Someone broke into my house and stole 20% of my couch.
Who the fuck does that.
This blu-ray I bought said the main event would be David vs. Daniel.
However, the screen only said DVD.
What do you call an exploding duck?
A firequacker
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.)
If I had a nickel for every time I didn’t know what was going on…
…I’d be like “why do I keep getting all these fucking nickels?”
A Serial Killer, Car Thief and Russian Spy walks into a bar
And that was just the first guy
I gave away my empty batteries.
They were free of charge!
I got mugged by six dwarves last night
Not Happy.
[NSFW] I went for a job interview to become a blacksmith yesterday. The interviewer asked me if I’d ever shoed a horse.
I said no, but I once told a donkey to fuck off.
To spell “panda” all you need is..
.. p and a.
On the outskirts of a small town, there was a big, old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence. One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts.
"One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me," said one boy. Several dropped and rolled down toward the fence. Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery. He slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard, "One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me …." He just knew what it was. He jumped back on his bike and rode off. Just around the bend, he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along. "Come here quick," said the boy, "you won't believe what I heard! Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls!" The man said, "Beat it, kid, can't you see it's hard for me to walk." When the boy insisted though, the man hobbled slowly to the cemetery. Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." The old man whispered, "Boy, you've been tellin' me the truth. Let's see if we can see the Lord…?" Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet were still unable to see anything. The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord. At last, they heard, "One for you, one for me. That's all. Now let's go get those nuts by the fence and we'll be done…." They say the old man had the lead for a good half-mile before the kid on the bike passed him.
My doctor friend is addicted to hitting his patients on their knee to test their reflexes.
He really gets a kick out of it.
What do you call a constipated Sherlock Holmes?
The no-shit Sherlock!
Where would you find flying rabbits?
in the hare force
The female janitor at my building asked if I would chill and smoke some weed with her
I said no thanks, I can't handle high maintenance women
Holocaust survivor dies
He goes before God and starts telling him holocaust jokes. God says “My son I don’t know what you’re doing, but this isn’t funny.” The man says”Oh well, I guess you had to be there.”
When William joined the army,
He disliked the phrase 'fire at will'.
What did the pirate say when he turned 80?
"I'm lucky to have lived this long despite my dangerous line of work and the frankly displeasing state of healthcare in the 16th century"
Two new recruits were on the deck of a ship.
One turns to other and says, "Its awfully quiet on deck tonight. Isn't it?" Other recruit replies, "Everyone must be watching the band." "There is no band on this ship." "No, I definitely heard the captain say, a band on ship."
What do you call a zombie who writes his own music?
A decomposer.
A mexican woman walks into a car dealership and starts looking at a car. A salesman asks if she needs any help or got any questions.
Her: Cargo space? Salesman: Car no do that. Car no fly.
A panda walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Scotch and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Coke thank you”. “Sure thing” the bartender replies and asks “but what’s with the big pause?
” The panda holds up his hands and says “I was born with them”
Сафари парк львов Тайган
https://ift.tt/33T3qd9
Two English tourists were driving through Wales.At Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyllllantysiliogogogoch they stopped for lunch they asked the waitress: “Before we order, I wonder if you could settle an argument.Can you pronounce where we are,very,very,slowly?”
The girl leaned over and said: “Burrr… gurrr… King.”
Engineer and Anti-vaxxer come to the bridge
Anti-vaxxer says to the engineer: Is it safe to cross the bridge? Engineer: It is 99,97% safe to cross that bridge. Anti-vaxxer: I'd rather swim.
People always ask where I got my incredibly detailed tattoo done, but they never believe me when I tell them Spain.
Nobody expects the Spanish ink precision.
I’d never let my children watch the orchestra.
There is too much sax and violins in it
Best incest joke? It’s actually pretty hilarious, but I won’t tell you.
We keep it in the family
Was preparing for interview
Was preparing for interview
“Dad, I’m so excited. I got a B in reading!”
Dad: That’s a D, idiot.
A Boy was having sex with a girl on a Railway track
The train driver spots them and starts hooting but they ignore it. He applies brakes so hard and the train stops just a few yards away from the couple. Driver jumps from the engine and walks to the boy who just finished and is standing up and zipping up his pants. The driver shouts out to the boy "Do u realize that if I had not seen u, this would have been ur last f…!!! Boy -'Listen dude, you were coming, She was coming and I was coming, then I realised only You have Brakes.
A young man buys a brand-new bike
He is over the moon with his purchase. The salesman hands him a tiny jar of Vaseline before driving off, remarking: 'Be wary that your seat is made of 100% pure bison leather. Make sure to put vaseline on the seat, should it rain, otherwise the leather might crack.' The man thanks the salesman and rides off on his new best friend. After 300 kilometres of touring fun, his bike begins to stutter and eventually breaks down. The man finds himself in the middle of nowhere and walks to the nearest farm. The farmer, who is working outside on the land, greets him and asks if he stays for dinner, awaiting the truck who'll pick up his bike for reparation. Eagerly the man agrees. Inside he meets the farmers wife and their beautiful daughter. When he walks into the kitchen, he's astounded by the biggest pile of dirty dishes he has ever seen. 'We have one dinner rule', the farmer says. 'Whoever speaks during dinner, has to do the dishes.' Dinner is served and everyone is enjoying the meal in total silence. When desert comes, the farmers daughter takes off her top, and starts frisking the man. In about two minutes they are making love, right there on the table. Nobody utters a word. After they finish, the farmers wife gets under the table, and blows the man like he's never been blown before. Right after she climbs on his lap, and rides him like a bull. Still, nobody has said a word. When she's done, the man lights a sigarette and peeks out of the window. He notices it's started drizzling outside, and remembers his bike is out in the open. He jolts up, grabs the vaseline and bolts to the front door, only to find it locked. He sprints back into the kitchen, making wild armgestures to the farmer, pointing outside, to the door and to his tiny jar of vaseline. The farmer, white with fear, then says: 'Allright allright, I'll do the dishes!'
Can February March?
Can February March? No, but April May.
CDC: “No handshakes”
Jeffrey Dahmer: shuts off blender “Aww…”