A Catholic boy in confession says, “Bless me Father, I have sinned, I masturbated while thinking about my sister.”
“That’s a disgrace,” said the priest, “especially when you have two gorgeous younger brothers.”
A bunch of cowboys are sitting around a campfire, bragging about how rough and tough they are.
The first says, “I can go weeks in the desert without a drink of water!”
The second says, “That’s nothing. I can kill a mountain lion with my bare hands!”
The third scoffs, “Big deal. I’ve been shot five times and they ain’t killed me yet!”
The fourth says nothing, just thoughtfully stirs the embers of the fire with his cock.
All my jokes I receive from my father who’s an advent joke forwarder:
Irish Vasectomy
After having their 11th child, an Irish couple decided that that was enough, as they couldn’t afford a larger bed. So the husband went to his doctor and told him that he and his wife didn’t want to have any more children…
The doctor told him there was a procedure called a vasectomy that would fix the problem but it was expensive. A less costly alternative was to go home, get a large firecracker, light it, put it in a beer can, then hold the can up to his ear and count to 10.
The husband said to the doctor, “B’Jayzus, I may not be the smartest guy in the world, but I don’t see how putting a firework in a beer can next to my ear is going to help me with my problem.”
“Trust me, it will do the job”, said the doctor.
So the man went home, lit a cracker and put it in a beer can. He held the can up to his ear and began to count:
“1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” at which point he paused, and placed the beer can between his legs so he could continue counting on his other hand.
This procedure also works in New Zealand and Tasmania
When the UN distributed this questionnaire:
‘What is your opinion on how to reduce food shortage to the rest of the world?’
The European replied: ‘What is shortage?’
The African replied: ‘What is food?’
The Chinese replied: ‘What is opinion?’
The American replied: ‘What is the rest of the world?’”
Well, if we’re going down that route, how many potatoes does it take to kill an Irishman?
Zero.
I have an entire book about Soviet-era jokes, it was a real goldmine. The only one I can remember right now is this:
Stalin, Khruschev and Brezhnev are on a train. Suddenly, the train stops.
Stalin, furious, opens the window. “Why have we stopped?”, he yells. “Shoot the driver!”
Khruschev interrupts him: “No, rehabilitate the driver!”
Brezhnev closes the curtains. “I have a better idea - now let’s turn on the gramophone, sway from side to side and pretend we’re moving!”
The joke has lost much of its charm now that all three of them are gone, but I find that it can be applied to almost any country, just changing the names of the political leaders. It works pretty well in Spain with Franco, Zapatero and Rajoy.
A man walks into a bar, slaps his hand down and says, “I’ve got terrible news. Gimme ten shots. Line 'em up, right here.”
The bartender pours ten shots, and the guy pounds them down, one after another. “So what’s the bad news?” the bartender asks as the man slams the last glass down.
“I’m flat broke,” says the man.
If you want to be happy for three hours, get drunk.
If you want to be happy for three months, get married.
The farm had been mortgaged to give his daughter a college education. Now, driving home from the station after meeting her at the train, farmer Johnson was greatly disturbed when his daughter whispered, “I have a confession to make, Paw - I ain’t a virgin no more.”
The old man shook his head sadly. “After all the sacrifices your Maw and I made to give you a good education… you still say 'ain’t!”
An elderly couple has always had a vigorous sex life. Then the man gets the news from his doctor: he has a serious heart condition and can never have sex again. The man and his wife talk it over and agree to sleep in separate bedrooms to avoid temptation: she will remain upstairs in their longtime bedroom, while he’ll sleep on a cot set up in the living room.
The first night away from his wife in decades, the man tosses and turns. The second night is no better. Finally, on the third night, he throws aside his blankets and creeps up the stairs. He’s surprised to bump into his wife halfway up.
“Honey,” he whispers, “I have to admit, I was coming upstairs to commit suicide.”
She smiles. “That’s good, sweetie, because I was just coming downstairs to kill you!”
I’m writing a novel It involves four brothers who steal mattresses from department stores. The youngest, Al, sometimes gives them to the homeless because he’s a priest.
One day they take one from a cheap hotel. Cooties and fleas and bedbugs, oh my!
One of the cooties jumps on the father, who promptly dies of typhus. Which brother is responsible?
Find out in my novel: The Brothers Carry Mats Off."
I stole a futon from a shop. The cops are after me, so I’m lying low.
A sheltered, callow young Catholic priest is puzzled in the confessional when a man admits his many sins, including “Getting a blowjob downtown for $20.”
The priest goes to his abbot and asks, “Father, what’s a blowjob?”
The abbot looks at him eagerly. “$20, same as downtown!”
It’s on the Comedy Central twitter, but in light of the new “Royal Baby”:
The royal baby weighed in at 8 pounds, or approximately 5 US dollars.
Typical Americans, getting the conversion factor back to front again. Didn’t they already crash a Mars probe that way? 
The scene: an Army base. The captain calls the tough-as-nails sergeant into his office. “Sgt. Jones, I believe Pvt. Hopkins is in your squad. I just got the word that his mother died last night. He doesn’t know it yet, so I want you to break the news to him. But do it with a little sensitivity, OK?”
The sergeant snaps off a sharp salute. “Leave it to me, sir.”
He goes to the barracks and bawls at the men to fall in. When they’re all lined up he says, "All right, maggots. Everybody whose mother is still alive take one step forward… not so fast there, Hopkins…!"
In Memoriam
With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person,
which almost went unnoticed last week. Larry LaPrise, the man who wrote “The Hokey Pokey”, died peacefully at age 93.
The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin.
They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.
A guy dies and wakes up in Hell. He sees the Devil standing over him with a big grin. Guy says, “I wonder if there might be some mistake. I wasn’t so bad . . .”
The Devil puts his arm around him, shoves a cold beer in his hand, and says, “Aw, don’t you worry, son! We get a bad rap upstairs, but take from me, Hell is a party! F’rinstance . . . Do you drink?”
“Well, I’ve been known to bend my elbow occasionally . . .”
“All right, today’s Sunday! On Sundays we drink! Everything, man! Beer, whisky, vodka, tequila, fine wine, brandy . . . You’re gonna love it! You’re gonna love Sunday! Let’s see . . . Do you like to do drugs?”
“Well, I might have snorted a line here and there . . .”
“OK, tomorrow’s Monday! On Monday everybody in Hell does drugs! Everything, man! Pot, coke, smack, LSD, esctacy, ‘shrooms, meth . . . We’ve got Timothy Leary workin’ on new recipes! If Jerry Garcia likes it, we all do it! You’re gonna love it! You’re gonna love Monday! Let’s see . . . Are ya gay?”
“Oh, no! I never swung that way!”
The Devil winces a little. “Oooo… you’re not gonna like Tuesdays.”
*(Stolen, er, borrowed from BrainGlutton in an earlier joke thread)
*
Thanks for making me feel like a terrible person!
My best ultra-conservative friend got me with this one today (I’m fairly left/liberal). And I really believed he was trolling me at the time.
Conservative friend (all angry, like he’s ready to start shouting): “Did YOU hear that Stevie Wonder was going to boycott Florida?!”
Me, getting all ready to shout this fool down, “YES! And what of it?”
Him: “Seriously, I mean, how would he be able to tell?”
Me: snort “That’s terrible. And hilarious. Damn you, but that’s funny.”
/trolling accepted.
//he admitted he got it from a Dennis Miller bit on the radio, but it worked on me. So Kudos, ultra-right-bro!