Joke thread because I need a laugh or suicide you f*ckers

Tollbooth Willie

Tollbooth Willie

The Freeman
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Posts jokes you f*cking queers but here's one to get this shit started.

A stalker comes to Sidorovich, and Sidorovich says:

"Listen, stalker. I received a suit with full radiation protection from a secret Institute in Kiev. But nobody has tested it yet. Put it on and go into the Zone, try it out. And if you survive I will give you a discount for it."

And the stalker agreed. He went into the Zone and did not return for a day, then two days, then three... On the fourth day he returns, angry as a snork and throws the suit on Sidorovich's table. Sidorovich got surprised:

"What's wrong, stalker? Does it not protect?"

"It does!"
"Not completely?"
"Completely!"
"So why are you so angry?"
"Everyone in the Zone drinks vodka to heal radiation in the morning - ONLY I WALK AROUND SOBER FOR THE FOURTH DAY LIKE A FOOL!!!"
 
Two guys are driving in a car. They approach a red light but the driver zooms right through. The passenger says to the driver "Hey! What are you doing!" the driver says "Relax, my brother drives like this all the time."
The keep going and soon see another red light, but again the driver doesn't even slow down. The passenger again protests, but the driver reassures him, saying his brother does it all the time.

Eventually they reach a specific intersection and the driver stops at the light. The passenger says "Why are you stopping now?" the driver replies, "My brother lives around here."

BA DUM TSSH MOTHER****ER
 
Why didn't the mom not let her twelve year old see Pirates of the Caribean?
Becuase it was rated Arr!!
 
ach.php
 
What do you call a ginger at a party?

holy **** who invited the ginger
 
Two fish in a tank.
One says to the other:
"How do you drive this thing?"
 
What do you call a Wood Elf who doesn't lie or cheat or steal?

A dead Wood Elf.
 
What's slowly turning brown while trying to smash the window in?

A baby in a microwave


What do you call a smart blonde?

A golden retriever
 
Why should you always be worried when seeing a Scottish doctor for possible breast cancer?
Because even if he says "Ah denno, mah eyes Acini see anything wrong wit these!" you're still screwed.
 
A catholic priest and a rabbi are walking down the street when they see a 5 year old boy bend over to pick something up. I'd like to screw that says the priest. Out of what asks the rabbi.
 
What did the lesbian vampire say to the other lesbian vampire?

See you next month.


Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar. One says, "I think I've lost an electron."

The other says, "Are you sure?"

The first says, "Yes, I'm positive..."


So, a neutron walks into a bar. "I'd like a beer" he says.

The bartender promptly serves up a beer. "How much will that be?" asks the neutron.

"For you?" replies the bartender, "no charge."
 
If you ask a dog "Hey what's up?" it's gonna say "RooF!"
 
Three blokes walk into a pub. One of them's a little bit stupid, and the whole scene unfolds with a tedious inevitability.
 
Two cartons of yogurt walk into a bar. The bartender, a tub of cottage cheese, says to them, "We don't serve your kind in here."
One of the yogurt cartons says back to him, "Why not? We're cultured individuals."

A man walked into a bar and sat down, and ordered a beer. As he sipped the beer, he heard a soothing voice say "nice tie!" Looking around, he noticed that the bar was empty except for himself and the bartender at the end of the bar. A few sips later the voice said "beautiful shirt".
At this, the man called the bartender over. "Hey...I must be losing my mind," he told the bartender. "I keep hearing these voices saying nice things, and there's not a soul in here but us."
"It's the peanuts," answered the bartender.
"Say what?"
"You heard me," said the barkeep. "It's the peanuts ... they're complimentary."

This mushroom walks into a bar and starts hitting on this woman... She, of course, turns him down.
Not willing, to give up, he pleads with her... "C'mon lady, I'm a fun guy..."

Two peanuts walked into a bar, and ... one was a-salted...

A termite walks into a bar and says, "Is the bar tender here?"
 
What happened to the kid who walked out in front of a bus?

He died.
 
Here's one I made earlier.

Darkside55 said:
So these two girls are sunbathing on some train tracks...
Click to expand...

