The best jokes (15811 to 15825)

Why did the cannibal want to l...

Why did the cannibal want to live on his own? He was fed up with other people.

Return What Is Stolen

The following is supposedly a true story. To be included, besides being true, the story is most likely strange, weird, surprising, or funny.
Des Moines, Iowa:
A repentant burglar returned his loot to its owners, along with a note explaining why: "My priest said I done a wrong."
More than $200, a pair of sunglasses and some golf balls were found Monday morning on the steps of Potthoff Foods Incorporated, a meat wholesaler.
"He took my sunglasses, but I didn't know he took them until I got them back this morning," sales representative Phil Barber said. "You know, I don't think something like this happens that often. It's sort of neat. The guy did wrong, but he tried to make it right."
The break-in at Potthoff's happened late Friday or early Saturday. The thief pried open a door and rummaged through some desks.
Potthoff officials said they're not going to depend on the honesty of thieves' nature in the future.
"We are adding an extra security system today," Barber said.

Steven Hawking came back from ...

Steven Hawking came back from his 1st date in 10 years. Glasses smashed, broken wrist, a twisted ankle and grazed knees....... Apparently she stood him up!

Young Wife

A wealthy merchant of 84 married a 25 year old fashion model. They had a wonderful honeymoon in Aruba but, unfortunately, the old boy suffered a coronary and was hospitalized. When his young wife came to see him, the old man said, "Sweetheart, your future has been taken care of regardless of what happens to me. You will have an income of $250,000 a year, my home in Palm Springs, my ranch in Texas, my Mercedes. You'll never need to worry about money." "Oh, sweetheart, please don't talk that way," his young wife exclaimed. "You've been so good to me already. If you go, I'll be devastated. Oh, there must be something I can do to help you. Please....tell me what I can do?"
"Well," the old man gasped, "you can quit pinching the inlet tube to my oxygen supply for starters."

WE, the People of the broad, b...

WE, the People of the broad, brown land of Oz, wish to be recognized as a free nation of blokes, sheilas and the occasional trannie.
We come from many lands (although a few too many of us come from New Zealand) and, although we live in the best little country in the world, we reserve the right to bitch and moan about it whenever we bloody like.
We are One Nation but we're divided into many States.
First, there's Victoria, named after a queen who didn't believe in lesbians. Victoria is the realm of Mossimo turtlenecks, cafe latte and grand final day. Its capital is Melbourne, whose chief marketing pitch is that it's "livable".
Next, there's NSW. It is the realm of pastel shorts, macchiato with sugar, thin books read quickly and millions of dancing gay-boys. Its mascots are Bondi lifesavers who pull their Speedos up their cracks to keep the left and right sides of their brains separate.
Down south we have Tasmania, a State based on the notion that the family that bonks together stays together. In Tassie, everyone gets an extra chromosome at conception. Maps of the State bring smiles to the sternest faces.
South Australia is the province of half-decent reds, a festival of foreigners and bizarre axe murders. They had the Grand Prix, but lost it when the views of Adelaide sent the Formula One drivers to sleep at the wheel.
Western Australia is too far from anywhere to be relevant in this document.
The Northern Territory is the red heart of our land. Outback plains, sheep stations, kangaroos, jackaroos, emus, Ulurus and dusty kids with big smiles. Although the Territory is the centrepiece of our national culture, few of us live there and the rest prefer to fly over it on our way to Bali.
And there's Queensland. While any mention of God seems silly in a document defining a nation of half-arsed agnostics, it is worth noting that God probably made Queensland. Why he filled it with dickheads remains a mystery.
We, the Lullaby League of Oz, are united, primarily by the Pacific Highway, whose treacherous twists and turns kill more of us each year than die by murder.
We are united in our lust for international recognition, so desperate for praise we leap in joy when a ragtag gaggle of corrupt IOC officials tells us Sydney is better than Beijing.
We are united by a democracy so flawed that a political party, albeit a redneck gun-toting one, can get a million votes and still not win one seat in Federal Parliament. Desirable, sure. But fair? Not when you consider Brian Harradine can get 24,000 votes and runs the bloody country. Not that we're whingeing.
We've chucked out the concept of "fair go" in the downsized '90s. Instead, we want to make "no worries" our national phrase.
We love sport so much our newsreaders can read the death toll from a sailing race and still tell us who's winning, in the same breath.
We treasure our politicians, who talk about listening with such persistence it's hard to get a word in. We tolerate our Prime Minister, who is not only short but a Methodist, hanging offences in decent countries. And we like watching Parliament on TV because Natasha Stott Despoja is a total spunkrat.
We, the wicked witches of the land of Oz, want to make it clear this continent is ours and always has been. Mind you, Liberal Party polling shows that there were some people here before Captain Cook so we should address the issue once and for all.
While possession is nine-tenths of the law, our ancestors were fortunate enough to discover that genocide, cultural extinguishment, baby theft and flour poisoning make up the other tenth.
So Oz is now ours and that's that. Our midget Methodist master says we have no reason to feel sorry for killing more Aborigines per capita than the Nazis did Jews and Liberal Party polling says we're OK with that.
Why don't we say sorry? In the words of our PM - because, because, because, because, because. Now, can we just drop the whole thing before the Olympics start?
Phew, with that nasty bit out of the way, we the Brain, the Heart and the Nerve of Oz, want the world to know we have the biggest rock, the tastiest pies and the worst-dressed Olympians in the known universe.
We don't know much about art but we know we hate the people who make it. We shoot, we vote. We are girt by sea and pissed by lunchtime. And even though we might seem a racist, closed-minded, sports-obsessed little People, at least we're better than the Kiwis.

