I believe there wre 2 or 3 threads which mention this “clown joke” as a funny joke with a long setup and short punchline. I have never heard it could someone please tell me it before I go Mental. I Please ? Please? Puuuulease? 
:mad: 
not one Person?
Geez, I guess I really am a thread killer.
2 cannibles are eating a clown, and one says to the other, “Do you taste something funny?”
2 cannibals are eating a clown, and one says to the other, “Do you taste something funny?”
I Googled “clown joke” and found this. Looks like it could be the one everyone’s talking about (I’ve never heard it).
That was what They were talking about? Now I know why they say that Ignorance is bliss
And that’s the goal of the Straight Dope: to make people less blissful.
So thats why I’m Miserable…
If ignorance is bliss, why aren’t there more happy people?
The clown joke needs a 2hr setup…
Basically there is a young man who is once traumatized by a clown because the clown makes fun of him and he has no comeback. So the entire crowd laughs at him.
He runs home crying. You see, this young man always wanted to go to the circus. He’s loved clowns all his young life. He saved and saved for his ticket, taking odd jobs around the neighborhood saving up enough money so he could go see the clowns when the circus finally came to town.
Well his parents comforted him, but it gnawed inside him. But he pushed it aside and grew up.
He went through HS, got into college, got his degree. He found a good job, met a wonderful woman and started a family.
He had everything he ever wanted in life.
Yet he couldn’t get over what the clown did to him. Trying his best to hide it he tried to find a way to deal with it. After a few years he went to see a therapist. That didn’t help, until one day when he was in the waiting room he saw a magazine ad.
“Now offering classes in sarcasm, witty conversation and comebacks.”
Ripping out the ad he left the office and never returned.
Now, he was new at this so he started off in the beginners class. It was hard going but he got through it and began taking more and more advanced classes.
Days, weeks and years flew past.
He started taking more and more classes. Spending more and more money getting books, tapes, flying to conferences. He started neglecting his wife and children. He started missing work.
First he got fired. But still he didn’t stop taking classes.
Then his wife and children left him.
But he kept taking classes, he was so totally dedicated.
Until one day the head instructor said, “There is nothing more I can teach you, everything I know you now know.”
The man was stunned. He didn’t feel as if he knew everything.
Left without the classes he entered a tailspin of depression.
With no family, no job and no more classes he had nothing left.
He started hanging out on street corners, heckling and insulting the passerbys. He’d insult mimes, police officers and anyone else.
One day, he saw a flyer up for a circus that was comming to town tomarrow.
He went back to his apt, got his suit, scrounged for the money for a ticket.
His day of reckoning was here. Soon, he’d have his revenge.
The next day he went to the circus and sat in the front row and waited.
First the animals came out. Then the highwire act. Then the acrobats.
Finally out came the clowns.
One of them came over infront of him.
“Hey, aren’t you a little old for the circus buddy?” Said the clown.
The man stood, summoning all of his years of skill and practice–using his wit honed by hours of training he snarled out.
“FUCK YOU CLOWN”
And left.
Similar, most recently seen on FARK:
Little Timmy was walking to school one day in New York City. All of a sudden, a homeless guy ran out of an alley, grabbed him, shook him, gasped “purple box!” and collapsed. He was dead. Timmy was a little shaken up, but he continued on to school, where he arrived a few minutes late. He saw his friend in the hallway, and his friend asked him “Hey Timmy, how come you’re
late?” “Well,” said Timmy, “I was walking to school when this homeless guy runs out of an alley, grabs me, shakes me, says two words to me, and dies.”
“What were the two words?” asked his friend. “Purple box,” replied Timmy.
His friend ran away screaming. That was strange, thought Timmy.
When he finally arrived to class, Timmy’s teacher also asked him why he was late. “Well, I was walking to school and this homeless guy ran out of an alley, grabbed me, shook me, said two words to me and died. Then I told my friend about it and he ran away screaming.”
“What were the two words?”
“Purple box.”
“What?!” shouted the teacher. “Go to the principal’s office! Now!”
Now Timmy was really confused. He had always been very well behaved, and the principal was surprised to see him in his office. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Timmy repeated
his story. “I was walking to school when a homeless guy grabbed me shook me said two words to me and died. I told my friend and he ran away screaming. I told my teacher and she sent me to you.” “What were the two words?” Now, Timmy was understandably a little hesitant at this point. “I don’t know if I
should tell you…” he said to the principal. “Well,” replied the principal, “I’ll make you a deal. If you tell me, I promise not to give you detention.”
This sounded good to Timmy. “Purple box,” he said.
The principal’s face went red, and he said to Timmy, “That’s it! You’re expelled! Pack your things up and go home.” Timmy did as he was told.
