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Couldnt help it. This joke is too funny. :)
kyupol at 8:43PM, March 23, 2011
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A DEA officer stopped at a ranch in Texas , and talked with an old rancher.
He told the rancher, “I need to inspect your ranch for illegally grown drugs.”
The rancher said, “Okay , but don't go in that field over there…..”, as he pointed out the location.

The DEA officer verbally exploded saying, “ Mister, I have the authority of the Federal Government with me !”
Reaching into his rear pants pocket, he removed his badge and proudly displayed it to the rancher.
“See this badge?! This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish…. On any land !!
No questions asked or answers given!! Have I made myself clear……do you understand ?!!”

The rancher nodded politely, apologized, and went about his chores.

A short time later, the old rancher heard loud screams, looked up, and saw the DEA officer running for his life, being chased by the rancher's big Santa Gertrudis bull……

With every step the bull was gaining ground on the officer, and it seemed likely that he'd sure enough get gored before he reached safety. The officer was clearly terrified.
The rancher threw down his tools, ran to the fence and yelled at the top of his lungs…..


“Your badge, show him your BADGE…….. ! !”
NOW UPDATING!!!
last edited on July 14, 2011 1:27PM
crocty at 11:08PM, March 27, 2011
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posts: 6,673
joined: 8-16-2007
I have a joke also.

A man, who we will name Herman, was obsessed with tractors.
He would drive everywhere on tractors. Everywhere. When he went on holiday he would drive all the way there, then realise it was time to go home already because tractors are so slow. But he didn't care. He LOVED tractors.
He had posters of tractors all over his farm (He had a farm, because he loved tracotrs) and all over his house. He may secretly spank it to tractors. He loves tractors that much.
Herman, as well as those things listed, also subscribed to Tractors monthly magazine. He is that much of a fan.

At this one point in time, Herman met a lady down at a local bar. After hitting it off, they got outside to his tractors. The woman asked why he drove a tractor everywhere, to which he said…..



…..





…..



To which he said…




“I love tractors.” The story is not over. Keep up please. Anyway, the woman, who is now called Hermette, loved Herman anyway, but after a while his love for tractors was just seperating them, so she gave him an ultimatum: He quits loving tractors so much, or she leaves him.

His choice was…

….


It was…..


He chose her. (Story not over yet.) He sold all his tractors, he rented out his farm, (Though he still lives in the house, because people can do that) he got rid of his posters, and he unsubscribed from Tractor Monthly Magazine.
He was not very happy about this, but he decided he loved her enough to make this work.

Many years later, Herman was driving home (in a car) from work (the work is not tractor related) and saw his house in flames, with his wife standing outside. “Herman, our kids are still in there!”
Herman quickly ran inside, as the fire brigade was nowhere to be seen. He ran upstairs and found his son and daughter. He grabbed them and took them outside. After safely outside, Hermette Jr. yelled “Daddy! My doggy is still in there!”
Herman didn't care about the dangers, he went back in to save Hermon the dog. He rummaged around but couldn't find him.
After a while he did.

After getting the dog out safely, he noticed the fire brigade had arrived by then. They couldn't enter yet as there was so much smoke. Herman thus ran in to his house, took a deep breath, and got all the smoke out of the house.

After extuingushing the fire, the chief asked Herman “That was amazing, how did you get rid of all the smoke like that?”

Herman replied “I'm an ex-tractor fan.”
THIS NEW SITE SUCKS I'M LEAVING FOREVER I PROMISE, GUYS.
NOT BLUFFING, I'M GONE IF YOU DON'T FIX IT.
Oh god I'm so alone someone pay attention to me
last edited on July 14, 2011 11:54AM
pastel at 11:13PM, March 27, 2011
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crocty
I have a joke also.

That was amazing. I was in stitches XD
.
. K.A.L.A.-dan! Fujoshi! Mafia MASS MURDERER! Kitty and Pastel :D
last edited on July 14, 2011 2:41PM
crocty at 11:21PM, March 27, 2011
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posts: 6,673
joined: 8-16-2007
Thank you, my comedy is the most delicious variety. Have another joke, on the house.

This story is about a millionaire, who goes by the name of Herbert.
Herbert was the CEO of a rich company which is a thing that can happen because companies can be rich. It is grammatically sound and I don't care what you think.
Anyway, after a long day of sitting in his office picking his nose, he was being driven home in his limo, when he saw a green man in a loincloth walking away from his mansion. He thought nothing of it and drank some more of his Buck's Fizz. (I think you guys call that mimosa.)

After getting home, he saw his mansion up in flames. While he has lost his home, he still had money and knew he would bounce back.

A few months later, he was driving home in his sports car. (He lost his CEO position and driver because his house burnt down and thus was clearly pretty incompetent.) Anyway, when he was almost there, he saw the same green man in the loincloth walking away. He was rather curious, but his loincloth made Herbert a bit uncomfy, so he carried on driving. When he got home, he saw his house was once again up in flames.

