about a ayear ago i read in the paper that a group of british scientists at (ithink) cambridge university were going to conduct a search for the ultimate joke! however the project had some very strict rules, like no sexual jokes for example. as a result the funniest jokes of them all were instantly ruled out. about 3 months later iread an article revealing the worlds funniest joke, and it was appaling. because i was let down by the nerds at cambridge, i thought i would post a thread on here to try and better the cambridge scientists in a quest to find some the REAL ultimate jokes, no rules except no racism.
Zwei peanuts were walking down the strasser …
[Moderator Hat ON]
Moving to MPSIMS.
[Moderator Hat OFF]
The Ultimate Joke is so funny, that no normal computer system is able to contain it and function normally. The manufacturers have built in protective systems to guard against catastrophic collapse due to handling the joke. However, I believe the Straight Dope system can handle it.
It goes as follows -
"I’ve###########################################################################################################three jellyfish##################################################################porcupines#################################!
I’m so glad you posted this since I’ve been thinking about this very thing myself (most likely influenced by Monty Python’s Funniest Joke in the World sketch, but nonetheless…) for quite some time.
I don’t think there is the one and only ultimate joke that will make virtually everybody crack laughing, but there’s certainly plenty of truly great ones around that can compete here.
I just have to make sure I checked the “subscribe to this thread” option. No contribution from me, I’m sorry, but the jokes I know are just plain bad.
The jokes that make me laugh the hardest usually involve flatulence. Or puns. Now if there were a joke that combined flatulence AND puns–woohoo! I’d probably pee my pants. 
Women Drivers:
A woman and a man are involved in a car accident. It’s a bad one and both of their cars are totally wrecked but amazingly neither of them are hurt.
After they crawl out of their cars, the woman says, “So you’re a man; that’s interesting. I’m a woman. Wow, just look at our cars! There’s nothing left; but, fortunately we are unhurt. This must be a sign from God, that we should meet, be friends and live together in peace for the rest of our days.”
Flattered, the man replied, “Oh yes, I agree with you completely! This must be a sign from God!”
The woman continued, “And look at this, here’s another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn’t break. Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune.”
She hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman. The woman takes the bottle, immediately puts the cap back on and hands it back to the man.
The man asks, “Aren’t you having any?”
The woman replies, “No. I think I’ll just wait for the police…”
A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is leaning against the head board smoking a cigarette, with a satisfied smile on it’s face.
The egg, looking a bit pissed off, grabs the sheet, rolls over, and says, “Well, I guess we finally answered THAT question.”
A woman’s husband is always complaining about her cooking. Everything’s either too cold, too hot, too spicy or too bland or if it by any miracle tastes good, there’s not enough of it (or else far too much). She could never make the guy happy.
So one morning she gets up at 2:00 and starts preparing a sumptuous feast for him, going down the letters of the alphabet. She had homemade applesauce, banana bread, cottage fries, a Denver omelet, Eggs benedict, Fricasseed chicken, grapefruit . . . You get the picture.
So when he toddles down to the breakfast table, bleary-eyed and hungry, he’s astounded to see the vast array of food awaiting him. His doting (stupid) wife served everything to him in alphabetical order.
As he took the first bite of the first dish, it was sheer bliss. The next few dishes were just as good. He was panicking, because there was absolutely nothing he could complain about.
Just as he was about ready to throw a tizzy fit over the fact that he couldn’t legitimately complain, and just as she was starting to realize that for the first time in her life she’d prepared the perfect meal for him, he got to the grapefruit course. He cautiously took a bite, then his face lit up. He took one more taste just to be sure, then triumphantly shouted, “This grapefruit is pithy!”
His wife glared at him, then said, “Well, I’m sorry I had to pith on it, but you know how you hate dry grapefruit!”
teehee 
I apologize in advance…
The sun was not yet up but Marcus was. “Up before the dawn” was not unusual for him; in fact, it was true six days a week, every week. Fish feed at the first light of day and, as a fisherman, Marcus had to be ready. No preparation, however, could prepare him for what was about to happen.