...and fall asleep, with their necks across one rail and their feet across the other rail - they are uncommonly tall girls, or it is a narrow-gauge railway, I forget which. Anyway, their necks are across one of the rails and as they lie there in the sun, very little on, sunbathing you know, and in case you are wondering the one of them was sixteen and the other fifteen going on the number aforementioned, both of them about now reaching the age, or in the case of one of them, who was more precocious than the other, having reached the age somewhat earlier, in an series of incidents that culminated in a brief but very educational encounter in the back seat of a '98 Ford Escort - consequently she had already reached the point, as her friend had reached more recently, where a young girl realises the effect that her wearing a bikini tends to have on observers of the opposite sex (or the same sex, appropriately inclined). Now, these two young flowers were lying there across the tracks in their bikinis, in the hot sun, it being a summers day of the very hottest and loveliest type, where the very colour and tenor of the world seems improved, and such was the day that the heat began to have a soporific effect on them. They started to doze off. Easy thing to do - I'm sure many of you gentlemen there have done it many a time before, although perhaps not while lying across train tracks. I hear train tracks get very hot when it's sunny, and I imagine it would be quite painful. Searing and all that. Look like a human chargrill wouldn't you. In any case the girls were heedless of this danger, just as they were entirely ignorant to a much greater danger that to all of you and certainly to me should be very obvious indeed but to them was evidently not as obvious as it should have been - a danger even now bearing down on them.

Now it just so happened that a man was walking along the side of the tracks at this time. He was walking his dog along the side of the tracks. I'm not sure about the details of the dog, as they are mostly irrelevant to the passage of this joke, and so I will elaborate no further upon it, rather preferring to focus my powers of description upon the man, who was tall, lean, dark, not very handsome. Had a big nose and quite a mop of hair on him - one might have called him uncouth, or even shaggy, if the latter word did not bring about uncomfortable echoes of a certain children's television programme that I am sure many of you remember fondly. So, this bloke was walking down the side of the tracks and he saw the two young ladies lying there across the tracks. There they were, stretched out over the rails, just beginning to blossom into fine adulthood, and wearing clothes explicitly designed to show the fact off. Now the man stood there for a while, contemplating the two girls. His mind was divided between the danger of their position, and the pleasantness of simply remaining where he was, watching them. It wasn't that he was a particularly unsavoury man; although he had it in his mind to tie both girls to the tracks, cut the straps of their garments with the knife that he habitually carried and rape them both in turn, as many times as he felt he would like to, beating them bruised and bloody the while, and afterwards to take his knife to their cunts and fuck them with it, subsequantly (as they screamed shrilly) excising their clits and making an incision from the top of their cunts up through their bellies, between their breasts, and up to their throats - slitting them open like fish - but he fought down this thought. Sometimes such visions and dark impulses rose unbidden in his mind and he was always disgusted by their vivacity, and their perversity. In fact in all his life he had never laid a harmful hand on a woman. He had caused emotional pain, of course. Every person in this world has caused someone else emotional pain - but few do it deliberately, and if he had done, only rarely, and not unless he felt it was deserved. As said, he quelled the impulse. Instead, he resolved to attempt to wake them up and warn them that they were doing a very dangerous thing, as any old vagabond who was not as in control of his dark self as he was might at any moment happen along and decide to do what he was so consummately preventing himself from doing.

He shook their shoulders. He shouted at them too, and slapped them around the faces. He even let drop a little liquour from his hip flask upon their faces. And yet wake they did not. Sleeping beauties, oblivious to the danger they were in, and ignorant entirely of the harsh marks already being burnt onto their virgin necks and calves. That said, of the more precocious of the girls, whose past exploits I have mentioned already, it could never be said that her neck was 'virgin', having bore in the past perhaps too many for her age of what would charitably be described as 'love-bites' and what would uncharitably, and more truthfully, be described as the strange and fairly frightening kinks of a 23-year old goth whom the precocious girl was merely a prop for his twisted vampiric fantasies, in which he imagined himself as a modern blood-sucker of the Anne Rice variety, preying on drunk and gormlessly willing victims with alabaster skin and ebony hair (the girl, at the time, fulfilled these preliminary requirements in all but one respect - she was not drunk, but she had earlier consumed nasally a substantial quantity of Methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine, or MDMA). This quirk of description, however, should, it is hoped, be accepted as narrative caprice, or what is commonly called 'artistic license'. Accordingly the story will continue without pause for apology. Art gives no apology, nor asks forgiveness. Now, however much the man tried he could not wake up either of the two girls, and presently he began to try various alternative - that is to say esoteric - methods. Methods not to be anticipated by any reasonable person. The heat was making him a little light-headed, and so he conceived plans such as which a 'reasonable person' would be unlikely to think very effective. First he barked like a dog. Then he sang and danced. Eventually he tried telling them jokes.

