English Fail in Programming
I have a lot of jokes about unemployed people.
But none of them work
What did the person who got hit by lightning twice say about it?
Since it was so rare to be hit even once, he (or she, since I don't want people to get offended) was quite shocked about it all.
My wife was disappointed when she found out why my friends call me “The Love Machine”.
Because I suck at tennis.
Jussie smollet had to pay 10,000 to chicago and do community service to get his charges dropped…
I hope he isnt beating himself up over this
Wife: Honey, I’m going on a business trip to London.
….What gift do you want? . . . . . . Husband: A British girl would be nice. Wife: Okay. Wife completes her trip and returns home. Husband: So did you bring me a British girl? Wife: Yeah. Husband: Where is she? Wife: It takes nine months to unpack the gift.
How do you make a dead baby float?
2 scoops of ice cream 1 scoop of dead baby
Don’t be worried about your smartphone or TV spying on you.
Your vacuum cleaner has been gathering dirt on you for years.
I saw a bunch of guys in black leather jackets crowded around under some trees
It seemed very shady.
3 guys are on a boat with 4 cigarettes and nothing to light them with.
So they throw one cigarette overboard and the boat becomes a cigarette lighter.
Today, my son asked “Can I have a book mark?” and I burst into tears
11 years old and he still doesn't know my name is Brian.
Some guy just said he was going to attack me with the neck of a guitar.
I said “Is that a fret”
What do you call a sleeping Triceratops?
A snoozosaurus.
The other day I asked my mom how many ‘a couple’ was,
"Two or three" she said. I think I get why she and my dad got divorced now..
I can stop telling dad jokes anytime I want to!
But he really enjoys hearing them, so I don’t think I’ll quit just yet.
My marriage just ended because I didn’t open the door for my wife.
I swam for the surface instead
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.)
Why don’t blind people skydive?
It scares the shit out the dog.
In laughter the L comes first..
The rest of the letters come aughter it.
Centuries ago, on a remote island in the North Atlantic…
Vikings arrived and began a settlement with help from their Irish thralls. But they weren't alone. All manner of otherworldly beings lurked in the island's hidden corners. The Vikings called these beings vættir; the Gaels called them Aes Sídhe. Among these beings were the selkies who frolicked at outcroppings on the shore. These creatures looked like seals in the water, but they shed their hides on land to reveal beautiful human forms underneath. The Norse chieftain Valbrand saw the prettiest female selkie, whose name was Eyfridh, and decided he wanted her for himself. As Eyfridh slept on the beach at the edge of the forest, Valbrand snatched her sealskin and bundled it into a hidden bag. When she awoke, she saw that she couldn't return to the water, and she had no choice but to go home with the powerful chieftain before her. They got married and had a son, who they named Asgeir. This son grew into a strapping young lad, but he noticed that his mother was never happy. She would sit on a rock at the beach and gaze longingly toward the horizon. Asgeir wondered why she was so forlorn, not realizing that she pined for her old home. During her captivity, Eyfridh's only friend was a woman named Ginna, who regularly came down from the forest to keep Eyfridh company on the beach. Ginna was another of the island's mystical beings. From the front, she was every bit as lovely as Eyfridh. But when Ginna turned around to return to the woods, Eyfridh saw a furry tail swishing behind her and a back as hollow as a dead tree. Eyfridh decided to ask about this, and Ginna explained that she was a type of vættir called a huldra. During this conversation, Eyfridh let slip that she herself wasn't human, and that Valbrand had captured her from the sea. Ginna was horrified at this. The next day, while the chieftain was leading a raid on a nearby island, Ginna slipped into his longhouse and observed the exact nook where Valbrand had hidden the sealskin. She reported this to Eyfridh, who vanished that night and was never seen again. The boy Asgeir missed his mother from then on, but he hoped she was somewhere that she could be happier. Years later, when Asgeir was a man, he ventured through the forest and met Ginna. As a supernatural creature of the wild, the huldra had not aged a day, and she noted that Asgeir looked remarkably similar to her old friend Eyfridh. He explained that that was his mother, and asked if Ginna had any idea where Eyfridh had gone. Ginna explained that Eyfridh was a selkie who Valbrand had kidnapped and who had run away to return to her old home. Asgeir was shocked that his father would do something so cruel, but now he had context for why his mother had always been so sad. He took further comfort in knowing that she was indeed happier now. Upon returning home, Asgeir realised that he'd taken a liking to the ethereally beautiful being he'd met. But he was concerned about wooing her because he didn't want to wrench her from her home like Valbrand had done to Eyfridh. Asgeir decided to go about courting Ginna more respectfully. He brought lunch to a clearing in the woods and called Ginna over to dine with him. That date went well, so they continued their courtship every day at noon. Eventually, they'd grown comfortable enough with each other that Asgeir invited Ginna to spend the night at the chieftain's longhouse. At supper, it took all of Ginna's self-control not to throttle the ageing chieftain