Figure we need a proper joke thread

[Amake]

I was walking down the street looking for a hotel, and saw a classy lady so I thought I'd ask for directions. I said, "Do you know if there's somewhere to sleep around here?" I immediately realized this was a bad move on my part, being dressed in rags and my skin not covered in any substantial amount of glossy shit.
She looked down her nose so hard I thought she'd break her jaw as she said, "I am the Duchess of Northampton, Lady Catherine Giselda Tiberia Alianora Goodchild, wife of the celebrated neurosurgeon doctor Charles Atlas Goodchild, fidecommisar of no less than seventeen castles and founder of the fourth greatest public school of the land, and I. KNOW. NOTHING!"



Ooh, ooh, another one! Once upon a time there was a man who owned a farm. After his parents passed away, he went for three years without a single visitor and it dawned on him that he was lonely. That was mostly because he was a right unpersonable bastard and drove people away with his argumentative, invasive silences. What he needed, he thought, was a wife who didn't have any say in how far from him she wanted to be. Family, he thought, means they have to put up with you. And this being back in the day, he soon found the means to have a bride delivered to him by train. And on the appointed day, he put his horse to his carriage and went down to the train station to pick her up.

Now, the way there went without any trouble, and he spotted his wife easily as she had two large suitcases where her whole life was packed away and she looked around as if she'd never been near anything like this small town before. Frankly, even calling it a town was stretching it, it was five houses standing in a half circle around the train station, and four roads leading off into the woods. The man nodded by way of greeting, picked up the suitcases and slung them up on the carriage, led the wife on board with a firm hand and headed off home on one of these roads. You see, the farms in this land were few and far between, with miles of quiet forest roads between them. And they went on this quiet road, sitting side by side in silence for some time.

Then, all of a sudden, the horse stopped. A horse on the way home will make the effort by itself, so the man had maybe neglected to drive it properly, and now he gave it a firm lash with his whip, but still the horse wouldn't move. So he climbed down, walked up and looked the horse in the eye and said, in a low voice, "That's once." And then he climbed up and the horse started pulling as if nothing happened. But some time later, despite regular whipping, the horse stopped again. And again the man walked up to it and looked it straight in the eye and spoke to it, and he said "That's twice." The horse seemed to shiver for a moment, and looked down, and then resumed its work again.

As he sat down by his wife, she stared at him and tried to find words, but for that his silence was all too oppressive. And yet again, for some unknowable reason, the horse stopped dead on the road, and the man climbed down, took out his gun, and pointed it at the horse's forehead. "That's thrice", he said, and pulled the trigger. The gun made a short, muted, somehow scared sound but the horse fell down dead none the less. And the man took down the luggage and hefted it on his back and started walking, soon followed by his wife.

"What was that about?" she said, as bewildered as any of us would be. She was scared, yet exhilarated; her heart brought to life by the danger, the mystery, the deep dark thrill when she found herself looking into the man's pale blue eyes.

'That's once", he said.

[tacticslion]

I suppose I should get this over with now:

Three men walk into a bar. The fourth one ducks.

[krogothwolf]

So a guy from Alberta, Saskatchewan and Quebec are all stranded in the desert. Miraculously they stumble upon a magical lamp and a genie appears from it. He explains to the three of them that he will send them all back home on the condition that they each make one wish first. The guy from Saskatchewan agrees to go first. He explains to the genie about how the lack of rain is making the soil unfertile in his province, and with that he is sent back to his home to find the most fertile soil he could ever imagine.

Then the guy from Quebec steps up. He tells the genie that Quebec is loosing it's heritage and unique culture. He says that he wants a bubble put over the entire province so that no one can get in, and no one can get out. In a flash, he is sent back to his home in Quebec and sees that there is in fact a large bubble covering the entire province.

The last of the three, the Albertan, is standing there laughing. The genie looks at him and asks what is so funny.

Still laughing, the Albertan looks up and says, "you know that bubble you just put over Quebec... fill it with water."

