Results 2,821 to 2,835 of 19824
Thread: Chuckles of the Day...
06-18-03, 06:40 AM #2821
Whose country is it?
A man was hitchhiking across the country just prior to a presidential election and had hit upon a technique for getting free drinks in bars by guessing which candidate was less popular and then loudly badmouthing them. He went into a bar in Colorado and yelled, "Carter is a horse's ass!" To his surprise, he was promptly thrown outside into the dirt. He picked himself up and went into another bar, shouting, "Reagan is a horse's ass!" Seconds later, he was eating dust again.
Seeing a cowboy nearby, he called out, "Hey, fella! If this ain't Carter country and it ain't Reagan country, whose country is it?"
The cowboy replied, "Son, this is horse country!"
06-18-03, 06:41 AM #2822
Not quite Wright...
A metaphor is like a simile.
Why doesn't the fattest man in the world become a hockey goalie?
I was arrested for selling illegal-sized paper.
It takes money to make money because you have to copy the design exactly.
The only thing houseflies fear more than the Venus fly trap is the hanging plant.
At the all-you-can-eat barbecue, you have to pay the regular dinner price if you eat less than you can.
The doctor says he has to amputate all of me.
For my sister's 40th birthday, I sent her a singing mammogram.
As of 1992, they'll be called European Economic Community fries.
Horses just naturally have mohawk haircuts.
Every day, the hummingbird eats its own weight in food. You may wonder how it weighs the food. It doesn't. It just eats another hummingbird.
I bought a portable cable tv.
Trees that grow in smoggy cities are needed to make carbon paper.
I liked "Slaughterhouse 5," but I can't find the first four anywhere.
A man committed suicide by overdosing on decongestant tablets. All they found was a pile of dust.
06-18-03, 06:41 AM #2823
Let's make like .....
...make like a tree and leave.
...make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here.
...make like a bird and flock off
...make like horse sh!t and hit the trail.
...make like a banana and split.
...make like a missile and cruise.
...make like a fetus and head out.
...make like a baby and head out.
...make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here.
...make like a drum and beat it.
...make like a drummer and beat it.
...make like a bee and buzz off.
...make like Diarrhea and run
...make like a tire and hit the road
...make like Linda Lovelace and blow.
...make like a terrorist and blow this place.
...make like a busboy and get the fork out of here.
...make like a douche and get the **** out of there.
...make like a strawberry and jam.
...make like traffic and jam.
...make like stockings and run.
...make like a sock and run.
...make like a loaf of French bread and baguette.
...make like a bakery truck and haul buns outta' here.
...make like a bread truck and haul buns.
...make like a Bakery truck and Move your buns.
We're off like a prom dress!!!
...make like a prom dress and take off.
We're off like pants in the dark.
...make like the devil and get the hell out of here.
...make like the Red Sea and split.
...make like the Red Sea and part.
...make like a banana in the presence of ice cream and split
...make like an amoeba and split...!
...make like the wind and blow.
...make like a tomato and Ketch-up.
...make like a driver and Keep On Truckin'.
...make like a teamster and Keep On Truckin'.
...make like a hippy and Keep On Truckin'.
...make like the Dead and Keep On Truckin'.
...make like lightning and bolt.
...make like a Nut and Bolt.
...make like a rectum and get the sh*t out of here.
...make like a donkey's d!ck and hit the road.
...make like [insert name of unpopular politician or personality] and blow.
...make like Michael Jackson and "Beat it!"
...make like a hippy and blow this place.
...make like Santa Claus and leave your presents (presence)!
...make like Tom and Cruise.
...make like Pablo and Cruise.
...make like Pablo and Pick Ass Off here. (?)
...make like a Hewlett Packard Laser Printer and jet.
...make like a jacket and zip.
...make like a magnet and flux off.
...make like Levi's and fade away.
...make like a bowel, and move.
...make like a tie and hang around some more.
...make like a botanist and leaf.
...make like a dog and flea.
...make like a register and shift.
...make like newlyweds; remain in bed all day. (or go to bed early.)
...make like an unstructured program, and go (to).
...make like Houdini and disappear
...make like a mongrel and get lost
...make like a teeny-bopper singer and fade away
...make like data and move
...make like make(1) and update (your location)
...make like a football and kickoff
...make like a baseball player and home-run
...make like rot13 and shpx bss
...make like a pound and quid (quit).