When he got home, his mother asked him why he was home so early. He told her. “I was going to school when a homeless guy ran out of an alley grabbed me shook me said two words to me and died. I told my friend and he ran away screaming. I told the teacher and she sent me to the principal. I told the principal and he expelled me.”
“Oh my!” said his mother. “What were the two words?”
Well, Timmy figured he could trust his mother, so he told her.
“Purple box.”
She gasped, and then yelled “Go to your room and wait for your father to come home!” He went.
A few hours later, Timmy’s father came into the room and said “Son, your mother’s all worked up about something. What happened?” “I was walking to school when a homeless guy ran out of an alley grabbed me shook me said two words to me and died. I told my friend and he ran away screaming. I told my
teacher and she sent me to the principal. I told the principal and he expelled me. I told Mom and she sent me to my room.”
“Well, what were the two words?”
“Uh…” said Timmy.
“Look son,” said his dad, “I’m your father. What’s the worst I can do to you?”
“Well…OK. Purple box.”
His father’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “Get out of my house,” he said. Timmy didn’t wait to be told twice.
Fortunately, his family was fairly well off, and Timmy himself had quite a bit of money in the bank, at least enough for an airplane ticket to Europe, where he could stay with his relatives. He caught a cab to the airport. The cabbie tried to strike up a conversation. “So what’s your story, kid?”
“Huh?”
“How come you’re goin’ to the airport, is what I’m askin’,” clarified
the cabbie.
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“We got time.”
“Well, I was on my way to school this morning when some homeless guy runs out of an alley grabs me shakes me says two words to me and dies. I told my friend and he ran away screaming. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal. I told the principal and he expelled me. I told my mom and she sent me to my room. I told my dad and he disowned me. Now I’m going to stay with my relatives in Europe.”
“That’s rough,” said the cabbie. “What were the two words?”
“Well, I’m not sure I–”
“Listen, kid, I’m a cabbie. I’ve heard everything. Just tell me. What am I gonna do?”
Timmy sighed. “Purple box.”
(predictable) screech “All right, get out of my cab. Go!”
Timmy walked to the airport.
The plane he took was a small one, with only a few passengers. He was even able to go up to the cockpit and chat with the pilot when he got bored.
“So,” said the pilot, “if you don’t mind my asking, what brings you to Europe?”
Well, Timmy figured that he had a long flight ahead of him and the
pilot would get it out of him eventually, so he got it over with. “I was walking to school, and this homeless guy ran out of an alley grabbed me shook me said two words to me and died. I told my friend and he ran away screaming. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal’s office. I told the principal and he expelled me. I told my mom and she sent me to my room. I told my dad and he disowned me. I told a cabbie and he kicked me out
of his cab. Now I’m going to stay with my relatives in Europe.”
So, of course, the pilot asked him, “What were the two words?”
Timmy said nothing.
“Come on, you can tell me. There’s not much I can do to you up here, you know.”
Timmy reflected on that, and decided the pilot was right, so once
again he repeated the words. “Purple box.”
“There are parachutes in the back,” growled the pilot. “When I turn around, I don’t want to see you.”
Timmy put on a parachute and jumped.
As luck would have it, Timmy landed on a very small, nearly uninhabited island in the middle of the Atlantic. It had a hermit living on it.
“Hey, what are you doing on my island?” asked the hermit. Timmy took a deep breath.
“IwaswalkingtoschoolwhenahomelessguysranoutofanalleygrabbedmeshookmesaidtwowordstomeanddiedItoldmyfriendandheranawayscreamingItoldmyteacherandshesentmetotheprincipalsofficeItoldtheprincipalandheexpelledmeItoldmymomandshesentmetomyroomItoldmydadandhedisownedmeItoldacabbieandhekickedmeoutofhiscabItoldthepilotandhekickedmeoutofhisplaneandnowImhere.”
“That’s quite a story,” said the hermit. “What were the two words?”
Timmy looked at the hermit, and figured he could probably overpower him. “Purple box.”
The hermit looked at him for a while. Finally, he said, “You don’t know what ‘purple box’ means, do you?”
“No,” said Timmy, surprised.
The hermit gave this some consideration. “All right,” he said, “listen closely. Here’s what I want you to do. Take my raft, and go back to New York. Then go to the top of the Empire State Building and look north. There will be your answer.”
So Timmy took the raft and paddled until he finally reached New York again. He ran to the Empire State Building and ran up the stairs all the way to the top. He looked north, and he saw a huge billboard with the words “purple box” and an arrow, pointing to a building across the street. He ran down the stairs all the way to the bottom, and as he was crossing the street, a truck ran into him and killed him.