[Amake]

Huh, must be some Albertian in-joke. Brings to mind Swedish cultural hero Bellman. (Based on eighteenth century bard Carl Michael Bellman.) His stories often go something like this:

A Dane, a Norwegian and Bellman were stuck on a desert island when one of them happened to find a bottle with a genie in it. The genie gives them one wish each, and the Dane says "I want to go home", and the genie says "It is done", and the Dane goes poof and disappears.

Naturally, the Norwegian also goes "I want to go home", and goes home in a puff of smoke.

"It's lonely here without those guys", says Bellman. "I wish they'd come back."

[krogothwolf]

It's a Canadian In Joke you could swap alberta for any of the other provinces or territories and they'd still wish for the same thing to happen to Quebec!

[Julford Hajime]

...No pokepuns allowed in this one, I assume?

That's a unless someone else starts it.

[Amake]

Ah. Well, it's been some years since I heard anyone rip into Norway like we used to in the old, old days of 1995. Such as:

Why does a Norwegian carry a big rock with him when he goes to pick berries in the forest?
Cause if he sees a bear, then he can drop the rock and run faster.

What's it say on a Norwegian fire hose?
Please roll up after use.
(I've actually seen that with my own eyes.)

What does it say on a Norwegian roundabout?
Max ten laps.

Oh and the great local patriot tale of the Northlander who wanted to move south, to Stockholm. He was told that he'd have to surgically remove 10% of his brain to become a proper Stockholmer, and he went "Oh alright, it's probably the ten percent I'm not using anyway."

So he went down to Karolinska (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karolinska_University_Hospital) and had his brain unscrewed, and then he woke up to a room full of grave faces. "There was a mistake", said his doctor, after the slightest of pleasantries. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, we removed nine tenths of your brain instead of one. It's going to be okay, you can still fit in in Stockholm, but it's going to take a lot of therapy."

The expatriate Northlander considered this carefully, in order to not bruise his brain, and then insight dawned on his face and he cracked a broad smile and said "De gor ikke na, jeg trivs bra me o vare Norrman!"

(That's Norwegian for "That's alright, I'm comfortable being a Norwegian, if you couldn't guess.)

...No pokepuns allowed in this one, I assume?

That's a unless someone else starts it. Well we do have a perfectly blastocant thread for puns (http://www.nuklearforums.com/showthread.php?t=37301) already. I felt we needed one with a wider scope

[Muere Enano]

Two sausages were sizzling in a pan.

Sausage no. 1 flops over to face the other, and says, 'it's kind of hot in here, isn't it.'

The other immediately screams, 'OH MY GOD IT'S A TALKING SAUSAAAGEEEE!!!!'




Amazing how these things translate! I've got it on good authority that that Bellman joke is told, detail for detail, in Egypt, and who knows how many other countries in the world.

[Amake]

One day Bellman was on the way to the castle and met a hobo. He pulled down his pants and asked the hobo to shit in them, and the hobo did so without any questions. This was the eighteenth century and all.
And then he met with the king, who said "Bellman, did you shit your pants?" as he noticed the smell.
"I did not, and I'll bet you a hundred gold coins you can't prove I did", said Bellman.
The king agreed and, of course, urged Bellman to drop his pants. But Bellman instead shouted to the hobo, passing on the street, "Hey there! Who shit in my pants?"
"Why, that was me", said the hobo. And so Bellman won.

Betcha that one haven't been transmigrated to no Egyptian culture heroes!

Furthermore: Once a Dane, a German and Bellman had a contest to see who could stay in a particularly smelly pig's sty the longest. The Dane went first, and came out after two minutes. "The pig farted!" he said, as he fainted. Then the German tried, and he stayed in there five whole minutes before coming out looking pretty green around the gills. "The pog farted", he gasped, gagging for air. And then it was Bellman's turn. Twenty minutes passed, and then the pig came out, fanning its snout with its foot. "Bellman farted!" it said.

