How 9NEWS gives Aussies false hope.
Knock Knock Whose there? Grandad QUICK, STOP THE CREMATION!
Talk to your lock calmly because communication is key.
Because it had its CAPS LOCK on.
Husband: Emphatic no, 5 letters. Wife: Never. Husband: Pistol, 3 letters. Wife: Gun. Husband: Disgust, 3 letters. Wife: Ugh. Husband: Charity, 4 letters. Wife: Give. Husband: Female sheep, 3 letters. Wife: Ewe. Husband: Pixar movie, 2 letters. Wife: Up.
“No idea, they just ransomware.”
She worked knights.
Well, at least that's been my experience so far.
For my black jeep…
Check out Tender!
It's a blessing in disguise.
I said, not sure I haven't met everyone yet. She was not amused.
A blonde woman visits her husband in prison Before leaving, she tells a correction officer: “You shouldn’t make my husband work like that. He’s exhausted!” officer laughs, saying: Are you kidding? He just eats and sleeps and stays in his cell!”
"Bullshit! He just told me he is been digging a tunnel for months!"
No text found
Because they're really good at it.
A blonde gets an opportunity to fly to a nearby country. She has never been on an airplane anywhere and was very excited and tense. As soon as she boarded the plane, a Boeing-747, she started jumping in excitement, running over seat to seat and starts shouting, "BOEING! BOEING!! BOEING!!! BO….." She sort of forgets where she is, even the pilot in the cock-pit hears the noise. Annoyed by the goings on, the Pilot comes out and shouts "BE SILENT!" There was pin-drop silence everywhere and everybody is looking at the blonde and the angry Pilot. She stared at the pilot in silence for a moment, concentrated really hard, and all of a sudden started shouting,"OEING! OEING! OEING! OE…."
Best dam movie I've ever seen.
Land in it when they're not looking
A couple, both age 78, went to a sex therapist's office. The doctor asked, "What can I do for you?" The man said, "Will you watch us have sex?" The doctor looked puzzled, but agreed. When the couple finished, the doctor said, "There's nothing wrong with the way you have sex," and charged them $50. This happened several weeks in a row. The couple would make an appointment, have sex with no problems, pay the doctor, then leave. Finally, the doctor asked, "Just exactly what are you trying to find out?" "We're not trying to find out anything," the husband replied. "She's married and we can't go to her house. I'm married and we can't go to my house. The Holiday Inn charges $90. The Hilton charges $108. We do it here for $50…and I get $43 back from Medicare
Waiter: What would you like to order, sir? Termite: Table for two.
I love foreign axe scents.
Debris was everywhere.
He speaks with the officer, who assigns him his post. "Go stand at the periscope entry-way, and make sure no unauthorized personnel touch the periscope." The recruit follows orders, and stands by the periscope. After 15 minutes, the officer stops by. "Son I'm changing your post to the mess hall. Go in there and start washing some dishes." The recruit obeys, and heads to the mess hall. He's cleaned about 3 dishes when the officer walks up again. "Listen here recruit, your new post is in the supply room. I need you to make sure everything is strapped down tight, in case of rough waters." The recruit again follows orders, and heads off to the supply room. There, he sees a crewman, moving some boxes. "Hey there," says the recruit. "is it normal to keep getting reassigned to new posts all day? I haven't kept one position for more than 15 minutes!" The crewman says "Oh yeah- this sub is full of reposts."
A Frenchman, and Englishman, and a Soviet are admiring a painting of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.
The Frenchman says, “They must be French, they’re naked and they’re eating fruit.” The Englishman says, “Clearly, they’re English; observe how politely the women is offering fruit to the man.” The Soviet replies, “No, they are Russian communists, of course. They have no house, nothing to wear, little to eat, and they think they are in Paradise.
No shit Sherlock
It’s a small scale operation.
And it actually worked. Clearly my-grains were the issue here.
Everybody knows Dave Dave was bragging to his boss one day, "You know, I know everyone there is to know. Just name someone, anyone, and I know them." Tired of his boasting, his boss called his bluff, "OK, Dave, how about Tom Cruise?" "No dramas boss, Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it." So Dave and his boss fly out to Hollywood and knock on Tom Cruise's door, and Tom Cruise shouts, "Dave! What's happening? Great to see you! Come on in for a beer!" Although impressed, Dave's boss is still skeptical. After they leave Cruise's house, he tells Dave that he thinks him knowing Cruise was just lucky. "No, no, just name anyone else," Dave says. "President Obama," his boss quickly retorts. "Yup," Dave says, "Old buddies, let's fly out to Washington," and off they go. At the White House, Obama spots Dave on the tour and motions him and his boss over, saying, "Dave, what a surprise, I was just on my way to a meeting, but you and your friend come on in and let's have a beer first and catch up." Well, the boss is very shaken by now but still not totally convinced. After they leave the White House grounds he expresses his doubts to Dave, who again implores him to name anyone else. "Pope Francis," his boss replies. "Sure!" says Dave. "I've known the Pope for years." So off they fly to Rome. Dave and his boss are assembled with the masses at the Vatican's St. Peter's Square when Dave says, "This will never work. I can't catch the Pope's eye among all these people. Tell you what, I know all the guards so let me just go upstairs and I'll come out on the balcony with the Pope." He disappears into the crowd headed towards the Vatican. Sure enough, half an hour later Dave emerges with the Pope on the balcony, but by the time Dave returns, he finds that his boss has had a heart attack and is surrounded by paramedics. Making his way to his boss' side, Dave asks him, "What happened?" His boss looks up and says, "It was the final straw… you and the Pope came out on to the balcony and the man next to me said, 'Who the fuck is that on the balcony with Dave?'
In the ark hives
Instead of a swear jar, I have a negativity jar. Every time I have pessimistic thoughts, I put a dollar in…
It’s currently half empty…
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.
I now live in constant fear
at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table. I asked her, "Do you know him?" "Yes", she sighed, "He's my old boyfriend. I understand he took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he hasn't been sober since." "My God!" I said, "Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"
My response; "guess it didn't work out."
He wasn’t happy
..and asks, “W-w-w-what’s y-y-your L-l-lay a-a-away p-p-policy?” The clerk behind the counter just looks at him and says nothing. The man repeats himself: “W-w-w whats y-y-your L-l-lay a-a-away p-p-policy?” Again, the clerk doesnt answer him. The guy asks several more times: “W-w-w-whats y-y-your L-l-lay a-a-away p-p-policy?” And the clerk just seems to ignore him. Finally, the guy is angry and storms off. The customer who was waiting in line behind the guy asks the clerk, “why wouldnt you answer that guy’s question?” The clerk answers, “D-d-do you th-th-th-think I w-w-w-want to get m-m-m-m-m-y ass k-k-k-icked?!!”
A United States Marine was deployed to Afghanistan. While he was there he received a "Dear John" letter from his girlfriend. In the letter she explained that she had slept with two guys while he had been gone and she wanted to break up with him. To add injury to the insult, she said she wanted back the picture of herself that she had given him. So the Marine did what any squared-away Marine would do. He went around to his buddies and collected all the unwanted photos of women he could find. In all, he got more than 25 pictures of various women (some with clothes and some without). He then mailed them to his now-former girlfriend with the following note: "I don't remember which one you are. Please remove your picture and send the rest back."
Then take the spoon out of the cup dickhead
and I never heard the end of it…
Well, three can play that game!