Knock, knock
Who’s there?
Interrupting duck
Interrupting du…
QUACK-ACK-Ack-ack-ack!
By golly, a duck’s quack does echo!
I love that joke even though the ending doesn’t even really work if you say it in English due to different pronunciation. The story itself is well worth a read anyway, will have to see if the hamsters have swallowed that thread yet.
A guy has spent five years traveling all around the world making a documentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he has every single native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film. He winds up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he pops into a pub for a well earned beer. He gets talking to one of the local Aborigines and tells him about his project.
The Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the “Butcher Dance.”
The guy’s a bit confused and says, “Butcher Dance? What’s that?”
“What? You no see Butcher Dance?”
“No, I’ve never heard of it.”
“Oh mate. You crazy. How you say you film every native dance if you no see Butcher Dance?”
“Umm. I got a corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?”
“No no, not corroborree. Butcher Dance much more important than corroborree.”
“Oh, well how can I see this Butcher Dance then?”
“Mate, Butcher Dance right out bush. Many days travel to go see Butcher Dance.”
“Look, I’ve been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance.”
"OK, mate. You drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you see dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126 miles 'til you see big huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see. Here you gotta leave the car, because much too rough for driving.
You strike out due west into setting sun. You walk 3 days 'til you hit creek. You follow this creek to Northwest. After 2 days you find where creek flows out of rocky mountains. Much too difficult to cross mountains here though. You now head south for half day 'til you see pass through mountains.
Pass very difficult and very dangerous. Take 2, maybe 3 days to get through rocky pass. When through, head northwest for 4 days 'til reach big huge rock - 20 ft high and shaped like man’s head. From rock, walk due west for 2 days and you find village. Here you see Butcher Dance."
So the guy grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out. After a couple of hours he finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state and he’s forced to crawl along at a snails pace and so he doesn’t reach the tree until dusk and he’s forced to set up camp for the night.
He sets out bright and early the following morning. His spirits are high and he’s excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious dance which he had never heard mention of before.
True to the directions he has been given, he reaches the creek after three days and follows it for another two until they reach the rocky mountains. The merciless sun is starting to take its toll by this time and his spirits are starting to flag, but wearily he trudges on until he finds the pass through the hills - nothing will prevent him from completing his life’s dream.
The mountains prove to be every bit as treacherous as their guide said and at times they almost despair of getting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days of back breaking effort they finally force their way clear and continue their long trek.
When they reach the huge rock, four days later, their water is running low and their feet are covered with blisters. Yet they steel themselves and head out on the last leg of their journey.
Two days later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives feed them and give them fresh water. They begin to feel like new men.
Once he’s recovered enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells him that he has come to film there Butcher Dance.
“Oh mate. Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late. You miss dance.”
“Well, when do you hold the next dance?”
“Not 'til next year.”
“Well, I’ve come all this way. Couldn’t you just hold an extra dance for me, tonight?”
“No, no, no! Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. If hold more, gods get very angry and destroy village! You want see Butcher Dance you come back next year.”
The guy is devastated, but he has no other option but to head back to civilization and back home.
The following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss out again, sets out a week earlier than last time. He is quite willing to spend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he is present to witness it. However, right from the start things go wrong.
Heavy rains that year have turned the dirt track to mud and the car gets bogged every few miles, finally forcing them to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree.
They reach the creek and the mountains without any further hitch, but halfway through the ascent of the mountain they are struck by a fierce storm which rages for several days, during which they are forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsides. It would be suicide to attempt to scale the treacherous paths in the face of such savage elements.
Then, before they have traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of the crew sprains his ankle badly which slows down the rest of their journey enormously, to the rock and then the village.
Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they have been traveling, they stagger into the village at about 12:00 noon.
“The Butcher Dance!” gasps the guy. “Please don’t tell me I’m too late!”
The chief recognizes him and says “No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time.”
Relieved beyond measure, the crew spends the rest of the afternoon setting up their equipment - preparing to capture the night’s ritual on celluloid as dusk falls, the natives start to cover there bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of bird’s feathers and animal skins.
Once darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle around a huge roaring fire.
A deathly hush descends over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body enters the circle and begins to chant. Some sort of witch doctor or medicine man, figures the guy and he whispers to the chief, “What’s he doing?”
“Hush,” whispers the chief. “You first white man ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect us for another year.”
The chanting of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he moves himself from the circle. From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums booms out across the land and the natives begin to sway to the stirring rhythm.
The guy is becoming caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This is it. He now realizes beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He is about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by mankind.
The chief strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, starts to sing,
He says, “You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right arm out. You butch yer right arm in and you shake it all about…”
Two guys walk into a bar.
The third guy ducks.
Honorary Mention (significantly better score if you haven’t heard it before, though):
911 Operator: Hello? Please state the nature of your emergency and give location…
Voice: Help! Oh god oh fuck I’m out hunting with by buddy and he tripped and his rifle went off and I’m pretty sure he’s dead its awful
Operator: OK calm down. First we need to make sure he’s really dead…
<BANG!>
Voice: OK, now what?
Calvinist minister, Catholic priest, and Jewish rabbi are playing penny-ante poker in metropolitan Atlanta Georgia in a diner. Small-town police officer comes over and says “OK gentlemen, I need to see some ID, gambling is illegal here and I’m afraid I’m going to have to issue you fellows some citations”.
