7 points, for the lot of them.
Note: Zero points don’t mean it’s bad; just means I heard it before
Yeah. Five points is the really bad score.
All of my good ones have already been either stolen or used, so here goes:
Rene Descartes walks into a bar.
The bartender asks him if he would like a drink, to which Rene replies “I think not.”
…and disappears in a puff of smoke.
YES !!! (Doing victory dance in front of computer)
8 points. I bet I could tell this one to 20 random people at work, and 20 random people would go ‘Huh?’
I think it’s time to wrap this up in a day or two, so if you’ve been sandbagging, now is the time to bring it.
From the OP; somebody please rate it:
Many years ago, a young couple start dating. Once they start becoming intimate, the boy asks the girl for a blowjob. “No”, she replies, “you’ll lose all respect for me.”
They date for a few years. They become engaged. The young man again asks for a blowjob, reassuring his fiance that he will always respect her. She declines.
The wedding night arrives. “Honey, we’re married now. For God’s sake, can I get a blowjob?” Again she refuses: “You will not respect me anymore.”
Their first anniversary arrives. The husband is now begging, promising not to lose his respect for his bride. She refuses.
The husband resigns himself to his apparent fate. But every year, on their anniversary night, he pleads his case. Five years. 10. 20. The answer is always no, and the reason is always the same.
Our couple is now in their 90s. They have been married 70 years. “Dear wife,” says the old man, "this is the last time I will ever ask you. We do not have long to live. Can I please, please have just one blowjob??? I swear on everything that is holy that I will never, ever lose respect for you. "
To his great surprise, his wife relents and performs oral sex on him.
Just as she finishes, the phone rings. The husband picks it up. “Hello? Sure, one second.” He hands the phone to his wife. “It’s for you, cocksucker.”
OK, you need to know something (OK, a fair amount…) about Jewish culture to “get” this one, but here goes…
Rubinstein has served the British Crown well for 50 years; finally, he is recognized and is to be knighted by the queen.
Of course, he gets detailed instructions – when to step up, how to kneel, what to say…
The big day arrives, and he’s in line to have the sword laid on his shoulders… and when his turn comes, he advances, he kneels, he opens his mouth… and the words he has to say completely escape him! So, he goes with the first thing that comes to mind… “ma nishtana halayla ha’zeh mi-kol ha-leylot?”***
The Queen turns to her aide and asks him… “Why is this knight different from everey other knight?”
*** For all those unfamiliar with Jewish culture (i.e., probably 95% of the thread readers… :o) These are the opening words of one of the highlights of the Passover “seder” – and they mean “Why is this night different from every other night?”
Zero points. 
A pair of booster cables go into bar. “Two beers please,” they say. “All right…” says the bartender…
“…but don’t start anything”.
6 points. And thanks for teaching me something.
Damn.
Zero points, right back atcha.
I heard it this way:
A guy tries to get into a fancy restaurant, but they won’t let him in without a necktie. He goes to his car, rummages around, and all he can find are a set of jumper cables. He ties them around his neck like a tie, returns to the restaurant, and asks if he can come in.
“OK,” says the doorman, “but don’t try to start anything.”
A cephalopod walks into a fancy resturant and asks if he can be seated.
“I’m sorry,” says the waiter. “But all of the tables are octopied.”
Are we going to have the joke-off for the best joke of the thread next then?
Zero. Sorry.
I, too, would have to give it zero points. But when I first heard it, I’d say it was an 8.
Jesus is hanging on the cross in great pain. Nevertheless, he beckons with his fingers to his nearby disciple and says, “Peter, come here!” The disciple looks nervously at the heavily-armed Roman soldiers standing at the foot of the cross and shakes his head nervously. Jesus repeats his summons, and again Peter declines. Then Jesus frowns and orders him very firmly, “Peter, come here!” Peter, knowing he’s going to get in trouble no matter what, sighs and comes closer.
“What is it, Lord?” the disciple asks.
“Peter,” says Jesus, “I can see your house from up here!”
7 points.
I’m going to list all the 10-pointers, at which point we’ll narrow it down to just 3. Then I’ll run a poll for the winner.
Not sure if these have been posted but…
Little Jimmy comes home from school one day and tells his mother, “Mom! Guess what? I had sex with my Grade 1 teacher today!”
