Comedial ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
I just started a business where we specialize in weighing tiny objects.
Itโs a small scale operation.
One day in class, the teacher brought a bag…
"Now class, I'm going to reach into the bag and describe something, and you tell what I'm talking about. Okay, first: it's round, plump and red." Of course, Johnny raised his hand high, but the teacher, wisely ignored him and picked Deborah, who promptly answered "An apple." The teacher replied, "No, it's a beet, but I like the way you think. – Now for the second. It's soft, fuzzy, and colored red and brownish." Well, Johnny is hopping up and down in his seat trying to get the teacher to call on him. But she skips him again and calls on Billy. "Is it a peach?" Billy asks. "No, I'm afraid it's a potato. But I like the way you think" the teacher replies. "Here's another: it's long, yellow, and fairly hard." By now Johnny is about to explode as he waves his hand frantically. The teacher skips him again and calls on Sally. "A banana," she says. "No," the teacher replies, "it's a squash, but I like the way you think." Johnny has had enough, so he speaks up loudly. "Hey, I've got one for you teacher; let me put my hand down my pants. Okay, I've got it: it's round, hard, and it's got a head on it." "Johnny!" she cries. "That's disgusting!" "Nope," answers Johnny, "it's a quarter… but I like the way you think!!!"
Sex with ghosts
A professor at Wayne State University in Detroit was giving a lecture on Paranormal Studies. To get a feel for his audience, he asks, "How many people here believe in ghosts?" About 90 students raise their hands. "Well, that's a good start. Out of those who believe in ghosts, do any of you think you have seen a ghost?" About 40 students raise their hands. "That's really good. I'm really glad you take this seriously. Has anyone here ever talked to a ghost?" About 15 students raise their hand. "Has anyone here ever touched a ghost?" Three students raise their hands. "That's fantastic. Now let me ask you one question further…Have any of you ever made love to a ghost?" Way in the back, Hamid raises his hand. The professor takes off his glasses and says, "Son, all the years I've been giving this lecture, no one has ever claimed to have made love to a ghost You've got to come up here and tell us about your experience." The Middle Eastern student replied with a nod and a grin, and began to make his way up to the podium. When he reached the front of the room, the professor asks, "So, Hamad, tell us what it's like to have sex with a ghost?" Hamad replied, "Shit, from way back there I thought you said Goats."
I put adderall into my Ford Fiesta
Now itโs a Ford Focus
Did you hear about the dwarf that escaped by rappelling from Alcatraz?
I would tell you, but itโs a little condescending.
I knew a mathematician who couldn’t afford lunch…
He could binomial!
I told my wife to shave her pussy
and I woke up bald
My wife told me I had a small penis, so I said it was big enough to hurt her.
โThere isnโt a woman in the world that would be hurt by that thing,โ she said. I then showed her a video of me fucking her sister.
A blonde and a redhead head into their ranch and find their bull is missing
The women plan to buy another one, but only have $500. The redhead tells the blonde, "I will go to the market and see if I can find one for under that amount. If I can, I will send you a telegram." She goes to the market and finds one for $499. Having only one dollar left, she goes to the telegraph office and finds out that it costs one dollar per word. She is stumped on how to tell the blonde to bring the truck and trailer. Finally, she tells the telegraph operator to send the word "comfortable." Skeptical, the operator asks, "How will she know to come with the trailer from just that word?" The redhead replies, "She's a blonde so she reads slow: 'Come for ta bull.'"
6 was scared of 7 because 7 8 9, but why did 7 eat 9?
Because youโre supposed to eat three squares meals a day.
My dog is really good at playing fetch
I think Iโm going to promote him to branch manager
A dad was depressed, so he went to the liquor store
He bought some whiskey, and tequila When he got home, he set them on the table His son immediately picked up both bottles The dad asks "What are you doing?!" The son responds "You were sad, so I'm lifting your spirits"
How come the stadium got hot after the game?
Because all of the fans left.
When you die, which body part dies last?
The pupils, they dilate.
I was driving home the other day, when suddenly a group of robbers jumped in and stole everything.
They were pirates of the car I be in.
My dad always told me that I am special, that I am the 1%…
Later in my life, I learned that condoms only work 99% of the time.
A man Has died, WE NEED to Pump MORE FACEBOOK into him. I don’t understand this.
https://ift.tt/35u2JYe
The other day my friend was telling me i didnt know what irony meant
Which was ironic since we were at a bus stop
As a male, if a girl gets undressed in front of you, she is either interested in you or you’re level 100 friendzoned
Or she hasn't spotted you in the tree yet.
A little boy gets on the public bus and sits right behind the bus driver.
The boy keeps repeatedly saying," If my mom was a cow and my dad was a bull, I'd be a little calf.โฆ" "If my mom was a hen and my dad was a chicken, I'd be a little chick. If my mom was a deer and my dad was a buck, I'd be a little deer. If my mom was a duck and my dad was a goose, I'd be a little duckling." The annoyed bus driver stops the bus and turns to the boy saying, "What if your mom was a drunk and you dad was a bum?" The boy responds, "Then I'd be a bus driver."
Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?
Because they are so good at it.
How do flat earthers travel the world?
on a plane.
arnold schwarzenegger was asked to update his laptop to windows 10 but he said…
…I still love vista baby.
I did Nazi that coming
Nazi Officer: "Sir, we are mining too many useless ores" Hitler rubs chin: "So mine less" Grammar Nazi busts in: "MINE FEWER" Hitler looks up: "Yes?"
What goes with the Coronavirus?
Lyme Disease
Whats the difference between Dubai and Abu Dhabi?
The people in Dubai don't like the Flintstones but the people in Abu Dhabi dooo!
Stephen King has a son named Joe.
Iโm not joking, but he is.