Many jokes he told them, most of which you will have heard before. Some of them were funny and some of them were not, but none of them succeeded in waking the two sleeping girls. After exhausting almost his entire repetoir, he told one of his favourite jokes, which was so high in his affections that he had decided to save it till nearly last. It went like this:

So there's these three nuns, right, an english nun, an irish nun and a french nun. The three nuns was entering confession and the priest was like listening to them confessing their sins. The first nun was the english nun and she came up to the confession booth and she's all like "forgive me father, I've sinned, I've had bad thoughts about men" and the priest, fairly bored of such tales by now, says "say ten hail marys and drink from the chalice of holy water, and you are forgiven, child." The next nun comes along, the irish nun, and she sits in the confession booth, and after a slight hesitation she manages to say: "forgive me father, for I have sinned, I've fornicated", and the priest tells her "say forty hail marys and drink from the chalice of holy water, and child, you shall be absolved." Now the third nun comes up, the french nun - got an accent inshe, but I ain't gonna do it - she comes into the booth and says "forgive me father, for I have sinned - " and hesitates. "Yes?" says the priest. "Well..." the french nun continues, "when I lived out in Cowley I used to get the number 59 bus to the convent every morning, and every morning on the number 59 bus there would also be a - how do you say - a hippy, riding on the bus with me. And every morning he would be casting his wanton eyes upon me. One day he struck up the courage to ask me if I would accompany him to - what is it? a pub, yes. And I said no, of course I said no. I was repulsed. And yet - there was - well. Afterwards he began talking to the bus driver. "Cor, that nun, eh?" he said. "Fit as." The bus driver waggled his eyebrows, and said "I know what to do. Listen 'ere. Every night at 10pm that nun goes down the graveyard and prays to jesus. Now if you were to appear unto her, dressed as the good lord, why, she'd do anyfink you told 'er too." "Cracking good idea that," said the hippy.

That night I was praying in the graveyard to Our Most Heavenly Father, as is my custom, and suddenly there was a sounding of trumpets, such as I did not expect to hear until the end days - and out from behind the largest gravestone there came a man in a white robe, a halo dancing around his head, and I had no doubt that it was the Lord Our Jesus Christ come to me at last. "I am the Resurrection* and I am the Light! he said. "You have been chosen. I must enter you." Mon pere, as you can imagine, this made me unsure, but such is my faith in god that I accepted his request. I told him I had one condition - he was to enter me from behind, so that I could preserve my virginity. And so he did enter me, there in that graveyard.

*see last ish - ed

After we were finished, a most horrible thing happened. He threw off his robe, and said 'I'm the hippy!'

My world crumbled around me. I was sent reeling into a state of shock. I could not see or hear, and i remember nothing - nothing at all - until I find myself at home, clutching a glass of gin, and the bottle that was full the day before now half empty, mon pere, my god! I felt entirely numb, and yet I could still - could still feel the pain in my - my - well, you know. I could still feel it.

Initially, as I said, I was numb. I felt nothing. I did not attend convent for some time. You see, I was in shock. When people spoke to me I did not respond, for I did not seem to hear them - I forgot small details of my life. How to operate the television, and to turn off the stove when I had finished cooking. I forgot the telephone numbers of friends and the addresses of my mother. And my thoughts, mon pere, felt simply shattered - I could not collect them, and yet I felt so calm.

And then I began to realise - it hit me - like a bomb - what had been done to me in what I thought was the name of God. At first, I blamed myself. Later I was told by a psychologist - Brother Benton, you know him - that this is a stage common to women who have been - who have - " the french nun could not continue, and paused for a minute. The priest was silent. The nun continued, remembering with pain that period of her life which had been awful to her. "I am so sorry, mon pere. I - it is as I say. I felt that something wrong with me, some wrong act, must have been at fault for what had happened to me. It was I who was to blame, you see? Somehow I had faltered on the path into heaven, somehow been sinful and self-deceiving and carried a guilty conscience, and so I deserved - I deserved - it.

The world seemed altogether too large. Crowds I could not tolerate. Though the stage of numbness passed, the anxiety continued - I was afraid all the time, mon pere, afraid for my life, for myself, for my - yes, and the dreams, they were terrible. I remember how I would fall asleep and wake up to see a dark figure over my bed - how I screamed and screamed. And yet at some point which even now I cannot remember when it was, I stopped blaming myself, and - the - the - the - it was no longer the central point of my life.

