I removed the shell from my racing snail to make it go faster
but it just made it more sluggish.
Worst way to check your balance. crickets
Dinner is on me
She said, "Oh the baby is mine, I get to keep it"
A woman asked me to check her balance so I pushed her over
For Hispanic Attack!
(The punchline was removed from the universe)
Police: "hi you're the first people today with their seatbelts on, so we want to give you an award of 5000 dollar." The policeman seeing the happy couple gets curious and asks "what are you going to do with the money?" The man answers: "I'm going to take lessons for my driver's license" The woman: " don't listen to him. When he is drunk he says stupid things!" The man on the backseat: "I told you not to ride in a stolen car!" A voice from the trunk: "did we cross the border?"
One day he got so angry, he just flipped.
An American soldier, serving in World War II had just returned from several weeks of battle on the German front lines.
The soldier had been granted rest and relaxation and was on a train that was bound for London. The train was very crowded, so the soldier walked the length of the train in hopes of finding an empty seat. The only empty seat was directly adjacent to a well dressed middle aged English lady and was being used by her little dog. The weary soldier asked, "Please ma'am, may I sit in that seat?" The English woman looked down her nose at the solider and sniffed then said, "You Americans. You are such a rude class of people. Can't you see that my little pooch is using that seat?" The soldier walked away, looking if there were any other unoccupied seats to use, but after another trip down to the end of the train, he found himself facing the woman with the dog again. Again, the soldier asked, "Please lady. May I sit there? I'm very tired." The English woman wrinkled her nose and snorted out loud, "You Americans! Not only are you rude, you are also extremely arrogant!" The soldier didn't say anything else; he leaned over, picked up the little dog and tossed it out the window of the train and sat down in the empty seat. The Woman, at a loss for words; shrieked, railed and demanded that someone defend her and chastise the soldier. An English gentlemen sitting across the aisle spoke up and said, "You know, sir, you Americans do seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing. You eat holding the fork in the wrong hand, you drive your autos on the wrong side of the road and now, sir, you've thrown the wrong bitch out the window!."
Still can't believe it
I’m just trying to obey the 2nd law of thermodynamics like a good boy.
I said, “I don’t notice a vas deferens.”
At the end of it, the person that ran the course said, "Ok, buddy, so for the week you owe me…£380." "I refuse to pay," I told him. "You have to," he insisted. "Well then, you'll have to fight me for it." So we fought, and he absolutely battered me. Left me bloody, bruised and beaten. He said, "£380. Cough it up." "No," I told him, wiping my lip. "Because it was clearly a waste of money."
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.)
It's a sweet role!
I was having anal sex with my girlfriend and suddenly her dad barged through the door and she screamed "Dad, I'm sorry!" Then he turned to me and asked, "Are you fucking Sorry?"
So, he opens the box and picks up the letter. He glances at it briefly to make sure it is stamped, and then puts it in his bag with his other letters. When he gets back to his office, the letter goes in a big bin with all of the other out-going mail. He thinks nothing of it, and finishes his day. A few days later, he delivers the exact same letter to the same house that he picked it up from. He glances at the mailing address and observes that it is indeed the same as the return address. Anyone can make a mistake, so the mailman puts the letter in the mailbox so that the customer can readdress it for its proper recipient. He thinks nothing of it and finishes his day. The next day, the mailman sees the same mailbox with the flag up. He opens the box and again sees the same letter, nothing changed, but with a new stamp on it. The mailman is perplexed, and thinking to save the customer both time and money, decides to ring the doorbell and inquire about the letter. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Ding-dong, Ding-dong. The door opens and standing there is a stout Buddhist monk, dressed in traditional garb. “Pardon me, sir,” the mailman says, “but you seem to be trying to mail this letter again, and without any changes to the address, it’s only going to end up back at your home in a few days.” “Ah, my letter. Thank you so much for mailing it the other day, it was greatly appreciated. Please do so again” replies the Buddhist monk. “But sir,” says mailman, “you will only waste a stamp, and this letter will be re-delivered to your home a few days from now.” “But that is my intention, dear man,” replies the Buddhist monk. “You see, reposting is the best way to get karma.”
I like them alot. EDIT: Thank you all for the upvotes. EDIT2: Thank you for the gold kind stranger!
I said "no dice."
A Pennsylvania State Trooper walked to her car window, flipping open his ticket book. She said,"I bet you're going to try to sell me a ticket to the Pennsylvania Trooper's Ball." He replied,"Pennsylvania State Troopers don't have balls." There was a moment of silence. He closed his ticket book, tipped his hat, walked back to his patrol car, and left.
