…for the fun of it. My wife yells at me over elephant jokes, so here are these, instead.
…for some humor. Bear with me.
Many years ago I was in Wyoming elk hunting with a guide in prime grizzly-bear territory. Camped in an area with a host of bear tracks in the surrounding snow, I asked one evening how to stay safe from grizzly bears.
“First, tie bells to your shoes so they can hear you. Second, learn the difference between black bear and grizzly bear scat.”
I asked about the scatological difference.
“Grizz scat has bells in it.”
…would rather find a reason to be offended than see humor, even if that humor isn’t their style. Such folks are professional victims. Here’s an advertising sign that one physical fitness gym owner has put up to advertise his business.
Folks actually are up in arms over this. Is the joke for everyone? Of course not; no joke is; not even those told by Milton Berle or Bob Hope.
That’s a big so what, though; humor varies from person to person. Nevertheless, professional victims are calling him out for fat-shaming folks, for bullying folks.
…comes from Fox News:
The Latest: Russia says 30,000 flea besieged east Ghouta
Apparently, al Assad is so desperate Putin is even drawing in the little guys….
My irony meter is, again.
h/t Tyler O’Neil at PJMedia
Your momma’s so ugly, the government moved Halloween to her birthday.
Your momma is so fat, I took a picture of her last Christmas and it’s still printing.
Your mamma is so fat she doesn’t need the internet, because she’s already world wide.
A lady comes home from her doctor’s appointment grinning from ear to ear. Her husband asks, “Why are you so happy?”
The wife says, “The doctor told me that for a forty-five year old woman, I have the breasts of a eighteen year old.”
“Oh yeah?” quipped her husband, “What did he say about your forty-five year old ass?”
She said, “Your name never came up.”
It’s that time. Suffer.
Two vultures board an airplane, each carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at them and says, “I’m sorry, gentlemen, only one carrion allowed per passenger.”
Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, but when they lit a fire in the craft, it sank, proving once again that you can’t have your kayak and heat it, too.
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him a super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
Some humor after a poet/playwright of some years past. Bonus points if you can identify the person.
A most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality.
His wit’s as thick as a Tewkesbury mustard.
I’ll beat thee, but I would infect my hands.
More of your conversation would infect my brain.
Thine face is not worth sunburning.
Regarding a letter:
By my life, this is my lady’s hand these be her
very C’s, her U’s and her T’s and thus makes she her
Via Heatstreet (the article in front of this bit, on a separate matter, is worth the read, too: if it doesn’t angrify you, it’ll amuse you terribly).
I don’t ordinarily go to People magazine for material, but I was sent here by Fox News Insider, and this tale is just too amusing to ignore.
[D]esigner Sophie Theallet has flipped the script on those ubiquitous calls to boycott, announcing that instead it is she and her brand who will be boycotting Trump and his wife, Melania, refusing to lend her any of her designs.
A source tells People, “This has already been going on for months. Designers wouldn’t lend to Melania, Ivanka, or Tiffany, so they either bought the items themselves or wore Ivanka’s brand.”