Joke of the Day

[GA Russell]

 

[JSngry]

I actually like the basic Starbucks flavor. So ti me, that's not funny, it's just stupid.

You know what else was stupid was that Starbucks Blonde, for people who wanted something else besides Starbucks from Starbucks. Talk about a REAL blonde joke...

[GA Russell]

 

[Kevin Bresnahan]

The Babylon Bee seems to think some things are funnier than they really are. Considering some of their other tweets, I can see why.

[Ken Dryden]

[GA Russell]

https://x.com/Thebestfigen/status/1922270661281501326

[Rooster_Ties]

7 hours ago, GA Russell said:

https://x.com/Thebestfigen/status/1922270661281501326

No joke (no joke).

[JSngry]

No content?

[Rooster_Ties]

1 hour ago, JSngry said:

No content?

Hard to be content with no content.

[JSngry]

Carnation despairs.

[GA Russell]

[GA Russell]

On reaching his plane seat a man is surprised to see a parrot strapped in next to him.

He asks the stewardess for a coffee whereupon the parrot squawks, 'And get me a coke, you cow!' The stewardess, flustered, brings back a coke for the parrot and forgets the coffee.

When this omission is pointed out to her, the parrot drains its glass and bawls 'And get me another coke dogface!'

Quite upset, the girl comes back shaking with another coke but still no coffee.

Unaccustomed to such slackness the man tries the parrot's approach. 'I've asked you twice for a coffee! Go and get it now you old goat!'

The next moment both he and the parrot have been wrenched up and thrown out of the emergency exit by two burly stewards.

Plunging downwards the parrot turns to him and says, 'For someone who can't fly, you've got guts!'

[GA Russell]

A blind pilot walks onto a plane waving his white cane.  The passengers look at each other in disbelief. The flight attendant gets on the PA and says, "Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, the captain is legally blind, but rest assured, he's one of the best pilots in the world with over 6,000 successful flights."

Next, the co-pilot makes his way to the plane. He's also blind, and he uses his walking stick to make it to the cabin. The flight attendant then says, "Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, the co-pilot is also blind, but rest assured, he is the second best pilot in the world with over 5,000 successful flights."

At this point the plane begins to take off on the runway.  It gains speed, and the passengers grow tenser. The plane keeps accelerating faster and faster; and as it approaches the end of the runway, it still hasn't left the ground.

The plane is approaching the end of the runway at a really high speed, and the passengers start to scream, "Oh my god oh my god we're all going to die!"

Suddenly the plane takes off and begins its ascent. The pilot turns to the co-pilot and says, "The day they stop screaming we're screwed."

Edited February 4 by GA Russell

[Ken Dryden]

On 4/12/2025 at 8:13 PM, GA Russell said:

 

LOL!

[GA Russell]

 

[GA Russell]

Paddy and Mick are two Irishmen working at the local sawmill.

One day, Mick slips and his arm gets caught and severed by the big bench saw. Paddy quickly puts the limb in a plastic bag and rushes it and Mick to the local hospital.

Next day, Paddy goes to the hospital and asks after Mick. The nurse says, "Oh he's out in Rehab exercising".

Paddy couldn't believe it, but there's Mick out the back exercising his now re-attached arm. The very next day he's back at work in the saw mill.

A couple of days go by, and then Mick slips and severs his leg on another bloody big saw.

So Paddy puts the limb in a plastic bag and rushes it and Mick off to Hospital..

Next day he calls in to see him and asks the nurse how he is.. The nurse replies, "He's out in the Rehab again exercising".

And sure enough, there's Mick out there doing some serious work on the treadmill. And very soon Mick comes back to work.

But, as usual, within a couple of days he has another accident and severs his head.

Wearily Paddy puts the head in a plastic bag and transports it and Mick to hospital.

Next day he goes in and asks the nurse how Mick is. The nurse breaks down and cries and says, "He's dead."

Paddy is shocked, but not surprised. "I suppose the saw finally did him in."

"No", says the nurse, "Some idiot put his head in a plastic bag and he suffocated.

[Dan Gould]

that's a long build up for a weak payoff. IMHO.

[Kevin Bresnahan]

4 hours ago, GA Russell said:

Paddy and Mick are two Irishmen working at the local sawmill.

One day, Mick slips and his arm gets caught and severed by the big bench saw. Paddy quickly puts the limb in a plastic bag and rushes it and Mick to the local hospital.