And then there was the evil genie who was unleashed by the Dane, the Finn and Bellman. He said they each had to give him a challenge and if he, the genie, could do it then he would kill the fool in question. The Finn, stroking his trusty kaarves for comfort, tried: "Run around the earth in one second!" And the genie did, before his image could fade from their eyes, and brought back an orange piece of Uluru from Australia as proof. And then he cut the Finn down with a suspiciously large blade.

The Dane, shaking nervously, stuttered as he said "Run to Venus and back in one second!" And he had barely finished talking before the genie appeared with a sonic bang, bearing a little cloud of Venus' poisonous atmosphere which he stuffed down the Dane's throat.

Now Bellman was so scared he farted, but in that moment he shone up and said "Catch my fart and paint it green!" And the genie was never seen again.



...I kinda notice a theme here.

[Lady Fire Dove]

What do you call a petite fortune teller who just escaped from prison?

Huh? Huh?

A small medium at large. :dance:

[Muere Enano]

You?re probably right. Their culture heroes have dignity.

Here's a Cuban joke.

It was the 25th anniversary of the Revolution, and Fidel was raring and champing at the bit at the excuse to deliver one of his marathon speeches (fact: the man holds a record for one of the longest speeches delivered to the UN General Assembly, clocking over four hours). He mounts the podium to find the normal sea of people waiting expectantly, knowing they were probably going to be there past dinner. Fidel takes a deep breath and is just about to launch into the grandiose opening he'd laid out weeks before when a flat voice calls out,

'COCO Y PINA.'

A streetseller on the side of the plaza, selling coconuts and pinapples. Fidel is flabbergasted, but quickly decides that it was accidental, and is just about to rebound when

'COCO Y PINA!'

Face flushing, he stumbles and tries again but the crazy and obviously suicidal idiot insists

'COCO Y PINA.'

'Listen... you.' Fidel grates, each word falling like an iron nail. 'If you say Coco y Pi?a one more time, I swear I'm going to haul you up and kick your ass so hard it's going to send you flying all the way to Miami.'

All at once the entire crowd starts screaming,

'COCO Y PINA!!! COCO Y PINA!!! COCO Y PINA!!!'

[Amake]

Det var tv? bagare och en smet.

En m?lare m?lade ett staket och det var vittsen.

Internerna p? Kumla f?r inte ha akvarium i 500-litersklassen eftersom de rymmer f?r mycket.

Katt ?t lampa, l?s i magen.

If you spoke Swedish, you'd be rolling on the floor by now. Just had to get some of that off my chest.

So anyway, it was a dark and stormy night and in a damp little hospital a very long way from honor and decency a young woman was having a baby. She was alone in the room for some reason, a stainless steel room with a high window like in a prison, where the sharp dead light of the flickering fluorescent tubes competed with the lightning flashing and shining in.

The woman, little more than a child herself, cried for help, unable to hear anyone or anything past the thunder. She laid on a cold steel slab usually reserved for autopsies, and they had neglected to give her as much as a blanket, and she was bleeding and she was lonely and she wondered where the doctor was. The father was dead as Hell, in the same car crash that had brought her to this sorry excuse for a house of healing, and there was likely no one else in the vicinity, let alone anyone who could need medical attention, let along anyone who could need it more than her.

She thought of the father, briefly, and her heart ached as she remembered his warm laugh, his strong hands, his chest tearing like a ripe pumpkin when the steering wheel dug into it. Had she been hurt at all? Maybe she had hit her head. She couldn't remember, and she couldn't feel anything other than the life trying to be born from her. Something torn between her legs, and she could feel warm blood pooling under her back, and she screamed and wriggled, trying to free herself from the stupid fucking stirrups holding her feet up.

Precisely at the moment of her lowest despair, the dector came through the door, dressed in immaculate scrubs and attended by two nurses and a seasoned, heavyset midwife. She cried in relief, but it was short-lived.

Due to her youth, the doctor told her, the delivery was going to be difficult. The girl drifted out of time and space, lost in a haze of red hot pain, people pushing and pulling her every which way, screams, cold metal burrowing deep inside her, and great big splashes of blood up the walls.

