joke time

[Minimalist]

That prick would hire a contractor and then stiff him out of payment.

[Fireball]

He'd grab it by the socket.

[ignoramus]

How many Trumps does it take to screw in a light bulb?

None! He knows the sun shines out his arse!

[Darinda]

Nicoderm

Two priests are in a Vatican bathroom using the urinals. 

One of them looks at the other one's penis and notices there's a Nicoderm patch on it.
 
He looks at the other priest and says,
'I believe you're supposed to put that patch on your arm or shoulder, not your chopper.'
 
The other one replies,
'It's working just fine.  I'm down to two butts a day.'

[Rhondazvous]

How many Trumps does it take to screw in a light bulb?

Don't be ridiculous, as if he could.

Then I guess his daughter has nothing to worry about.

[Succubus]

Quasimodo gets in from work one day and spots Esmeralda in the kitchen, messing around with a wok:

Esmeralda my love, are you going to prepare us some delicious Chinese food?

No. I'm going to iron your fucking shirts!

[Darinda]

A Scottish Jew decided to retire and take up golf, so he applied for membership at a local golf club.
 
About a week later he received a letter that his application has been rejected.

He went to the club to inquire as to why.

Secretary: You are aware that this is a Scottish golf club?

Scot: Aye, but I am as Scottish as you are, ma'am, my name is MacTavish.

Secretary: Do you know that on formal occasions we wear a kilt?

Scot: Aye, I do know, and I wear a kilt too.

Secretary: You are also aware, that we wear nothing under the kilt?

Scot: Aye, and neither do I.

Secretary: Are you also aware, that the members sit naked in the steam room?

Scot: Aye, I also do the same.

Secretary: But you are a Jew?

Scot: Aye, I be that.

Secretary: So, being Jewish, you are circumcised, is that correct?

Scot: Aye, I be that,too.

Secretary: I am terribly sorry, but the members just would not feel comfortable sitting in the steam room with you, since your privates are different from theirs.
 
Scot: Ach, I know that you have to be a Protestant to march with the Orangemen.
And I know that you have to be a Catholic to join the Knights of Columbus .
But this is the first time I've heard that you have to be a complete prick to join a golf club!

[Cecelia]

Pat Robertson finally dies, and gets to the pearly gates.  There, he's greeted by St. Peter himself.

"Pat Robertson?" asked St. Peter.  "Is that you?"

"Yes, St. Peter.  It is I, your humble servant."

"We've been expecting you," said St. peter.  "Come this way, come this way."

"Before we move on," said Ol' Pat.  "I gotta know.  Are all the queers in hell?"

"Yes, not to worry," said St. Peter.  "All the gay people are in hell."

Pat breathed a sigh of relief.  "Good.  Good.  That's where they belong."

So St. Peter led Pat down a long road, and as they walked they passed bigger and bigger houses.  Places that made earthly mansions look small in comparison.  And as they walked, Pat was feeling really good about himself.  He realized St. Peter must be taking him to one of the biggest houses in all of heaven.

They finally come to the end of the road, and on the side is the biggest mansion of them all.  Hundreds of stories high, with gold and diamonds and rubies.  

"Is this my house?" asked Pat, a little taken aback.  Surely this was the greatest house in all of heaven.

But St. Peter shook his head.  "No, your destination is yet ahead."

Pat couldn't believe it.  He knew he had been such a godly person on earth, and brought many people to god, and collected a lot of money.  But he couldn't believe he was getting a nicer mansion than that.

"Right through here," said St. Peter.

And as Pat stepped through the door, he could feel the heat intensify.  It got really hot--and he realized where he was.

"This is hell!" he said.

St. Peter nodded.  "Just where you belong."

"With all the gays?" asked Pat Robertson.

St. Peter nodded again.  "Why else do you think they're here?  It's their turn to torture you this week.  The Atheists get next week."

[Darinda]

Two-Line Poetry
Competition

Now, this is funny!!

THESE  ARE ENTRIES TO A WASHINGTON POST COMPETITION ASKING  
FOR  A TWO-LINE RHYME WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE AND THE LEAST 
ROMANTIC SECOND LINE:


1.   My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you has screwed up my life.

2.   I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.

3.   Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.

4.   Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.

5.   I thought that I could love no other ...
that is, until I met your brother.

6.   Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty, and so is your head.

7.   I want to feel your sweet embrace,
But don't take that paper bag off your face.

8. I love your smile, your face, and your eyes.
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

9.   My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?

10.   My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe 'Go to hell'.

11.   What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.


WHO SAID POETRY IS BORING?

[Rhondazvous]

Larry: Come on, Jack. You’ve been a teetotaler all your life, yet you still had to have brain surgery. I drink all the time and ain’t nothing wrong with my head. So fuck it, drink up.
Jack: Oh no, I want to stay healthy. See how fast I recovered from the surgery?
Larry: Yeah well, good for you. But I’d rather have a bottle in front o’ me than a frontal lobotomy.