Next day, Paddy goes to the hospital and asks after Mick. The nurse says, "Oh he's out in Rehab exercising".

Paddy couldn't believe it, but there's Mick out the back exercising his now re-attached arm. The very next day he's back at work in the saw mill.

A couple of days go by, and then Mick slips and severs his leg on another bloody big saw.

So Paddy puts the limb in a plastic bag and rushes it and Mick off to Hospital..

Next day he calls in to see him and asks the nurse how he is.. The nurse replies, "He's out in the Rehab again exercising".

And sure enough, there's Mick out there doing some serious work on the treadmill. And very soon Mick comes back to work.

But, as usual, within a couple of days he has another accident and severs his head.

Wearily Paddy puts the head in a plastic bag and transports it and Mick to hospital.

Next day he goes in and asks the nurse how Mick is. The nurse breaks down and cries and says, "He's dead."

Paddy is shocked, but not surprised. "I suppose the saw finally did him in."

"No", says the nurse, "Some idiot put his head in a plastic bag and he suffocated.

They used to do skits on 105.7 FM every day that they called Men From Maine. Here's one from 2011.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkH1atRYoSk

[GA Russell]

3 hours ago, Kevin Bresnahan said:

They used to do skits on 105.7 FM every day that they called Men From Maine. Here's one from 2011.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkH1atRYoSk

That's terrific, Kevin!

[Kevin Bresnahan]

Back in 2012/13, Amazon was selling sugar-free Haribo gummy bears. They've since stopped selling them because they caused many people to suffer intense stomach cramps and uncontrollable diarrhea. Being Amazon, they allowed customer reviews. There were some incredibly funny reviews. They're all gone now. Here is one that I remember. I may have posted it on another forum when these were being written, but I could not find it here with a search.

This is from https://hemetsonshine.wordpress.com/2013/12/03/haribo-sugarless-gummy-bears/

375 of 409 people found the following review helpful

My Dinner With Andrea, November 21, 2013

By

Farva21

This review is from: Haribo Gummy Candy, Sugarless Gummy Bears, 5-Pound Bag (Grocery)