Dawn was breaking. So was the surf. Marcus piloted his 22 foot fishing boat out of the slip, out of the channel, out of the harbor and into the Atlantic Ocean. An hour later he was somewhere between his home in Jacksonville, Florida and the island of Bermuda. Technically, he was in the Bermuda Triangle, but Marcus never gave that a thought – he dared not, anyway.
On this sunny morning Marcus accidentally caught a baby dolphin. As he was about to release it, he noticed that it did not look like any dolphin he had ever seen. This one was smaller, darker and was quite scarred. The scars, however, looked like very old wounds long since healed. Odd, for a baby. Feeling that something was not quite right, he put the dolphin in his live box and, at the end of a long day of fishing, returned home. As he entered the boat slip, he called his friend with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Department. Patrick was intrigued about the dolphin and wanted to see it right away.
Thinking that one day this new breed of dolphin might be called a “Marcus dolphinicus” or something, he took the dolphin to Patrick’s lab. Upon inspection, Pat told Marcus that the dolphin was actually a porpoise (there’s a difference) and that by looking at the healing scars and the teeth, the porpoise was actually quite old. They both figured that this was probably a previously undiscovered species and decided to sequester the porpoise away until more tests could be run.
Tests of cellular activity showed that the dolphin aged at an amazingly slow rate, much slower than other mammals – land or sea. Projections showed that these porpoises could live well over 80,000 years. This was quite an amazing discovery and they were thinking of the potential good that could come from this discovery (learning how to slow the aging process, etc.) when they heard the porpoise’s stomach growl. She was hungry.
Pat brought alewives for the porpoise. She didn’t eat them. He brought whiting. She didn’t eat them. He brought every type of fish he had on hand, none of which were touched by the porpoise. They had no clue what to feed this porpoise, but it apparently didn’t eat fish. Marcus decided to return to the sea.
The next morning, while fishing, Marcus saw a pod of these porpoises! He watched closely as a sea gull, unlike one he had ever seen, flew close to the water. One of the porpoises leapt out of the water and chomped on the gull in mid air! A-ha, thought Marcus, these porpoises eat these seagulls. Using an ingenious method and some fishing nets, Marcus caught 144 of these birds and took them back to the secret location where the porpoise was kept. The porpoise ate 49 of them and ignored the rest. After more study Pat and Marcus realized that the seagull was not eating the mature gulls, feeding only on the fledglings. In a pickle, Marcus and Pat thought and thought. They could breed these gulls and feed some of the fledglings to the porpoise, or they could have daily “expeditions” to capture some baby sea gulls.
They researched these gulls all night in textbooks and encyclopedias. They found that the gull is very rare. Scientists have never found a rookery but suspect that one exists on a tiny island halfway between Bermuda and Florida, in the center of the Bermuda Triangle. Marcus knew what he had to do. He had to go to that island, find the rookery and capture some of the baby birds.
Things had gotten quite a bit weird over the past few days and Marcus left that cold, dark harbor feeling uneasier then ever before. Hours passed as he traveled into the Bermuda Triangle, though it seemed like days. The sky grew hot and humid. The seas calmed and looked like glass. Even the wake from his boat seemed to flatten out more quickly than usual. To the port, Marcus saw a tiny island.
He tied the boat to a tree and left it beached on the shore, trekking off into the woods. It was late in the afternoon when he saw it. There, in the middle of the woods was a low but large building. There were hundreds and hundreds of sea gulls flying in, out and around the building. “I’ve found it!” shouted Marcus to himself. He headed towards the building.
While it didn’t seem occupied, there were signs of human conduct and an interesting security feature – a moat around the building. Marcus peered into the moat and was surprised to find that it was dry. It was roughly twenty feet across and maybe 15 feet deep. He set off around the building in search of a bridge or some other way across the moat. On the other side of the building, he saw a large bridge that looked very sturdy. He ventured across it. Looking down, he saw seven lions resting in the shadow of the bridge. Surprised, Marcus jumped and hopped off the bridge. He watched the lions, but they didn’t move. They seemed to be sleeping, as every now and again one would lift its head, give a powerful yawn and droop its head back on the ground.
