A snail walks into a car dealership. The car salesman greets the snail politely and asks what he’s looking for. The snail says that he just wants a really fast car and the salesman shows him the ones with a high max speed…
He slaps the roof of one and says, "This is the last one that’s built for speed."
The snail says, “This is perfect, but there’s one thing I want you to do first.”
The car salesman was confused. “What?”
The snail said, “I want you to paint a big red S on it.”
The car salesman was even more confused. “Why?”
Chuckling, the snail said, “So when people see me driving, they would say, ‘look at that S car go!’”
Because their horns don’t work. (I can’t imagine this isn’t a repost, so delete if need be)
They lied, everyone else has clothes on
The entire monastery is devoted to the task, each day they all wake up and say their prayers before a humble breakfast and then they begin work. On the anniversary of creating his thousandth copy of the bible since he first joined the monastery two decades ago, brother Gray asks the abbot if he could go and make his next copy using the original in the vault as reference material. Since they've just been making copies of a copy for centuries and given his dedication to the process and his work so far the abbot agrees and brother Gray descends into the vault where he is given access to the only existing and oldest copy of the bible they have. Days pass, none of the other monks are particularly concerned as brother Gray was known to be a perfectionist and was recognized among them as one of the best in his craft. After another week though they become anxious as nobody had really seen him since his descent into the vault, as such the abbot takes it upon himself to check up on him. As he nears the vault he hears a gutteral sobbing, relentless and distraught. The abbot pushes open the door to the vault to find brother Gray lying face down in a heap on the floor, pages of the bible scattered all around. He rushes to his side. "Brother, whatever is the matter? We've been so worried about you. What's wrong?". Brother Gray pushes himself upright, wipes away the tears from his eyes and grabs the abbot by the collar. "The word was 'Celebrate'"
A guy says he taught his dog Morse code. “Aye right Show me.” Mate says. Guy turns to dog and asks “who’s been a good boy then?” Dog uses paw on ground. Tap tap pause tap long pause tap pause tap pause tap long pause tap pause tap pause tap long pause tap tap tap pause tap. “what he say?” Mate asks
"woof" guy replies
Ralph came home drunk one night, slid into bed beside his sleeping wife, and fell into a deep slumber…
He awoke before the Pearly Gates where saint Peter said,"You died in your sleep Ralph." Ralph was stunned. "I'm dead?No I can't be! I've got too much to live for. Send me back! "St Peter said," I'm sorry, but there's only one way you can go back, and that is as a chicken." Ralph was devastated, but begs St Peter to send him to a farm near his home. The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking, and pecking the ground. A rooster strolled past."So you're the new hen, huh? How's your first day here?" "Not bad,"replied Ralph the Hen,but I have this strange feeling inside, like I'm going to explode." "You're ovulating, explained the rooster.Don't tell me you've never laid an egg before." "Never,"said Ralph. "Well just relax and let it happen," says the rooster" It's no big deal." Ralph did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg! Ralph was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg – his Joy was overwhelming. As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head, and heard his wife yell…"RALPH WAKE UP. YOU SHIT THE BED!"
Bob came home drunk one night, slid into bed beside his sleeping wife, and fell into a deep slumber. He awoke before the Pearly Gates, where St. Peter said, ‘You died in your sleep, Bob….’ Bob was stunned. ‘I’m dead? No, I can’t be! I’ve got too much to live for. Send me back!’
St. Peter said, 'I'm sorry, but there's only one way you can go back, and that is as a chicken.' Bob was devastated, but begged St. Peter to send him to a farm near his home…. The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking, and pecking the ground. A rooster strolled past. 'So, you're the new hen, huh? How's your first day here?' 'Not bad,' replied Bob the hen, 'but I have this strange feeling inside. Like I'm gonna explode!' 'You're ovulating,' explained the rooster. Don't tell me you've never laid an egg before? ' 'Never,' said Bob. 'Well, just relax and let it happen,' says the rooster. 'It's no big deal.' Bob did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg! Bob was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg — his joy was overwhelming. As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head, and heard his wife yell….. 'BOB, wake up……. You've shit the bed!
I wonder if it can still be used to a certain degree.
My girlfriend dressed up as a policewoman and told me I was under arrest on suspicion of being good in bed.
