If Andy Kaufman was still alive, I think he’d join Al Qaeda, like when he joined wrestling. Only this would end up with him really getting arrested and tortured. So it just goes to show that this is a bad climate for doing jokes.
Hey, did you hear about this? It’s actually illegal to send poop through the mail. I guess the terrorists have won.
I wanna see two old guys punch each other out. Like 100 years old.
Hey, does anyone here like Drew Barrymore better when she was on drugs? Really? You like her better when she was nine?
They should have an amusement park for people who recently had heart surgery. The roller coaster goes six miles an hour in a straight line. The haunted house has ghosts that warn you before they pop out and go “boo”. You know how when you go to Disneyworld, all the characters like Snow White and Cinderella and the Little Mermaid are all super hot? Well we can’t have any horny old men having heart attacks so all the characters here are all super fat and ugly. Some in wheelchairs.
Sometimes it’s good to let people know you’re giving them the finger, figuratively I mean. Like when you get someone a really crappy present. “Oh great, Travel Connect Four. Thanks. Is this used?” I also like to repeatedly call someone the wrong name, even after being corrected. but have it not even be close. Not like calling Aaron “Eric,” I mean like calling Aaron “Samantha.”
Agree to baby sit, then leave the house with the kid but have a fake kid dummy wearing the kid’s actual clothes under the tipped-over refrigerator with just the kid’s legs sticking out, like in the Wizard of Oz.
I wanted to write a story about the day I lost my job because I was using the bathroom when the boss was pounding on the door because he had to take a shit. I didn’t open up in time and he soiled himself. He was so embarrased he told me if I didn’t say anything, he’d pay me off with six months of checks but that I could never work there again. Seemed like a fair trade to me. I also ended up breaking up with my girlfriend because though I knew she was a lunchlady, going to her school and actually seeing here there with her hair net on and serving kids sloppy joes made me realize I could never be sexually attracted to her again, even though she was super hot. But I never did. Write that story, that is.
I’m really paranoid about having to take a dump when I’m on a date. I don’t eat anything all day because there’s only so many times you can come back from the bathroom and pretend you were in there doing coke.
Here’s a joke they used to tell us in school: A guy works at a pet store, his boss comes by “all these kittens need to be liquidated, ASAP!”. When the boss comes back, the guy is standing there with a giant bucket of blood and hair and bone and the boss says “how many kittens did you sell today?” to which the guy replies “sell???”
I want to invent a candle for the bathroom that smells like shit, so people will take a shit and then light the candle to clear the air, only it will make it smell worse. Plus the candle will be orange and have an “orange blossom” label on it to trick people.
If I was a reporter and I was interviewing Dionne Warwick before a concert, I’d ask her if she ever messes up and sings “Are pumping cars and parking gas” during “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” It would be funny if she got really mad that I asked that and then was like “This interview is over!” And then it would be really funny if she actually did it during the concert.
If I had a wife, I would do little things to spice up our love life. Like I would tell her to dress like a hooker and meet me in a bar downtown and then I’d pretend to pick her up. But I’d make it realistic. Like I’d ask her, “How much?” and she’d say “Fifty bucks”. And then I’d go, “Fifty bucks? I’m banging this fat bitch who looks just like you for free.” Then I’d storm out and look for a cop to report my wife for being a hooker.