What your favorite pr(o)tein-pr(o)tein intera(c)tion ship says about you
What do french people smoke?
Oui'd.
My grandfather warned people that the Titanic would sink.
No one listened, but he kept on warning them nonetheless until they got sick of him and kicked him out the movie theater.
Two couples were playing cards. John accidentally dropped some cards on the floor. When he bent down under the table to pick them up, he noticed….
Two couples were playing cards. John accidentally dropped some cards on the floor. When he bent down under the table to pick them up, he noticed …. Bill's wife was not wearing any panties! Shocked by this, John hit his head on the table and emerged red-faced. Later, John went to the kitchen to get some refreshments. Bill's wife followed him and asked, "Did you see anything that you liked under there?" John admitted that, well, yes he did. She said "You can have it, but it will cost you $100." After a minute or two, John indicates that he is interested. She tells him that since Bill works Friday afternoons and John doesn't, John should come to her house around 2:00 p.m. on Friday. Friday came and John went to her house at 2:00 p.m. After paying her $100 they went to the bedroom, had sex, and then John left. Bill came home about 6:00 P.M. He asked his wife, "Did John come by this afternoon?" Reluctantly, she replied, "Yes, he did stop by for a few minutes." Next Bill asked, "Did John give you $100?" She thinks 'Oh hell, he knows!' Finally she says, "Yes, he did give me $100." "Good," Bill says. "John came by the office this morning and borrowed $100 from me. He said that he would stop by our house on his way home and pay me back.
I asked my son, “Hey, guess what!?” Hesitatingly, he said, “What?”
I yelled, "Good guess!"
Can we just stop specifying the state when we make this joke? Pretty sure I’ve seen all 50
https://ift.tt/2xjJXr3
This farmer has about 500 hens, but no rooster, and he wants chicks. So, he goes down the road to the next farmer and asks if he has a rooster that he would sell.
The other farmer says, "Yep, I've got this great rooster, named Kenny. He'll service every chicken you got, no problem." Well, Kenny the rooster costs $3,000, a lot of money, but the farmer decides he'd be worth it. So, he buys Kenny. The farmer takes Kenny home and sets him down in the barnyard, but first he gave the rooster a pep talk "I want you to pace yourself. You've got a lot of chickens to service here, and you cost me, a lot of money; consequently, I'll need you to do a good job. So, take your time and have some fun, "the farmer said, with a chuckle. Kenny seems to understand, so the farmer points toward the hen house and Kenny takes off like a shot. WHAM! Kenny nails every hen in the hen house – three or four times, and the farmer is really shocked. After that, the farmer hears a commotion in the duck pen and, sure enough, Kenny is in there. Later, the farmer sees Kenny after a flock of geese down by the lake. Once again – WHAM! He gets all the geese. By sunset he sees Kenny out in the fields chasing quail and pheasants. The farmer is distraught and worried that his expensive rooster won't even last 24 hours. Sure enough, the farmer goes to bed and wakes up the next morning to find Kenny on his back out in the middle of the yard, mouth open, tongue hanging out and both feet sticking straight up in the air. Buzzards are circling overhead. The farmer, saddened by the loss of such a colourful and expensive animal, shakes his head and says, "Oh, Kenny, I told you to pace yourself. I tried to get you to slow down, now look what you've done to yourself." Kenny opens one eye, nods toward the buzzards circling in the sky and says "Shhhh, they're getting closer!"
How do you make a tissue dance?
You put a little boogie in it…
I once saw a dwarf climbing down a prison wall.
I thought to myself, that’s a little condescending.
A serial killer leaves his mark by writing four numbers on each victim.
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.
A century ago, two brothers insisted that it was possible to fly…
and as you can see, they were Wright.
What does a pregnant teenager and her baby have in common?
They're both thinking "Oh crap, mom is gonna kill me."