Marcus laughed at the weak security measures and quickly traversed the bridge and entered the building. After stuffing as many of the immature sea gulls into his bags as he could manage (and some eggs), he skipped out of the building and was half way back across the bridge when sirens blared, gates swung shut and lights flashed! A voice blared out of loudspeakers, “MARCUS, YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF THE MANN ACT OF 1910!!!”
“What do you mean?” Marcus replied. “The Mann Act?”
“YOU WERE JUST CAUGHT TRANSPORTING YOUNG GULLS ACROSS SEDATE LIONS FOR IMMORTAL PORPOISES!!”
Should this not be in IMHO?
No, I have no other contribution to this thread. I’m terrible at remembering good jokes.
Oops. Well done to me. I’m getting my forums mixed up again. Please ignore the previous post. 
::shakes his head::
Ok. That explains it. I loaded the thread, left, then came back and posted without refreshing, thus not noticing it had been moved. I then saw it was in MPSIMS and assumed I’d made a mistake. I’m not being a (total) idiot after all…
I’ll shut up now.
Wenn ist das Nunstrück git und Slotermeyer? Ja! …
Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput!
I’d try to help you out and think of one, but I’ve been taking this gastral distress medicine and it not only makes me lethargic but only partially controls my gas problem. So any attempt at humor would be a half-farted effort.
Max Carnage: YOU ROCK! I love it! Thank you!!!
May I share that with my sister (who usually patiently listens to all my stupid fart jokes)?
WOMAN: What would you do if I died? Would you get married again?
MAN: Definitely not!
WOMAN: Why not - don’t you like being married?
MAN: Of course I do.
WOMAN: Then why wouldn’t you remarry?
MAN: Okay, I’d get married again.
WOMAN: You would? (with a hurtful look on her face)
MAN: (makes audible groan)
WOMAN: Would you sleep with her in our bed?
MAN: Where else would we sleep?
WOMAN: Would you replace my pictures with hers?
MAN: That would seem like the proper thing to do.
WOMAN: Would she use my golf clubs?
MAN: No, she’s left-handed.
WOMAN: - - - silence - - -
MAN: Shit.
We’ll get you for this, Gaudere. Don’t think we won’t!
Can I post more than once? I have a few ultimate favourites.
Favourite number one:
God calls to Adam and Eve in the garden and tells them, “I have two last gifts to bestow upon you, my children. I have decided to allow the two of you to decide which will receive each of the gifts.”
Adam and Eve both agree to this, so God continues. “The first of these gifts is the ability to pee standing up. This…”
Adam breaks in, saying “Oh please, Lord, please may I have this gift? It would be so great. And it just seems like something that a Man should be able to do! I’ll be able to go anywhere, anytime. I’ll be able to write my name in the sand. Please, Lord, please, may I have this gift?”
God looks to Eve, who agrees that Adam may have this gift, as he desires it so strongly. God says, “So be it,” and Adam is bestowed the ability to pee standing up. He runs off in glee to practice his new ability.
God then looks at Eve and says, “Okay, now what else did I have here? Oh, yes. Multiple orgasms.”
There once was a man. We’ll call him Bernie. Or Bill. Oh, oh! How about Bernie-Bill? Nah, let’s call him Warren.
Anyway, Warren took a trip to Africa. He enjoyed the sights, went on safari, took some photos, the whole bit. He was there for a month. When he finally came home, he missed Africa. He thought it was a beautiful place. He began to miss it… he missed it so much, he began to feel odd pangs in his stomach.
The pangs lasted for weeks. After a while, Warren decided to go see a doctor. He explained the situation, and told the doctor - we’ll call him Dr. Where - what he’s been feeling.
“Interesting,” Dr. Where said. “Let’s do an examination.”
So they did an examination, all sort of unspeakable horrible things were done to poor Warren, and I will not repeat them here. Finally, Warren was in the waiting room, and, ironically enough, was waiting. For the doctor, that is.
“Doctor, what’s the analysis?” Warren asked.
“I have bad news for you,” Dr. Where said. “You’re pregnant.”
“WHAT?!?” Warren exclaimed.