She said I'm mature, I'm moral, I'm pure, I'm polite and I'm perfect. Then she added that I also had a fundamental lack of understanding about apostrophes and spaces.
Because the cow's got the udder!
Two priests are fishing on lake outside of Rome. It's a beautiful day, the sun is light, and the water is smooth. Suddenly the first priests fishing rod bends alarmingly; he has hooked a huge fish! It's a struggle but he managed to reel it in. It's a beautiful rainbow coloured fish and big enough to feed a family. "Would you look at the size of that Fucker!" he exclaims, startling the second priest. "Hey, you can't talk like that; you're a man of the cloth. I'm a man of the cloth!" Says the second priest, scandalised. The first priest raises his hands in a calming gesture "It's ok my good fellow, that's the fish's name. It's an Italian Fucker Fish." After breathing a sigh of relief, the second priest is able to appreciate the fish a bit more. "Why don't we cook it for our dinner with the His Holiness the Pope tonight" he says. The first priest agrees, and they go their separate ways, the first priest to return their boat and the second to deliver the fish into the Vatican. Priest number two lobs up at the convent and knocks at the door, a sister answers and he proudly shows her the fish. "Could the mother superior cook this Fucker for our dinner with His Holiness the Pope?" He asks. Scandalising the poor sister. "You can't talk like that!" she says "You're a man of the cloth. I'm a woman of the cloth". "Fret not, dear sister" the priest says "that is the fish's name. It's an Italian Fucker Fish." Mollified the nun agrees to prepare the fish for the mother superior to cook. She scales and guts the fish and then calls on the mother superior. "Mother, I have prepared this Fucker so that you may cook it for our dinner tonight with His Holiness the Pope". Mum superior nearly has a heart attack. "My child" she shrieks "We are women of the cloth. You cannot use such language!" The nun placates the mother by explaining that the fish is an Italian Fucker Fish. And, so assured, she agrees to cook the fish for their dinner with His Holiness. Later that night both Priests, the Nun and the Mother Superior are at dinner with His Holiness the Pope. They remove the silver cover from their meal and serve the fish. The Pope takes a few bites and a sip of wine and states "This fish is fantastic, practically divine" "I caught the Fucker." Says the first priest. "Well I brought the Fucker into the city." Says the second. "I scaled and gutted the Fucker." Says the nun. "And I cooked the Fucker." Says the mother superior. His Holiness takes a look around the table, takes another sip of his wine and says "You know what? You cunts are alright!"
a spear, I guess.
and find his way to a barstool. After ordering a drink, and sitting there for a while, the blind guy yells to the bartender, “Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?” The bar immediately becomes absolutely quiet. In a husky, deep voice,the woman next to him says, “Before you tell that joke, you should know something. The bartender is blonde, the bouncer is blonde and I’m a 6′ tall, 200 pound blonde with a black belt in karate. What’s more, the fella sitting next to me is blonde and he’s a weightlifter. The woman to your right is a blonde, and she’s a pro wrestler. You still wanna tell that blonde joke?” The blind man replies “Nah, not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.”
It's where I flip your MOM over
Quacks in the pavement.
Not only is it terrible, it’s terrible.
The bartender says "how did you do that?"
"Eat your food, there's people in America with no brains at all"
Makes you wonder about the Dickinsons…
"BIG JAKE'S COMIN'!" he cries. "EVERYBODY RUN! BIG JAKE'S COMIN'!" The bartender, having never heard that name before, is a little perplexed – even more so when all of his patrons start screaming and running out the door. In just a few moments, the bar is emptied out. A minute afterwards, the bartender sees a massive hulk of a man punch down the door and walk inside. Seven feet tall, with biceps like steel girders and piercings as thick as railroad spikes. He walks up to the bartender, making the entire room rumble with every footstep. "Gimme some whiskey!" roars the giant. The bartender, scared out of his mind, hands him an entire bottle. He drinks it all in one swig, and then smashes the bottle over his own head. "Can I… can I get you another?" asks the bartender. The giant just shakes his head and says, "Naw, I can't stay for too long. Didn't you hear? Big Jake's comin'!"
My husband has been making a lot of pizza lately. He ferments the dough and I have been naming each batch with a pun. The current batch is Yeast Lightning. I texted my dad and asked him to help me think of some new names. He texted back "Just rise to the occasion."
I said, “I don’t notice a vas deferens.”
I want to go to exotic islands and stay in 5 star hotels. She wants to come with me.
That makes me an eighth theist.