...make like a jet and zoom.
...make like an airplane and take off.
...make like a hat and go on ahead.
...make like an atom and split.
...make like a Catholic and pull out.
...make like The Exorcist and get the hell outta here.
...make like rain and get the hail out of here.
I'm going to take a sedimental journey and precipitate outta here.
I'm off like exit(0).
Let us leave (lettuce leaf) (only works for 2+, obviously)
Off like a dirty shirt.
Off like the brides pajamas.
We're off lika a bride's nightie...
Put an egg in my shoe and beat it.
Why don't you make like an ******* and post exit lines?
Hanging in there like stink on a stockyard boot.
Act like yesterdays lunch, go down and out the back.
The award winner for the most relevant and irrelevant contribution;
There were other versions (corrections... sheesh!) but this was the first.
And don't forget my favorite (from Back to the Future):
"Make like a tree, McFly. Get outta here."
The award winner for the most tasteless contribution;
...make like an abortion and head out early.
What the marketing director of a major condom manufacturing company said when asked to come up with a new gimmick for their new line of condoms;
"Let's make like bullfrogs and ribbit"
06-18-03, 06:42 AM #2824
More Music Jokes
Q. What's the difference between a lawn mower and a saxophone?
Q: How many sax players does it take to change a light-bulb?
A: Sixty. One to change the bulb and fifty-nine to talk about how much better Michael Brecker would have done it.
Q: How many guitarists does it take to change a light-bulb?
A: Twenty. One to change the bulb and nineteen to say "Not bad, but I could've done better."
Q: How do you make a lead guitarist slow down?
A: Put some sheet music in front of him.
So this trumpet player dies, see? And when he reaches his everlasting reward, the guy in the robe says, "You're going to spend eternity with this combo, OK? There's a bass player named 'Mingus' and a pianist named 'Monk', and any day now we expect this 'Blakey' guy to show up with his drums. "Wow!" the guy says, "I never imagined heaven would be this good." So the guy in the robe says, "This is hell, not heaven. There's a girl singer."
06-18-03, 06:43 AM #2825
This man and this woman are riding next to each other in first class. The man sneezes, pulls out his wang and wipes the tip off. The woman can't believe what she just saw and decides she is hallucinating.
A few minutes pass. The man sneezes again. He pulls out his wang and wipes the tip off. The woman is about to go nuts. She can't believe that such a rude person exists. A few minutes pass. The man sneezes yet again. He takes his wang out and wipes the tip off. The woman has finally had enough. She turns to the man and says, "Three times you've sneezed, and three times you've removed your penis from your pants to wipe it off! What the hell kind of degenerate are you?"
The man replies, "I am sorry to have disturbed you, ma'am. I have a very rare condition such that when I sneeze, I have an orgasm." The woman then says, "Oh, how strange. What are you taking for it?"
The man looks at her and says, "Pepper."
06-18-03, 06:44 AM #2826
The Jack of All Trades
Unless his father is rich, a graduate student in computer science will most likely end up supporting himself by working on university research projects or, if he doesn't speak English, by teaching undergraduates. These students make less than a freelance can recycler. A few students work part-time at a useful craft or trade that supports them in comfort. I decided that I would practice such a trade: Professional sperm donation, the jack of all trades.
During my first visit to the sperm bank, I was taken to the office of the doctor in charge. His walls were covered by medical degrees and citations for his achievements in sperm preservation. One of the citations said "Honorable Discharge," which I thought was a bit grandiose.
"It is of the utmost importance that semen samples remain sterile," the doctor explained.
"Sterile semen?" I oxymoroned.
"Thus, samples must be produced by unassisted direct manual stimulation of the genital protuberance."
"Choke the purple-helmeted love nazi."
"Furthermore, before the production of each sample, there must be three days of abstinence."
"Three days? 4320 minutes! Is that really a good idea?" I had visions of being rushed to the emergency room to have my scrotum lanced and drained as it expanded like a Jiffy Pop bag. "I'm no doctor, but I think an hour of abstinence is enough. I mean, we're not aging a fine wine, are we?..."
