A girl walks into a bar and asks for a Manhattan with a plum in it.
The bartender says, “You mean a cherry.”
She says, “No, I mean a plum.”
The bartender says, “Look lady, I’ve been tending bar for 20 years and you’re the first person that’s ever asked for a Manhattan with a plum. Where did you ever get that idea?”
She said, “Well, about 3 years ago I lost my cherry, and I’ve been plumb crazy ever since!”
The Save-A-Lot Experience
I gotta tell ya, I’m a cheap bastard. So you better believe I was one happy little fucker when I found out that a Save-A-Lot was going in at the end of my street. I’ve seen their ads in my junk mail and the newspapers at work for years. It was usually the jaw dropping meat prices that got my attention. They also seemed to have pretty good deals on produce as well.
So after months of waiting for them to renovate a vacant building, they finally opened their new store. When I made the time to take a look, I was dismayed that the rest of the old shopping plaza was still a run down dump, but the new store front looked very fresh and modern from the outside.
When I got inside, things seemed pretty normal at first. They had the endcap items and then you’d see that same items a little further down the aisle, then you’d see it again a few aisles over, and pretty soon you start to wonder if the person who did the store layout also does video game design.
Of course there weren’t any of those earth shattering sales going on this week, but I did pick up a can of Vienna sausages for 45¢. I found out later that they leave out the middle sausage so they can pass the savings on to you! They also had a loaf of bread for 89¢. I didn’t notice it at the time but the slices were childishly small and could make Donald Trump’s hands look huge. Of course the off-brand names were kind of entertaining as well. It was pure genius to name a carbonated beverage “Dr. Pop”.
But the one telltale sign that let me know exactly the kind of place I was in, was the smell of the clientele. Stale cigarettes and beer filled the air as the country music played quietly over the store’s PA. These weren’t Costco shoppers; these were purgatorians.
But still, it’s another grocery option on my way home from work, and their prices are generally decent. Just remember to bring your own shopping bags.
Pax,
-f2x
Oh, Sorry, there’s no comic this week. I just wanted to mention that yesterday we received more visits than I’ve seen in over a year. Of course half of them were probably bots, but statistically, it looks like actual people were coming to the site to read the jokes.
(hint: this makes me happy!)
Just a reminder, your tax forms are due Monday, so… If you don’t get around to it, the IRS is probably going to get around to you. Since I only have income that’s clearly enumerated on a singular W-2 form, my taxes were done months ago and the refund money is spent.
Also- Since I’m nearly broke, I’m working at my day job today in an effort to get some overtime. That means I’m probably not going to have much time to work on comics or jokes for next week. It’s like that old saying: The best way to get out of responsibilities is to say, “I have responsibilities.” Well, I have them, and you’ll just have to accept that.
OK, so pretty much nobody is going to see this because there is no new joke or comic today, and Sunday’s news will be up here tomorrow. As always, thanks for stopping by.
Pax,
-f2x
PS: “Pax” is the Latin word for “Peace”.
A woman was happily showing off her new BMW.
“It was nice of your husband to buy you that new car,” enviously remarked a friend.
“Nice nothing! He had to,” explained the woman. “I caught him in bed with the maid.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” replied the friend, sympathetically. “Well, did you fire her?”
“Certainly not! I still need all new outfits to go with the car!”
After Arthur Davidson, the the co-founder of the Harley-Davidson company, died, he went to heaven.
God recognized Arthur and commented, “Okay, so you were one of those boys who invented the Harley Davidson motorcycle?”
Arthur said, “Yep, that’s me.”
God said, “Well, what’s the big deal in inventing something that’s pretty unstable, makes noise and pollution, and can’t run without a road?”
Arthur was apparently embarrassed, but finally he said, “Excuse me, but aren’t you the inventor of woman?”
God said, “Yes.”
“Well,” said Arthur, “professional to professional, you have some major design flaws in your invention too:
1. There’s too much inconsistency in the front-end protrusions;
2. It chatters constantly at high speeds;
3. Most of the rear ends are too soft, and wobble too much;
4. The intake is placed way too close to the exhaust;
5. And the maintenance costs are enormous!”
“Hmm, you have some good points there,” replied God, “hold on.”
God went to His Celestial supercomputer, typed in some key words and waited for the results.
The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it. “Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed,” God said to Arthur, “but according to these statistics, more men are riding my invention than yours.”
On a passenger flight, the pilot came over the public address system to greet the passengers. He told them the altitude they’d be flying, expected arrival time, a bit about the weather, and then told them to relax and enjoy the flight.
Forgetting to turn off the microphone, he turned to the co-pilot and said, “What I could really go for right now is a cup of coffee and a blowjob.”
All the passengers heard it.
Mortified by what had just occurred, the stewardess began to run toward the cockpit to inform the pilot that his mic was still on.
As the stewardess rushed by, an elderly woman in an aisle seat shouted, “Don’t forget the coffee, honey!”
It seemed like a typical night for Tom as he crawled into bed, kissed his wife, and fell asleep.
Suddenly he awoke with an elderly man dressed in a white robe standing in front of his bed. “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” he asked.
