I guess my bike is screwed!
A guy takes up a new job.
On Monday he calls in and says, โI canโt come in today, Iโm sick.โ He works the rest of the week, but the following Monday he calls in and says, โI canโt come in today, Iโm sick.โ The boss asks the foreman about him and he replies, โHeโs great. He does the work of two men. We need him.โ So the next day the boss calls the guy into his office and says, โYou seem to have a problem getting to work on Mondays. Youโre a good worker and Iโd hate to fire you. Whatโs the problem? Anything we can help you with? Drugs? Alcohol?โ The guy replies, โNo I donโt drink or do drugs. But my brother-in-law drinks heavily every weekend, then beats up my sister. So every Monday morning I go over to make sure sheโs alright. She puts her head on my shoulder and cries, one thing leads to another, and the next thing you know Iโm fucking her.โ The boss says, โYou fuck your sister?โ The guy replies, โHey, I told you I was sick.โ
How do you get Trump to change a light bulb?
Tell him Obama put it in…
The U.S. Army is full of crybabies
Thatโs why we also call them the Infantry.
My daughter has reached that age where she is asking embarrassing questions about sex.
Just this morning she asked, โIs that the best you can do?โ
Haunted French Pancakes…
….really give me the crรชpes.
I went trick or treating as Gandhi and kept all of my candy in a hat
And when someone tried to take the candy from my hat i told them "My hat my candy"
Job interviewer: Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
Me: I would say my biggest weakness is listening.
An Oriental man was sitting in a restaurant in Chinatown when a Jew suddenly came up and tipped a bowl of fried rice over his head.
"That's for Pearl Harbour" , said the Jew. "But I'm Chinese", cried the man. The Jew was unrepentant. "Chinese, Siamese, Japanese, you're all the same!" At this, the Chinaman picked up his plate of sweet and sour chicken and threw it over the Jew. "That's for sinking the Titanic", shouted the Chinaman. "But the Titanic was sunk by an iceberg…" "Goldberg, greenberg, iceberg…"
What do you get when you cross Willy Wonka with stolen fizzy lifting drinks?
You get NOTHING! YOU LOSE! GOOD DAY, SIR!
Why do gorillas have big nostrils?
Because they have big fingers!
As a dentist, I only get paid for each prosthetic implant I complete…
Nothing dentured, nothing gained!
I tried to sue the airport for losing my luggage…
I lost my case
I recently visited a pickle factory
The experience was jarring.
How come no one at the kings table laughed when he farted?
Because noble gases don't cause reaction
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.)
Bro, do you want this pamphlet?
Brochure
Why shouldnโt you trust atoms?
Because they make up everything!
I just bought a movie with 3.142 stars out of 5
It was a pi rated DVD
My wife got really mad at me because I have no sense of direction.
So i packed my stuff and right.
My cousin is mute and likes to communicate via embroidery
I guess it's a version of sign language, sew to speak
My friend claims that he “accidentally” glued himself to his autobiography, but I don’t believe him.
But that's his story and he's sticking to it.
Two Ladies Talking in Heaven….
1st Woman: Hi, Wanda! 2nd Woman: Hi Sylvia! Howโd you die? 1st Woman: I froze to death! 2nd Woman: How horrible! 1st Woman: It wasnโt so bad. After I quit shaking from the cold, I began to get warm and sleepy and finally died a peaceful death. What about you? 2nd Woman: I died of a massive heart attack. I suspected that my husband was cheating, so I can home early to catch him in the act. But instead, I found him all by himself in the den watching tv. 1st Woman: So, what happened? 2nd Woman: I was so sure there was another woman there somewhere that I started running all over the house looking. I ran up into the attic and searched, and down into the basement. Then I went through every closet and checked under all the beds. I kept this up until I had looked everywhere, and I became so exhausted that I just keeled over with a heart attack and died. 1st Woman: Too bad you didnโt check in the freezer…..weโd both still be alive! My father everyone! ๐
Once a certain donkey driver turned to Khoja Nasreddin: โOh, wise one, explain one thing to me, otherwise I will lose my mind.โ
– I was given ten donkeys to drive to another city, and I hit the road. Before the road, I counted them, there were 10. I sat on a donkey and we drove off. On the way, I decided to count the donkeys again, and, to my horror, there were nine of them. Then I decided to make a halt, dismounted, and again counted my flock, there were ten again! With relief I set off again, but when I decided to count the donkeys again, there were nine again! And so every time and all the way, there are always 9 on their way, and on a halt 10. Take a look yourself, O Nasruddin, and tell me how many donkeys you see here? – Eleven.
A cowboy, who just moved to Montana from Texas, walks into a bar and orders three mugs of Bud.
He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender approaches and tells the cowboy, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time." The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Arizona, the other is in Colorado. When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I'm drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself." The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there. The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn. One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs. All the regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss." The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains. "It's just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking." โIt hasn't affected my brothers though."
What’s a bowlers favorite kind of vegetable?
A spare I guess
What are smart people called in America?
Tourists.
An Italian, a Frenchman and an Aussie were talking about screams of passion
The Italian said: "Last night I massaged my wife all over her body with the finest extra virgin olive oil, then we made passionate love and I made her scream, non stop for five minutes." The Frenchman said: "Last night I massaged my wife all over her body with special aphrodisiac oil from Provence and then we made passionate love. I made her scream for fifteen minutes straight." The Aussie said: That's nothing! Last night I massaged my wife, ya'know, all over her body with a special butter. I caressed her entire body with the butter, and then made love and I made her scream for two long hours." The Italian and Frenchman, are astonished, and asked?, "Two full hours?….. Wow! that's unbelievable. How did you do it to make her scream for two hours?" The Aussie replied, "I wiped my hands on the curtains."
Doctor: “Relax Steven, relax. Everything is gonna be alright.”
Patient: "But doctor, I am not Steven. My name is Mike." Doctor: "I know, I am Steven."
I can’t take my dog to the pond anymore because the ducks keep attacking him.
Guess that's what I get for buying a pure bread dog.
So was at a bar last night and saw this fat chick wearing a shirt that said, “Caution, I’m a maneater”. I walked up to the girl and timidly said, “Excuse me, Miss…about your shirt.”
She interrupted me before I could continue and furiously shouted, "Oh let me guess, you're here to make a comment about how I'm so fat and how I actually eat men. I can't help my weight you know. I have feelings too and your comments can really hurt." I looked at her, confused and said,"That's actually not what I was going to say at all." "Ohโฆ" she replied as a smile started to come across her face. "What were you going to say?" "That's not how you spell manatee."
I don’t often tell Dad jokes
but when I do, he laughs.