked upon the florist with pity and sadness. He said, "Yes. Many of us have suffered the same as you. Do you think it was our choice to dress in rags and wander the forest? We all come from somewhere and some time when life was better. Many of us come from homes that were lost, careers that were taken away, families that have been destroyed. We are all shunned men. I do not want to see another man like you become a man like me. I will help you."
The card dealer announced, "This looks like a job for HUE."
All the vile men in that SALO N agreed that Hue would be the right man to call. Hue had a history of run-ins with the church, and he was a great man to solve problems for any civilian suffering from religious oppression! The men told the florist not to worry. Hue was on the case. He would arrive first thing in the morning and take care of this "friar" problem.
We will tell him to call you as soon as he knows that you have nothing more to fear.
So the florist dried his tears, thanked the cons for for their good service and left, utterly confused.
When the florist arrived home late at night, his children had gone to bed hungry. His wife was waiting for him to return, somewhat afraid for his well-being. When the florist entered the house, smelling of cigarettes and liquor, covered in mud and brambles, she nearly flipped out. She hugged him and scolded him and asked him questions, but the florist only said, "Honey, go to bed. I am going to stay up tonight."
She went off to bed, and the florist sat at the table by the phone and wodnered what would become of him and his family. He did not know who Hue was or why he was putting so much trust in a name except that he was worn out and ready to give in. He sat and waited.
Early the next morning, as the sun was rising, as the firars were setting up, a silhouette appeared atop the hill behind their small flower shop. The friars did not take any notice. They merrily displayed their new plants, whistling hymns and checking the cash register for the proper amount of small bills and change for the day. They did not notice the silhouette move downwards from the top of the hill. Hue came running as fast as he could. He was a big, strong, fast, powerful man with fiery red locks of hair streaming behind him and large, steel toed work boots boots. As he roared down like the thunder of the heavens, the friars eventually noticed his approach. They were excited about their first early-bird customer of the day, dropped the small tasks that they were performing and lined up to greet the man running down the hill.
Hue kept running down as fast as he could. Soon the friars began to worry that he might trip and fall. He was coming so fast. They nervously looked at one another as the locomotive of a man approached and one opened his mouth to shout a warning, "Be caref-!" But it was too late.
Hue crashed into the shop, busting through the wall. The friars ran about, terriffied as Hue used his arms to knock the potted plants off the shelves, throwing one or two at the shouting friars. Hue kicked down the elegant yet poorly grounded walls with his powerful feet, smashed the tables with his mighty hands, dug his heels into the garden and uprooted every last tiny plant that had grown the small garden, and mashed and smashed and shredded and flattened every last remnant of the friar's flower shop. The friars ran off and never returned.
Some minutes later, the florist received a call. A gruff voice spoke from the other line, "This is Hue. The friars are gone. Have a good business."
The florist walked over to his bedroom and hugged his wife.
Everything would be alright.
MORAL:
(SPOILER)ONLY HUE CAN HELP STOP FLORIST FRIARS
I've been meaning to write that one down for a long time now.
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