Eventually, she came to her senses in complete darkness and utter quiet. She was resting on soft comforters, in deep layers of blankets, and for a long, suspended moment she laid still, exhausted but content; weak but safe. And she had her baby!

"Where is my baby?" she wondered, aloud, and was answered by a sudden bolt of lightning. In its deafening boom the room was illuminated, and she saw one of the nurses standing under the window, with the baby in her arms.

For no particular reason, the lights in the ceiling came back on.

"Hey, give me my baby", said the woman, softly. The nurse said nothing, and did not move.

"Did you hear me? is my baby alright? Let me see her. Or him?' She tried to sound strong, confident and eager but she could barely hold her head up, let alone raise her voice.

"It's a boy", said the nurse, as another bolt of lightning struck. "Come and get him."

"Come again?"

"I said, come and get your boy."

"What, what do you mean?" the woman asked, her voice cracking. "I can't get, I can't stand up."

"Come over here and take your boy", said the nurse, carefully pronouncing each word as her voice slowly climbed to a cruel peak, "or I will break every bone in his body."

A newborn baby has over three hundred soft, cartilageous bones. Its tiny femur broke with a wet crunching sound as the nurse bent it in her strong hands. The baby was quiet, much too quiet, unlike the mother.

The mother howled madly and twisted herself so violently that she fell off the slab, onto the plain concrete floor. The many blankets around her softened the impact somewhat, but still a thick lance of pain shot through the length of her body and she clutched her belly and tried to scream, unable to make a sound. Already her hands were covered in blood, and they left a pair of tracks on the floor as she turned over to face the nurse.

"You evil, crazy, shifty-eyed whore", the woman said, brilliant in her fury, "you worthless piece of shit excuse for a girl, give me my baby before I tear your intestines out with my teeth and feed them to you till you choke on your shit." She crawled, as she spoke, an endlessly slow journey across the floor, every movement a new, unexplored continent of pain as the trail of blood flowing from the ruin of her womb grew wider.

And for every two or three steps the woman took, the nurse would break another of the boy's bones. His finger bones went easily, crushed beyond all hope of repair. The nurse touched the soft spot in his skull, ever so lightly, with her tongue, and twisted his nose and his arms and his jaw. Every one of the horrible sounds drove into the woman's heart like an iron nail, drove into her mind until all the arguments against insanity fell away and she started babbling, blubbering, whining then like a dog and then like a baby, and on occasion she would spit the blood out of her mouth and unload a string of curses so searing, so filthy, so unimaginably obscene that the nurse, even in her madness, almost turned and ran away.

And eventually, after a thousand years and a thousand thousand miles, the woman grabbed the legs of the nurse and hoisted herself up on her knees. In a voice perfectly balanced between desperate begging and godlike command, between clenched teeth she said, "give me my baby."

And the nurse threw the ragdoll shape in her face and shouted, bright and brittle and bubbling with laughter, "Psych! He was stillborn!"

[Fenris]

Dude IQ that's one million different shades of terrible and not funny and just plain wrong and oh my god don't ever fucking do anything like that again.

[Carade]

I'm going to laugh my way to hell.

Thanks IQ.

[phil_]

Dude, Fenry, I read Sphere and Hideaway this weekend. IQ's jank is pretty much on the same level as throw-away adult literature. My beef is that it just wasn't a good punchline.

On the other hand, I take it that actually funny dead baby jokes are also off-limits? What if I started a thread about the cops who shot a seven-year old in her bed last Sunday because they wanted to look cool on TV? Is that ok? It's equally ridiculous with the bonus of being true. The punchline is about as good as IQ's, though, so maybe that shouldn't fly.

[POS Industries]

It's the drawn out amount of graphic detail involved. At a certain point it basically stops being funny and starts being gross, to the point that the half-hearted attempt a punchline at the end doesn't really do anything to improve the comedic value.

And on the whole it's just a bit more inappropriate in terms of content insofar as the we'd prefer to present, I guess. The spoiler-texting is appreciated, of course, but really on the whole it's just not the direction we'd like to take things.

Hope that clears things up.

