Tell that to the fine art crowd.
Oh yeah? Picture a duck wearing an ascot, plaid jacket and flannel trousers saying to another duck “I just got damn fed up with going formal all the time.”
Doesn’t work, does it?
Now try it with penguins! Comedy fuckin GOLD.
[sub]Have i mentioned lately that I’ve sunk my life’s savings into a Penguin Farming concern?
Well, the punchline loses something, but the visual works for me. And BTW, you forgot the shoes.
*Brain : “You are my manager Colonel Pinky. You discovered me playing guitar on the front porch of my humble pig farm. Any questions?”
Pinky : “Oh just one. When you farm humble pigs , how far apart do you have to plant them?”
Brain : “If I could reach you I would hurt you.”*
Now what does all this have to do with jarmommy anyhow?
exactly, pcubed. You duck and penguin lovers have gotten off topic.
We’re supposed to be ranting about people who ruin good jokes.
Oh wait. I see.
Anyway, I love jarmommy, but it’s tough to get her to laugh
Yeah, but bananas do.
[sub]Hee Hee, I slay me.[sub]
Does jarmommy also have problems with other types of humor? Has she always been this way? How would you describe her in terms of social interactions (shy, gregarious, reserved, etc)?
So there are these three greyhounds that are sitting around a table in a bar.
The first one says “Here’s something interesting that happened to me today. I was in a race over at Greenswood. I was in the fourth lane and I had the number 4. I came in fourth place.”
The second one looks up from his beer and says “Really? That’s amazing. Today I was in the fourth race over at Bircher’s Grounds. I was also in the fourth race as number 4. I was a four to one shot.”
The third greyhound finishes up his beer, wipes his mouth and says “That’s simply astonishing. Today I was also in the fourth race over at Yorkshire Fair. I was number four, in the fourth lane, and I came in fourth as a 4 to 1 shot at exactly 4 o’clock.”
At that moment, a horse walks by and stops at their table. “Excuse me, he said. I couldn’t help but overhear you all and I find it remarkable what had happened. You see, I was also number 4 today, coming in 4th as a 4 to 1 shot at exactly 4 o’clock. My jockie was even 4 foot 4.”
Right then, the first greyhound turned to the other two and whispered “Holy shit! A talking horse!”
A termite walks into a bar and says “Where’s the bartender?”
But I don’t know if he was wearing shoes… or how many legs a termite has. But I’ve heard they like tequila… and penguins? Maybe he was eaten by a duck?
Vicki
Mr. Burns: Books and cocoa in the same store? What’s next, a talking banana? (smiles and looks around)
Smithers: Uh, I don’t see one, sir.
Mr. Burns: Of course not. The very notion of a talking banana is absurd. (disappointed) But still…
A traveling salesman was driving through a small town and stopped at a bar for dinner. He got to chatting with the bartender for awhile, noticed a large jar crammed full of twenty dollars bills and asked the bartender about it.
The bartender said, “Oh, that. We have a bet around here to try to make the horse out back laugh. Winner takes all.”
The salesman asks, “Can I try?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
The salesman puts twenty bucks into the jar and the bartender takes him out to the paddock where the horse is grazing. The guy stands on tiptoe and whispers into the horse’s ear. The horse starts neighing and whinnying hysterically, rolling around on the ground, barely able to breathe.
The salesman drives of with the jar full of twenties.
A year later, the same salesman is driving throuh the same town and stops in the same bar. The same bartender recognizes him and says, “Hey, you won the contest last year! This year (pointing to another jar crammed full of twenties), we’re trying to make the horse cry. Wanna try?”
“Sure,” said the salesman, “but I need to take him behind the barn for a moment.”
The bartender says, “Okay, but you have to promise not to hurt him or anything like that to make him cry.”
The salesman promises, so the bartender takes him out back to the horse, and the salesman leads the horse around the back of the barn. A few minutes later, the salesman leads the horse back to the paddock. The horse is whimpering miserably, lower lip trembling, and big tears rolling down his face.
Just before the salesman is about to drive off with the jar full of twenties, the bartender stops him and asks, "Hey, ya gotta tell me: “Last year you made him laugh and this year you made him cry. What did you do?”
The salesman said, “It’s simple: last year I told him mine was bigger, and this year I proved it.”
No, vebr, the joke goes “Is the bartender here?”
Why do ducks have flat feet? To put out forest fires.