I was scheduled for a donor room, where I would have to deliver samples, piping hot, in 30 minutes or less. I didn't know if I could become aroused under such conditions. I was of an impressionable age when I first saw Racquel Welch in "Fantastic Voyage," and afterward I could only be aroused by women who wore rubber diving suits and were covered by foot-long antibodies. (These days, having your partner in a rubber suit covered with large antibodies is not a bad idea.) I've since grown out of this habit. Although now I can only become aroused by a woman if she turns the letters on my "Wheel of Fortune" board game. I decided to get some men's magazines for immoral support.
As a teenager I found Penthouse to be highly stimulating. (As a teenager I found everything to be highly stimulating. I had to take up tennis just to explain my tennis elbow.) However, Penthouse photographs are often rendered in a diffused soft focus, which is why you go blind. Eyestrain is the reason you often see men crying when they read the magazine.
Once, when I was fourteen, my father wondered if he should get a subscription to Penthouse. "Great idea!" I panted. "It offers an insightful editorial posture and interviews with personalities of topical interest."
He shrugged indifferently.
"You have to get it! You absolutely have to! It offers guides to fashion and accessories, goddammit!" I shrieked before passing out. Now I've started to actually read those articles. I used to put magazines under my mattress so they wouldn't be found; now they're there for lower back support.
I thought that, if I'm going to be a professional in a medical facility, I should forget the over-the-counter products like Penthouse and look for more potent prescription remedies in the shops of the red light district.
These magazines did not have interviews with personalities of topical interest. Their titles generally were the names of female body parts. One was called "Female Body Parts." The magazines might serve a medical professional as references of female anatomy and its many diseases, but they were too much for me. I settled for this month's issue of "NBC Anchorwomen in Chains."
As it turned out, I was able to wield Excalibur without anxiety in the clinic's donor room, and I looked forward to returning there on my twice-weekly visits. I didn't appreciate it at first, but I eventually realized what a terrific room it was. It had a wicked, shameless chair, a voluptuous, come-hither lamp and a coy, pouting paper towel dispenser. However, the room was small, or perhaps it only seemed so because when there I was usually homo erectus, so I was constantly upsetting lamps and clearing shelves. Okay, maybe not.
I produced so many test specimens that the doctor could have built an infant from scratch and avoided conception altogether. But after several weeks, the testing was over and I was sent back to the doctor's office.
He said that I had been accepted into the program: my sperm count was five times higher than average.
There it was. In seconds, I had become an awesome engine of fertility, a sexual force to be feared. Condoms and diaphragms could be shredded by my Zulu sperm cells as their superior numbers overwhelmed the British outpost of the ovum. My minions could overcome any female contraceptive resistance and commit countless acts of microscopic date rape. My ego was further engorged by the fact I'd finally met someone who wanted me just for my body. I was a sex object, meat on the hoof. The doctor obliged by talking about me in the cold quantities of sperm counts and motilities, reciting my "tale of the tape" as us pro athletes call it. He also referred to donor candidates by number instead of name to preserve anonymity. To the doctor I was The Man With No Name, a hired gun.
"A hun'rd and ten million! That's pretty good shootin', stranger. What'd you say your name was again?"
"I didn't say...."
From now on, I would be paid. My one-armed bandit had consistently hit the jackpot, and now I was going to cash in. Some guys think their penis has a mind of its own. Mine had a career of its own.
It was during my next visit, as I approached the main desk, that I first saw her: Candy the candystriper.
I had never been particular about my women. Two X chromosomes sufficed. But Candy was different. Perhaps it was the three days of fluid backing up into my brain that made her look like an angel floating toward me. Perhaps it was her helium breast implants. All I knew was that I wanted to suckle that bosom till I talked like Donald Duck.
She noticed my groin, which bulged handsomely due to the bag of ice I put in my pants to keep down the swelling.
She gave me a specimen cup and I went into the donor room, where I was great. A minute later I returned.
My headache was gone. I sauntered over to Candy's desk and turned on the charm, which I can do pretty much at will.
"Sorry, but my cup runneth over with love."
She smiled the dazzling smile that is the gift of a woman with braces. She said, "You might want to zip up your fly."