One of my favorite jokes
A man wakes up in a dingy slum with no memory of how he got there. He wanders around aimlessly before he finds even one person who will talk to him. Some ratty beggar on the street turns out to be nice enough to explain where he is. "You're in the afterlife!" he tells the man, "But you must have been a real shithead when you were alive, because this is the fourth ring, and only the worst people come here." All of a sudden, a siren goes off, one of those air-raid things. The man is terrified but the beggar gets up calmly and leads him to a big, dilapidated warehouse where thousands of other similarly unkempt souls are gathering. When the man asks why they're all here, the beggar points to a line of folding tables against the wall. Each table has some moldy bread, cups of dingy water, and some bowls of broth so thin they could have just run out of cups. Only then does the man realize how hungry he is. A guard in heavy body armor blows a whistle and all the people arrange themselves into three lines. The beggar is helpful enough to explain them for the man. "That one's the bread line, that's the broth line, and that's the water line. All the food here is free, but if you want to get out of this maggot hole, you've got to work, because the gate guards into the third ring ask five hundred dollars to get through. I've heard the food is better there." So the man gets his food. It's abominable, and right then and there, he vows to make five hundred dollars and get into the third ring. Unfortunately for him, very few people need work in the afterlife, especially when all of them are saving up to emigrate. Even still, after ten years of hard work, eating the moldy bread and indistinguishable soup and water, he finally saves up enough money. The guards let him through and he finds himself in the third ring. It's nothing too fancy, if anything, it's a bit below average for a real city, but to his eyes it is paradise. All the guards look much friendlier, and the houses and buildings, while not spacious or lavish, are at least up to code. And to his surprise, he runs right into a familiar former beggar as he crosses the street. "What are the odds?" they both ask and they get to conversing. The beggar, it turns out, only managed to make it in himself a few months back. Their conversation is interrupted, however, by what sounds like a school bell. When the man seems confused, the beggar leads him to what looks like a giant gymnasium. Here, people are gathering once again, and the man begins to understand. On a line of folding tables against one wall are stacks of hot dogs, big bowls of salad, and solo cups full of fresh lemonade. A cop shouts for everyone's attention and directs them all to stand in three lines. The beggar smiles at the man's wonder and points to each line in turn. "That's the hot dog line, that's the salad line, and that's the lemonade line." The man gets in each line in turn and gets himself his lunch. While he's eating, basking in joy at not being stuck with old bread and water, the beggar encourages him, "The best part is, halfway through the year, they switch from hot dogs, salad, and lemonade to chicken, chili, and hot chocolate. You can never get tired of it!" Sadly, this proved not to be true. After only a few days, the man did again get tired of the same meal every day. But he knew firsthand that he could change his lot, so one day he went up to the wall of the second circle. This time the guards were asking for ten thousand dollars. Well, the man didn't like it, but he figured he had his whole afterlife ahead of him now that he was out of the fourth circle, and he could certainly take some time to save up. After ten years of hard work, it wasn't too difficult for him to keep up the work ethic, and only twenty years later, he went back to the guards of the second ring with the money in hand. He went through the gate and found himself in a glittering, clean city full of glass and steel. And wouldn't you know it, but there, standing across the street was the same beggar, only now he was wearing a well-fitted suit. The man greeted the beggar as an old friend and they started talking again. Once again, their conversation was interrupted, only this time it was by beautiful church bells. "Come," the beggar told him, "I'll take you to the evening meal." So the man followed and they entered a glamorous ballroom filled with beautiful attendees. Even the cops here looked good, dressed in suits and sunglasses like bodyguards. And sure enough, piled onto platters on huge mahogany tables against the far wall were plates of steak, bowls of the most delicious seafood soups, and glasses of champagne. One of the bodyguards cleared his throat loudly and politely requested that the attendees line up. Three lines were formed and the beggar pointed each line out in turn. "That's the steak line, that's the soup line, and that's the champagne line," and then he added, "and apparently here, they change the meals FOUR times a year!" The man rejoiced, ate, and was happy, and for once felt that nothing was lacking. Four changes a year was enough for him. But one day, out of curiosity, he went up to the bodyguards that guarded the gate into the first and final ring of the afterlife and found they were asking for a million dollars to pass. Well the man was a bit disturbed by this, after all, the second ring seemed perfect to him. "What is it," he thought, "that could possibly be more wonderful than what I have here?" That question haunted him for weeks until he came to a conclusion. He was used to working hard and he had all of eternity to save up, so he wanted, just once to see what he could possibly be missing in the first ring. Fifty years later, he returned to the guards with a million dollars. When he stepped into the first ring he fell to his knees. The architecture was glorious and inhuman, and the bodyguard had turned into shining angels. To his surprise, someone helped him up off the street and when he looked, he realized he recognized who it was–it was the beggar he met in the fourth ring, adorned in a golden robe and glowing, and when he looked down at himself he realized he looked much the same. The beggar laughed jovially. "I got here only three years ago myself, but somehow I knew you would be right here behind me. I've come back to this gate every day waiting for you to make it in!" Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of angelic choirs and the beggar led the man off to a gigantic palace made of crystal and cloud. The room was filled with radiant citizens of the first circle and angels prepared everything. Sure enough, there was a line of massive altars against one wall, spilling over with glistening golden dragon meat, a pudding refined from clouds and dew and silk, and an ice cold tub of ambrosia and nectar ladled out individually into blindingly beautiful crystalline chalices. An angel fluttered from the ceiling and bowed silently to the assembled mass, who bowed respectfully back and then broke themselves into their lines on their own. Smiling at the tradition, the beggar pointed to the first line. "That's the line for the dragon meat," he said before turning to the next line, "and that's the line for angeldust stew," then he paused, confused. "What is it?" the man asked his old friend. The beggar replied, "There appears to be no punchline."