Now he has nothing, he lost his job, as well as his car, and lives in a shitty trailer in a stupid shitty trailer park. One day after walking home from begging on the street corner for spare change, he saw the same green man walking away from the trailer park. Herbert was worried, so he ran to his trailer to see it was once again on fire. Angered, he ran back, stopped the green man and yelled “HEY! HAVE YOU BEEN BURNING DOWN MY HOUSES ALL THIS TIME?”

The green man looked at Herbet and replied
“Yes.”
THIS NEW SITE SUCKS I'M LEAVING FOREVER I PROMISE, GUYS.
NOT BLUFFING, I'M GONE IF YOU DON'T FIX IT.
Oh god I'm so alone someone pay attention to me
last edited on July 14, 2011 11:54AM
ayesinback at 12:41PM, March 28, 2011
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joined: 8-23-2010
crocty and kyupol: those were excellent. :)

I have one. Don't know how well it will work as a post, but here goes.

It was Friday Happy Hour and the bar was filling fast (or pub, as you Brits would have it). We had your white collars, your blue collars, the no collars, the red necks, the no necks and every one was kicking back and sudsing up fast with one wee fellow enjoying a particular success of it.

He was quite diminutive in stature, which made his thick, coppery (or shall we just say it? Ginger!) beard even more eye-striking, and he was the highlight of his party. After an hour or so of regaling his table with one quip after another, he excused himself and jigged his way over to the end of the bar where sat a grim and beefy-looking customer.

“May's I be relievin ye?” asks our little clown. “I don't kn- ” begins our thick-set friend's reply when he suddenly finds his face the end target of a resplendent raspberry. While Mr Big wipes away the remains of the surprise attack, our little clown rejoins his table, picking up another pint along the way.

Another hour or so passes and, again, the wee man slides off his chair, goes back to the end of the bar, and while Mr. Big starts growling “Why you're th -” SPLASH! another raspberry.

By now most of the bar is aware of the on-goings and they all watch our little man jig his way back to his table, again picking up a pint on his way. But Mr Big is not going to let this latest attack slide. He approaches the table, towering over its occupants, and demands “Who the HELL do you think you are!”

And the little man responds, in a rather high-pitched voice, “I am a leprechaun!”

"Right. And I'm a Transformer. And if you do that one more time, I'll transform you into a dickless leprechaun.“

”Trill la dee la diddle dee! Leprechauns don't have penises.“ laughs the little man.

”Oh yeah? Then how do you take a pee.“

”I'll tell ye," says the little man. And he stands in his chair to look Mr. Big in the eye. and he raspberries him once again.
under new management
last edited on July 14, 2011 11:14AM
Product Placement at 4:47PM, March 28, 2011
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posts: 7,078
joined: 10-18-2007
Oh, you guys are doing jokes?

I can get behind that.

All right, this is a local joke I heard when I was a little kid that I believe is inspired by that old show called Dallas, but I believe it was the first glimpse Icelanders got of Texas.

I'll do my best to translate it faithfully…

So there once was this farmer from Iceland, who's life experience revolved around very modest things. His farm was a very modest size, he had a modest heard and he came from a very modest looking town.

He also had a cousin who had moved to the States at a young age and became quite the big shot in Texas and being a typical successful relative, he liked to invite his family members over to show off and flaunt his riches.

And thus the day came that this farmer got an invite to visit his US relative.

The culture shock was instant upon stepping out of the modest looking plane, that had taken off from the modest looking airport. The arrival airport was HUGE. All the other planes around were HUGE. His relative showed up in this HUGE stretch limo. They drove through this HUGE city only to enter HUGE and open planes. When they arrived at his ranch, the farmer was dumbstruck by how wast and HUGE it was. He had a HUGE herd of cattle who themselves were HUGE compared to his modest looking cows. The setur (what you English speakers call “mansion” ) of his relative was HUUUGE and the same could be applied with everything inside. All the rooms were big enough to fit his entire house. The fridge was massive. The dining room table so long that by sitting on each end, you had to yell at each other in order to communicate. The bed the farmer got was big enough to accommodate a family. It didn't seem to matter; whatever it was that the farmer was used to back home, over here it was HUUUGE!

The following evening, the relative decided to host a party in the honor of his relative and being a typical Icelander, he was not the one to say no to a drink or two… or three… maybe four… and so on.

Did I mention that the drink portions were huge too?

So it didn't take long for the farmer to become little tipsy and even maybe drunk which left with him stumbling out into the backyard. There he fell into the swimming pool.

When the relative and his staff came to rescue him from the pool, the poor drunken farmer was splashing around, panicking, yelling “Don't flush… For the love of god, DON'T FLUSH!!!”
Those were my two cents.
If you have any other questions, please deposit a quarter.
This space for rent.
last edited on July 14, 2011 2:53PM

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