Valbrand for what he'd done to her friend, but she stayed her hand because killing him would give Asgeir and the other mortals too much trouble. Several years later, Asgeir and Ginna married and had a child of their own together, a daughter named Ingileif who strongly resembled her mother. Ingileif's parents never told her about her supernatural heritage. But Valbrand's thralls who cared for the girl passed down legends of the vættir and Aes Sídhe until the old chieftain died and Asgeir freed all his father's thralls. Eventually, once Ingileif had grown and Asgeir himself was beginning to age, he took his daughter to the shore and introduced her to her grandmother Eyfridh. "Hello again, Mother," Asgeir called out to the sea. "I have grown now!" A seal swam to the beach and shed its skin to reveal a human form. Looking on in amazement, Ingileif excitedly cried, "It's a selkie! The stories were true!" Having never met Ingileif before, Eyfridh initially thought she was looking at her old friend Ginna. "How do you not recognise me?…Wait a minute, you are Ginna the hollow-backed huldra, right?" Puzzled, Ingileif turned to her father and declared: "This Sídhe is bananas, I ain't no hollow back girl!"
I’ve just been banned from r/childfree.
Apparently it's not the best place to list your kids when you're trying to give them away.
What do you call a fight between an immigrant an a priest?
Alien vs. predator.
The guys who wrote the song “Maneater” started a horse-feed delivery service.
They called it "Haulin' Oats."
What do you call an unvaccinated Italian?
Marco Polio
I brought my daughter out for her first drink…
While reading an article about fathers and sons drinking together, I remembered the time I took my daughter out for her first drink. Off we went to our local bar only two blocks from the house. I got her a Guinness. She didn't like it, so I drank it. Then I got her a Killian's she didn't like that either, so I drank it. Finally, I thought she might like some Harp Lager? She didn't. I drank it. I thought maybe she'd like whiskey better than beer so we tried a Jameson's; nope! In desperation, I had her try that 25 year old Glenfiddich. The bar's finest scotch. She wouldn't even smell it. What could I do but drink it! By the time I realized she just didn't like to drink, I was so shit-faced I could hardly push her stroller back home!
How do you know if a tiger is male or female?
Throw a rock at it. If he runs it's a male. If she runs it's a female.
I was surprised when I caught my son smoking weed upstairs…
I never imagined my house would have a drug attic.
My wife hasn’t said a word to me in 6 days.
What's even better is, she thinks it's punishment.
Before going to bed, a little child asks his dad a question.
"Daddy? Do all fairy tales begin with 'once upon a time'"? The dad responds, saying "No, there are a whole series of fairy tales that begin with 'If elected, I promise…'"
Isn’t it weird when sometimes you’re thinking about someone and then they suddenly appear?
Anyway, my dad just caught me masturbating
Someone looked at me at the store today and yelled “SIX FEET!”
I said "6' 2", but good guess."
A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery.
He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, "My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?" The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a very strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, The same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks again accept him, feed him, and again fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." The man says, "All right, all right. I'm dying to know. "If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?" The monks reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles, when you find these numbers, you will become a monk." The man sets about his task. Some 54 years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says," I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth". The monks reply, "Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound". The monks lead the man to a wooden door where the head monk says, "The sound is right behind that door". The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, "Real funny. May I have the key?" The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it. Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire, And so it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst. Finally, the monks say, "This is the last key to the last door". The man is relieved to know that he has finally reached to the end. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound. But he can't tell you what it is because you're not a monk.
Every single morning I get hit by the same bike…
It's a vicious cycle…
I took my 8-year old girl to the office with me on, “Take Your Kid to Work Day.” As we were walking around the office, she starting crying and getting very cranky, so I asked what was wrong with her.
As my coworkers gathered round, she sobbed loudly, "Daddy, where are all the clowns that you said that you worked with?!"
I failed my decimals exam
But hey, at least I gave it 109.98%
At the Olympics I saw an athletic guy carrying a long stick and asked him, “Are you a pole vaulter?”
He looked surprised and said, "Nein, I am a German. But how did you know my name is Walter?"
Babies Drinking beer. So funny!!! If your baby didn’t drink beer then YOU’RE A SISSY
https://ift.tt/3cqErSG
A woman looks into the mirror and says to her husband:
"I feel fat, old and ugly, give me a compliment". The man replies: "Your eyes are still working great".