Hitler’s Favorite Joke:
[must be yelled with a thick fake German accent]
MY DOG HAS NO NOSE!
HOW DOES HE SMELL?!?
TERRIBLE!
Warning: This is really, really sick. (But hilarious if you give the right off-handed insouciance to the punch line.)
Two guys are out on a camping trip for a week. After a few days they decide to split up for a day, and meet up later at a prearranged place and time.
So they meet up. Guy A says, “So how was your day?”
Guy B answers, “Well, it was really nice. I walked up that mountain over there, and I found a cool stream that formed a deep, clear pool. I dove into that icy water, and then I got out and lay on a soft, mossy rock and dozed off while the warm sunshine dried me off.”
Guy A says, “Wow, that does sound nice! I had a pretty good day, too: I was walking along, and I found some train tracks. So I followed the tracks for a while, and pretty soon I came upon a woman who’d been tied to the tracks. I untied her, and we spent the day having sex in every position you can imagine.”
Guy B: “Wow! Sounds like your day was better than mine! So tell me, was she pretty cute?”
Guy A: “I dunno; I couldn’t find her head.”
A truck driver walks in to a Nevada brothel and asks for a hooker. He’d been on the road for six weeks driving hard, and needin’ a good lay. Much to his misfortune, the manager tells him the ladies are all out on strike. He said the only thing they had left was Wong the China-man. Immediately the truck-driver responds back, “Say, I don’t go for that kind of shit! Mister, are you sure you ain’t go no women around here?" “Yep, I’m sure” says the manager, "so if you change your mind, we’ll still have ole Wong the Chinaman.” “I done toll ya, I don’t go for that kind da shit!”
About 15 minutes later, truck-driver comes back in, with his head down, walking slowly towards the manager and asks him, ”Say, ah…just in case I did go for that kind of shit, how much would that be?” Manager says “ “that’ll be $15.00.” “$15.00!” yells the Truck-driver. “Damn, that’s kind of steep for fuckin’ a China-man ain’t it?!” “Yep” says the manager, “but what you don’t understand is… we got to chase ole Wong down, and hold him down for ya, because ole Wong…he don’t go for that kind of shit either!”
From an old Gene Tracy cassette.
JZ
A priest, rabbi and minister walk into a bar. The bartender comes up to take their order, stops and asks them “Hey, wait a minute! Is this some kind of joke?”
Little Indian boy says to his dad “Why is my sister called White Cloud”
“Well son, when a baby is born we give it the name of the first thing we see after the birth”
Son: “Why is my brother called Running Wolf”
DAD: “I just told you, when a baby is born we give it the name of the first thing we see after the birth”
SON: “Why am I called…”
DAD: “Look stop asking silly questions…Two Dogs Fucking”
A man was walking thru the woods, hunting. He comes upon a gorgeous, naked woman. He says, “Hey baby, are you game?”
She says, “Sure, big fella!”
So he shot her.
How do you get a nun pregnant?
You fuck her.
A man comes home with two black eyes. His wife asks, “What the hell happened to you?”
He says, “I was riding home on the bus when I noticed a woman standing in front of me with her dress stuck in her butt. I reached forward and pulled it out, so she turned around and slugged me.”
“How’d you get the other eye?”
“Well, I figured she liked it that way, so I pushed it back in.”
In order to stand a better chance of getting a job this Irishman takes elocution lessons in order to be able to speak like a perfect English Gent.
He walks into this shop and says in his finest voice;-
“A apacket of your finest cigars, the Daily Telegraph and some Werthers Original fine Mints my good man”
“You’re Irish aren’t you?” says the shopkeeper
“Yes I am but how did you know”
“This is a hardware store”
This is a great joke, and must be told in a sort of a ‘storyteller’ mode. Think Arabian Nights, or something similar…
part one
Our story begins with these two legionnaires, recently defected from their legion (bad food, worse pay), slogging their way across the vast and trackless desert.
The sun is relentless, their food ran out days ago and they have no water. They
are despairing for their very lives. Just then one collapses to the burning ground
‘That’s it!’ he cries. ‘I am done for, I am doomed, I can go no further. Leave me to die, oh brave companion, leave me here, that my soul might flee my tortured body and my bones shall bleach in the noonday sun.’
His companion, however, (a little older, a little wiser) is made of sterner stuff, and hauls his friend to his feet.
‘Do not despair’ he says. ‘We still have strength. Who knows - beyond that hill may be an oasis, or wandering nomadic tribesmen’
So they crest the mighty sand dune and there, spread out before them, glittering in the sunlight, is a huge open air market. They look down on it in wonder. Surely this is the answer to their prayers!
They can hear strange tongues, and from their vantage point the most delicate and exotic smells are wafting towards them.