No shoes, but it’s at least about duck feet.
Of course, the joke doesn’t really stand on its own. You need the callback:
Why do elephants have flat feet? To put out flaming ducks!
(Flaming ducks, of course, being the ones that gather at Stonewall’s on a Friday night.)
Why do penguins have flat feet?
To properly traverse the snowy wastes of their arctic habitat!
…okay, let me work on that a little.
[screeching halt]
Um, Uke…
- penguins aren’t arctic (they are from the southern hemisphere)
- not all penguins are antarctic (only the Emperor and the Adelies are found on Antarctica, and nowhere near the south pole)
- some species (including the Galapagos and the jackass penguins [found in Africa]) are warm weather penguins and do not live in snow at all
[/screeching halt]
And the jarbabyj award for MOST VICIOUSLY HIJACKED THREAD goes to…
Nah, if you want vicious, get a Rockhopper penguin. Loud, smelly, real nasty attitude, and they’ll lash out at anything in their ‘territory’. A friend of mine was bit by one - took 12 stitches to close up the gash in her arm.
Then again, ducks can be vicious too, but not as bad as peacocks. Or swans. (Ask me - I’m missing half a toenail because of a vicious swan.)
Geese are the worst though. Ever get chased by a goose? Fast little buggers and they’ll nip your ass for no reason at all. Getting hit with a wing ain’t a picnic in the park, either. Those are strong wings, goose wings. Not as tasty as chicken wings, but strong.
A hunter was out looking for bear in the North Wood, when he spied a huge grizzly. Taking careful aim, he shoots, and the bears falls down flat. Only, when he gets to the spot where the bear fell, there’s no bear to be found. Suddenly, he feels a tap on his shoulder and there behind him is the griz, standing nine feet tall on his hind legs, looking very grumpy and the hunter knows he’s about to die.
“Relax,” the bear says, “I’m not gonna kill ya. But I am gonna make you turn around and bend over so I can perform a disgusting sexual act.”
So the man goes “eerg,” and “uggh,” and “blearch,” but he knows it’s either that or he’s dead, so he bends over and the bear has his way with him, and lets him go.
That night, the hunter resolves to find that bear the next day and put him down for good. And so he sets out in the morning and yessiree, he finds that big ol’ griz, takes real careful aim, and shoots him dead on.
Only once again, he can’t find any body, and once again, he feels a tap on his shoulder. The griz looks even bigger this time, and even grumpier, and the hunter knows that he’s dead this time for sure.
“Awright,” the bear says, “I ain’t gonna kill ya this time, either, but now you gotta get on your knees and perform a disgusting sexual act on me.”
And the hunter goes “uggh,” and “bloorg,” and “yourch,” but he knows that he’s dead if he doesn’t, so gets on his knees and performs and the bear lets him go.
That night he decides that tomorrow, it will be either him or that damn bear, and he tramps out the next morning, do or die. And he finds the bear and shoots, and once more, can’t find the body.
The bear taps him on the shoulder and says, “you didn’t come for the hunting, did you?”
Dammit! Don’t keep me in suspense like this!
I once was bitten by a duck when I was a wee tad. My own fault; I wanted it to come close so I could pet it, so I held out my hand as if I had food in it.
That was at Briscoe Park, where I also went for Cub Scout camp. I remember we all made name tags with “Indian names” (this was in the mid-70s). My friend Kevin Winkler decided to call himself “Wildfire,” and a black kid he’d just made friends with decided to call himself “Blackfire.” It was funny.
But placing penguins at the wrong pole is not funny, folks.
Hey, you’re the one who brought up ducks and shoes in the OP. Don’t blame us for running with it.
*A vacationing penguin is driving through Arizona when he notices that the oil-pressure light is on. He gets out to look and sees oil dripping out of the motor. He drives to the nearest town and stops at the first gas station.
After dropping the car off, the penguin goes for a walk around town. He sees an ice-cream shop and, being a penguin in Arizona, decides that something cold would really hit the spot. He gets a big bowl of vanilla ice cream and sits down to eat. Having no hands, he makes a real mess trying to eat with his little flippers.
After finishing his ice cream, he goes back to the gas station and asks the mechanic if he’s found the problem. The mechanic looks up and says, “It looks like you blew a seal.”
“No, no,” the penguin replies, “It’s just ice cream.” *
(This is the Pit, right?)