Jokes and Funny Stuff Thread

[dylanjosh]

LOL @ Apple

[Noctis]

From the restroom in a Japanese train. They have made their point very clear.

 

Edited June 17, 2010 by Noctis

[dylanjosh]

Jap people... crazy as always.. WTF is the last one?

[abhi90]

Jap people... crazy as always.. WTF is the last one?

DO you really want to know ?

[theneurotoxin]

@the apple joke

 

[dylanjosh]

DO you really want to know ?

 

er no.. i looked it closely

[Death Stryke]

Another brilliant one. A take on the scrabble game on the iPad where u can use ipod touches or iphones as tile racks

 

Edited June 18, 2010 by Death Stryke

[Sackboy]

Pure LOLz

 

[Sackboy]

...

Edited June 18, 2010 by MiKeKudoS

[KrIzAliD]

 

 

:rofl:

Edited June 18, 2010 by KrizaliD_211

[Sackboy]

More LOLZ

 

 

 

 

Last is

[KrIzAliD]

 

:rofl:

[pArth]

:rofl:

[Bulovski]

porkmang

[Ashishnk]

[Cash]

[Bulovski]

I was going through some old documents and found some gems from my internship days.

For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day when you just need

to take it out on someone!!! Don't take that bad day out on someone you

know, take it out on someone you DON'T know!!!

Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I

had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely

saying, "Hello?" I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and could I

please speak to Robin Carter?" Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me!

I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin's

correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits

incorrectly. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still

lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again. When the same person

once more answered, I yelled "You're a jackass!" and hung up. Next to his

phone number I wrote the word "jackass," and put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day,

I'd call him up. He'd answer, and I'd yell, "You're a jackass!" It would

always cheer me up. Later in the year the phone company introduced caller

ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling

the jackass. Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number, then heard

his voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the

telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our

caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly

called him back and said, "That's because you're a jackass!"

The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if

there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it.

Just dial 823-4863. [Keep reading, it gets better.]

The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the parking

pace. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began

to move and she started to very slowly back out of the slot. I backed up a

little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. Great, I thought,

she's finally leaving.

All of a sudden this black Camaro come flying up the parking isle in the

wrong direction and pulls into her space. I started honking my horn and

yelling, "You can't just do that, Buddy. I was here first!" The guy

climbed out of his Camaro completely ignoring me. He walked toward the

mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, this guy's a

jackass, there sure a lot of jackasses in this world. I noticed he had a

"For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number.

Then I hunted for another place to park.

A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten

off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling "You're jackass!" (It's

really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.) I

noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk

and thought I'd better call this guy, too. After a couple rings someone

answered the phone and said, "Hello." I said, "Is this the man with the

black Camaro for sale?" "Yes, it is." Can you tell me where I can see it?"

"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It's a yellow house and the car's

parked right out front." I said, "What's your name?" "My name is Don

Hansen." "When's a good time to catch you, Don?" "I'm home in the

evenings." "Listen Don, can I tell you something?" "Yes," "Don, you're a

jackass!" And I slammed the phone down. After I hung up I added Don

Hansen's number to my speed dialer. For awhile things seemed to be going

better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jackasses to call. Then,

after several months of calling the jackasses and hanging up on them, it

just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious

thought and came up with a solution: First, I had my phone dial Jackass

#1. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello." I yelled "You're a jackass!",

but I didn't hang up. The jackass said, "Are you still there?" I said,

"Yeah." He said, "Stop calling me." I said, "No." He said, "What's your

name, Pal?" I said, "Don Hansen." He said "Where do you live?" "1802 West

34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black Camaro's parked out front."

"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers."

"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Jackass!" and I hung up. Then I called

Jackass #2. He answered, "Hello." I said, "Hello, Jackass!" He said, "If I

ever find out who you are..." "You'll what?" "I'll kick your butt." "Well,

here's your chance. I'm coming over right now Jackass!" And I hung up.

Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at

1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as

he got home. Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on

down W. 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to

34th Street to watch the whole thing. Glorious! Watching two Jackasses

kicking the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars and a police

helicopter was one of the greatest experiences of my life!

Name withheld to protect the guilty.

Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? Well, here's

a prime example offered by an English professor at Southern Methodist

University, English 44A, SMU, Creative Writing, Prof. Miller.

In-class assignment for Wednesday:

"Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story.

The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting

to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first

paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and

then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a

third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has

been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. The story is

over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of my English students,

Rebecca and Gary.

STORY:

Rebecca: At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted.

The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home,

now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that

he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind

off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him

too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the

question.

Gary: Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack

squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think

about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with

whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to

Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit

established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off

a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through

his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of

his seat and across the cockpit.

Rebecca: He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he

felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who

had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its

pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress

Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in

her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored

her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth -- when the days had

passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television

to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful

things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?"

she pondered wistfully.

Gary: Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live.

Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the

first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who

pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through Congress had

left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were

determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage

of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying

enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them,

they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile

entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile

submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the

inconceivably massive explosion which vaporized Laurie and 85 million

other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table.

"We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of

the sky!"

Rebecca: This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature.

My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.

Gary: Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts

at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium.

Rebecca: a**hole.

Gary: Bitch.

Is there a Santa Claus ?

As a result of an overwhelming lack of requests, and with research help

from that renown scientific journal SPY magazine (January, 1990), I am

pleased to present the annual scientific inquiry into Santa Claus.

1) No known species of reindeer can fly, BUT there are 300'000 species of

living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects

and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only

Santa has ever seen.

2) There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world, BUT since

Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslims, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist

children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378 million

according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of

3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there

is at least one good child in each.

3) Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different

time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west

(which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is

to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has

1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the

chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the

tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get

back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of

these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which,

of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we

will accept), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household, a total

trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting stops to what most of us have to

do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc.

This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3'000

times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made

vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per

second. A conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

4) The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming

that each child gets noting more than a medium-sized LEGO set (2 pounds),

the sleigh is carrying 321'300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably

described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more

than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point 1) could

pull TEN times the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even

nine. We need 214'200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even

counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353'430 tons. Again, for

comparison, this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

5) 353'000 tons travelling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air

resistance. This will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as

spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer

will absorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short,

they will burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer

behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire

reindeer team will be vaporised within 4.26 thousands of a second. Santa,

meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17'500.06 times greater

than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be

pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4'315'015 pounds of force.

In conclusion - If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he is

dead now.

[Bulovski]

If operating systems were airlines

DOS AIR: passengers walk out onto the runway, grab hold of the plane, push

it until it gets in the air, hop on, then jump off when it hits the

ground. Then grab the plane again, push it back into the air, hop on, jump

off...

MAC AIRWAYS: the cashiers, flight attendants, and pilots all look the

same, talk the same, and act the same. When you ask them questions about

the flight, they reply that you donÝt want to know, donÝt need to know,

and would you please return to your seat and watch the movie.

WINDOWS AIRLINES: the terminal is neat and clean, the attendants

courteous, the pilots capable. The fleet of Lear jets the carrier operates

is immense. Your jet takes off without a hitch, pushes above the clouds

and, at 20,000 feet, explodes without warning.

OS/2 SKYWAYS: the terminal is almost empty - only a few prospective

passengers mill about. The announcer says that a flight has just departed,

although no planes appear to be on the runway. Airline personnel apologize

profusely to customers in hushed voices, pointing from time to time to the

sleek, powerful jets outside. They tell each passenger how great the

flight will be on these new jets and how much safer it will be than

windows airlines, but they will have to wait a little longer for the

technicians to finish the flight systems. Maybe until mid-1995. Maybe

longer.

FLY WINDOWS NT: Passengers carry thir seats out onto the tarmac and place

them in the outline of a plane. They sit down, flap their arms, and make

jet swooshing sounds as if they are flying.

UNIX EXPRESS: Passengers bring a piece of the airplane and a box of tools

with them to the airport. They gather on the tarmac, arguing about what

kind of plane they want to build. The passengers split into groups and

build several different aircraft but give them all the same name. Only

some passengers reach their destinations, But ALL of them believe they

arrived.

Euro English

The European Union commissioners have announced that agreement has been

reached to adopt English as the preferred language for European

communications, rather than German, which was the other option.

As a part of the negotiations, Her Majesty's Government conceded that

English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a

five-year phased plan for what will be known as EuroEnglish (Euro for

short).

In the first year, "s" will be used instead of soft "c". Sertainly, sivil

servants will resieve this news with joy. Also, the hard "c" will be

replased with "k". Not only will this klear up any konfusion, but

typewriters kan have one less letter. There will be growing publik

enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome "ph" will be replased

by "f". This will make words like "fotograf" 20 per sent shorter.

In the third year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted

to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.

Governments will enkorage the removal of double letters, which have always

ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horible mes

of silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful, and they would go.

By the fourth year, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th"

by "z" and "w" by "v". During ze fifz year, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd

from vords kontaining "ou", and similar changes vud of kors be aplid to

ozer kombinations of leters. After zis fifz yer, be vil hav a reli sensibl

riten styl. Zer vil be no more trubls or difikultis and evrivun vil find

it ezi tu understand ech ozer. Ze drem vil finali kum tru.

The revenge - Things are not always as they appear first hand....

A successful and basically honest businessman flew to Vegas for the

weekend to gamble. He lost the shirt off his back, and had nothing left

but a quarter and the second half of his round trip ticket -- If he could

just get to the airport he could get himself home. So he went out to the

front of the casino where there was a cab waiting. He got in and explained

his situation to the cabbie. He promised to send the driver money from

home, he offered him his credit card numbers, his drivers license number,

his address, etc. but to no avail. The cabbie said (adopt appropriate

dialect), "If you don't have fifteen dollars, get the hell out of my cab!"

So the businessman was forced to hitch-hike to the airport and was barely

in time to catch his flight.

One year later the businessman, having worked long and hard to regain his

financial success, returned to Vegas and this time he won big. Feeling

pretty good about himself, he went out to the front of the casino to get a

cab ride back to the airport. Well who should he see out there, at the end

of a long line of cabs, but his old buddy who had refused to give him a

ride when he was down on his luck. The businessman thought for a moment

about how he could make the guy pay for his lack of charity, and he hit on

a plan. The businessman got in the first cab in the line, "How much for a

ride to the airport," he asked? "Fifteen bucks," came the reply. "And how

much for you to give me a blowjob on the way?" "What?! Get the hell out of

my cab." The businessman got into the back of each cab in the long line

and asked the same questions, with the same result. When he got to his old

friend at the back of the line, he got in and asked "How much for a ride

to the airport?" The cabbie replied "fifteen bucks." The businessman said

"ok" and off they went. Then, as they drove slowly past the long line of

cabs the businessman gave a big smile and thumbs up sign to each driver.

Norwegian Virus

Hello,

I am a Norwegian Virus.

Please forward me to all people in your address book, then remove all

files from your hard drive, and finally, forget that I have ever been

around!

Thank's in advance...

[Somebody]

amazing... whoever wrote this is

[abhi90]

 

The first one was epic,followed by revenge and UNIX and others were awesome too.

 

i read the german one before but still it made me laugh