Today's jokes [1.8.17]
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This was originally posted in rec.sport.pro-wrestling
I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I
thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not
to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name
was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright.
They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they
punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new
environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high
speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle
lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive, they
all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda'
like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap
monkeys. I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all
over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It
looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I
had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a
while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want
to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately,
there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change
them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so
it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to
extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in
my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the
bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said that the city was not
allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one.
He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My
friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them,
but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the
I like monkeys.
A Pollock walks over the Red Light District in Amsterdam when suddenly
he notices a fine looking hooker looking at him.
He stops, bangs on the window and says,"So, what does this cost ??!!".
And the hooker replies,"25 dollars !!".
And the Pollock said ,"Hmm, that's not a lot of money for insulated
Why do Farts stink?
So that Deaf people can enjoy them too.
If Apple made toasters...
It would do everything the Microsoft toaster does, but 5 years
earlier. The toast would make a little smiley face at you when
it popped up, or else it would get stuck and there would be a
little picture of a bomb burned onto it. If they break, these
toasters would require a special set of MacToaster Tools to
even open up. Worldwide market share would only be 5%, but all
the bread in school lunches would be exclusively toasted on
A mute was walking down the street one day and chanced upon a friend of
his, also a mute. In sign language, he inquired how his friend had been
doing. The friend replied (vocally!) "Oh, can that hand-waving shit. I
can talk now."
Intrigued, the mute pressed him for details. Seems he had gone to a
specialist, who, seeing no physical damage, had put him on a treatment
program that had restored the use of his vocal chords.
Gesturing wildly, the mute asked if he might meet this specialist. They
got an appointment that very afternoon.
After an exam, the specialist proclaimed that he had found no permanent
damage. The mute was essentially in the same condition as his buddy,
and that there was no reason why he couldn't be helped as well.
"Yes, yes" signed the mute. "Let's have the first treatment right now!"
"Very well," replied the specialist."Kindly go into the next room, drop
your pants and lean over the examining table. I'll be right in."
The mute does as instructed, and the doctor sneaked in carrying a
broomstick, mallet and jar of Vaseline. Greasing the broom handle, he
'sent it home' with a deft swipe of the mallet.
The mute jumped from the table, screaming, "AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaa!!!"
"VERY good," smiled the doctor. "Next Tuesday, we work on 'B'."
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