The first version of that joke was much better.

 

I like to keep telling the same pointlessly long joke to see if people will read the entire thing twice.

 

At least the first version gave a reason for him to make such a stupid wish -- doubting the power of that coin he'd found on the beach or something. This one is not only still not funny as a joke but it's implausible as a mini story, as there was no reason for making such a stupid wish. Even knowing that the whole point was to piss me off, I'm still left pretty damn annoyed.

 

Fantastic.

 

Let's give this old joke a try.



Miss Norbury was twenty-something whose daytime profession was a Third Grade teacher. At first, she had loved her job and adored the prospect of working with lovely, cherubic children. However, she quickly discovered that all that glitters was not gold. Belying their bright-faced smiles, the kids were rude and inattentive, with attention spans of goldfishes. Miss Norbury struggled to teach them anything.

Miss Norbury grew tired of her job and the hassle of dealing with troublesome children. Weary, she trudged through the day and looked forward to the end of school. It was impossible to teach these children History, Maths, English...

Then, on a brisk August evening, the answer to her dilemma came. It was so simple! Miss Norbury slept soundly that night.

The next day, Miss Norbury waltzed into the classroom. Although the children were already throwing paper airplanes and gumballs, Miss Norbury was incredibly happy. What was about to change? Miss Norbury smiled.

"Good morning, class!" she chirped.

The kids ignored her.

"I have some good news today," said Miss Norbury, undeterred. "I've come up with a new game. Do you want to hear it? The winners get to go home - early."

Instantly, the children froze. The last word was a lightning rod, electrifying the classroom. They turned to their teacher, who was beyond delighted.

"Excellent. Here's how it will work," explained Miss Norbury. "We'll continue what we learnt last week, and continue studying American history. However, halfway through class, we'll close the books and I'll say three famous quotes from three American presidents. Anybody who can identify who said what first gets to go home early. What do you say?"

The classroom echoed with excited murmurs, as the kids discussed this news with their friends. They were all eager to go home early.

Miss Norbury smirked. For the first time, these kids looked willing to learn. And their bad behaviour seemed under a leash. The trick was working.

"Now turn to page 393, where we learn about President Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War."

Later in the day, Miss Norbury closed her book and glanced at the class.

"Okay, I'm ready to name the quotations," she announced.

The children straightened in their chairs and gave the teacher their full attention. Miss Norbury was still amazed at how wonderfully behaved they were, acting polite and without talking back.

"Who said this?" Miss Norbury paused. "A house divided against itself cannot stand."

Two hands shot into the air. Miss Norbury ignored the red-haired boy and picked the pretty girl in the pinafore.

"Yes, Rachel," said Miss Norbury. "Do you have an answer?"

Rachel nodded. "Abraham Lincoln!"

"Correct. You may go home now, if you'd like."

Rachel squealed and packed her bag. She smirked at the red-haired boy, before flouncing out of the classroom. Meanwhile, Miss Norbury prepared another quote.

"What about this one?" she asked. "Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far."

Once more, two children raised their hands. While one was the red-haired boy from before, the other was a stocky girl with watery eyes. Miss Norbury picked the girl.

"Monica," said Miss Norbury.

"Erm, is it Theodore Roosevelt?" asked Monica.

Miss Norbury smiled. "Correct."

Punching the air in victory, Monica stood up. Like Rachel, she packed her bag and quickly exited the room. However, she didn't leave without giving the red-haired boy a condescending smirk. Miss Norbury didn't notice the scowl on the boy's face.

The boy was extremely fed up. Both times, he had raised his hands before anyone else, and both times Miss Norbury had chosen somebody else. He had so desperately wanted to go home, and he had the right answers, dammit! Monica's condescending, pug-like expression was the salt in his wound.

"I hate fucking Monica," he mumbled under his breath.

Miss Norbury had weathered through what felt like dynasties of teaching. So her ears were very much experienced and attuned to the types of foul language promulgated within classrooms. She caught even the softest murmur.

When the red-haired boy used that naughty word, Miss Norbury whipped her head around.

"Who said that?" she growled, ready to clean somebody's mouth with soap. "Who said that?"

The red-haired boy blinked. Then, he stood up and faced his teacher in the eye.

He replied in a solemn voice. "Bill Clinton. Can I go home now?"

 

That last one was really funny.

 

A father passing by his son's bedroom, was astonished to see the bed
was nicely made, and that everything was picked up and tidy.
Then, he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow. It was addressed,

'Dad.'

With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the
letter, with trembling hands.

Dear Dad,

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing to you. I had to
elope with my new girlfriend, because I wanted to avoid a scene with
Mum and you.

I've been finding real passion with Stacy, and she is so nice, but I
knew you would not approve of her, because of all her piercings',
tattoos, her tight Motorcycle clothes, and because she is so much
older than I am.

But it's not only the passion, Dad. She's pregnant.
Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods, and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.

Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't, really
hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves, and trading it with
the other people in the commune, for all the cocaine and
ecstasy we want.

In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS, so
Stacy can get better. She sure deserves it!

Don't worry Dad, I'm 15, and I know how to take care of myself.
Someday, I'm sure we'll be back to visit, so you can get to know
your many grandchildren.

Love, your son, Joshua.

P.S. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Jason's house.
I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in
life than the School report that's on the kitchen table.

 

A couple of days ago my neighbour came over started accusing me of stealing clothes from her washing line.

I nearly shit her pants.