I’m pretty sure Andrea (I’ll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because I always spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-school German. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But the fact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquire about the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make me appealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.
My intentions, however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shopping that night was done at one of those upscale groceries with an international flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler as anything I can cook, and isn’t that hard to pull off. But still, I was busy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweets aisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn’t immediately notice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which are designed for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (which are designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punish uncooperative inmates).
I shan’t make that mistake again. (notice you can’t spell SHAN’T without SHAT.)
Prior to Andrea’s arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist of make-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in a decorative bowl because I am fancy.
The doorbell rang, and within minutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of us probably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability to communicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least of my worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to dance to young people’s music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompanied by a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my own voice.
Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my language lessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblings sound like German words.
“ENTSCHULDIGUNG!” was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response.
“Sind Sie Kaffee machen?” she asked.
Am I making coffee?
I thought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realized that yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily be mistaken for the percolating of some bachelor’s crappy coffeemaker.
It’s remarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumatic pottymaking experience. Maybe that’s the body’s way of buying you the precious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of steps to the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift the lid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.
She’s going to hear EVERYTHING!
Thanks to an acoustical idiosyncrasy in my building, the hallway outside the bathroom works as an amplifier pointed straight at my living room-slash-kitchen. So that somehow even the gentlest tinkle sounds like I’m pouring lemonade out of a bucket.
With only half an idea of what I was doing, I grabbed Andrea’s hand and pulled her roughly down onto my sofa. I must have looked like a madman as I booted up my iTunes playlist, plugged in the gigantic new headphones I had just bought to keep me looking young and hip, and clamped them down over her ears. (the sweat forming on my brow and upper lip couldn’t have helped.) In response to her nervous expression, I kept shouting “You’ll love this! You’ll love this!”
I spun her around so that she was looking out the window. My “plan” was that she’d be so distracted by the modest 4th floor view, that it would allow me to pull my pants off while I sprinted down the hall, silently singing the praises of the noise-reducing quality of my new headphones. (this story will be reprinted in its entirety as a 5 star review on the Sony Beats Audio Amazon page.)
As I slammed the bathroom door shut, already half naked, it occurred to me that I had not been shouting “You’ll love this!” at Andrea. I don’t even know how to say that in German. In my desperation I had been saying “Ich Leibe Dich!” Repeatedly professing my love for her in a shaky and frantic voice. But maybe that was a good thing, because as I threw myself at the toilet, I figured the best I could hope for is that she would be so creeped-out that she would sneak out of the apartment, blissfully unaware of the carnage taking place in the next room.
What can I say about the ensuing white-knuckle bowel movement that hasn’t been expressed in other reviews on this page? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen the adjective “Kafkaesque” used anywhere else.
By the end of Act One of this private little torture-porn movie, I was confessing to every unsolved crime in history. Praying I would stumble upon the one that would satisfy my invisible captors.
Quickly I realized that I had more than Andrea’s sense of sound to worry about. Were she to get even the faintest whiff of the weapons-grade sluice that my anus was angrily shouting into the porcelain, I would have to change my name and move to another city.
And so I flushed. And flushed. And flushed and flushed.
And then I flushed and nothing happened.
I have never looked down into a broken toilet with more horror in my entire life. And I once stopped up George Clooney’s crapper! (a true story for another time.)
I reached for the plunger, but my hand froze and my heart seized when I saw it on the floor, broken in two and covered in what looked like teeth marks. Apparently I had used the wooden handle to keep from biting my tongue off and had chewed clean through it. When did that happen? It seems my mind had already started the process of repressing this entire event.
Amid the feverish, fruitless dance I did across my tiny bathroom floor, it dawned on me that it had been more than a minute since my last soul-wrenching anal tantrum. Dear Lord, is it over? I asked, quite possibly aloud.
I may have been light-headed and delusional, but I began to imagine a non-ignominious resolution to this ordeal. I just needed to get her the hell out of here. If Andrea hadn’t fled the building, vomiting in terror, then I supposed I could pull up my trousers and make a cavalier exit. As long as I could get her off premises and as far away from this post-apocalyptic commode as humanly possible. Assuming that the Diarrhistas had retreated to the hills temporarily, maybe I could even whisk Andrea away to a candlelight dinner at Bernardo’s. How impulsive!
My first few steps back toward the living room were tentative. And not just because my sphincter felt raw and tattered. It was a slow approach to the Moment of Truth, especially when I saw her figure still planted on my sofa. I knew any look on Andrea’s face other than her mouth agape would constitute a miraculous victory. And when she smiled at me, the wash of relief that engulfed me was more glorious than any throes of ecstasy I might have wished for at the beginning of the night.
And then I saw it.
The decorative bowl sitting in her lap. Down to just the last few sugarless Gummi bears.
“Du hast Haribo!” she said to me. Accompanied by a satisfied smile. A big, beaming Hansel and Gretel smile, that slightly turned down in one corner at the sound we both suddenly heard. A low rumble from deep within her GI tract that sounded like Gefahrrrrr.
The German word for Danger.
Her eyes shot past mine and refocused on the bathroom door just down the hall behind me.

[Dub Modal]

On 7/18/2026 at 5:37 PM, Kevin Bresnahan said:

Back in 2012/13, Amazon was selling sugar-free Haribo gummy bears. They've since stopped selling them because they caused many people to suffer intense stomach cramps and uncontrollable diarrhea. Being Amazon, they allowed customer reviews. There were some incredibly funny reviews. They're all gone now. Here is one that I remember. I may have posted it on another forum when these were being written, but I could not find it here with a search.

This is from https://hemetsonshine.wordpress.com/2013/12/03/haribo-sugarless-gummy-bears/

375 of 409 people found the following review helpful

My Dinner With Andrea, November 21, 2013

By

Farva21

This review is from: Haribo Gummy Candy, Sugarless Gummy Bears, 5-Pound Bag (Grocery)