"Why, you eagle-eyed minx," I teased. "You've been watching my fly, haven't you, like a photographer waiting for a glimpse of the Loch Ness monster."
She giggled. "So, what do you do?"
"Here? Um, I do what all the other guys do. But better."
"I mean, what do you do for a living?"
I hung my head. "I'm a computer science graduate student."
"Really? Can you say something in computerese?"
"Awk grep sed lex yacc?"
She squealed with delight, and her sudden increase in body heat caused her implants to expand. I had it made.
On our first date, I learned all about her. A woman of compassion, she had bought a water bed because it made the fleet feel more at home. She had also bought a high-tech, no-mess vibrator, only to learn it was an electric orange juicer.
I thought it would be responsible of me to inquire about her medical history. Her gynecologist had said that, though she needed retreads, she didn't have any social diseases. This was a relief because it meant the president wouldn't have to order a stand down of all naval operations. Her neurologist had said that her brain was still a virgin, its fragile tissues untouched by knowledge.
Her favorite literary work was Kafka's "Metamorphosis." She hadn't read it, but she had seen an ad for the promo of the music video. She could empathize with a human mind that finds itself trapped inside the body of an insect, because she suffered the opposite problem.
She was the girl of my dreams.
Toward the end of the evening, I made my move. "Pound bang slash bin slash cush semi ell ess minus ell splat."
She fell against me, nearly swooning. Should I strike while the iron is hot? The sperm bank had already scheduled to within 4 minutes every ejaculation I would have in the next year. But how often does a man find true love? I decided I would service both Candy and the sperm bank, spreading myself thin, so to speak.
"Candy, would you like to go to my place and view my itchings? We could practice CPR. I'll check you for tumors. Maybe a lower GI series?"
We got to my apartment and with a flourish I opened the door to my my lair of lust. "Welcome to my Altar of Ecstasy, my Boudoir of Bliss."
"Gee, it looks just like a sperm donor room."
We wasted no time. She was so hot her bust deployed like a Chrysler air bag. All night it was twiddle twiddle twiddle pipe mount socket pound bang pound bang splat return. Consummate, consummate, consummate.
In the morning I staggered to the sperm bank. The vigor of youth had abandoned me. I needed a heavy styling mousse to achieve the hardness needed to raise my flag over Iwo Jima and produce a specimen. The cup would've held more microbes if it was filled with Jersey tapwater.
Unfortunately, the doctor chose that day for a spot check of my handiwork. He looked at my specimen under a microscope, but couldn't find anything. He continued hunting for Red October and finally found a sperm. It tried to swim, but then it grabbed its chest and rolled over.
So, my career ended as soon as it started. But my romance has flourished. Candy has proven to be a challenging libidinal dynamo, but nothing me and some new vacuum cleaner attachments can't handle.
06-18-03, 06:45 AM #2827
Sexual, twist, probably old
A man walks along, and sees an old man sitting on a park bench. The old man is perhaps eighty, and is crying his eyes out.
The first man approaches the elderly one and asks "What's wrong?"
The elderly fellow replies. "I just married a twenty-year old girl, and..."
The first man prods him: "And? Do you have troubles with..."
"Oh, no, no. I have incredible stamina for a man my age, and we make love twenty-three times a day."
The first man, obviously surprised, asks "So what's wrong?"
"I forgot where I live!" bawls the old man.
06-18-03, 06:49 AM #2828
A man walks out of a bar, stumbling back and forth with a key in his
A cop on the beat sees him and approaches, "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yesssh! Sssshomebody ssshtole my car!" the man replies.
The cop asks, "Where was your car the last time you saw it?"
It wasssh at the end of thisssh key!" the man replies,
logically, if a bit too literally.
About this time the cop looks down to see that the man's "thing" is
hanging out of his fly for all the world to see.
He asks the man, "Sir, are you aware that you are exposing yourself?"
The man looks down woefully and without missing a beat,
moans "OHHH GOD....they stole my girlfriend, too!!!"
06-18-03, 06:50 AM #2829
Twin sisters at a nursing home were turning one hundred years old. The
editor of the local newspaper told a photographer to get over there and
take pictures of the two 100 year old twins. One of the twins was hard of
hearing and the other could hear very well. Once the photographer arrived,
he asked the sisters to sit on the sofa.