Although my life began to return to its normal state, my mind - ah! yet did not. I had stopped blaming my self, yes, for who had been more attentive to God, more diligent in their prayers, more pure of mind and heart and soul than I? Few I could think of - there was never anything I had done to incur the wrath of God. I put aside such thoughts, as one must put aside all such thoughts...all such doubts that one has. And yet, worse, the - he had appeared to me in the shape of our lord, and although I knew him now for a deceiver, it was nonetheless true that the robes and the halo, unfortunately true to the classical depiction of our saviour, had become irrevocably associated in my mind with the figure of the - the devil that had come upon me that night. I could not see the paintings nor hear the words of Jesus without a little shadow and a shudder of the fear I had felt before...

It was this constant reminder of the horror in my life that would not allow me to entirely dismiss my doubts. The - it - had shattered not only my anus but my thoughts, my peace of mind and, I feared, my faith. Yes, it had distorted my very connection to God. I could not help asking myself what kind of God would permit such a thing to happen to a poor lamb of the Lord who had done nothing - nothing, mon pere! - to invite the wrath of heaven, nor any act deserving of such harsh punishment.

And further, I began to realise that although no blame could be lost by the vile hippy who had done this to me, although not a thing in the world could make him any less culpable for the act he had committed, I realised that I had myself contributed - that, without decreasing the awfulness of what he had done, I had helped it to happen. In my bright faith in the heavens I never suspected, nor had a single inkling, that it was not really Our Lord who had in that graveyard appeared to me. I had absolute faith that it was He. I was certain. My faith, it was so strong, I was willing to cloud my own eyes - his halo was cooking foil, mon pere! And yet I thought, really believed, that I gazed with rapturous eyes upon the shining face of the Creator.

It dawned upon me at that time, mon pere, that it was not enough to believe blindly. I could not be the only one in the world who was harmed through not thinking hard enough. And slowly I began to wonder, thinking of the hippy and his disguise, what had been done to me - I began to wonder - what else has been done that wears the mask of God? What else has been done falsely in his name?"
Click to expand...
 
It's in two parts.

Silence prevailed, as the shaggy man sat; his joke was over. All through the tale the two ladies had been as silent as the grave. They had not stirred one bit. The man looked out across the train track, into the distance where it vanished into a tunnel, and looked the other way too, where it stretched off into the afternoon haze. He did not feel like telling jokes any longer.

But it was then that, slowly, the girls began to awaken. First the man saw fingers twitch, and eyelids shiver. Their faces shining in the sunlight, they woke up there on the train tracks, and blinked their sleepy eyes.

The younger and less precocious girl saw the man first. She let out a tiny scream, then closed her mouth, staring up at him. Her cry woke the other girl fully, who also looked up in surprise at the shaggy man.

The man himself realised he must look quite imposing silhouetted as he was against the light of the sun - not to mention his unkempt appearance - and he made quickly to reassure the girls that his intentions (if not his desires) were sound.

"Aw, sorry, girls, I didn't mean ter frighten you, I'm so sorry - " he blurted out.

The younger of the two girls stayed silent, gazing up at him in mute suspicion and not a little fear, but the older of the two, the more precocious, of exploits aforementioned, quickly regained her compositure. "Hello," she said, eyeing him, and yet somehow managing to inject into that simple single word the undeniable impression that she was very happy to see the listener, and should very much like to see more of him.

The man was not completely lacking in social graces and recognised this tone at once. Deciding to take an ironic approach, he asked "what are nice girls like you doing on a freight line like this?"

"I could ask you the same question," responded the precocious girl, somewhat coquettishly.

"Me? Oh, I was cruising for chicks."

"It looks as if you've found some."

"So I have. What's your name?"

"Ruth."

"I'm Doug," the man replied. “Though sometimes my friends call me Terry.”

“Why do they do that?”

“Short for terrier." This was the truth.

“That's a weird nickname." That was also the truth. "How did you get it?"

"I'm always chasing after people - women," grinned Doug. The girl laughed, although her companion remained schtum. "Actually," Doug continued, "I was also looking for the freight office."

"Really? How dull. Why?"

"Well, I have a load I need to shift." The tone of Doug's voice made his implication quiet obvious.

The girl bit her lip. "And you were looking for somewhere to store it."

"Yes. Only I was having trouble finding a place that was...accomodating."

"Big, is it?" A seductive flash of teeth.

"Huge."

"Oh my."

Doug knew the time had come to make the proposal. "I don't suppose you could help me?"

"Sorry," said the girl, grinning up at him. "I don't want to be a shaggy Doug storee."
 
How many babies does it take to paint the side of a house?
None, babies can't paint.
 