Knock Knock Collection 193

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Whitney!

Whitney who?

Whitney have to say to me!


Knock Knock

Who's there?

Whittle!

Whittle who?

Whittle Orphan Annie!


Knock Knock

Who's there?

Who!

Who who?

You sound like an owl!


Knock Knock

Who's there?

Whoopi!

Whoopi who?

Whoopi cushion!


Knock Knock

Who's there?

Wicked!

Wicked who?

Wicked make beautiful music together!

An acquaintance of mine who is...

An acquaintance of mine who is a physician told this story about her then-four-year-old daughter. On the way to preschool, the doctor had left her stethoscope on the car seat, and her little girl picked it up and began playing with it. Be still, my heart, thought my friend, gee, my daughter wants to follow in my footsteps and be a doctor! Then the child spoke into the instrument: "Welcome to McDonald's. May I take your order?"

Grandma

I was out walking with my 4-year-old Grand daughter. She picked up something off of the ground and started to put it in her mouth. I took the item away from her and I asked her not to do that.
'Why?' my Granddaughter asked.
'Because it's been on the ground; you don't know where it's been, it's dirty, and probably has germs,' I replied. At this point, my Granddaughter looked at me with total admiration and asked, 'Grandma, how do you know all this stuff? You are so smart.'
I was thinking quickly. 'All Grandmas know this stuff. It's on the Grandma Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Grandma.'
We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering this new information. 'Oh.....I get it!' she beamed, 'So if you don't pass the test you have to be the Grandpa'.
'Exactly,' I replied with a big smile on my face.

Q: What is the difference betw...

Q: What is the difference between a female lawyer and a pitbull?
A: Lipstick

Pride

A man has six children and is very proud of his achievement. He is so proud of himself, that he starts calling his wife,"Mother of Six" in spite of her objections.

The fruit juice entrepreneur w...

The fruit juice entrepreneur was quite snappley dressed.

After much arguing and deliber...

After much arguing and deliberation, historians have come up with a phrase to describe the Clinton Era.

It will be called SEX BETWEEN THE BUSHES.

A Forester and Lawyer in Heaven #joke #humor

A forester and a lawyer were in car accident and showed up at the pearly gates together.

St. Peter greets them at the pearly gates and takes them to the homeswhere they will spend all of eternity. They get into St. Peter's holy vehicle and head on down a gold road, which turns into a platinum road, which turns onto an even grander road paved with diamonds, to a huge mansion where St. Peter turns to the lawyer and says, here is your home for the rest of eternity, enjoy! And if there is anything you need, just let me know.

Then St. Peter took the forester to his home, back down the diamond studded boulevard, down the platinum highway, down the street of gold, down an avenue of silver, along a stone alley and down an unpaved footpath to a shack. St Peter says "Here you go" and goes to leave when the forester says "Waitaminute!, how come the lawyer gets the big mansion and I get this shack?"

St. Peter says: "Well, Foresters are a dime a dozen here, we have never had a lawyer before."

An old man of ninety was sitti...

An old man of ninety was sitting on a park bench crying.

A policeman noticed this and asked him why he was crying.

"Well," says the old fellow, "I just got married to a twenty-five year old redhead. Every morning she makes me a wonderful breakfast and then we make love. In the afternoon she makes me a wonderful lunch and then we make love. At dinner time she makes me a wonderful supper and then we make love."

The policeman looks at the old man and says, "You shouldn't be crying! You should be the happiest man in the world!"

So the old man says, "I know! I'm crying because I don't remember where I live!"

Big Chief

A young reporter is out on her first assignment, a full piece story on the local Indian reservation and it's tribe. The first day the reporter arrives and is greeted by a young Indian with one feather in his headband.

The reporter asks "What is the one feather for?"

The indian replies "One feather for one woman I sleep with."

"Oh, ok." replies the reporter, kind of thrown off guard by his response.

The next night at dinner the reporter meets the Chiefs son, who has 20 feathers in his headband, so the reporter asks "What are the 20 feathers for?"

"20 feathers for 20 women I sleep with." he says.

The reporter replies "Oh, gosh! That's a lot!"

The chiefs son says "Come, me introduce you to Chief"

So finally, the reporter is introduced to the tribes Chief and the Chief has this long flowing fancy head-dress with feathers down to the floor and dragging behind him.

The reporter must ask: "Chief, what are all the feathers for?"

The Chief says "Each feather for each woman I sleep with."

"Oh, dear!" says the reporter.

Quickly, the Chief replies, "Deer? Deer no good, ass too high, run through bush too fast!!"

Edited by Curtis and Calamjo