I guess this belongs here…
"Dont worry" said the docter,"Those are just contractions"
was very difficult to hear.
An antivaxer has a heart attack. He’s rushed to ER, but during the emergency surgery, his heart stops, rendering him clinically dead.
Before he knows it, he's face to face with none other than God himself, Author of the Universe, Maker of All. God smiles beatifically and says, “Don't worry. The doctors working on you are good; you'll be back in no time. But as long as you're here, do you have any questions you'd like to ask?” The antivaxer thinks and says, “I know there must be reasons, beyond our understanding, why evil is allowed to exist. But why on Earth do you allow the evil, corrupt system of vaccines to exist?!” God shakes His head, patiently. “My child,” He says, “It is not evil to be mistaken. Which is to your benefit, because in this case, the mistake is yours. Just as so many people have tried to tell you over the years, vaccines are effective and far safer than the diseases they protect against. I give you My Word on that. Now, return, with My Peace upon you.” Suddenly, the antivaxer is staring up at the ceiling of an operating room, as his heart starts beating on its own once more. By the time he's able to receive visitors, the man is desperate to talk to his antivax friends, to let them know the vital truth he brought back from the other side. He calls them all and insisted that they be there at his side the very minute he's cleared to see anyone – he has huge, huge, HUGE news for them. Finally, his friends are gathered around him, and he motions for them to gather close. “It turns out,” he starts, “the conspiracy goes a LOT higher up than we thought…”
Because he lost his patients .
A blonde, wanting to earn some money, decided to hire herself out as a odd-job man and started with a wealthy neighborhood.
She went to the front door of the first house and asked the owner if he had any jobs for her to do. "Well, you can paint my porch. How much will you charge?" The blonde said, "How about 50 dollars?" The man agreed and told her that the paint and ladders that she might need were in the garage. The man's wife, inside the house, heard the conversation and said to her husband, "Does she realize that the porch goes all the way around the house?" The man replied, "She should. She was standing on the porch." A short time later, the blonde came to the door to collect her money. "You're finished already?" he asked. "Yes," the blonde answered, "and I had paint left over, so I gave it two coats. "Impressed, the man reached in his pocket for the $50. "And by the way," the blonde added, "that's not a Porch, it's a Ferrari."
The weather just isn't suitable
It's not your typical food sauce
Cooter, Ronnie and Donnie. As they start their descent, Cooter slips, falls off the tower and is killed instantly. As the ambulance takes the body away, Ronnie says, 'Well, shucks, someone should go and tell his wife.' Donnie says, 'OK, I'm pretty good at that sensitive stuff, I'll do it.' Two hours later, he comes back carrying a case of Budweiser. Ronnie says, 'Where did you get that beer, Donnie?' 'Cooter's wife gave it to me,' 'That's unbelievable, you told the lady her husband was dead and she gave you beer?' 'Well, not exactly', Donnie says. 'When she answered the door, I said to her, "you must be Cooter's widow." ' She said, 'You must be mistaken. I'm not a widow.' Then I said, 'I'll bet you a case of Budweiser you are.' Rednecks are good at sensitive stuff.
“Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t giddy up”
She's ayyyyy sexual.
I think he has a reptile dysfunction.
Everyone was dribbling on it.
One came, one saw, and one conquered.
Nice lady, terrible surgeon.
Terrorist: "Say your last words!" Dad: "Your last words!" Terrorist: "What? ugh, you Americans. Be serious!" Dad: "Okay, I'll be Sirius. Who are you going to be?" Terrorist: "Stop. Why isn't this scaring your?" Dad: "Nothing really scares me anymore; not since I saw that monster henway." Terrorist: "What's a 'henway'"? Dad: "About a pound and a half." Terrorist: "Stop! I'm serious!" Dad: "Hi Sirius! I'm Dad
I was sad until she told me "Don't worry I'm just kidding, nothing could be father from the truth."
They were pirates of the car I be in.
“Are you still holding the ladder!?”
The bartender asks "How the hell did you do that ?"
I should be sad, but I'm knot.
An American spy is in Soviet Russia, digging up information on a powerful Russian politician. He finds him in a bar, walks in dressed in Russian attire, pretending to be Russian. Everybody in the bar looks at him, but he keeps his cool. He orders a drink and walks to the politician…
"Greetings, comrade." says the spy, but before he could finish his sentence, the Russian says, "I think you are American spy." The spy is alarmed, but being a skilled, trained, spy, he says, "That is not true! I am the proudest Soviet there is! I can sing the anthem more beautifully than any other man in the country!" He then proceeds to sing the Soviet anthem, so melodically and beautifully, that everybody in the bar cheers. "Very good, very good!" says the politician. "But I still think you are spy." The man continues to keep his cool. "I am a historian! I can tell you everything about this glorious country!" He then spends about two hours recounting the Revolution, the Great Patriotic War, about how superior to the Russia is in terms of technology compared to America and makes a great argument about how communism is beneficial to society. "Amazing! You are skilled!" says the politician. The spy smirks. "But I still think you American spy." The spy is getting frustrated, but still unfazed. He replies, "I am good drinker, a true Russian! Let us drink, and see who can come out top!" The bar turns its attention to the politician and the spy, who are now in a drinking contest. The bartender serves drink after drink of vodka. After about an hour of drinking, the politician nearly passes out, unable to hold as much liquor as the spy, to a resounding cheer amongst the bar. In the midst of the cheering, the Russian politician gets up, smiling, and in a slurred speech, repeats, "You are good, you are good… but I still think you are spy." The American spy, piss drunk, loses his skill and gives up. "Okay, you got me. I am an American. But what made you think that way, after all this time?" The Russian politician replies, "There aren't many black people in Russia."
