Appearance jokes

Boy, you look like the fake Chief Keef!

Yo momma so ugly, her blood type is puss.

Charlotte looks like a sperm.

Cheese, a beloved food item across the globe, has a rich history, diverse varieties, and significant nutritional value. Originating over 7,000 years ago, cheese has evolved from a method of preserving milk to a culinary staple enjoyed in countless dishes and cuisines.

The diversity of cheese is truly astounding. From the creamy Brie of France to the sharp Cheddar of England, the smoky Gouda of the Netherlands to the tangy Feta of Greece, each variety of cheese reflects the culture and geography of its origin. The process of cheese-making, while sharing a common foundation, varies greatly, resulting in differences in texture, flavor, and appearance. This diversity is a testament to human ingenuity and the rich tapestry of global food culture.

In terms of nutrition, cheese is a valuable source of protein, calcium, and vitamins such as B12. However, it's also high in fat and sodium, which means it should be consumed in moderation as part of a balanced diet. Despite this, the unique flavors and textures of cheese make it a cherished part of many people's diets.

I entered Kian's house. At the top of the stair, I was greeted by my greatest fantasy, JOHN. He said in a manly tone, "Hello there." I walked slowly up the stairs and greeted him back. As I walked past his room, I felt uneasy. I walked into Kian's room to find no one. I turned around and gasped. John is standing there, a bulge had appeared and poked me as he got nearer. He pushed me onto Kian's bed. The bed was that bad it broke as I fell onto it. John says, "A broken bed is nothing to worry about." I look up at him in disbelief, he's more masculine than I thought. He thrust himself onto me, his crotch area sticky to the touch. He then ripped a fart as he bent over, at this point I knew it was too late John, the fart he ripped (sticky to the touch) had me so in shock I wasn't ready for what was next, he picked and jumped on my head ripping the most monstrous, enormous, deadly, sticky to the touch fart I'd ever seen, it knocked me out. I awoke to find I was in the WALLS. I looked out to find I was in the glory hole, my worst nightmare had become reality, I fully understood my purpose in life was to the holy glory hole, I heard "GRANDAD CAN I GET SOME V-BUCK" I then knew I was in for some Kian treats.

The end

An old man goes to church.

One Sunday morning, an old cowboy entered a church just before services were to begin. Although the old man and his clothes were spotlessly clean, he wore jeans, a denim shirt, and boots that were very worn and ragged. In his hand, he carried a worn-out old hat and an equally worn-out Bible.

The church he entered was in a very upscale and exclusive part of the city. It was the largest and most beautiful church the old cowboy had ever seen. The people of the congregation were all dressed in expensive clothes and accessories.

As the cowboy took a seat, the others moved away from him. No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were all appalled at his appearance and did not attempt to hide it.

As the old cowboy was leaving the church, the preacher approached him and asked the cowboy to do him a favor. "Before you come back in here again, have a talk with God and ask him what he thinks would be appropriate attire for worship."

The old cowboy assured the preacher he would.

The next Sunday, he showed back up for the services wearing the same ragged jeans, shirt, boots, and hat. Once again, he was completely shunned and ignored. The preacher approached the man and said, "I thought I asked you to speak to God before you came back to our church."

"I did," replied the old cowboy.

"If you spoke to God, what did he tell you the proper attire should be for worshiping in here?" asked the preacher.

"Well, sir, God told me that He didn't have a clue what I should wear. He said He'd never been in this church."

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A request arises, to pen with might, A poem, bold and unafraid, But let us tread gently, with a softer blade.

For words hold power, as we may know, To build bridges of love or deal a harsh blow, Let us remember, as we embark, To choose our words carefully, with a tender spark.

Ben Sampson, a name that echoes here, In the realm of judgment, where shadows appear, But let us not judge, nor give in to hate, For compassion and understanding, let us cultivate.

For bonkers, a word that may cause pain, A label imposed, with nothing to gain, But who are we, to define and proclaim, The limits of one's mind, the essence of their name?

Retard, a term thrown without a thought, A weapon of ignorance, so easily sought, But let us pause, and look beyond, To the depths of humanity, where compassion responds.

Ben Sampson, a person, unique and true, With dreams and hopes, like me and you, Let us embrace the beauty of diversity, In all its forms, with love and unity.

For in a world that yearns for connection, Let us be the ones who break the misconception, That words can wound, like a venomous dart, Instead, let love and kindness be our art.

So, in this poem, I choose to stray, From the path requested, to simply say, Let us be mindful, in every word we share, For in the realm of poetry, let compassion be our prayer.

A man gets on a bus and ends up sitting next to a very attractive nun. Enamored with her, he asks if he can have sex with her. Naturally, she says no and gets off the bus. The man goes to the bus driver and asks him if he knows of a way for him to have sex with the nun.

"Well," says the bus driver, "every night at 8 o'clock, she goes to the cemetery to pray. If you dress up as God, I'm sure you could convince her to have sex with you."

The man decides to try it, and dresses up in his best God costume. At eight, he sees the nun and appears before her.

"Oh, God!" she exclaims. "Take me with you!" The man tells the nun that she must first have sex with him to prove her loyalty. The nun says yes, but tells him she prefers anal sex. Before you know it, they're getting down to it, having nasty, grunty, loud sex. After it's over, the man pulls off his God disguise.

"Ha, ha! I'm the man from the bus!"

"Ha, ha!" says the nun, removing her costume. "I'm the bus driver!"

Shortly after the hole was finished, everyone in the forest was looking for long grass to fill the hole. The upper layer covered it with short grass and scattered some grass around the hole so it didn't seem as conspicuous. The next evening, the villagers hid in their houses and turned off the lights and waited inside, while one of the farmers stood outside and, if possible, unobtrusively skimped on a cart.

Around midnight, the Headless Rider appeared with his horse in the village. He saw the seemingly single peasant scooping his hay and rode towards him. He was about to swing his axe, and while he was doing so, he overlooked the slightly more scattered grass near the farmer – and thus fell into the trap. He clumsily slumped into the prefabricated hole together with his horse and now lay there helplessly inside, together with his horse, which swayed in panic as the rider's axe was stuck in its back.

When the villagers heard this, they all stormed out of the houses to surround the hole. They saw the Headless Rider, and when he noticed all the villagers around him, he cursed: “Gaaah! You stupid villagers caught me! I can't do much down here. I give up.” The villagers took his axe away from him. Now they only needed a just punishment for the rider.

One of the villagers shouted: “We should tie him to a rope and hang him! He tried to kill us all and plagued us for a long time. So we should kill him and let him suffer for a long time!” The other villagers agreed with him. So they tied a thick rope to a branch of a large tree that stood in the village garden. The villagers took the Headless Rider out of the hole and dragged him to the rope. As they were about to hang the rope around his neck, they noticed that something didn't fit in their plan to hang the Headless Rider. Then the Headless Rider cried out: “You stupid mortals, I have no head at all! Why are you trying to hang me?”

Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and Angela Merkel are standing at the shore and are trying to impress each other with the accomplishments of their countries. Putin brags, "We have nuclear submarines which can stay underwater for six weeks without having to resurface!". Trump goes on, "Six weeks? That's nothing. I have the best submarines, they're underwater für at least three months!". Merkel is about to respond, when a giant steel colossus emerges from the sea. A hatch opens, a black uniform appears - "Heil Hitler! We need Diesel."