“Oh, my mistake, wrong patient,” Dr. Where corrected. “You, my dear sir, have a tapeworm.”
“A tapeworm?”
“A tapeworm.”
“Dear God in Vegas,” Warren mumbled. “A tapeworm! Can you get rid of it?”
“Yes I can,” Dr. Where said. “But it’s a very delicate, highly revolutionary procedure, and it’s not without its risks.”
“Just tell me what I have to do, man!” Warren exclaimed in a fit of panic.
“Relax,” Dr. Where soothed. “Just come back tomorrow and bring two apples and a lemon cookie.”
“Two apples and a lemon cookie?”
“Two apples and a lemon cookie.”
So Warren did just that. He slept fitfully that night, worried about his tapeworm, concerned about this revolutionary procedure the doctor mentioned. But, the next day, he returned to Dr. Where’s office, with two apples and a lemon cookie.
“Now, to begin the procedure,” the doctor said, “I want you to drop your pants, turn around, and place your hands against the wall.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
So Warren dropped his pants and turned around. The doctor was polishing the apples.
“What are you going to do, Doc?” Warren asked.
“Just brace yourself.” The doctor took one apple in his fist, pulled his arm back… and before Warren’s could react, WHAM!!! he shoved that apple right up Warren’s ass!
“GAAAAH!!!” Warren screamed. “GAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” he screamed again. “GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” he screamed for a third time.
“Hold on,” the doctor said. He took the second apple, wound up his arm, an WHAM!!! another apple, right up Warren’s ass!
“Gah, Doc, you’re killing me!” Warren groaned.
“Almost done.” Now the doctor took the lemon cookie, took a step back, and WHAM! a lemon cookie right up Warren’s ass!
“Holy hell!” Warren exclaimed.
“Good boy,” the doctor said. “Now, come back tomorrow, with two apples and a lemon cookie.”
Warren did. He walked awkwardly, a result of having two apples and a lemon cookie up his ass. The discomfort went away slowly as the day went on. He slept even worse that night, with horrible dreams about giant apples invading his poor rectum. But the next day, he went back to Dr. Where’s office, with two apples and a lemon cookie.
“Is this really necessary, Doc?” Warren asked, with his pants down and his palms resting on the wall.
“Of course it is,” Dr. Where answered. “Remember… I am a doctor. Now brace yourself.”
Warren bit his teeth, and a few seconds later, he felt the now-familiar sensation of an apple being shoved up his ass. He groaned. Almost instantly, the second apple followed after the first, making his rectum quite crowded.
“Dear lord, it feels like a subway going through my large intestine!” Warren wailed, going cross-eyed.
“I bet it does,” Dr. Where said, and shoved the lemon cookie right up Warren’s ass. “All done. Now, come back tomorrow…”
“…With two apples and a lemon cookie,” Warren groaned.
“Nope,” the doctor said. “Bring two apples… and a hammer.”
“A hammer?!?” Warren exclaimed.
“Right.”
“Doc, I can take two apples - I don’t know how, but I can - but I sure as fuck can’t take a friggin’ hammer!!!”
“Do you want to get rid of your tapeworm or not?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then bring two apples… and a hammer.”
So Warren went home, feeling like he hadn’t shat in two years. He tried to ignore the obvious feeling of two apples and a lemon cookie in his ass… but, again, the sensation slowly went away. That night, he couldn’t even sleep at all. But, as promised, he went back to the doctor, with two apples and, reluctantly, a hammer.
The same procedure. The pants dropped, he faced the wall… first apple, WHAM!! right up the ass. Second apple, WHAM!! right up the ass. Then the doctor grabbed the hammer in his hand, holding it right next to Warren’e sphincter.
What’s he going to do with it? Warren thought to himself. Sweat began to pour from his brow as he feared the sensation of a hammer being forced up his ass. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. He felt weak in the knees, feeling like he was going to snap at any second.
Finally, he felt a stirring down in his rectum. A sort of tickling. The tapeworm poked its head out of his ass and exclaimed:
“HEY!! WHERE’S MY LEMON COOKIE?!?”
WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM!!!