… looks like things are right on schedule
He was a farmer and he loved getting dressed up every year for the local fair and exhibiting his prize chickens. For this occasion, my grandmother would spend the entire year searching through thrift shops looking for silly neckties for him to wear, and she loved finding ones with chickens on them. After a few decades of this, my grandfather had amassed several dozen neckties, each one with cartoonish images of chickens flying around, laying eggs, and doing other chicken things. I always complimented him on the newest addition to his collection. When he died a couple of years ago, he bequeathed them to me in his will. When my grandmother handed me the bag full of them, my eyes welled with tears and I smiled thinking about my grandfather looking in the mirror and straightening his tie. Why am I telling you all of this back story? Because the last time I tried to tell this to someone and I didn't give context, they thought it was weird that I was so excited about inheriting my dead grandfather's hen tie collection.
And then Samsung.
A man who runs behind gets exhausted.
He sees a field below and descends to shout: "Hey can you tell me where I am? I'm trying to get to a friend whom I said I would meet in 30 minutes." The man in the field says: "Yes, you are in a red hot air balloon, hovering 30 feet above the ground, in the middle of this field" "Ah, you must be an engineer", replies the balloonist "I am indeed, but how did you know?", asks the man. "Well", says the balloonist, "everything you've said is technically right, but is of no use to anyone" To this, the man replies: "Any you must work in management" The balloonist confirms this, but asks how the man knew. "Well", replies the man, "You don't know where you are, how to get where you're heading, made a promise you can't keep. You expect me to be able to help, but after all this time, we're in the exact same position we were before, but now it's my fault"
To get to the other side!
I probably should've stopped when I got to her name
When it's fully groan.
I looked over at him and shouted, “Well that’s not very mature is it??”
Turns out she was seeing someone else.
It was fake noose
…He was buried in a churchyard. A couple days later, the town drunk was walking through the cemetery and heard some strange noise coming from the area where Beethoven was buried. Terrified, the drunk ran and got the priest to come and listen to it. The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave. Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate. When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony being played backwards." He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eight Symphony, and it's backwards too! Most puzzling." So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh… The Sixth… The Fifth…" Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate; he stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery: "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."
A man goes to a doctor and says, "Doc, you gotta check my leg. Something's wrong. Just put your ear up to my thigh, you'll hear it!" The doctor cautiously placed his ear to the man's thigh only to hear, "Gimme 20 bucks, I really need 20 bucks." "I've never seen or heard anything like this before, how long has this been going on." The doctor asked. "That's nothing Doc. put your ear to my knee." The doctor put his ear to the man's knee and heard it say "Man, I really need 10 bucks, just lend me 10 bucks!!" "Sir, I really don't know what to tell you. I've never seen anything like this." The doctor was dumbfounded. "Wait Doc, that's not it. There's more, just put your ear up to my ankle," the man urged him. The doctor did as the man said and was blown away to hear his ankle plead, "Please, I just need 5 bucks. Lend me 5 bucks please if you can." I have no idea what to tell you," the doctor said. "There's nothing about it in my books," he said as he frantically searched all his medical reference books. "I can make a well educated guess though. Based on life and all my previous experience I’d say your leg appears to be broke in three places."
but then I changed my mind.
They were cooked in Greece.
A pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel hanging out of his pants. The bartender asks “Do you realize you have a steering wheel in your pants?”
The pirate replies, “ Arrrgh, it’s drivin’ me nuts!”
You can't hear an enzyme.
She decided to go to the nicer, richer neighborhoods around town and look for odd jobs as a handy woman. The first house she came to, a man answered the door and told Julie "Yeah, I have a job for you. How would you like to paint the porch?" "Sure that sounds great!" said Julie. "Well, how much do you want me to pay you?" asked the man. "Is fifty bucks all right?" she asked. "Yeah, great. You'll find the paint and ladders you'll need in the garage." The man went back into his house to his wife who had been listening. "Fifty bucks! Does she know the porch goes all the way around the house?" asked the wife. "Well, she must, she was standing right on it!" her husband replied. About 45 minutes later, Julie knocked on the door. "I'm all finished," she told the surprised homeowner. The man was amazed. "You painted the whole porch?" "Yeah," Julie replied, "I even had some paint left, so I put on two coats!" The man reached into his wallet to pay her. "Oh, and by the way," said Julie, "That's not a Porch, it's a Ferrari."
I just never had the balls to do it
Would I be mist?
Two, but I have no idea how they got in there.
She said, “Thanks dad, that means a great deal.”
Oops, posted this in the wrong place.
They found Himalayan in the street!
He said: “It says here that you should be wearing glasses." I said: “Well, I have contacts." The policeman replied "I don't care who you know! You're getting a ticket!"
They bring delight. My 7-year-old son told me this at the breakfast table this morning. He is going to be a great dad one day.
I think he's full of shit
A boy was upstairs playing on his computer when his grandad came in the room and sat down on the bed.
"What are you doing?", asked the grandad. "You're 18 years old and wasting your life. When I was 18 I went to Paris, I went to the Moulin Rouge, drank all night, had my way with the dancers, pissed on the barman and left without paying. Now that is how to have a good time." A week later, the grandfather comes to visit again. He finds the boy still in his room, but with a broken arm in plaster, 2 black eyes and missing all his front teeth. "What happened?", he asked. "Oh Grandfather!", replied the boy. "I did what you did. I went to Paris, went to the Moulin Rouge, drank all night, had my way with the dancers, pissed all over the barman, and he beat the crap out of me!" "Oh dear!", replied the grandad. "Who did you go with?" "Just some friends, why? Who did you go with?" "Oh!" replied the grandad. "The Third Panzer Division."
He steps into the confessional and says "Bless me Father for I have sinned. I stole wood from the local lumber yard." The Priest responds, "Well son how much did you steal, it may not be so bad." "Well Father, with the wood I was able to build a house for my new dog in the backyard." "My son, this is not so bad. 10 Hail Marys and 5 Our Fathers and you shall be cleansed." The man interrupts, "Um Father, there was some wood left over, so I used it to build a fence around my yard." The Priest was surprised. "My child, that's a bit worse. You'll have to do 2 full rosaries." The man speaks up again. "Father, you see there was still some wood left and I used it to build an extension on my house." The Priest sighed with discomfort. "Oh dear my child. You'll need to do some real penance for that. Our church courtyard could use an update. Do you know how to build a gazebo?" The man replied, "No father, but if you have the plans, I have the wood."
Tis the best place to trade stolen content for gold. Edit: ARRRR! Me farst gold! Much love me matey!
He said, "It's Private." I said, "Come on, you can tell me."
I just needed an outlet.
But now I stand corrected
In my heart, he'll always be a wiener
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.)
"Help, I've fallen, and I cant giddy up!"
Dad: "Well pick one son, you can't do both"
You stay here, I’ll go on ahead.
I said that makes two of us
I now have four.
‘Really’ I said ‘No, April fooaarrrrglegargle’ That’ll teach her to be funny
There would be six feet between us.