[Fenris]

I mean I don't really mind dead baby jokes, but dead baby speeches are like just too much dead baby in one sitting for anything ever.

Like, that's just way way way way way too morbid for a thread where people are rightfully expecting funny things to be said.

(And yes, the spoiler tags are greatly appreciated. Gonna replace them with a swap tag though, same effect.)

e:

It's the drawn out amount of graphic detail involved. At a certain point it basically stops being funny and starts being gross, to the point that the half-hearted attempt a punchline at the end doesn't really do anything to improve the comedic value.

And on the whole it's just a bit more inappropriate in terms of content insofar as the we'd prefer to present, I guess. The spoiler-texting is appreciated, of course, but really on the whole it's just not the direction we'd like to take things.

Hope that clears things up.


Yeah, I mean there's "crosses the line a bit funny," and there's "so far out there that it crosses the line again funny," but this is like "crosses the line, and builds a goddamn castle and makes a moat around that castle exactly halfway to crossing the line to being funny again not funny."

[Archbio]

It's not like regular shaggy dog stories are actually funny to begin with!

[Nique]

I was walking down the street looking for a hotel, and saw a classy lady so I thought I'd ask for directions. I said, "Do you know if there's somewhere to sleep around here?" I immediately realized this was a bad move on my part, being dressed in rags and my skin not covered in any substantial amount of glossy shit.
She looked down her nose so hard I thought she'd break her jaw as she said, "I am the Duchess of Northampton, Lady Catherine Giselda Tiberia Alianora Goodchild, wife of the celebrated neurosurgeon doctor Charles Atlas Goodchild, fidecommisar of no less than seventeen castles and founder of the fourth greatest public school of the land, and I. KNOW. NOTHING!"

I don't get it. I mean, I might get it? Probably not.

[Terex4]

The duchess was answering his question with I. KNOW. NOTHING. but the way it sounds is "I'm wealthy and powerful and do great things but I don't know shit."

[Nique]

Is that really a joke though? Or just social commentary? Does a joke, like art, defy a single commonly accepted definetion?

[Terex4]

Is that really a joke though? Or just social commentary? Does a joke, like art, defy a single commonly accepted definetion?
That one seemed to manage both a punchline and social commentary. I would figure a joke by definition is a false statement or story that others find humorous.

On topic:
Two drums and a cymbal fall into the grand canyon

Ba dum tsh.

[Amake]

The Duchess was just way too refined a lady to deign to know anything that may help the narrator's class of person.

Also, standard complaint about the weak stomachs and numbed sense of humor of the youth and seriously, we are concerned about the image the forum presents now? Fine, no cutting edge material, I'll keep it nice and cuddly in the future.

. . .

Hey, did you hear this joke from over in the art forum? The World's Most Politically Correct Joke. I think it's been approved by the United Nations.

Boy: I have two cookies.
Girl: I have no cookies.
Boy: Here, I give you one of my cookies.
Girl: Thank you. Now we both have the same amount of cookie.
Boy: Everyone should be nice to each other.

[Fenris]

Also, standard complaint about the weak stomachs and numbed sense of humor of the youth and seriously, we are concerned about the image the forum presents now? Fine, no cutting edge material, I'll keep it nice and cuddly in the future.

Yes, sorry my stomach isn't made out of pure iron like you wise and venerable ancients, but there is no time ever where a novel dedicated to some of the most repugnant and morally reprehensible topics that I have ever had the misfortune to witness is acceptable.

Hey, did you hear this joke from over in the art forum? The World's Most Politically Correct Joke. I think it's been approved by the United Nations.
I think you need a new schtick.

[Geminex]

Boy: I have two cookies.
Girl: I have no cookies.
Boy: Here, I give you one of my cookies.
Girl: Thank you. Now we both have the same amount of cookie.
Boy: Everyone should be nice to each other.

I don't get it. Where do the dead babies come in?

[POS Industries]

and seriously, we are concerned about the image the forum presents now?
I was trying to nice about it, IQ.

Do not force me to do otherwise.

[Amake]

I think you need a new schtick. There's just no pleasing you, is there?