Sulkdodds said:
It's in two parts.

Silence prevailed, as the shaggy man sat; his joke was over. All through the tale the two ladies had been as silent as the grave. They had not stirred one bit. The man looked out across the train track, into the distance where it vanished into a tunnel, and looked the other way too, where it stretched off into the afternoon haze. He did not feel like telling jokes any longer.

But it was then that, slowly, the girls began to awaken. First the man saw fingers twitch, and eyelids shiver. Their faces shining in the sunlight, they woke up there on the train tracks, and blinked their sleepy eyes.

The younger and less precocious girl saw the man first. She let out a tiny scream, then closed her mouth, staring up at him. Her cry woke the other girl fully, who also looked up in surprise at the shaggy man.

The man himself realised he must look quite imposing silhouetted as he was against the light of the sun - not to mention his unkempt appearance - and he made quickly to reassure the girls that his intentions (if not his desires) were sound.

"Aw, sorry, girls, I didn't mean ter frighten you, I'm so sorry - " he blurted out.

The younger of the two girls stayed silent, gazing up at him in mute suspicion and not a little fear, but the older of the two, the more precocious, of exploits aforementioned, quickly regained her compositure. "Hello," she said, eyeing him, and yet somehow managing to inject into that simple single word the undeniable impression that she was very happy to see the listener, and should very much like to see more of him.

The man was not completely lacking in social graces and recognised this tone at once. Deciding to take an ironic approach, he asked "what are nice girls like you doing on a freight line like this?"

"I could ask you the same question," responded the precocious girl, somewhat coquettishly.

"Me? Oh, I was cruising for chicks."

"It looks as if you've found some."

"So I have. What's your name?"

"Ruth."

"I'm Doug," the man replied. “Though sometimes my friends call me Terry.”

“Why do they do that?”

“Short for terrier." This was the truth.

“That's a weird nickname." That was also the truth. "How did you get it?"

"I'm always chasing after people - women," grinned Doug. The girl laughed, although her companion remained schtum. "Actually," Doug continued, "I was also looking for the freight office."

"Really? How dull. Why?"

"Well, I have a load I need to shift." The tone of Doug's voice made his implication quiet obvious.

The girl bit her lip. "And you were looking for somewhere to store it."

"Yes. Only I was having trouble finding a place that was...accomodating."

"Big, is it?" A seductive flash of teeth.

"Huge."

"Oh my."

Doug knew the time had come to make the proposal. "I don't suppose you could help me?"

"Sorry," said the girl, grinning up at him. "I don't want to be a shaggy Doug storee."
Click to expand...

Thats quite an imagination you got yourself there. Awesome joke. :)
 
dekstar said:
How many babies does it take to paint the side of a house?
None, babies can't paint.
Click to expand...

Oh, I see what you did there.

I was expecting dead babby joke. :3
 
Brit: Name two states in America that begin with the letter P
Yank: Pennselvania and errr.....

Brit: Pearl Harbour
Yank: Pearl Harbour aint no state!

Brit: It was a ****in state when the japs left it
 
How do you make a hanky dance?

Put a little boogie in it! har har!
 
So a man walks into a bar. The bartender sees this and asks, "What is this, a joke?"
 
A man asks a priest "How do you make holy water?" The priest replies "Boil the hell out of it."
 
What do you get when you have a bucket of shit, but then remove the bucket?



















******S

Its not racist, my BLACK FRIEND told me this one, so stfu.
 
I think if you have to qualify something with "I'm not racist, my BLACK FRIEND told me this one" then it's probably just not a great joke anyway.
 
What's the difference between a black person and a hard drive?

The hard drive can read and write.

It's not racist because I don't actually feel that way about black people!
 
If Whites and blacks had a war, what would it be called?
KKK vs KFC!

Why is February the shortest month?
Because it's black history month!

What does obamas CHANGE mean?
Come Help A ****** Get Elected

Everyone should stop being racist . . racism should be a crime, and crime is for blacks!



Eat it
 
Whats the difference between a black guy telling racist jokes and a white guy telling racist jokes?

The white guy has to have a disclaimer.
 
Stigmata said:
What's the difference between a black person and a hard drive?

The hard drive can read and write.

It's not racist because I don't actually feel that way about black people!
Click to expand...

Read/Write error
 
Krynn72 said:
Whats the difference between a black guy telling racist jokes and a white guy telling racist jokes?

The white guy has to have a disclaimer.
Click to expand...

Ha, that one is so true.
 
How about no racist jokes, becuase, you know, they're racist...
 
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