“This is not your bedroom,” the man replied, “I am St. Peter, and you are in heaven.”
“WHAT?! Are you saying, I’m dead? I don’t want to die! I’m too young,” said Tom. “I’m begging you, please send me back!”
“It’s not that simple,” said St. Peter. “If you choose to go back, you can only return as a hen.”
Tom thought about it for a second, and decided that being a hen was better than being dead. “Fine, I’ll go back as a hen,” Tom replied.
In the next second, he found himself nicely feathered in a chicken run, but now he felt like his rear end was going to explode. Along came the rooster. “Hey, you must be the new hen on the farm.” he said. “How do you like it?”
“Well, it’s OK I guess, but it feels like my rear end is blowing up.”
“Oh that!” said the rooster. “That’s because you’re ovulating. I suppose you’ve never laid an egg before. Just cluck twice, and push all you can.”
Tom clucked twice, and pushed more than he was good for. There was a plop, and a fresh egg was deposited on the ground.
“Wow,” said Tom, “that’s amazing! It felt really good too!”
So he clucked again and squeezed, and there was yet another egg on the ground.
The third time he clucked, he heard his wife’s voice shout, “Tom, for Christ’s sake, wake up! You’re shitting all over the bed!”
Jim was a little worried. He’d never had a prostate exam before.
The doctor could tell Jim was a little nervous and assured Jim there was nothing to worry about.
Sheepishly, Jim took off his pants in preparation for the exam. “Where should I put my trousers?” he asked.
“Over there by mine,” said the doctor.
Please Do Not Consume Raw Cookie Dough
So I’m shopping at my local grocery when I got a sudden hankering for fresh made chocolate chip cookies. Keep in mind the store is pumping delicious aromas into my nostrils. My left brain kicks in and says: “Cookies in the bakery are too expensive.” OK, so that’s out… How about the cookie isle? “They taste terrible compared to the real deal!” says the right brain. So what about making them from scratch? The right and left brain thought about it for a moment before unanimously shouting “No!” with the right brain objecting to a lack of immediate gratification, and the left pointing out that I’ll probably just eat all the chips before I ever get around to making the cookie dough.
Pre-made cookie dough! What about a tube of cookie dough?
The left brain was trying to say something about the cost when the right brain threw a heavy blanket over the left hemisphere while jumping up and down shouting “Get it! Get it! Get it! It’s on sale! Get it!”
Don’t remind me that I’m already waaaay too fat as it is… I bought the cookie dough and took it home. “preheat oven to 350…” I got the cookie sheet out of the oven and began to prepare for this evening’s gluttony. Along the way I noticed that a serving size is one (1) cookie. One fucking cookie?! Aw come on! I could eat a dozen before reaching for a glass of milk… OK, so how many servings in this “tube”? I could scarcely believe the pitifully low number: 16. That’s it… Sixteen cookies in a tube. Oh well… My cookie sheet only holds 14 cookies anyway. The last two blobs of uncooked dough are for my troubles.
And then I read it… “Please do not consume raw cookie dough.”
My shit day has already been shitty enough, and now I’m faced with this plea to not consume the product in what is arguably it’s tastiest form.
When did they start putting that shit on there? As if eating a pile of chocolate chip cookies is a healthy food choice to begin with. Who are these people to tell me how to live my life after providing me with a foodstuff that (baked on not) is essentially a tube of diabetes?
My job sucks. My day sucked. My life sucks. Fuck you. I’m eating the raw cookie dough.
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Hey folks, thanks for stopping by. We’ve got new jokes Monday through Friday, and an archive filled with hundreds of jokes. If it isn’t too much trouble, please rate the jokes you read! You’ve got stars one through ten. Click on star number one if you hated the joke, star number 10 if you loved the joke, or pick one of the stars in between that you feel is most appropriate. Heck, you can even click on the date above to go to the page where you can rate my rant! You can even leave comments to tell me what a fantastic site this is, or to tell me how you really feel! It’s free as in speech and beer, and you’ve got nothing to lose by playing along!
Pax,
-f2x
I’m Calling It
Perhaps you’ve seen something in the news about these “Panama Papers”. It seems the rabble within concerned online communities are frothing at the mouth over the thought that their ruling elites will somehow be held accountable, and justice will rain down from heaven upon those evil doers.
Whatever.
So the PM of Iceland stepped aside for a bit, a few world leaders acted like they were squirming a little, and a few calls for action were made, but the bottom line is this: Those in power will sacrifice a few of their members who’ve been getting a little sloppy lately, while the rest of them vindicate themselves and introduce new legislation that will promise to crack down on these “shell companies”.
Will this stop the practice? The reality of the situation implies something else… The rich and powerful will move on to their next secret tax haven. What is it? No one knows yet because it’s a secret, but rest assured they have plenty of backup plans. Meanwhile the rest of us will be burdened with some kind of bureaucratic red tape to remind us that our government is doing something about it. (Which is mainly forcing us to hop through more red tape so we don’t have the time and energy to deal with the fact that nothing’s really changed.)
So there… I’ve called it. Only time will tell if I’m right, but check back in about a year and tell me if I’m wrong.
Pax,
-f2x