How about this story from the last humor thread that I'm betting no one remembers:

Once upon a time there was a bus driver. He did his job fairly and well, and did not consider himself a timid man, until one day the monster came on his bus.

'Monster don't pay', it said, and walked right by the driver and sat down in the back of the bus.

The driver was more than speechless, he was paralyzed, drained of all thought. He failed to report the incident to his supervisors, but carried it in silence for almost a week, until it happened again.

Like before, the thing squeezed through the bus door and forcefully stepped past the driver, barely recognizing his existence with a dismissive look and again, the words, spoken like a wet rotting thing from under the earth, 'Monster don't pay.'

This went on for several months, during which the driver often switched shifts and drove different routes, but the creature almost seemed to follow him, taunting, mocking, delighting in the terror it gave and the power it held over the poor driver. All it ever said, like a mantra, was 'Monster don't pay.'

Eventually, the driver's resolve grew stronger. He said to his bus driver wife one night, 'I'm not going to let it beat me', and as he spoke he felt some steel deep inside the core of himself that he had not before been aware of. He took night classes, and as his shift changed he took day classes, in positive thinking, in conflict management, in assertiveness and confidence, in the arts of war and martial combat. He lifted weights and ran, and slowly his bus driver belly turned into muscles, and he began moving with a different poise, a different purpose in his step and a newfound gentleness in the swing of his shoulders, as if he was taking care not to break things as he touched them.

Eventually, the driver was ready. On a crisp spring morning like any other the monster came on his bus and said, with the same nonchalant cruelty as always, 'Monster don't pay.' But this time, the driver embraced the steel within him and spoke, with a loud and commanding voice.

'And why doesn't Monster pay for his ticket like everyone else?' he said.

'Monster has month card', it said.

I was trying to nice about it, IQ.

Do not force me to do otherwise. Sorry? I'm completely on board with the fact that we have an image now, I'm just wondering when it happened, since way back when I posted that joke the last time there was nothing wrong with it. Guess I'm feeling a bit nostalgic about that and surprised that things have changed.

I can see how you could read my post as challenging the mods, if I was really really stupid, but that wasn't my intent.

[Kim]

Glenn Beck

[Fenris]

There's just no pleasing you, is there?

http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a121/NuklearFenris/Thepoint.png?t=1274250333

Sorry? I'm completely on board with the fact that we have an image now, I'm just wondering when it happened, since way back when I posted that joke the last time there was nothing wrong with it. Guess I'm feeling a bit nostalgic about that and surprised that things have changed.

this is like saying to your dad "Well you haven't told me recently that it's not okay to swipe cookies from the cookie jar and I've done it tons of times without you saying anything so why am I getting in trouble now?"

[POS Industries]

Sorry? I'm completely on board with the fact that we have an image now, I'm just wondering when it happened,
When it became my job to worry about it.

since way back when I posted that joke the last time there was nothing wrong with it. Guess I'm feeling a bit nostalgic about that and surprised that things have changed.

I can see how you could read my post as challenging the mods, if I was really really stupid, but that wasn't my intent.
Drop it. Now.

[Rejected Again]

Just going to go ahead and Underail this tread, k?

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following.

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving, which is unlikely. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct..... ....leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

[Mike McC]

[posts transcript of Bob Saget's rendition of The Aristocrats]

[pretends it's the most wholesome and inoffensive thing ever]

[Token]

unless someone else starts it.

No Pokepuns yet? Well, http://i47.tinypic.com/723z85.jpg

[Daimo Mac, The Blue Light of Hope]

No Pokepuns yet? Well, http://i47.tinypic.com/723z85.jpg

I hate you so hard right now.

[Julford Hajime]

No Pokepuns yet? Well, http://i47.tinypic.com/723z85.jpg

Wait, you bring a pokepun turf war back up in here, and then re-use one from the last war?

http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/1193/goldeenpokepun.jpg

[Mike McC]

Damnit, this thing was dead.

Don't make me rekill it. Just move the earth back over it.

