Please don’t make any more jokes about the Coronavirus…
My friend has it and it's serious. He got it from a tick bite…
It's the first reported case of Corona with Lyme.
The first one orders a coke. Five minutes later the second one orders a coke and the whole bar starts cheering, another five minutes later the third one orders a coke and the whole city erupts in thunderous applause.
You’ve heard of “click it or ticket”, a slogan telling drivers to use a seatbelt or they will get fined…
Now get ready for the new slogan of 2020: “Mask it or Casket”!
But don’t forget, only 48 hours ago, it was a sadder day.
“I don’t know why, but I’m afraid that this room might be bugged with hearing devices.” the girlfriend tells her boyfriend. “That’s crazy, there’s nothing to be worried about.” the man replies. The girl insists, so he starts to search the room. He looks in all of the drawers, under the TV, and behind the curtains. When he pulls the rug up, to his utter disbelief, he finds a suspicious looking disc. “Wow, you might be right!” the man says as he unscrews the disc from the floor. The next morning, they head to the front desk to check out of their room. “You guys must’ve had a good time last night” the clerk says laughing. Angry and confused, the man asks “AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT?!” The clerk replies “Well, on the floor below you, the entire chandelier came down.”
He's a small arms dealer.
His name is Rick O’Shea.
I thought to myself, “now that’s a little condescending”
I’ll tell you tomorrow.
On the right palm, on the forehead, on the left palm, and on the abdomen. The first victim is discovered in the Florida Everglades. 0, 8, 2 on his hands and forehead. 5 on his abdomen. “We believe the numbers may be significant,” a uniformed man reads from a prepared statement to the press, “but we cannot say for sure at this time.” Detective Pierce has seen more faces of death than any man should ever have to endure, but this case—this seems different, somehow. Another victim is discovered in the marshes of Louisiana soon after. 0, 8, 0 on her hands and forehead. 19 on her abdomen. Are they connected? Law enforcement in Louisiana contact the agency in Florida. Criminal psychologists and cipher experts are called in to decode the strange numerical messages. Nothing yet. There isn’t enough data. Detective Pierce knows, if there is a deeper meaning, it will only surface with more bodies. To solve the murder, more must be committed. A cruel irony. A third victim emerges, and a macabre certainty is apparent—a serial killer. 0, 6, 9; 2 “What could it mean?” Detective Pierce ponders over a table littered with dozens of photographs. The psychological stress begins to weigh on him. He first began the investigation into the mysterious number killings, and he now makes it his mission to discover the secret of these symbols and put an end to this evil. More victims. 0, 7, 1; 6 0, 6, 5; 10 0, 7, 8; 8 0, 7, 3; 12 0, 6, 9; 4 0, 7, 8; 9 “069 repeats!” the authorities notice after the ninth victim is discovered. “It’s certainly a code!” “And here! The victims with 8 and 9 on the abdomen have identical numbers on the hands and forehead too: both 0, 7, 8.” Detective Pierce broods over this information. He locks himself away with the numbers, poring through literature about ciphers and codes. He devises complex algorithms to analyze the data, looking for patterns. Pierce has always put work before his family. His colleagues will all tell you that. But the domestic strain from the number killings is pushing his relationships to the brink of collapse. Another body in Florida. 0, 8, 5; 17 Pierce is on the scene, crouching over the Number Killer’s latest conquest, examining the slapdash 17 scrawled unceremoniously on the abdomen. “Detective Pierce.” A voice from behind him. Pierce stands and peels the purple nitrile gloves from his hands and glowers at the intruder on his crime scene. “Agent Rickson. Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my crime scene now, sir. I’ll need a full briefing.” “The hell it is!” Pierce snaps back. “I’ve been working these killings from day one! You think you can just come in here with your federal mandate and expect me to catch you up on all the work my people have done?!” Agent Rickson hands Pierce a bound legal envelope. “You’ve been relieved.” “This isn’t over. You’re gambling with people’s lives…sir.” Detective Pierce practically spits the final word at the agent’s feet before snatching the envelope and rushing off the scene. Over the next two weeks, eight more victims. Pierce’s anxiety has left him unable to leave his office. He hasn’t been home in three days. Though he’s officially off the case, he’s still haunted by the numbers and mounting body count. His work has suffered to the point that his superiors have issued reprimands. At his wits’ end, Detective Pierce pulls officer Malloy into his office. Malloy is a rookie who’s eager to please and has a knack for numbers. “I need you on special assignment, rookie.” Pierce is looking pensively out his office window when Malloy enters. “Special assignment, sir?” “Secret, special assignment, Malloy.” He turns and places a sealed envelope on the table. “I need you to collect everything we have on the Number Killings. Meet me at the address enclosed here. Tomorrow night. Midnight. Tell no one.” “But sir, I thought you had been reliev-” “Dammit, rookie! Do you want more people to die?! We need to figure out this nonsense now or we’re going to end up with dead bodies in triple digits, son!” Malloy reluctantly agrees. He smuggles boxes of files and pictures out of the precinct late the next night and meets Pierce at an abandoned warehouse to go over the information. For hours, the two sit at opposite tables, running numbers, delving into research, and analyzing the evidence, late into the early hours of the morning. With a