The near-deaf sister said to her twin, "WHAT DID HE SAY?"
"WE GOTTA SIT OVER THERE ON THE SOFA!", said the other one.
"Now get a little closer together," said the cameraman.
Again, "WHAT DID HE SAY?"
"HE SAYS SQUEEZE TOGETHER A LITTLE." So they wiggled
up close to each other.
"Just hold on for a bit longer; I've got to focus a little," said the
Yet again, "WHAT DID HE SAY?"
"HE SAYS HE'S GONNA FOCUS!"
With a big grin the near-deaf twin shouted out, "OH MY GOD -- BOTH OF US?"
06-18-03, 09:59 AM #2830
MARRIAGE (# I)
A typical macho man married a typical good-looking lady and, after the wedding, laid down the following rules:
"I'll be home when I want, if I want, and at what time I want, and I don't expect any hassle from you. I expect a great dinner to be on the table unless I tell you otherwise. I'll go hunting, fishing, boozing, and card playing when I want with my old buddies and don't you give me a hard time about it. Those are my rules. Any comments?"
His new bride said, "No, that's fine with me. Just understand that there'll be sex here at seven o'clock every night, whether you're here or not."
MARRIAGE (PART II)
A husband and wife had a bitter quarrel on the day of their 40th wedding anniversary. The husband yells, "When you die, I'm getting you a headstone that reads, 'Here Lies My Wife - Cold As Ever."
"Yeah?!" she replies. "When you die, I'm getting you a headstone that reads, 'Here Lies My Husband - Stiff At Last.'"
MARRIAGE (PART III)
A doctor and his wife are having a fight at the breakfast table. The husband gets up in a rage and says, "And you are no good in bed either," and storms out of the house.
After sometime he realizes he was nasty and decides to make amends and rings her up. She comes to the phone after many rings and the irritated husband says, "What took you so long to answer the phone?"
She says, "I was in bed."
"What are you doing in bed at this hour?"
"Getting a second opinion!"
MARRIAGE (PART IV)
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.
One night, they go to a party. The man decides that it's time to go home and wants to find out if his wife is ready to leave as well. He shouts at the top of his voice, "Shall we go home, Mother of six?"
His wife, irritated by her husband's lack of discretion shouts right back, "Anytime you're ready, Father of Four!"
MARRIAGE (PART V)
A businessman enters a tavern, sits down at the bar, and orders a double martini on the rocks. After he finishes the drink, he peeks inside his shirt pocket, then he asks the bartender to prepare another double martini. After he finishes that one, he again peeks inside his shirt pocket and asks the bartender to bring another double martini.
The bartender says, "Look, buddy, I'll bring ya' martinis all night long. But you gotta tell me why you look inside your shirt pocket before you order a refill."
The man replies, "I'm peeking at a photo of my wife. When she starts to look good, then I know it's time to go home."
MARRIAGE (PART VI)
A 75-year-old woman went to the doctor for a check up.
The doctor told her she needed more cardiovascular activity, and recommended that she engage in sexual activity three times a week. A bit embarrassed, she said to the doctor, "Please tell my husband."
The doctor went out into the waiting room and told the husband that his wife needed sex three times a week. The 80-year-old husband replied, "Which days?"
The doctor answered, "Monday, Wednesday, and Friday would be ideal.
The husband said, "I can bring her on Monday and Wednesday, but on Fridays, she'll have to take the bus."
MARRIAGE (PART VII)
A man and woman are standing at the altar, about to be married, when the bride-to-be looks at her prospective groom and sees that he has a set of golf clubs with him.
"What on earth are you doing with those golf clubs in church?" she whispers.
"Well," he says, "this isn't going to take all afternoon, is it?"
06-18-03, 10:11 AM #2831
Just thought that if they let cats into the Corps...
06-18-03, 10:15 AM #2832
More Kitty Humor
Guess it's funny to the cat... not so funny for the dog...
06-18-03, 10:17 AM #2833
With Martha Stewart...
06-18-03, 10:20 AM #2834
More decorating ideas from Martha Stewart
06-18-03, 10:22 AM #2835
The good life - in the Gray Bar Hotel...
Users Browsing this Thread
There are currently 1 users browsing this thread. (0 members and 1 guests)