I’m feel ecstatic
Without looking really dumb.
Dol, cause there’s no “fin.”
…after taking some time to size Jim up and decide that he can trust him, Carl tells Jim about his plan to escape. "You see, " Carl says "for the first 5 years I was inside, I trained my digestive system to follow my command. Now I can eat something and it comes out broken down into it's components." Jim is skeptical, but intrigued. Carl continues: "For the last five years, I've been swallowing pieces off my uniform. It's perfect, because the guards just think it's rats chewing on it." So Jim asks, "Well, what does that have to do with me? How can I help?" Carl says "Well, the pieces of fabric come out as individual fibers. I figure by this time next year, we'll have enough to fashion enough rope to get over the wall. I just need you to tie the fibers." Jim, disgusted, says "You have got to be kidding me!" And Carl says "I shit. You knot."
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It was an apple but with extremely limited memory. Just 1 byte. And then everything crashed.
But apparently back in England it's the end of May.
Dad: “I just got them out of the closet though.”
When a cop pulls you over, he tells you a joke.
It’s where I flip your MOM over.
… I can't wait to see them all.
He responded, “can’t complain.”
It's a day care scenter.
"Don't you mean 'platonic'?" No, plutonium, like radioactive exposure, the longer I'm with you the more I feel like dying.
From a distance they looked like hares.
Turns out I came early.
These are the pie rates of the Caribbean
BUMP!… BUMP… BUMP… Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog h e makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him. BUMP… BUMP… BUMP… Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him FASTER… FASTER… BUMP… BUMP… BUMP… He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, rushes in, slams and locks the door behind him. However, the casket crashes through his door, with the lid of the casket clapping… clappity-BUMP… clappity-BUMP… clappity-BUMP… …on his heels, the terrified man runs. Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps. With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping toward him. The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws the cough syrup at the casket… and, [Wait for it…] The coffin stops.
He finishes his drink and asks for the check. Duck billed Platypus.
He wasn't being very trans parent.
…it was fantastic!
He refused to comment
“Same time next month?”
…if cowboy architects had just made their towns big enough for everyone.
But he really enjoys hearing them, so I don’t think I’ll quit just yet.
Because he kept hanging out with dumbbells.
I told her it's unfair to make a judgment in less than a minute.
I take something for it.
“How are you mate?” “Yeah I’m okay. But do me a favour mate. Go fetch my slippers from upstairs. My feet are freezing.” I went upstairs and found his two gorgeous 21 year old twin daughters lying naked on the bed. I said “Your dad’s sent me up here to have sex with both of you. They respond “Get away with ya… Prove it.” I shouted downstairs “Hey, mate! Both of them?” He shouted back “Of course both of them! What’s the point in fucking one?”
It had a really hard time choo choo chooing it’s food.
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The Pacific Ocean
But I will raise it nevertheless.
He still has the right to remain silent.
It was not real food, it was an impasta.
When the punch line becomes a-parent
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.”
I thought to myself, "Hmmm, that's a little condescending."
But it was all in my head.