Absurd jokes, weird logic, surreal memes, and nonsense that somehow files taxes from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.
My wife asked me to go see a psychologist about my anger issues.
The doctor asked, “If a train was coming down the hallway toward you, what would you do?”
I replied, “I’d get in my helicopter and fly away!”
The doctor asked, “Where did you get a helicopter?”
I replied, “The same freaking place you got that train from, dipshit!”
A retired salesman named Pete gets stranded after his fishing boat capsizes in the Pacific.
After wandering for days, he stumbles onto a small island community whose longtime mayor has just passed away.
The town’s old preacher tells Pete that since he’s the first newcomer they’ve seen in years, he has to pass three challenges to be accepted as the new leader.
“Alright,” Pete says, brushing off his shirt, “just tell me what I’ve gotta do.”
The preacher walks him over to three little beach shacks and explains the rules.
“In the first shack, there are ten gallons of our homemade moonshine, and you have to drink every drop.”
“In the second shack, there’s a mean old gator with a rotten tooth, and you have to pull it out.”
“In the third shack, there’s the former mayor’s daughter, and you have to satisfy her completely.”
Pete nods and heads straight into the first shack.
Three hours later, he staggers out, swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane, and marches toward the second shack.
The preacher asks if he’d like to lie down for a spell, but Pete waves him off and disappears inside.
After a long stretch of growling, crashing, and splashing, Pete finally stumbles back out, scratched up, muddy, and bleeding.
He squints at the preacher and slurs, “Alright… now where’s the girl with the rotten tooth?”
A man walked into a small-town antique store looking for a dining table.
Right away, he spotted the perfect one and asked the owner how much it cost.
“Two thousand dollars,” the owner said.
“Two thousand? That’s outrageous!” the man replied.
“Normally I’d agree,” said the owner, “but this isn’t an ordinary table. It has special powers.”
“Special powers? Prove it,” the man said.
The owner leaned over the table and asked, “How many floors are in this building?”
The table suddenly hopped into the air four times.
And sure enough, there were four floors.
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Alright,” he said, “ask it how much cash I’ve got in my wallet.”
The owner asked the question.
The table jumped eleven times.
“That’s amazing!” the man said. “I’ve got two five-dollar bills and a single. That’s eleven dollars exactly. I’ll take it.”
He paid the two thousand dollars, and the table was delivered the next day.
While it was being set up, his buddy stopped by to see the new purchase.
“It’s not just a table,” the man said proudly. “Watch this.”
He cleared his throat and asked, “How much money does my wife have in her bank account?”
The table went wild.
It started bouncing up and down nonstop.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
It was still going.
The man stared in disbelief.
“How on earth does she have that much money?” he muttered.
Suddenly, the table gave one last violent jump.
Its legs split apart.
And the drawers dropped straight to the floor.
Two old brothers — Hank and Earl — had a lifelong rivalry going with their neighbour Virgil, all three of them living in the same remote corner of northern Montana, where winters were the kind of cold that made your eyebrows hurt.
One February evening, the three of them were nursing drinks at the only bar in town, and the argument that started every year around this time broke out again.
“Boys,” said Hank, “I’m telling you right now — my place is the coldest in the county.”
“Ha,” said Earl. “You’ve never even spent a night in my cabin.”
Virgil just smiled into his glass and said nothing, which irritated the other two more than any boast could.
They agreed to end the argument once and for all. First stop was Hank’s place.
He led them to the porch, filled a tin cup with water from the tap, and flung it into the air. It hit the ground as a solid disc of ice.
“Not bad,” said Virgil. “Not bad at all.”
Earl just raised an eyebrow.
Over at Earl’s cabin, he stood in the doorway, drew a long slow breath, and let it out. The exhale left his mouth as a mist — and then clattered to the floor in a tiny frozen clump.
“Alright,” Hank admitted. “That’s cold.”
But Virgil still hadn’t said a word.
When they reached Virgil’s cabin, he didn’t take them to the porch or the doorway. He took them straight to the bedroom.
He pulled back the blankets on the bed and carefully lifted something out — a small, perfectly round ball of ice. He carried it to the kitchen, set it on a spoon, and held a lit match beneath it.
The three of them stood in silence, watching it slowly thaw.
And then, the moment it softened just enough —
“FFFAAAARRRRTTT!”
Virgil won.
A guy gets pulled over for speeding, and the officer says, “What’s your name, son?”
He replies, “D-d-d-dav-dav-david, sir.”
The officer looks at him suspiciously and says, “Oh, do you have a stutter?”
The guy replies, “No, sir. My dad has a stutter, and the guy who filled out my birth certificate is an idiot.”
A blonde walked into a doctor’s office with a hole in her hand. The doctor told her that he had to report all gunshot wounds, and this was an obvious gunshot wound, so would she please explain how it happened?