So they head on down.
part two
Arriving at the first stall they’re greeted by a pleasant young man.
‘Good morning stall-keep!’ they say ‘We are but two humble legionnaires, recently defected from our legion, and we are wondering if you might have any sustenance, any provisions suitable for crossing the desert, which, as you know, is both vast and trackless. For, good sir, without your help, I fear that we shall perish in the blistering heat, and our bones shall bleach in the noonday sun’
The stall owner looks around his small stall. He looks in pots, he looks in pans. He looks in clay jugs. He even lifts up the small and frayed mat under his feet, before turning to the legionnaires with a look of dismay on his honest face.
‘Forgive me, oh good and humble legionnaires, oh legionnaires most brave and daring. But all I have in my stall is cream and custard, sponge cake and a little fruit. None of which is suitable for crossing the desert, both vast and trackless’
‘Not to worry, good sir’ the say, ‘not to worry at all. There are plenty of other stalls in this vast open-air market, any one of which may have the provisions we need’
So they head to the second stall…
part three
(you all understand that when I said ‘this is a great joke’, I meant ‘this is a ridiculously long joke that no one will ever let you tell twice, forcing you to inflict it upon hapless dopers’, right?. Just checking)
…the second stall is tended by a young woman, and both legionnaires are as gallant as they know how.
‘A moment of your time, madam’ says one. ‘My companion and I are but humble legionnaires, having recently defected from our legion, attempting to cross the vast and trackless desert. Tell me, do you have any provisions suitable for crossing this perilous land, for without your help we shall surely perish, and our bones will bleach in the noonday sun’
She behaves much like the previous stall owner, looking all around, muttering to herself in a language they do not recognise. She speaks to the old woman next to her, but all to no avail. She turns to them in sorrow.
‘Forgive me, legionnaires most brave and good and humble, but I have nothing of the sort. For in my stall, all I have to sell is custard and cream, and sponge cake. Oh, and a little fruit’
‘not to worry, m’dear’ they say, and move on to the next stall.
ha ha! It will never end!
And would you believe it? The next stall sells nothing but cream and custard and sponge cake, oh, and a little fruit.
And the next.
And the next.
And on and on, till the sun has set and the moon is round in the sky, shedding pale light on the vast open air market, which itself is bathed in the glow of a thousand flickering torches.
This beauty is lost on the legionnaires however, for they are weary, and footsore, and sick of heart. They have come to the last stall, old and tattered, set just a little out of line, so it seems to be more a part of the desert than of the market. An old man sits there, long white beard, large turban. Chittering monkey on his shoulder.
The legionnaires approach him slowly, for they are well aware that if this man can not aid them, then they are doomed.
‘Sir’ says one, 'sir, we are but two humble legionnaires. We are weary, for we have spent the day and much of the night searching this market or provisions that would enable us to escape from this vast and trackless desert.
‘Sir, you are out last hope. I only ask…, nay sir, I beg on bended knee, do you have anything, anything that might aid us?’
For the longest time, the old man is silent. His eyes glitter in his dark face. The monkey sits still on his shoulder, watching the legionnaires.
At last he says, in a heavy, sorrowful voice, ‘No. I have nothing to aid you. In this stall, all I sell is cream and custard and sponge cake. And a little fruit’
‘Oh’ say the legionnaires. ‘Thank you sir, we wish you well.’
And they leave the market…
They walk up a dune (for the entire open air market is encased in a large, sandy valley) and reach the crest.
There, before they stike out into the vast and trackless desert, into their certain, burning death, they turn and look back on the place, still bathed in the glow of a thousand flickering torches, which had promised so much, and given nothing.
And one turns to the other and says:
‘y’know, it was odd, coming across a huge open-air market in the middle of the desert. On that sold nothing but cream, custard, sponge cake, and a little fruit. Don’t you think that was strange?’
To which his companion replies…
‘…why yes! It was a trifle bazaar!’
And then they kicked him to death.
There was much rejoicing…
Not impressed, NoClueBoy? Bad puns not the highest form of humour? Alas, alas…
…
What do you call a fly with no wings?
A walk.
What do you call a fly with no wings and no legs?
A look.
What do you call a fly with no wings, no legs and not eyes?
A rasin!
I think I have heard manx’s joke before… but about 1/5th the size. I do remember that punchline though.
Oh yeah…
What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?
A carrot! (Duh!)
Guy returns to the doctor for results after taking a series of medical tests and asks the doctor, “Okay, Doc, give it to me straight. How am I doing?”
Doc: “Well, I hate to tell you this but you’ve got an inoperable terminal cancer that’s beyond treatment of any kind.”
Guy: “Damn, Doc. How long do I have?”
Doc: “10”
Guy: “10 what? Years, Months, Weeks?”
Doc: “9”