Bait and switch joke delivery styles, punchline pacing, and comedy formats for people with specific chaos preferences from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.
This guy walks into a bar carrying a shoe box, and proceeds to sit down and places the box on the bar. As the night rolls on and a beauty sits next to him he can’t help but notice her curiosity with the box. So after a while he asks her if she would like to receive the best tongue sex of her life.
Morris asks his son, now aged 10, if he knows about the birds and the bees.
“I don’t want to know!” the child said, bursting into tears.
Confused, the father asked his son what was wrong.
“Oh dad,” he sobbed, “at age six I got the ‘there’s no Santa’ speech. At age seven I got the ‘there’s no Easter bunny’ speech. Then at age 8 you hit me with the ‘there’s no tooth fairy’ speech! If you’re going to tell me now that grown-ups don’t really have sex, I’ve got nothing left to live for!”
The nervous young bride became irritated by her husband’s lusty advances on their wedding night and reprimanded him severely. “I demand proper manners in bed,” she declared, “just as I do at the dinner table.”
Amused by his wife’s formality, the groom smoothed his rumpled hair and climbed quietly between the sheets. “Is that better?” he asked, with a hint of a smile.
“Yes,” replied the young woman, “much better.”
“Very good, darling,” the husband whispered. “Now would you be so kind as to please pass the pussy?”
Two buddies were sharing drinks while discussing their wives.
“Does your wife ever … well, you know … does she … well, let you do it doggie style?” asked one of the two.
“Well, not exactly,” his friend replied, “She’s into the dog trick aspect of it.”
“Oh, I see. Kinky stuff, huh?”
“Well… not exactly. More like she rolls over and plays dead.”
After five years on the wagon, my friend Natasha started hitting the bottle again. I just have to remember that it’s a sickness, not a weakness, to be addicted to artificially blonde hair.
Sometimes when we touch, the honesty’s too much — ’cause you’ve put on quite a few pounds, there, baby.
I’ve been saving up all my picked-off scabs in little bags, just in case the local blood bank needs some Folgers crystals.