The moral of the story: always look both ways before crossing the street.
IMHO the clownjoke link provided is the short short short crappy version of the joke.
Granted my version is also pretty short.
Here’s a version of it:
Once upon a time, a young man went to the circus. He was very excited, as he lived in western Manitoba and had never seen a circus before; the kind of town where you shave and the trolley stops. Anyway, as circus days drew nigh, the young man grew ever more excited. He arrived before dawn to get the best seat in the house and sat down hours before the first trapeze act.
Finally, the trapeze artists gave an awe-inspiring performance, the elephants danced and the lion tamer tamed. At last, the clowns came out in full regalia and green hair. They rode around by the gross in a purple Volkswagen. The Volksie pulled up to center of the ring and an overweight clown with orange hair, acne and a purple nose advanced to the podium: “Will the person in section A, row Y, seat 42 please stand up?”
The young man looked at his ticket, and to his surprise, he was sitting in that very seat. The young man stood up. The clown then says, “Well-l-l-l-l-l, there’s the horse’s ass, now where’s the rest of the horse?”
The entire crowd burst out into laughter. The man, dumbfounded, stood for a moment, then made his way quickly through crowd and out of the tent. Returning home, the man wept for days, and mourned the loss of dignity and honor.
Eventually reason overcame his grief and the man grew determined. “I’m not going to get mad, I’m going to get even and avenge the honor of myself, my family, and this town,” exclaimed the man. He picked up the curriculum
guide for the University of Nevada at Las Vegas (UNLV) correspondence courses and started to read. Eventually his eyes came to rest on an ad for a class in “Quick Wit Retort.”
“Learn how to use those snappy comebacks to your advantage, now!”
So the man sent in his $19.95 and soon received the course materials. In a few weeks, the man mastered the materials and sent the final back to UNLV. Much to his surprise, a registered letter arrived from the president of UNLV. It read: “Dear Sir: We are utterly flabbergasted at your performance in Quick Wit Retort 101. We would be most gratified if you could come to UNLV to complete your degree with our fine academic institution. Here’s a check to cover your expenses.”
To make a long story short, the man made straight A’s in the QWR program. He was awarded numerous distinctions and when he graduated, the graduation speaker, General Colin Powell (U.S. Army, Ret.), awarded the man the Presidential Medal of Outstanding Quick Wit Retort, signed by George W Bush himself! Some days afterward, Harvard University sent a Lear jet to pick the man up for an interview.
The graduate admissions officer didn’t mince words. “If you complete our masters/doctoral tenured track program in QWR, you will never have to worry about money again,” said he. Needless to say, the man promptly moved to Cambridge. In five years, the man had finished his doctorate. By this time, the man was known throughout the world as the leading expert in Quick Wit Retort. Word had even reached western Manitoba, which, of course, made his mother very proud. Everyone from Pentagon pundits to Beltway bandits consulted the man on technical questions of QWR.
One day, while sitting at his desk reading his hometown newspaper, the man noticed that the circus was coming to his hometown again. An evil smile crossed the man’s face. “Hobbs,” cried the man to his assistant, “We must
be away to Manitoba. Ready the jet!” As the plane crossed the purple mountains majesty and the fruited plains, the man savored the moment of victory that was to be his. The man arrived at the circus tent very early, making sure to get that very special seat: Section A, row Y, seat 42.
Finally, the circus began. The trapeze artists gave an awe- inspiring performance, the elephants danced, and the lion tamer tamed. At last, the clowns came out in full regalia and green hair. They rode around by the gross in a purple Volkswagen. The Volksie pulled up to center of the ring
and an overweight clown with orange hair, acne, and a purple nose advanced to the podium: “Will the person in section A, row Y, seat 42 please stand up?”
The man glanced at his ticket. This time he was ready.
The clown looks up at the man and says, “Well-l-l-l-l, there’s the horse’s ass, now where’s the rest of the horse?”
The man rose to his feet, full of confidence. He thrust out his chest and said in the loudest voice you can imagine:
“FUCK YOU, CLOWN!”
Yes, the clown joke. (Circus version.) Nice shaggy dog story (see related active thread) that had me laughing like a madman when I first saw it.
The clown joke is stupid, but I like apotheosis’s Purple Box joke.
Now that’s funny. I’ve never heard that one before.
OMG… its the purple ping pong ball joke!
I regret to inform you all that reading these jokes has sucked me of the will to live. I will go die now.
[gack]
I changed it so it would fit my job at the Monterey Bay Aquairum.
“Two penquins were eating a clownfish, one says to the other, ‘does this taste funny to you?’”
AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! That’s it? That’s the clown joke? I am SO disappointed.