After 2 minutes all charges were dropped due to a lack of evidence
Priest: “What have you done my child?” Girl: “I called a man a son of a bitch.” Priest: “Why did you call him a son of a bitch?” Girl: “Because he touched my hand.” Priest: “Like this?” (as he touches her hand) Girl: “Yes father.” Priest: “That’s no reason to call a man a son of a bitch.” Girl: “Then he touched my breast.” Priest: “Like this?” (as he touched her breast) Girl: “Yes father.” Priest: “That’s no reason to call him a son of a bitch.” Girl: “Then he took off my clothes, father.” Priest: “Like this?” (as he takes off her clothes) Girl: “Yes father. Priest: “That’s no reason to call him a son of a bitch.” Girl: “Then he stuck his you know what into my you know where.” Priest: “Like this?” (as he stuck his you know what into her you know where) Girl: “YES FATHER, YES FATHER, YES FATHER!!!” Priest: (after a few minutes): “That’s no reason to call him a son of a bitch.” Girl: “But father he had AIDS!” Priest: “THAT SON OF A BITCH!!!”
“I never knew my real ladder.”
No text found
denim denim denim
It's the last time I sleep on the train with my mouth open
is anything okay?
That’s why we also call them the Infantry.
One of them rubs it, and a mystical blue genie flies out of it! "Hello! I am genie! Since there are 3 of you, you each get 1 wish! "I wish for a large piece of meat!" The first dinosaur said. And so a large slab of meat materialized before his eyes and plopped down in front of him! "I wish for a meat shower!" The second dinosaur said. And so the genie made all different sorts of meats from different animals rain from a small cloud above the dinosaur's head. Not wanting to be outdone by his friends the third dinosaur quickly tries to think of something better. "I wish for a meatier shower!"
The United States of America.
On the right palm, on the forehead, on the left palm, and on the abdomen. The first victim is discovered in the Florida Everglades. 0, 8, 2 on his hands and forehead. 5 on his abdomen. “We believe the numbers may be significant,” a uniformed man reads from a prepared statement to the press, “but we cannot say for sure at this time.” Detective Pierce has seen more faces of death than any man should ever have to endure, but this case—this seems different, somehow. Another victim is discovered in the marshes of Louisiana soon after. 0, 8, 0 on her hands and forehead. 19 on her abdomen. Are they connected? Law enforcement in Louisiana contact the agency in Florida. Criminal psychologists and cipher experts are called in to decode the strange numerical messages. Nothing yet. There isn’t enough data. Detective Pierce knows, if there is a deeper meaning, it will only surface with more bodies. To solve the murder, more must be committed. A cruel irony. A third victim emerges, and a macabre certainty is apparent—a serial killer. 0, 6, 9; 2 “What could it mean?” Detective Pierce ponders over a table littered with dozens of photographs. The psychological stress begins to weigh on him. He first began the investigation into the mysterious number killings, and he now makes it his mission to discover the secret of these symbols and put an end to this evil. More victims. 0, 7, 1; 6 0, 6, 5; 10 0, 7, 8; 8 0, 7, 3; 12 0, 6, 9; 4 0, 7, 8; 9 “069 repeats!” the authorities notice after the ninth victim is discovered. “It’s certainly a code!” “And here! The victims with 8 and 9 on the abdomen have identical numbers on the hands and forehead too: both 0, 7, 8.” Detective Pierce broods over this information. He locks himself away with the numbers, poring through literature about ciphers and codes. He devises complex algorithms to analyze the data, looking for patterns. Pierce has always put work before his family. His colleagues will all tell you that. But the domestic strain from the number killings is pushing his relationships to the brink of collapse. Another body in Florida. 0, 8, 5; 17 Pierce is on the scene, crouching over the Number Killer’s latest conquest, examining the slapdash 17 scrawled unceremoniously on the abdomen. “Detective Pierce.” A voice from behind him. Pierce stands and peels the purple nitrile gloves from his hands and glowers at the intruder on his crime scene. “Agent Rickson. Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my crime scene now, sir. I’ll need a full briefing.” “The hell it is!” Pierce snaps back. “I’ve been working these killings from day one! You think you can just come in here with your federal mandate and expect me to catch you up on all the work my people have done?!” Agent Rickson hands Pierce a bound legal envelope. “You’ve been relieved.” “This isn’t over. You’re gambling with people’s lives…sir.” Detective Pierce practically spits the final word at the agent’s feet before snatching the envelope and rushing off the scene. Over the next two weeks, eight more victims. Pierce’s anxiety has left him unable to leave his office. He hasn’t been home in three days. Though he’s officially off the case, he’s still haunted by the numbers and mounting body count. His work has suffered to the point that his superiors have issued reprimands. At his wits’ end, Detective Pierce pulls officer Malloy into his office. Malloy is a rookie who’s eager to please and has a knack for numbers. “I need you on special assignment, rookie.” Pierce is looking pensively out his office window when Malloy enters. “Special