Because it’s really time consuming.
You probably read about him, he was in all the papers.
Unfortunately, she blew it!
What if like a ladybug got all dusty and stopped flying and became a Potatoe bug?
She said it's in case she has to draw blood.
The body builder takes off his shirt and the blonde says, "What a great chest you have!" He tells her, "That's 100 lbs. of dynamite, Baby." He takes off his pants and the blonde says,' "What massive calves you have!" The body builder tells her, "That's 100 lbs. of dynamite, Baby." He then removes his underwear and the blonde goes running out of the apartment screaming in fear. The body builder puts his clothes back on and chases after her. He catches up to her and asks why she ran out of the apartment like that. The blonde replies, "I was afraid to be around all that dynamite after I saw how short the fuse was!"
"Whatever means necessary," she replied. "No it doesn't," I said.
Ever since he was a little kid, Bob always had one goal in life: to become a train conductor. Finally when he grew up, he achieved his goal and became the conductor of the Happytown train. He was so excited to conduct the train that he decided to see how fast he can go. He went faster and faster until the train derailed and killed one person. Bob was taken to trial and was found guilty of murder, sentenced to death by electric chair. Now Happytown was no normal town. They strongly believed in religion. This caused the town’s special rule: if a person survives the electric chair for fifteen minutes straight, it is considered divine intervention and they are free to go. So Bob is sent to the electric chair. The executioner offers him his final meal. Bob asks for a single banana. Then, the executioner hooks Bob up to the electric chair and turns it on. Fifteen minutes goes by and Bob is still alive and well, so he is let go. Two days later, Bob manages to get his job back as conductor for the Happytown train. Just like before, he decides to see how fast he could go. He goes faster and faster until the train derails once again, killing two people this time. He is arrested and sentenced to murder and death by the electric chair. Bob shows up to the chair and is offered his last meal by the executioner again. This time, Bob asks for two bananas. He eats the bananas and the the executioner turns on the chair. Low and behold, fifteen minutes later, Bo had not yet come even close to death. The executioner let him go and Bob went on his way. Around a week goes by and Bob manages to get his job back as the conductor (Happytown must have been really desperate for train conductors to hire him once again). Just like the last two times, Bob goes too fast and details the train, killing three people. He is arrested and sentenced to murder and death by electric chair. When Bob arrived for his execution, he asked for three bananas for his final meal, but the Executioner recognized him and was annoyed. The executioner told Bob “I’ve had enough of this. I’m not just gonna let you get by murdering people again and again, so I’m not letting you have your magic bañas that somehow keep you alive.” The executioner then attached Bob to the chair without giving him his bananas and turned the chair on. Fifteen minutes goes by and Bob is still sitting there as if nothing is going on. Astounded, the Executioner stares at Bob and goes, “How are you doing this?” Bob relies, “The bananas have nothing to do with it. I’m just a really bad conductor.”
The golfer replies, " In case I get a hole in one."
After letting out a trumpet of a fart my toddler stopped, gasped and said, “did you just hear that elephant?”
She's going too be a great dad someday.
Well maybe if it wasn't forced to have such strict requirements it would be more confident.
St. Peter awaits him. St. Peter asks who he is. The Pope: "I am the pope." St. Peter: "Who? There's no such name in my book." The Pope: "I'm the representative of God on Earth." St.Peter: "Does God have a representative? He didn't tell me …" The Pope: "But I am the leader of the Catholic Church …" St. Peter: "The Catholic church … Never heard of it … Wait, I'll check with the boss." St. Peter walks away through Heaven's Gate to talk with God. St. Peter: "There's a dude standing outside who claims he's your representative on earth." God: "I don't have a representative on earth, not that I know of … Wait, I'll ask Jesus." (yells for Jesus) Jesus: "Yes Dad, what's up?" God and St. Peter explain the situation. Jesus: "Wait, I'll go outside and have a little chat with that fellow." Ten minutes pass and Jesus reenters the room Jeffery Epstien didn't kill himself laughing out loud. After a few minutes St. Peter asks Jesus why he's laughing. Jesus: "Remember that fishing club I've started 2000 years ago? It still exists!"
He ate his soup before it was cool.
They both end with a check mate
Don’t know if this one is in here yet, but here goes: Trump is visiting a class in an elementary school where they are talking about words and meanings. The teacher asks Trump if he would like to lead the class in a discussion of the word “tragedy”. (No, not the punch line yet) So he asks the class for an example of a tragedy. One little boy stands up and offers, “if my best friend who lives on a farm is playing in a field and a runaway tractor comes along and knocks him dead, that’d be a tragedy.” “Not quite”, says Mr. Trump, “that would be an accident.” A little girl raises her hand: “if a school bus carrying 50 children drove over a cliff, killing everyone inside, that would be a tragedy.” “I’m afraid not,” explained the president. “That’s what we would call a great loss.” The room goes silent. Trump searches the room. “Isn’t there someone here who can give me an example of a tragedy? “ Finally at the back of the room, little Johnny raises his hand. In a quiet voice he says, “If Air Force One, carrying you was struck by a missile and blown to smithereens; that would be a tragedy.” “Fantastic!” exclaimed Mr. Trump. “That’s right. And can you tell me why that would be a tragedy?” “Well’, said little Johnny, “because it sure as hell wouldn’t be a great loss and probably wouldn’t be an accident either.”
… until you get it.