 

A man tried to sell his dog to a neighbour...

"This is a talking dog," said the man, "and he's yours for only five pounds."

"I don't believe you," said the neighbour, "There's no such thing as a talking dog!"

Just then, the dog looked up dolefully and said: "Please buy me, sir. This man has been cruel to me. He never takes me for a walk, he buys me the cheapest dog food and he makes me sleep in the garage. He doesn't realize what a special dog I am. I swam the Atlantic two years ago, and went to the North Pole before that."

"You're right!" said the neighbour, "This dog can talk. So why are you selling him so cheap?"

The owner replied: "Because I'm sick of his lies!"

 

Three governors decided to quit politics, and instead, go into some composing.

Ex-governor Pataki frowned a bit and decided that they should take the styles of their favorite musicians in history, and proclaimed, "I'll take Mozart. I'll be the modern-day equivalent of him."

Ex-governor Bush nodded. "You can have Mozart. I fancied myself more of a Chopin."

Ex-governor Schwarzenegger grunted. "I'll be Bach."

 

Do you know why Neville's so good at Herbology?

It's because his parents are vegetables.

 

@Dontmovethefilesevil: I fucking hate you.

 

When God created angels,
the most special, the most sweet and the most beautiful,
slipped from His hands, and fell on Earth

...

I totally broke my leg. My hip hasn't been the same since.


/has shamelessly used it IRL for teh lulz

 

Parkour: because only the French would create the martial art of running away.

I've arranged for my wife to have one of those fish spa pedicures at home tonight. It's cost me a fucking fortune - piranhas aren't cheap.

Why do girls get so moody when there on their periods? It's such an ovary action.

I bet Americans hate September this year. The whole month is a 9/11.

My wife keeps complaining about her nine to five job. I must admit, 4:51 is a strange time to start work.

Towards the end of the Jurassic Period, the Thesaurus was the first dinosaur to become extinct, obsolete, belated, vanished and wiped out.

How many dyslexics does it take to change a light bulb? Too.

 

Qns: How are bad movies like the Dementers in Prisoner Of Azkaban?
Friend: ...Er, because they suck your soul and happiness out?
Me: No, because they stand around doing nothing for the first few hours and when they actually get around to doing something nobody's there anymore.

 

Since the "Three Presidents" joke was reasonably well-received, I'm going to try another long-ish joke from my repertoire. This one is potentially racist to Muslims, though; some of my IRL Muslim friends found it hilarious, while others didn't find it amusing.

I apologise to anybody whom this joke might offend. It wasn't my intention to hurt anyone's feelings, and my own views aren't reflected in this joke.

Without further ado:


---

Ahmed and Soraya were two, young Muslims who were eagerly waiting to be married. For many months, they had planned their wedding and the reception. From the flowers to the food, everything was proceeding as planned. However, Ahmed and Soraya, despite their very Western upbringing, wanted their wedding to follow the traditional customs of their faith. Following their parents' advice, they consulted a mullah, a man who was educated in Islamic theology and sacred law.

"We were hoping that I could lead my fiancée into a waltz," said Ahmed excitedly.

Smiling, Soraya clasped Ahmed's hand. "We even took ballroom dancing lessons together." She added. "The foxtrot is my favourite, though. Must we use the waltz, honey?"

"That's all well and good," said the mullah, frowning. "However, I'm afraid the waltz - and the foxtrot - cannot feature in your wedding plans."

"What! I can't dance with my wife at our own wedding?"

Gravely, the mullah nodded. "Dancing between a man and a woman is prohibited in our faith."

"Oh, that's great." Ahmed sounded sarcastic. "I suppose I can't even have sex with Soraya during our honeymoon. Is that prohibited as well?"

"Actually," said the mullah carefully, "sex on your honeymoon is fine, since it encourages the birth of children, which is considered a good thing in our faith."

Ahmed and Soraya exchanged a look.

"What about sex using lubricants and scented oils? Is that allowed?" asked Ahmed.

"Yes, because it encourages childbirth."

When Soraya widened her slow smile, Ahmed continued: "What about sex with dildos and vibrators?"

"Yes, I suppose," replied the mullah.

"What about sex with chains and whips?" asked Ahmed. "Can I chain Soraya to the bed and slather our arms in hot honey, while I pleasure her darkest regions?" Ahmed was excited. "May I drip wax over her, and then I smother my body in whipped cream to be licked off? Can I thrust my fingers into unspeakable places and use spiked gags and SM-style blindfolds?"

The mullah sighed. "Yes, and yes. Even the whipped cream and chain-play."

Unable to curb her enthusiasm, Soraya finally interceded.

"What about sex standing up?" she asked.

The mullah's remark was swift: "No."

Shocked, Ahmed leaned back into his chair. After furrowing his brow in confusion, he croaked out a response.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it may lead to dancing."

 

Sounds more like an old Baptist joke to me...

 

That was just dumb.

 

Q: A Greek, an Irishman and a Portuguese go into a bar and order a drink. Who pays?
A: The German.

 

A man is Captain of a merchant vessel on the high seas. He sees a pirate ship. He knows a battle is inevitable so he turns to his first mate and says "First mate! Bring me my red shirt!"

The first mate is confused so he asks "Why the red shirt sir?"

The Captain replies back "So that if I am wounded my men will not see me bleed, and thus, not be demoralized!".

The first mate nods saying "That makes sense sir. Should I also bring you your brown trousers?"