His mother is aghast and orders him to his room right away until his father comes home.
When his father comes home, the mother says, “Jimmy just told me he had sex with his Grade 1 teacher today! Go and talk to him right away!”
The father nods and heads up to his son’s room and sternly announces, “Son, your mother told me you me you had sex with your Grade 1 teacher. Is this true?”
The son nods his head.
The father quickly looks around and embraces his son. “Way to go son! You’re a man now. You mother doesn’t understand these things but I’m proud of you. Tell you what, to celebrate, why don’t we go and buy that red bike you liked?” The kid agrees.
After they bought the bike the father asks “So, are you going to ride it now?”
“No, Dad. My ass still hurts.”
"A woman is in a coma when the nurse is sponge bathing her. She notices when she sponges her nether regions that there is brain activity on the monitor. She immediately tells the doctor. The doctor calls in the husband explains what happened and says, “Look, this is a bit unorthodox but I think your wife might respond to oral sex.” The husband is very reluctant about this but the doctor persists, “This may be a way to get her out of the coma and we would give you all the privacy you need. Think of your wife.”
The husband reluctantly agrees and they draw the curtains around the bed.
After a bit of time, the monitors hooked up to the wife begin beeping alarms. The doctor and nurse quickly pull back the curtains and ask what is going on. The husband looks up sheepishly and says “I think I choked her.”
I think everyone’s probably seen this, but it’s funny anyway.
Everybody I know who has a dog usually calls him “Rover” or “Spot”. I call mine Sex. Now, Sex has been very embarrassing to me. When I went to the City Hall to renew the dog’s license, I told the clerk that I would like a license for Sex. He said, “I would like to have one too!” Then I said, “But she is a dog!” He said he didn’t care what she looked like. I said, “You don’t understand. … I have had Sex since I was nine years old.” He replied, “You must have been quite a strong boy.” When I decided to get married, I told the minister that I would like to have Sex at the wedding. He told me to wait until after the wedding was over. I said, “But Sex has played a big part in my life and my whole world revolves around Sex.” He said he didn’t want to hear about my personal life and would not marry us in his church. I told him everyone would enjoy having Sex at the wedding. The next day we were married at the Justice of the Peace. My family was barred from the church from then on.
When my wife and I went on our honeymoon, I took the dog with me. When we checked into the motel, I told the clerk that I wanted a room for me and my wife and a special room for Sex. He said that every room in the motel is a place for sex. I said, “You don’t understand. … Sex keeps me awake at night.” The clerk said, “Me too!”
One day I entered Sex in a contest. But before the competition began, the dog ran away. Another contestant asked me why I was just looking around. I told him that I was going to have Sex in the contest. He said that I should have sold my own tickets. “You don’t understand,” I said, “I hoped to have Sex on TV.” He called me a show off.
When my wife and I separated, we went to court to fight for custody of the dog. I said, “Your Honor, I had Sex before I was married but Sex left me after I was married.” The Judge said, “Same here!”
Last night Sex ran off again. I spent hours looking all over for her. A cop came over and asked me what I was doing in the alley at 4 o’clock in the morning. I said, “I’m looking for Sex.” – My case comes up next Thursday.
Well now I’ve been thrown in jail, been divorced and had more damn troubles with that dog than I ever foresaw. Why just the other day when I went for my first session with the psychiatrist, she asked me, “What seems to be the trouble?” I replied, “Sex has been my best friend all my life but now it has left me for ever. I can’t live any longer being so lonely.” and the doctor said, “Look mister, you should understand that sex isn’t a man’s best friend so go get yourself a dog.”
There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed.
Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I’m showing you at ninety knots on the ground.”
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the “HoustonCenterVoice.” I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country’s space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the HoustonCenterControllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that… and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna’s inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed.
“Ah, Twin Beach: I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.”
Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren.
Then out of the blue, a Navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios.
“Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check.”
Before Center could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it – ol’ Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He’s the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet.
And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion:
“Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.”
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done – in mere seconds we’ll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now.
I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet.
Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke:
“Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?”
There was no hesitation, and the reply came as if was an everyday request:
“Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice:
“Ah, Center, much thanks. We’re showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.”
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the HoustonCentervoice, when L.A. came back with,
“Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day’s work.
We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.