Anecdotal jokes, punchlines, setups, and comedy bits from Chaotic Meh — sorted for people who know exactly what kind of bad idea they want.
A couple of rednecks pull into a lumberyard. One goes in and asks the clerk for some four-by-twos.
“You mean two-by-fours?” the clerk asks.
The redneck says, “I’ll go check.”
He goes back to the car, asks his buddy, and returns a minute later.
“Yeah, two-by-fours will be fine,” he tells the clerk.
“All right,” says the clerk. “And how long?”
“Just a minute,” says the redneck, and heads back out to the car.
A minute later he comes back and says, “A long time. We’re buildin’ a garage.”
It’s said that President and Mrs. Coolidge were invited to visit a Department of Agriculture station that was working on ways to improve farming. Two agents guided them separately.
When Mrs. Coolidge was brought to the chicken yard, she noticed a rooster doing his duty. She asked how many times the rooster could provide service per day and was told dozens of times.
She replied, “Tell that to the President when he comes by.”
Later, when the President was informed of that fact, he asked, “Same hen every time?”
He was told, “No, a different hen every time.”
He responded, “Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge.”
A politician was touring his rural constituency in his shiny Range Rover, press in tow, visiting farmers, showing his face, and trying to come across as a man of the people.
He suddenly found the narrow country lane blocked by a bull being led by a small girl with a rope through its nose ring.
As the girl tugged at the aggravated bull’s rope, the politician got out to see how he could be of assistance.
With the press looking on, he approached the girl and asked, “Young lady, just what are you doing with such a large, dangerous animal on the public road?”
“This old bull?” says the girl. “I’m taking him down to the neighbors’ place to service one of their cows.”
“Shouldn’t your father be doing that?” asks the politician.
“Oh no…” says the girl. “It has to be the bull.”
A campaigning politician was driving through the countryside, meeting his constituents.
As he passed a farmhouse, he struck and killed a rooster in the road.
He told the farmer, “Sorry, but I’ve run over your rooster.”
Reaching for his wallet, he added, “I’d very much like to replace him, of course.”
The farmer said, “Fine. You can start right away — the chickens are out back.”
A teacher asks her class, “Who can tell me a word that starts with the letter ‘A’?”
Little Johnny raises his hand, and the teacher thinks, I’m not calling on Johnny. He’ll say something like ‘asshole.’
So she calls on Suzy, who says, “Apple.”
“Very good!” says the teacher. “Now… who can tell me a word that begins with the letter ‘B’?”
Again, Johnny raises his hand, and the teacher thinks, I’m not calling on Johnny. He’ll say ‘bastard’ or ‘bitch.’
So she calls on Stephen instead, and Stephen says, “Balloon.”
This continues until they get to the letter G.
Again, Johnny raises his hand, and the teacher says to herself, I can’t think of a swear word that starts with G.
So she calls on Johnny.
“Gnome,” says Johnny.
Very surprised, the teacher says, “That’s excellent, Johnny! It does start with G, which is silent. Johnny, do you know what a gnome is?”
“Yeah,” says Johnny. “It’s the little shit who lives in my garden and fucks fairies.”
An old lady goes to the doctor and says, “Doc, I can’t stop farting. They’re silent with no smell, but I’ve let out 20 in the past five minutes sitting here.”
The doctor gives her some pills and tells her to come back next week.
The next week, the old lady comes back and says, “Doc, I took the pills. The farts are still silent, but now they stink!”
The doctor says, “Great! We’ve cleared your sinuses. Now let’s work on your hearing!”
A Chicago mob boss needed someone to collect protection money without talking to the police.
With cops watching closely, he had an idea.
“Get me someone who can’t talk. That way, if he gets picked up, he can’t talk to the cops.”
They bring in Pete — a big bloke who looks mean as hell. He doesn’t speak and communicates only in sign language.
By the end of the week, Pete has collected $50,000.
Then he disappears.
The boss sends two goons. They track Pete down easily, but he just stares at them, expressionless.
So they drag him to an interpreter.
One of the goons says, “Ask him where the money is.”
The interpreter signs it.
Pete shrugs and signs back, “No idea what you’re talking about.”
The interpreter says, “He says he doesn’t know anything.”
The goon pulls out a gun and presses it to Pete’s head.
“Ask him again.”
The interpreter hesitates, then signs again.
Pete immediately folds.
“Alright! It’s in Central Park, under a tree stump near 78th Street!”
The interpreter turns back to the goons and says, “He says he doesn’t know anything — and he thinks you don’t have the guts to pull the trigger.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t until after I had spent three days eating nothing but beets and asparagus, and downing enough Karo syrup to kill a horse, that I realized maybe it was actually during a dream when I came up with my super-secret formula for “pissing Skittles.”
When I think back about my grandpa, I always picture him in a Wonder Woman outfit. Not his around-the-house one, but the nice one with the gold sequins.
When I’m sitting in a restaurant with a date and she asks, “Do you mind if I smoke?” I always feel like saying, “No, but do you mind if I sit here beside you and discreetly masturbate under the tablecloth?”
Regrettably, I never do, since by the time she gets around to asking about the cigarette, I’m usually half finished and have no intention of stopping anyway.
