I know global warming is bad

Half Life.

Feed up.

And ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name. "So, you're Joe Biden…" "Well, yes, is that a problem?" "Oh no, no problem. But we've recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that however, you're free to choose where you want to spend eternity!" "Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??" says Joe Biden. "Them's the rules" Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, Biden disappears… And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he's in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds… Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can't be right? "Open your eyes!" says a voice. "C'mon, wakey wakey, we've only got 24 hours!". Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he's in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite… And there's a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. "Who are you??" Biden asks. "Well, I'm Satan!" says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. "Welcome to Hell!" "Wait, this is Hell? But… Where's all the pain and suffering?" he asks. Satan throws him a wink. "Oh, we've been a bit mis-represented over the years, it's a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is of course free, as is the room service, there's extra towels next to the hot-tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It's a beautiful day, and if you'd care to look outside…" Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, Biden wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. "It's one of 5 pro-level courses on site, and there's another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbour!" says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift, walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes Biden, as Satan signs autographs and cherrily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course are made up of every one of his old friends, people he's admired for years but never met or worked with, and the person he admired the most, Strom Thurmond. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2 foot tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food-fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Ghandi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear… And they return to their penthouse suite, and spend the rest of the night making love like they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, Biden falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows, and falls into a deep and happy sleep… And is woken up by St Peter. "So, that was Hell. Wasn't what you were expecting, I bet?" "No sir!" says Biden. "So then" says St Peter "you can make your choice. It's Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on". "Well… I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I'd prefer Hell" says Biden. "Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!" Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again. Biden wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulphurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor-wire in the other. "What's this??" He cries. "Where's the hotel?? Where's my wife??? Where's the minibar, the golf-courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks and the sunshine???" "Ah", says Satan. "You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted…"

Their doctor tells them that many people find it useful to write themselves little notes. When they get home, the wife says, "Dear, will you please go to the kitchen and get me a dish of ice cream? And maybe write that down so you won't forget?" "Nonsense," says the husband, "I can remember a dish of ice cream." "Well," says the wife, "I'd also like some strawberries and whipped cream on it." "My memory's not all that bad," says the husband. "No problem – a dish of ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream. I don't need to write it down." He goes into the kitchen; his wife hears pots and pans banging around. The husband finally emerges from the kitchen and presents his wife with a plate of bacon and eggs. She looks at the plate and asks, "Hey, where's the toast I asked for?"

How could anyone stoop so low?

11 years old and he still doesn't know my name is Brian.

A journalist wanting to make his debut, searched far and wide for the oldest man on the planet thinking that his stories will amaze the world. After months of traveling from large cities to temples he finally finds out that the oldest man on Earth is 150 years old and lives in a small mountain village. The journalist arrives at the village and manages to find the man. He is bald and as wrinkly as it gets and has a long white beard. Journalist: "Hello, sir. According to my research, you must be the oldest man on earth. Since you have lived for such a long time I m sure that you have tons of stories to tell the world. Please tell me, what was the best day of your life?" Gramps: " ooooh, the best day of my life you say? Then it must be the day when the daughter of my neighbour, the most beautiful girl in the village whom everybody loved, got lost in the forest. So we gathered all the men. We all went to the tavern. We all drunk some mead. We all went to the forest. We all searched for the girl. We found the girl and then we all had sex with her right there in the meadow. That was such a nice day! " Journalist: " My goodness! I can't publish this! The children will be grossed out, the parents angry and everyone will think that back in the old times there were only rapists… Old man, what if you tell me about a regular day of your life? Gramps: "ooooh, a regular day you say? Then it must be the days when someone had lost his goat in the forest, good times indeed. When that happened: We all went to the tavern. We all drunk some mead. We all went to the forest. We all searched for the goat. We found the goat and then we all had sex with it right there in the meadow. Yeah, those were the days! " Journalist:" Oh My God! This is outright bestiality, I can't share this with the world!!! Ok since this path isn't working how about you tell me about the worst day of your life? " Gramps widens his eyes and feels a shiver going down his spine. Gramps: "…….. One day I got lost in the forest….. "

Anyway, he was very nice about it and gave me some good tips for being more sociable.

It was a scrotal eclipse of the fart

You will get tired. And if you run behind a car, you will get exhausted.

to Barack Obama’s Fault

Or should I spread them apart?

I almost choked on my own cock

A lumberjack walks into a magical forest to cut a tree. He swings his ax at an old oak and it shouts, "Wait! I'm a talking tree!" The lumberjack laughed and says, "Yes! And you will dialogue."

"Dad where have you been?"

A dick has a sad life. His hair's a mess. His family is nuts. His next door neighbor is an asshole. His best friend is a pussy. His owner beats him habitually.

"Over-foe"

I wonder if it can still be used to a certain degree.

A nun walks into Mother Superior's office and plunks down into a chair. She lets out a sigh heavy with frustration. "What troubles you, Sister?" asks the Mother Superior. "I thought this was the Day you spent with your family?" "It was," sighed the Sister. "And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a Talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ." "I seem to recall that," the Mother Superior agreed. "So I take it your day of recreation was not Relaxing?" "Far from it, "snorted the Sister. "In fact, I even took the Lord's name in vain today." "Goodness, Sister!" gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. "You must tell me all about it!" "Well, we were on the fifth tee… and this hole is a monster mother, a 540 yard Par 5, with a nasty dogleg left and a hidden green and I hit the drive of my life. I creamed it. The sweetest swing I ever made. And it's flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted… and it hits a Bird in mid-flight not 100 yards off the tee." "Oh my!" commiserated the Mother. "How unfortunate, but surely that didn't make you blaspheme, Sister!" "No, that wasn't it," admitted Sister. "While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs My ball and runs off down the fairway!" "Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!" sympathized the Mother. "But I didn't, Mother Superior!" sobbed the Sister. "And I was so proud of myself! And while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this Hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his talons !" "So that's when you cursed," said the Mother with a knowing smile? "Nope, that wasn't it either," cried the Sister, anguished, "because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup!" Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said.. "You missed the fucking putt, didn't you?"