I’m pretty sure Andrea (I’ll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because I always spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-school German. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But the fact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquire about the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make me appealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.
My intentions, however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shopping that night was done at one of those upscale groceries with an international flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler as anything I can cook, and isn’t that hard to pull off. But still, I was busy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweets aisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn’t immediately notice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which are designed for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (which are designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punish uncooperative inmates).
I shan’t make that mistake again. (notice you can’t spell SHAN’T without SHAT.)
Prior to Andrea’s arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist of make-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in a decorative bowl because I am fancy.
The doorbell rang, and within minutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of us probably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability to communicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least of my worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to dance to young people’s music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompanied by a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my own voice.
Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my language lessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblings sound like German words.
“ENTSCHULDIGUNG!” was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response.
“Sind Sie Kaffee machen?” she asked.
Am I making coffee?
I thought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realized that yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily be mistaken for the percolating of some bachelor’s crappy coffeemaker.
It’s remarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumatic pottymaking experience. Maybe that’s the body’s way of buying you the precious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of steps to the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift the lid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.
She’s going to hear EVERYTHING!
Thanks to an acoustical idiosyncrasy in my building, the hallway outside the bathroom works as an amplifier pointed straight at my living room-slash-kitchen. So that somehow even the gentlest tinkle sounds like I’m pouring lemonade out of a bucket.
With only half an idea of what I was doing, I grabbed Andrea’s hand and pulled her roughly down onto my sofa. I must have looked like a madman as I booted up my iTunes playlist, plugged in the gigantic new headphones I had just bought to keep me looking young and hip, and clamped them down over her ears. (the sweat forming on my brow and upper lip couldn’t have helped.) In response to her nervous expression, I kept shouting “You’ll love this! You’ll love this!”
I spun her around so that she was looking out the window. My “plan” was that she’d be so distracted by the modest 4th floor view, that it would allow me to pull my pants off while I sprinted down the hall, silently singing the praises of the noise-reducing quality of my new headphones. (this story will be reprinted in its entirety as a 5 star review on the Sony Beats Audio Amazon page.)
As I slammed the bathroom door shut, already half naked, it occurred to me that I had not been shouting “You’ll love this!” at Andrea. I don’t even know how to say that in German. In my desperation I had been saying “Ich Leibe Dich!” Repeatedly professing my love for her in a shaky and frantic voice. But maybe that was a good thing, because as I threw myself at the toilet, I figured the best I could hope for is that she would be so creeped-out that she would sneak out of the apartment, blissfully unaware of the carnage taking place in the next room.
What can I say about the ensuing white-knuckle bowel movement that hasn’t been expressed in other reviews on this page? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen the adjective “Kafkaesque” used anywhere else.
By the end of Act One of this private little torture-porn movie, I was confessing to every unsolved crime in history. Praying I would stumble upon the one that would satisfy my invisible captors.
Quickly I realized that I had more than Andrea’s sense of sound to worry about. Were she to get even the faintest whiff of the weapons-grade sluice that my anus was angrily shouting into the porcelain, I would have to change my name and move to another city.
And so I flushed. And flushed. And flushed and flushed.
And then I flushed and nothing happened.
I have never looked down into a broken toilet with more horror in my entire life. And I once stopped up George Clooney’s crapper! (a true story for another time.)
I reached for the plunger, but my hand froze and my heart seized when I saw it on the floor, broken in two and covered in what looked like teeth marks. Apparently I had used the wooden handle to keep from biting my tongue off and had chewed clean through it. When did that happen? It seems my mind had already started the process of repressing this entire event.
Amid the feverish, fruitless dance I did across my tiny bathroom floor, it dawned on me that it had been more than a minute since my last soul-wrenching anal tantrum. Dear Lord, is it over? I asked, quite possibly aloud.
I may have been light-headed and delusional, but I began to imagine a non-ignominious resolution to this ordeal. I just needed to get her the hell out of here. If Andrea hadn’t fled the building, vomiting in terror, then I supposed I could pull up my trousers and make a cavalier exit. As long as I could get her off premises and as far away from this post-apocalyptic commode as humanly possible. Assuming that the Diarrhistas had retreated to the hills temporarily, maybe I could even whisk Andrea away to a candlelight dinner at Bernardo’s. How impulsive!
My first few steps back toward the living room were tentative. And not just because my sphincter felt raw and tattered. It was a slow approach to the Moment of Truth, especially when I saw her figure still planted on my sofa. I knew any look on Andrea’s face other than her mouth agape would constitute a miraculous victory. And when she smiled at me, the wash of relief that engulfed me was more glorious than any throes of ecstasy I might have wished for at the beginning of the night.
And then I saw it.
The decorative bowl sitting in her lap. Down to just the last few sugarless Gummi bears.
“Du hast Haribo!” she said to me. Accompanied by a satisfied smile. A big, beaming Hansel and Gretel smile, that slightly turned down in one corner at the sound we both suddenly heard. A low rumble from deep within her GI tract that sounded like Gefahrrrrr.
The German word for Danger.
Her eyes shot past mine and refocused on the bathroom door just down the hall behind me.

That would make for a hilarious short film.