Then he realizes who he’s addressing and blanches. “Umm, that is, uh, if you were gambling, which, umm, I reckon as how things can look a certain way to the casual observer, but not necessarily… that is, if you was to tell me you weren’t gambling, I would certainly take your word for it, y’all being esteemed pillars of the various faiths in this here community and all…”
Lutheran minister straightens up and says, “Gambling implies lack of certainty of outcome. But to God all things are preordained. All outcomes are predestined. And while we mortals may not know the predestined outcome, I place all my faith in God, that whatever outcome God hath ordained is one I may trust in, so no, I would not consider myself to have ‘gambled’, sir.”
"Oh, yes, very good, I can see that… and Father, I’m sure — "
“Now, my good man, truth be told, we donate any proceeds, such as they might be, to the coffers of our respective religious assemblies, and despite the schisms of the ages the three of us are fully comfortable with the spiritual and social good-will wrought by the organizations represented by either of the other two. So in the absence of any true attempt to profit personally or to risk anything that was not earmarked to the, umm, to the doing of His work anyway, no, I would not term that ‘gambling’ by any means.”
“You know, that’s a very good point. Well, now” (turning to the rabbi) “it is safe to assume that you also — ?”
“Gambling, you ask? With whom?”
What do you call a black guy flying a plane?A pilot, you damn racist!
Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Madam.
Madam who?
Madam car broke down. Let me use your phone!
What did the fish say when he ran into a brick wall?
Dam!
Now that’s what it’s all about.
An elephant is walking through the jungle when he comes across a naked man standing in a clearing.
The elephant slowly looks the man up and down and says,
“How the heck do ya manage to feed yourself with that?”
A lady decided to buy her family a new pet. She went to the pet store and saw a covered cage and a sign that said ‘Parrot for sale.’ When she inquired about the parrot, the shopkeeper told her, “Ma’am I have to warn you, that parrot was raised in a brothel and he sometimes says the most unexpected things.”
Well the lady’s daughters were in high school and the whole family had a good sense of humor, so she decided to buy the parrot, figuring it would be intereting.
When she got the parrot home, she opened the cage and the parrot awoke. He took a look around and said, “Well, new house, looks pretty nice. New Madam. Everybody has to show the Madam of the house respect. Hello Madam, good to meet you.” The lady thought that this was quite amusing.
A little while later her two daughters got home from school. The parrot says, “Well. New house. New Madam. New girls. All the girls have to pay the Madam. Hello Girls!” This, too seemed quite funny.
A bit later the lady’s husband arrives home from work. The parrot says, “Well. New house. New Madam. New girls. Same old clients. Hi Dave, how’ve you been?”
The Symphony Orchestra was playing a concert in the park and was in the middle of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. The basses were still at the pub drinking because they knew they would not be needed until the end, but by the time they came back to their places, the drunk basses could not even untie the score papers.
So, the conductor then realized the danger:
It was the bottom of the ninth, the score was tied and the basses were loaded.
Two monkeys are drawing a bath. One gets in and goes (monkey noises) “woo-ee-ah-ooh-ee-ah-ooo”.
The other says: “Well, put some cold in then.”
A guy walks into a vet’s consulting room and hands him a Rottwieler.
“Doc, he’s really ill. Off his food, sleeps all day, dry nose.”
“Hmmm,” says vet, “I’m going to have to put him down.”
“Oh my god! What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s fucking heavy.”
Got this one from Reader’s Digest:
Why do mermaids wear seashells?
Because B shells are too small and D shells are too big.
And then the hotdog vendor gave him two scoops of vanilla with a chocolate flake.
It was an ice cream koan.
What’s invisible and smells like carrots?
A bunny fart.
Where did Napoleon keep his armies?
In his sleevies!
I heard this one before. But just once. In 1960. Guess where?
Ok I a dum-dum- can someone explain the rabbi gambling joke?
A woman was walking down the street on her way to work. As she passed by a pet store she noticed a parrot perched on a stand outside enjoying the morning sun. She stopped to look at the parrot. The parrot look back and said “Hey lady?” “Yes?” “You’re really ugly.” Insulted and embarassed, she storms off and has a terrible day at work.
To walk home she has to pass by the pet store and, sure enough the parrot is there on his perch. As she approaches, the parrot says, “Hey lady?” She ignores the beast. “Hey LADY?” “What?” “You’re really ugly!” Furious, she continues on home, burns dinner, spills her tea on the carpet and generally has a miserable evening.
On her way to work in the morning she has to pass by the dreaded pet store. The wicked bird is waiting for her. “Hey LADY?” She stops and glares at the bird. Daring it to speak. Finally she hisses, “What?” “You’re really ugly!” At this, she snatches the bird off the perch by his feet and storms into the store. She finds the owner and complains loudly about this insulting animal as she bangs it repeatedly on the counter. The owner appologises and promises her that the bird will not insult her anymore. He’ll see to it.
She has an awful day at work nevertheless. On the way home as she passes the battered bird it croaks out, “Hey Lady?” Smugly, she walks up to the bird. “What?” The bird gazes deeply into her eyes and says, “You know.”