To not hit a bar
He is my Czech mate.
Jack decided to go skiing with his buddy, Bob. They loaded up Jack's mini van and headed north. After driving for a few hours, they got caught in a terrible blizzard. They pulled into a nearby farm and asked the attractive lady who answered the door if they could spend the night. "I realize it's terrible weather out there and I have this huge house all to myself, but I'm recently widowed," she explained. "I'm afraid the neighbors will talk if I let you stay in my house." "Don't worry," Jack said. "We'll be happy to sleep in the barn. And if the weather breaks, we'll be gone at first light." The lady agreed, and the two men found their way to the barn and settled in for the night. Come morning, the weather had cleared, and they got on their way. They enjoyed a great weekend of skiing. About nine months later, Jack got an unexpected letter from an attorney. It took him a few minutes to figure it out, but he finally determined that it was from the attorney of that attractive widow he had met on the ski weekend. He dropped in on his friend Bob and asked, "Bob, do you remember that good-looking widow from the farm we stayed at on our ski holiday up North?" "Yes, I do." said Bob "Did you happen to get up in the middle of the night, go up to the house and pay her a visit?" "Yes," Bob said, a little embarrassed about being found out. "I have to admit that I did." "And did you happen to use my name instead of telling her your name?" Bob's face turned red and he said, "Yeah, sorry, buddy. I'm afraid I did. Why do you ask?" "She just died and left me everything."
Now when I talk I have this weird axe scent
What a strange way to start a conversation with me…
Another day, another Dawn.
The banana nana boo boo
Because you look like a Queue
They were free of charge!
Kids these days have such great manners
A gallon of water. Butane is lighter fluid.
A man who runs behind gets exhausted.
I’m gonna put my glasses on
A guy joins a monastery and takes a vow of silence: he’s allowed to say two words every seven years. After the first seven years, the elders bring him in and ask for his two words. “Cold floors,” he says. They nod and send him away. Seven years pass. They bring him back in and ask for his two words.
He clears his throat and says, "Bad food." They nod and send him away. Seven more years pass. They bring him in for his two words. "I quit," he says. "That's not surprising," the elders say. "You've done nothing but complain since you got here."
Give a man a bank and he’ll rob the world.
"In these troubled times, the steaks have never been higher."
Because if you encounter a deer who has a shotgun, it's best to just leave them alone.
Runs until Friday.
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.)
I was in the bar last night and this guy said to me, “I’m going to attack you with the neck of a guitar!”
I asked, “Is that a fret?”
The Toe Truck (Tow Truck)
A woman doesn't come home one night. The next day she tells her husband that she had slept over at a girlfriend's house. The husband calls his wife's 10 best friends. None of them know anything about it. A man doesn’t come home one night. The next day he tells his wife that he had slept over at a friend’s house. The wife calls her husband's 10 best men friends. Eight of them confirm that he had slept over, and two claim that he was still there.
Firstly I’d like to thank each and every one of you who had joined this subreddit. This subreddit full of memes that I, myself, don’t even understand. 20000 people, that’s just… wow!It is an honour to serve this community and every single one of you members, new or old.Secondly I’d like to say how activity in this subreddit has been at an all time high, we are getting more posts than ever, of course that means more reposts, and posts that break other rules that our subreddit has, but on behalf of the moderation team, I’m here to assure you that we have you covered, we want to make sure you only get the highest quality posts when you look at r/sciencememes.I hope to see you again when we hit our next major milestone.If you ever need me, or any other of the moderation team feel free to use ModMail, if you see a post or comment breaking the rules, don’t be afraid to report them.🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
When it's ajar
That's my story and I'm sticking to it
Me: Hey dad, where are you off to? Dad: I'm heading out to a Korean boy-band show. Me: KPOP?! Dad: Yes, I'm fine.
A very arrogant man walks into a restaurant. The waiter approaches him with the menu and the arrogant man exclaims: "You are giving ME a menu?! Please man, I know it all, just bring me a fork from the kitchen." The waiter quickly goes into the kitchen and comes back with a fork, handing it to the man. The man smells the fork and says: "WOW, you have prepared a nice Crispy Panko Shrimp Salad with Walnuts tonight! I'll take that". After eating the salad the waiter approaches him again, asking what he would like for his main dish. The man arrogantly responds: "Just bring me a knife from the kitchen". The waiter goes in and fetches a knife, hands it to the man who smells it and says: "Wow, I can smell you have prepared a nice Skillet Chicken Bulgogi with Mushrooms, bring that to me". The waiter's patience is wearing thin, but without complaints he brings the man his food. Finally, for desert, the same thing happens again and the arrogant man tells the waiter to go fetch him a spoon from the kitchen. The waiter has really had it by now, and he really can't stand the man's arrogance anymore, so he goes inside the kitchen, grabs a spoon and tells one of the waitresses to rub her crotch with it. The waiter goes out the kitchen and walks up to the man's table, handing him the spoon. The man smells it, waits a second, smells it again and finally exclaims: "Hey! I had no idea Susan worked here!"
My son has asd and though he loves to read jokes and tries to understand why they are funny, introducing wit to him has been difficult. It was more of a surprise than a joke but here goes. We recently moved to India and my wife is missing outdoors and Europe and today she said – oh I really want to go to Disneyland! To which my son said- and I really want a twister! ( Ice lolly). My wife looked at him doting on his innocence and said- Baby your dreams are so simple and innocent! To which my son replied- yeah and yours probably won't come true!
Now it’s worth $875,000
He was checking her balance
… be ready to deal with the re-percussions.
An international school teacher asks a question: “What’s your own opinion on food scarcity in other countries?”
An African student: What's food? A European student: What's scarcity? An American student: What are 'other countries'? A Chinese student: What's 'my own opinion'?
One is a groundskeeper while the other is a grounds keeper
"You just follow the instructions." "Which instructions?" "Yeah, they're the ones."
"Jesus," said my wife. "Look alive, will you!"
I guess my property line isn't where I thought it was
I said, “Who is this guy?” Grandpa: This is my hip replacement.