Humor humor, jokes, memes, and punchlines sorted by emotional damage level from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.
A wealthy man commissioned an artist to paint a mural depicting General Custer’s last words at the Battle of the Little Bighorn. He told the artist he’d have complete creative freedom on how to present the scene.
Little Johnny’s mom sits him down before they go visit their neighbor who just had a baby boy.
“Listen to me very carefully,” she says. “The poor baby was born without a chin because of a rare genetic condition. His mother is extremely sensitive about it. If you make even the tiniest comment about his chin, you are grounded for a whole month. Got it?”
Johnny nods obediently.
They arrive, chat for a while, and then Johnny turns to the new mom with a sweet smile and asks:
“When your son grows up, will he move out of the house one day?”
“Yes, of course, hopefully when he goes to college.”
“Will he wash his own bedsheets?”
“Well, who else is going to wash them? Yes.”
“And will he iron them too?”
“Yes, he’ll iron them.”
“And put them away in the closet?”
“Obviously, where else would they go?”
“So, how is he going to fold them?”
An artist needed glasses, but like many artists, she didn’t have health insurance.
An ophthalmologist who admired her work offered a deal: he’d cover the cost of everything except the office visit if she’d paint a mural in his waiting room.
Two weeks later, the artist had her new glasses and spent the weekend painting the mural. On Monday, the doctor and his staff arrived, eager to see what she’d created.
The artist proudly ushered them in. Every wall was covered with eyes — some open, some closed, some long-lashed, in shades of brown, blue, green, and hazel. One even had a single teardrop.
“So,” asked the artist, “what do you think?”
The doctor paused, looked around the room, and said, “I think I’m glad I’m not a gynecologist.”
Three guys were traveling through Saudi Arabia when they accidentally stumbled into a harem tent filled with over a hundred beautiful women.
They started getting friendly with the women when suddenly the Sheik burst in and shouted, “I am the master of all these women! No one else may touch them except me. You three men must pay for what you’ve done. Your punishment will correspond to your profession.”
He turned to the first man and asked, “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a cop,” the first man said.
“Then we will shoot your penis off!” declared the Sheik.
Next, he turned to the second man. “And you?”
“I’m a fireman.”
“Then we will burn your penis off!”
Finally, the Sheik turned to the third man. “And what do you do for a living?”
The third man grinned and said, “I’m a lollipop salesman.”
My last girlfriend demanded to be treated as a princess.
Boy was she mad when I married her off to secure an alliance with France.
I went to get a haircut the other day, and the barber kept asking me the same question over and over. As he’s cutting my hair, he says, “So, how’s your mother-in-law doing?”
I shrugged and said, “She’s fine.”
Five minutes later, he asks again, “So, how’s your mother-in-law?”
Now I’m getting annoyed, but I answer, “I told you, she’s fine.”
A few minutes after that, he asks yet again, “So, how is your mother-in-law doing?”
I finally snap: “Dude, I already told you twice—she’s fine! Why do you keep asking about my mother-in-law?”
He chuckles and says, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s not because I actually care. Every time I mention your mother-in-law, your hair stands straight up… and it makes it a lot easier for me to cut it!”
The FDA just approved a medication for lesbians with depression.
It’s called Trycocksagain.
