spineless senate republicans won’t flush even once
When the punch line becomes apparent. My kids hate this one and I can't stop laughing at it…
Good man. Got electrocuted every day though.
The man, not being familiar with the term, asked what a ‘post tortoise’ was. The farmer said, “When you’re driving down a county lane and you come across a fence post with a tortoise balanced on top, that’s a post tortoise. The farmer saw the puzzled look on the man’s face so he continued to explain. “You know he didn’t get up there by himself, he doesn’t belong up there, he’s elevated beyond his ability to function, and you wonder what kind of dumb ass put him up there to begin with.”
She replied, “Approximately 0.3583679495453”. I stared at her, confused. Seeing my confusion, she added, “You know, cos (789)”
Because no one can spot him
I took its shell off to see if it would go any faster. If anything it just made it more sluggish
where have you been for the last 20 years?
We were maid for each other.
That way you'll finally get laid.
A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt and walks up to the bartender and asks for two beers and says…
"One for me and one for the road"
The parrot was cool, though. Originally an Anthony Jeselnik joke
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It’s called making the little things count.
It's my thirty second birthday after all.
it writes other words too but that's my favorite
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!"
I have a son who’s on the spectrum. It’s quite common for people like him to latch onto one specific topic and become an absolute encyclopedia about it. Some people choose trains, some a cartoon. For my son, this was mollusks. Interesting topic I know, but it seemed to be a pretty good deal for us because it meant he’d get really excited about going outside to the beach which we figured was healthier than staying inside all the time. He’d always have a shell with him, or in his pocket. Usually he doesn’t want to talk much, but if you opened the conversation to it, he’d sit there rattling off facts about mollusks for hours. This was shaping up to be a long term passion, so for his 15th birthday I went out and bought him a giant conch shell. He absolutely loved it. The texture, holding it to his ear etc. It was too big to carry around with him all the time, but he kept it by his bed. Fast forward three years, this is where things get weird. About a month ago I was cleaning his room and picked up the conch to dust it off, something I’ve never actually done before. I was immediately hit by a terrible smell – I don’t want to get too into the gross details but I’m a dude, a once 18 year old dude, so I know what happens when you use something to masturbate and don’t clean it. I’m sure we all know what that smells like even after a week. It was pretty clear he had been using this shell as a kind of Strombidae fleshlight for a long, long time without cleaning it. I’m not going to share too much about what happened when this all came to light, but we tried taking it away and my god you’d think we just took his whole world. We decided to give the shell back, but worried this reflected a deeper issue my partner and I decided to get some professional help. So it’s been about a month of him seeing a behavioural therapist, and she recently asked me about his progress at home. I told her it’s been incredibly promising so far. He’s really starting to come out of his shell.
She looked surprised.
I’m not joking, but he is.
Wife: "How could you do this to me?!" Husband : "what did I do?" Wife: " You slept with my sister, you bastard!" Husband : "Well, when I went to work she was lying naked on my table and you know she's an attractive woman, what did you expect me to do?" Wife: "The fucking autopsy."
A "roamin" Catholic.
When a bullet kills someone else, you know it’s been fired
Well, first you need a nice ice fishing spot and some peas. Once you have those, you cut a hole in the ice, then make a trail of peas leading away from it. So, when the polar bear goes to take pea, you kick it in the ice hole!