EDIT: vvvvvv Okay that should be terrible enough to do it. Thanks!

[Kim]

If the Cho (Super) Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann is a giant Kamina, does that make it a Cho Aniki?

http://i47.tinypic.com/2uojbli.png

[Darth SS]

http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a121/NuklearFenris/Thepoint.png?t=1274250333

In Soviet Russia, point miss you!

[DarkDrgon]

How many guitarists does it take to screw in a light bulb? all of them. 1 to screw it in, the rest to say they could do it better

How many drummers does it take to screw in a light bulb? all of them, 1 to screw it in the rest to say that Neil Pert could do it better

You hear about the time the drummer locked his keys in the van? it took an hour to get the bassist out.

How do you tune 20 trumpets? throw 19 down the stairs.

how do you know a drummer is at the door? the knocks change timing.

[bluestarultor]

John and Mildred were getting on in years and were getting a bit forgetful, so they'd taken to writing things down. One day, it was hot, so Mildred asked John to get her some ice cream. He got up to go to the kitchen.

"You'd better write it down!" Mildred suggested.
"Oh, come on!" John replied. "How hard can it be to remember ice cream?"

So he went into the kitchen, and took a long time. Eventually, Mildred started to get worried. Finally, he came back out with a tray of milk, orange juice, scrambled eggs, and bacon.

"I told you to write it down!" Mildred chided. "Now look, you forgot the toast!"

[EVILNess]

If the Cho (Super) Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann is a giant Kamina, does that make it a Cho Aniki?

http://i47.tinypic.com/2uojbli.png

I hate you will all my soul, and I hope a grue eats your little black heart.

[Mike McC]

I hate you will all my soul, and I hope a grue eats your little black heart.And so you quote it so it's on the top of Page 2.

Way to be.

[EVILNess]

And so you quote it so it's on the top of Page 2.

Way to be.

It depends on your settings. This is page 5 for me.

Still, my point stands. Grue and his heart and all.

[Mike McC]

It depends on your settings. This is page 5 for me.

Still, my point stands. Grue and his heart and all.Only scrubs use less than 40 posts per page hope that helps.

But, really, only at 30 ppp you didn't open a new page with it. It's you, you are the monster.

[Token]

Wait, you bring a pokepun turf war back up in here, and then re-use one from the last war?

http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/1193/goldeenpokepun.jpg

I guess your right. At least no one hates me for it this time, though. :D

I hate you so hard right now.

http://i50.tinypic.com/2zp2k2f.png

[Aldurin]

So two Iron Maulers walk into a bar. Well, at least they try, but the entrance is only one hex wide and they keep trapping eachother with their ZoC. Both are so determined to get inside first, they begin to fight to the death. Problem is, they each have 10% impact resistance and each can only attack twice every 4 hours. They might have been able to resolve it by dawn, but of all of their luck, the floor beneath them was made from the same stone as castle walls, giving them their highest available dodge chance. And to top that off, there was a party of Elvish Druids behind them, each able to heal 8 hitpoints every 4 hours.

The fight went on for months, then years, everyone was trapped because of the same stupid ZoC that started the whole thing. Eventually the bar had to close down due to lack of business, so instead the bartender hired an army of Drakes to kill off most of the crowd, and then he built an arena around the Iron Maulers and Elvish Druids. Profits soared and the never-ending fight was famous across the lands.

Then one day, the Iron Maulers stopped and told the crowd, "Psych!! You guys are such dumbasses, we have the same team color on our armor and everyone knows that allies don't get caught in eachothers ZoC!!"

I doubt anyone here is gonna get this joke, and if you do, I know where you lurk.

[Dauntasa]

Maulers don't actually have that much health. With the bonus from daylight, they could easily die in one turn if they got hit with both attacks. And wouldn't the entrance be Village or Flat, and not Castle, seeing as it's not in any sort of fortification?

[Aldurin]

That's the thing, they faked it all to see how long it took for the public to realize that it shouldn't happen.

[Loyal]

That joke was terrible and the punchline had no coherent setup to speak of.