Why did the blind person fall into the well?
They didnโt see that well.
Won’t someone please think of tฬถhฬถeฬถ ฬถcฬถhฬถiฬถlฬถdฬถrฬถeฬถnฬถ my portfolio?
https://ift.tt/2Uf2duI
Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. PHD’s Letter From Birmingham Jail, his response to southern religious leaders accusing his protest movement of being too extremist and badly timed.
I highly suggest everyone reads the full text of the letter linked at the bottom of this post. The mod team was deliberating for days to think of what sections we should link to as an excerpt in this post, when we realized that we were just copying the entire letter at one point. Every word King writes here is powerful.You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham. But your statement, I am sorry to say, fails to express a similar concern for the conditions that brought about the demonstrations. I am sure that none of you would want to rest content with the superficial kind of social analysis that deals merely with effects and does not grapple with underlying causes. It is unfortunate that demonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is even more unfortunate that the city’s white power structure left the Negro community with no alternative.[…]My friends, I must say to you that we have not made a single gain in civil rights without determined legal and nonviolent pressure. Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily. Individuals may see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust posture; but, as Reinhold Niebuhr has reminded us, groups tend to be more immoral than individuals.We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was “well timed” in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.”We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five year old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness”–then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One may well ask: “How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?” The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.”[…]Sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its application. For instance, I have been arrested on a charge of parading without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong in having an ordinance which requires a permit for a parade. But such an ordinance becomes unjust when it is used to maintain segregation and to deny citizens the First-Amendment privilege of peaceful assembly and protest.[…]I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.[…]I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He writes: “All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth.” Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.[…]And I am further convinced that if our white brothers dismiss as “rabble rousers” and “outside agitators” those of us who employ nonviolent direct action, and if they refuse to support our nonviolent efforts, millions of Negroes will, out of frustration and despair, seek solace and security in black nationalist ideologies–a development that would inevitably lead to a frightening racial nightmare.Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The yearning for freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is what has happened to the American Negro. Something within has reminded him of his birthright of freedom, and something without has reminded him that it can be gained. Consciously or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist, and with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency toward the promised land of racial justice. If one recognizes this vital urge that has engulfed the Negro community, one should readily understand why public demonstrations are taking place. The Negro has many pent up resentments and latent frustrations, and he must release them. So let him march; let him make prayer pilgrimages to the city hall; let him go on freedom rides -and try to understand why he must do so. If his repressed emotions are not released in nonviolent ways, they will seek expression through violence; this is not a threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people: “Get rid of your discontent.” Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist. But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label.https://ift.tt/2UjhbQc /r/PoliticalHumor mod team decided that this sticky would be a much more effective support action than shutting down the subreddit or other standard Reddit protests, because honestly, those protests don’t do much.)
A teacher gave her class
of 11 year olds an assignment: To get their parent to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories. Ashley said, 'My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the car when we hit a big bump in the road and all the eggs got broken.' 'What's the morale of that story?' asked the teacher. 'Don't put all your eggs in one basket!' 'Very good,' said the teacher. Next little Sarah raised her hand and said, 'Our family are farmers too. But we raise chickens for the meat market. One day we had a dozen eggs, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks, and the moral to this story is, 'Don't count your chickens before they're hatched'.' 'That was a fine story Sarah.' Johnny, do you have a story to share?' 'Yes. My daddy told me this story about my Auntie Barbara. Auntie Barbara was a flight engineer on a plane in the Gulf War and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a bottle of whisky, a machine gun and a machete. She drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then she landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. She killed seventy of them with the machine gun until she ran out of bullets. Then she killed twenty more with the machete until the blade broke. And then she killed the last ten with her bare hands.' 'Good heavens,' said the horrified teacher, 'what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?' 'Stay the fuck away from Auntie Barbara when she's had a Drink
How does Harry Potter like to go down hills?
Walking! Jk, Rowling
Bloke goes into a pub, and the barmaid asks what he wants. “I want to bury my face in your cleavage and lick the sweat from between your tits” he says….
…."You dirty pig!" shouts the barmaid, "get out before I get my husband." The bloke apologizes and promises not to repeat his gaffe. The Barmaid accepts this and asks him again what he wants. "I want to pull your pants down, spread yoghurt between the cheeks of your ass and lick it all off." She says, "You dirty filthy pervert! You're banned. Get out!!" Again, the bloke apologizes and swears never ever to do it again. "One more chance," says the barmaid, "Now – what do you want? "I want to turn you upside down, tear your knickers off and fill your pussy with Guinness, and then drink every last drop from the hairy cup." The barmaid is furious at this personal intrusion, and runs upstairs to fetch her husband, who's sitting quietly watching the telly. "What's up love?" he asks. "There's a bloke in the bar who wants to put his head between my tits and lick the sweat off", she says. "I'll kill him. Where is he?" storms the Husband. "Then he said he wanted to pour yoghurt down between my ass cheeks and lick it off" she screams. "Right. He's dead!" says the husband, reaching for a bat. "Then he said he wanted to turn me upside down, fill my pussy with Guinness and then drink it all" she cries! The husband puts down his bat and returns to his armchair, and switches the telly back on. "Aren't you going to do something about it?" she cries hysterically. "Look love, I'm not messing with any bloke who can drink 15 pints of Guinness…"
I thought about inventing a pencil with an eraser at both ends.
But I didn't see the point.
Nothingโs better than being 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, or 97 years old
Those are the years youโre in your prime
I never shower before church.
I like to sit in my own pew. Credit to my 7 year old granddaughter.
Just so everybody’s clear,
I'm going to put my glasses on.
Why did the CEO of the underwear company cut the introductions short?
He wanted to keep things brief.
I can cut down a tree just by looking at it.
Itโs true! I saw it with my own eyes.