assignment, sir?” “Secret, special assignment, Malloy.” He turns and places a sealed envelope on the table. “I need you to collect everything we have on the Number Killings. Meet me at the address enclosed here. Tomorrow night. Midnight. Tell no one.” “But sir, I thought you had been reliev-” “Dammit, rookie! Do you want more people to die?! We need to figure out this nonsense now or we’re going to end up with dead bodies in triple digits, son!” Malloy reluctantly agrees. He smuggles boxes of files and pictures out of the precinct late the next night and meets Pierce at an abandoned warehouse to go over the information. For hours, the two sit at opposite tables, running numbers, delving into research, and analyzing the evidence, late into the early hours of the morning. With a sudden energetic vigor, Malloy springs from his chair and cries out, “ASCII!” Startled out of his analytic trance, Pierce inquires, “What did you say, Malloy?” “ASCII! It’s a computer language that uses numbers to represent letters! Look!” Malloy pulls up a reference sheet and begins arranging numbers on Pierce’s desk. “If we take the abdomen numbers as the order, and the palm and foreheadnumbers as the code for the letter…” “Malloy, you’re a genius!” Working furiously, Pierce and Malloy clear a space on the dusty warehouse floor to lay out the pictures in sequence: Abdomens: 6, 12, 17… G, I, U… 4, 9, 11… E, N, G… In minutes, the men have spread 76 photos over a 10 foot square of the warehouse floor and scratched nervous letters on ripped sheets of notebook paper under each group corresponding to the symbol. As they finish, Malloy stands back to survey the message. “No…” All blood drains from his face. His legs go weak, and he collapses onto his knees. “It can’t…It just…It can’t! Detective Pierce is wide-eyed next to Malloy’s broken form, mouth agape. A sound from the warehouse wall rattles the building as a dozen federal agents storm the facility. “Mother of God…” Pierce doesn’t even notice the agents. His unbroken stare is consumed by the message on the dusty warehouse floor. Agent Rickson grabs hold of Detective Pierce. “You’re under arrest for interfering with a federal investigation and tampering with evidence.” Malloy sheepishly confesses. “I told them everything! I told them you wanted me to take the evidence. It was a setup. I was worried about you. I’m sorry! But I never thought…oh God! What can we do?!” Pierce is handcuffed, and as he is dragged backward from the grotesque mosaic of death, he laughs in spite of himself, “You monster…” As he comes back to his senses, Pierce begins tearing at the agents pulling him away. He lets out a shrill, animalistic shriek… “YOU MONSTER!!” The other agents crowd around the space on the floor that has itself become a crime scene, and in an eerie silence, they collectively ponder the ethereal message left by the elusive Numbers Killer: “NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP” EDIT (TLDR): Thanks for the support, and also some people are asking for a tldr because (obviously) it's really long. Here's a video to basically sum it up. Have a nice day. Also, thank you /u/about_tyme for ASCII number edits.
But I think it's just a big waist of space. Edit: Sorry for the bad pun, but you gotta give it at least 3 stars.
Because when she reaches 69 she gets a frog in her throat.
One night, a viking named Rudolf the Red was looking out the window when he said, “it’s going to rain”
His wife asked, "how do you know?“ "Because Rudolf the Red knows rain, dear"
Incase they have to Draw blood.
I do it so I can say “I go to the Jim first thing every morning.”
I thought my son was spending way too much time playing computer games, so I stopped him and said, “Son, when Abe Lincoln was your age, he was studying books by the light of the fireplace.”
He considered that for a moment before replying, "Yeah, well, when Abe Lincoln was your age, he was The President of the United States."
Water because butane is a lighter fluid.
There could be salad dressing in there.
Because they lactose.
The Chinese refuse to acknowledge Ty won.
She denies it, but I’m sticking to my guns.
For a man, it’s tulips on an organ.
Hey all you cool cats and kittens,Since half of the shit y’all like to submit is absolute garbage that doesn’t fit this subreddit whatsoever, this subreddit is now approval only. That means your post will not show up in new no matter how many times you resubmit it. As well, we’ve added a neat little reminder when you post here. I’ve pasted it below for your convenience.If your post is not a cartoon, please head down to /r/terriblefacebookmemes. If your post is wholesome or actually funny, try /r/goodboomerhumor. If the art is decent, it probably should go in /r/im14andthisisdeep. If your post is a political cartoon, it will be removed. If your post is the fucking hair dryer cartoon, you will be shot on sight.As well, I’d also like to remind everyone that cartoons that are just about the coronavirus/lockdown/quarantine/social distancing do not a boomer post make. Most of these posts are just observational humor and not making a stupid joke. Examples of jokes that would fit are things like “I’m locked up with my family and I hate them”, “I wish I were at work because technology is the worst”, “the virus isn’t that bad, kids these days are just sensitive.”That’s all folks!
“Because I want to date you.”