sudden energetic vigor, Malloy springs from his chair and cries out, “ASCII!” Startled out of his analytic trance, Pierce inquires, “What did you say, Malloy?” “ASCII! It’s a computer language that uses numbers to represent letters! Look!” Malloy pulls up a reference sheet and begins arranging numbers on Pierce’s desk. “If we take the abdomen numbers as the order, and the palm and foreheadnumbers as the code for the letter…” “Malloy, you’re a genius!” Working furiously, Pierce and Malloy clear a space on the dusty warehouse floor to lay out the pictures in sequence: Abdomens: 6, 12, 17… G, I, U… 4, 9, 11… E, N, G… In minutes, the men have spread 76 photos over a 10 foot square of the warehouse floor and scratched nervous letters on ripped sheets of notebook paper under each group corresponding to the symbol. As they finish, Malloy stands back to survey the message. “No…” All blood drains from his face. His legs go weak, and he collapses onto his knees. “It can’t…It just…It can’t! Detective Pierce is wide-eyed next to Malloy’s broken form, mouth agape. A sound from the warehouse wall rattles the building as a dozen federal agents storm the facility. “Mother of God…” Pierce doesn’t even notice the agents. His unbroken stare is consumed by the message on the dusty warehouse floor. Agent Rickson grabs hold of Detective Pierce. “You’re under arrest for interfering with a federal investigation and tampering with evidence.” Malloy sheepishly confesses. “I told them everything! I told them you wanted me to take the evidence. It was a setup. I was worried about you. I’m sorry! But I never thought…oh God! What can we do?!” Pierce is handcuffed, and as he is dragged backward from the grotesque mosaic of death, he laughs in spite of himself, “You monster…” As he comes back to his senses, Pierce begins tearing at the agents pulling him away. He lets out a shrill, animalistic shriek… “YOU MONSTER!!” The other agents crowd around the space on the floor that has itself become a crime scene, and in an eerie silence, they collectively ponder the ethereal message left by the elusive Numbers Killer: “NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP” EDIT (TLDR): Thanks for the support, and also some people are asking for a tldr because (obviously) it's really long. Here's a video to basically sum it up. Have a nice day. Also, thank you /u/about_tyme for ASCII number edits.
Two irishmen are floating on a boat, lost at sea. They ran out of food a couple of days ago, and ran out of water just today, so naturally they're pretty desperate. Out on the water, one of them spies a genie's lamp, and they both frantically paddle towards it. One of them pull out the lamp and rubs it, and lo and behold, a genie pops out! "Will ye grant us tree wishes mister?" the Irishman pleads. "I'd love ta, but this old genie's barely enough for just the one. So wish carefully." Quickly, one of the men calls out, "I wish the ocean'd turn ta Guinness!!" "Consider it done." The genie and the lamp disappear, and the entire ocean changes from water to beer. The second Irishman looks at the first, stunned, then finally manages, "Ya fockin' idiot! Now we have ta piss in the boat!"
Lawyer: "I'm not saying another word without my lawyer present." Police: "But you are the lawyer." Lawyer: "Exactly, where's my present?"
But then I realize I’m better than that.
It's a faux pa.
A guy says he taught his dog Morse code. “Aye right Show me.” Mate says. Guy turns to dog and asks “who’s been a good boy then?” Dog uses paw on ground. Tap tap pause tap long pause tap pause tap pause tap long pause tap pause tap pause tap long pause tap tap tap pause tap. “what he say?” Mate asks
"woof" guy replies
I just don’t see it.
The Martian male was fucking the earth female but she told him that his penis was too small so he pulled his left ear and his penis became longer then she told him that it's too thin so he pulled his right ear and his penis became wider and the earth female became very happy. The next night the earth female asked the earth male about his experience with the female martian so he said "yea it was fun but idk why she kept pulling my ears"
It's not hard
Look for the fresh prints
They’re so full of themselves
My illegal logging business is a success
Luckily I happened to be up practicing my trumpet
When do we want them! Nooooooooooowwwwwwwwww
I told him, “It’s all in your head.”
He says to the bartender, "I'll have a………………beer." The bartender responds, "What's with the big pause?" The bear holds up his arms and says, "Always had 'em."
The first kid says "I'll have $1 worth of jelly beans, sir!" The jelly beans are on a shelf, so the candy store owner has to get a ladder out, get the jelly beans, weigh out $1 worth, put the beans back on the shelf, climb down the ladder, put it away, and give the kid the jelly beans. "There's your jelly beans, young man," he says. The next kid says "I'll have $1 worth of jelly beans as well, sir!" So the guy has to do the whole thing again: get the ladder, climb up, grab $1 of jelly beans, climb back down, but before he puts the ladder away, he asks the third kid "are you also wanting $1 of jelly beans?" The kid says "no." So he puts the ladder away again, hands the jelly beans to the second kid, and turns to the third kid. "What can I get you, young man?" The third kid says "I'll have $1.50 of jelly beans, please."
It was a pretty Shih Tzu
My response was "Of course, it's a house made of steaks. Except the floor of course. That's made of ground beef." Heard the wife's eyes roll from across the room.
I keep hearing Honeydew this, Honeydew that.
I’m tired of seeing “Hey OP, I slept with your mom last night!” every time I post something on Reddit.
I shouldn’t have told my dad what my username was.
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Cop 2: Hate crime? Cop 1: Of course I hate crime, moron. That’s why I’m a cop.