Whoever invented the knock knock joke should get an award.
Like no bell prize.
Ever have your kid come up with a better punchline than your original?
I went to ask my daughter: Where do you park when you visit the moon? (Originally I was gonna say at the parking meteor!) But straight faced she replies: Anywhere you can find space. Then she grinned… (she knew what she was doing)… space dad. get it? in space…. Totally out dad joked by my own daughter.
You did, it was a vaccination and that’s why there’s no more smallpox anymore
https://ift.tt/2tvvNSa
I just watched a program about beavers.
It was the best dam program I've ever seen.
Why did the vegan cross the road?
To tell someone they're vegan.
Two women were playing golf
The first woman teed off and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole. The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in agony. The woman rushed down to the man, and immediately began to apologize. 'Please allow me to help. I'm a Physical Therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you'd allow me,' she told him. 'Oh, no, I'll be all right. I'll be fine in a few minutes,' the man replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, still clasping his hands at his groin. At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants and put her hands slowly and carefully inside. She then administered a tender and skillful massage for several long moments and softly asked 'How does that feel'? Feels wonderful, he replied; but I still think my thumb's broken!
A police officer caught two kids playing with a firework and a car battery.
He charged one and let the other one off.
Electrician gets home late…
Electrician didn't get home until after 2am. His wife asked "Wire you insulate?" He replied, "Watts it to you, I'm ohm, aren't I?"
A man takes a seat on a plane next to, none other than, the Pope.
The whole flight the man sweats beads being so nervous having been sat next to his holiness. The man is able to keep his calm and avoid an awkward conversation as the Pope focuses all of his attention on a crossword puzzle. A couple hours into the flight the man hears his Holiness mumbling in frustration at his puzzle. Eventually the man musters up the nerve to ask the Pope “is there anything I can help you with?” The Pope says “yes my son. I need a 4-letter word for a woman ending in _UNT” The man is absolutely horrified. He can’t tell the Pope the answer!! He is the most holy earthling alive. So he thinks and thinks and thinks until finally- it comes to him. He shouts out “of course! Aunt!” The Pope returns to his puzzle and mumbles again before turning back to the man and asks “do you have an eraser?”
What do you call a male Mummy with a cold?
I'm not sure either. Sir Cough I guess.
How do you turn Six into Nine?
Remove the S
You know what’s really boring?
Digging giant tunnels underground.
From my 6yr old: Whats a guitar’s favorite cheese?
String cheese.
My son took some exams to become a pirate
He kept getting high C's
A mugger held me up at knife point, demanding I give all my money…
So I drew him a map to my ex-wife’s house.
Text exchange with my 70-yo father. He’s still got it.
Me: Heads up, you have a package arriving today with your name on it. You have permission to open it today 😉🎄 Him: Ok. Is the tree a hint or just a christmassy thing? I don’t need a tree🌲 Me: Just a christmassy thing. We didn’t send you a tree. Him: Great. I wouldn’t want to accuse you of tree, son 🤓 Me: Oooof Him: I was trying to branch out into political humor but it didn’t take root so I guess I’ll leaf it there Me: You don’t know when to quit, do you? Him: I wooden know about that
What do you call a rectangle that got into an accident?
… a wrecked angle.
What does the sign of an out-of-business brothel say?
Beat it. We’re closed
Two kids were playing around inside and broke a window.
It was a pane to replace.