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.
A cruise ship sails past a small island in the ocean, where a bearded man is shouting something while frantically waving his arms.
“Who is that?” a passenger asks the captain.
“I have no idea. Every year, when we pass by here, he goes crazy in exactly the same way.”
Why don’t dinosaurs make good pets?
Because they’re dead.
My wife can’t figure out why I love staying up late to do our taxes. What she doesn’t know is that my process involves writing “I.R.S.” on the forehead of a blow-up doll and repeatedly ramming it in the ass.
So which is worse: Telling your wife that her 86-year-old great aunt “accidentally” touched your junk when you were pity-dancing with her at the wedding reception, or that you cut off your johnson with a plastic knife in the reception hall’s bathroom in order to make sure such a nightmarish vignette never plays out again?
Want to impress your architect girlfriend? Shave your pubes to look like the buildings surrounding the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Keeping your dignity means both knowing what to say and knowing what not to say. That’s why I never talk about my farts, no matter how much they sound like Donald Duck playing the kazoo.
I like my coffee like I like my women: half-digested and culled from the feces of the Asian Palm Civet.
(Lori Petterson) Like sands through the hourglass, so are the constipation-packed pebble-turds trickling from my butt.
They say a dog’s sense of smell is thousands of times better than that of a human. If that’s the case, why do dogs have to get their nose so damn close when sniffing each others butts?
