
Bad jokes
What has more brains than the Columbine students? The wall behind them, xD.
Why are eggs bad at puns?
They always mix up their yolks!
I feel bad for the guy in 9/11 who ordered a salami pizza. Instead, he just got a plane.
Why are Mexicans so bad in the Olympics?
Because all the ones that can run, jump, and swim live in America.
Stop ruining the jokes. It's called "worst jokes ever" for a reason. We all feel bad for orphans, but people like dark humor and joke about everyone, so quit being offended, please.
It's 5050
Two to the one from the one to the three, I like good pussy and I like good trees, Smoke so much weed you wouldn't believe, And I get more ass than a toilet seat.
Three to the one from the one to the three, I met a bad bitch last night in the D, Let me tell you how I made her leave with me, Conversation and Hennessey.
I've been to the motherfuckin' mountain top, Heard motherfuckers talk, seen and dropped, If I ain't got a weapon I'ma pick up a rock, And when I bust yo ass I'ma continue to rock.
Getcha ass of the wall with your two left feet, It's real easy just follow the beat, Don't let that fine girl pass you by, Look real close 'cause strobe lights blind.
The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"
Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!
The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.
For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!
The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!
In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.
"The little horse wins!"
"Lath, an easy winner!"
"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"
People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.
Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.
"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."
Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.
A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.
"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"
Agba leaned forward in his saddle.
There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."
How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.
The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.
Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.
He had kept his word!
For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.
The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in...
Why is North Korea so good at Geometry?
Because they have a supreme ruler.
What do you call a bad "egg" meme?
Deep fried!
Why are Americans so bad at chess? Cause they lost 2 towers.
Why is Trump bad with America? Because he made it scream.
Kelly Clarkson wants to be Rosie O'Donnell so badly. Too bad Kelly is the "Queen of Incest" and not the "Queen of Nice".
(And Kelly came from a sundown town in the Deep South, and not from Long Island.)
Hello, Brudas, my name Badabeeyeabolamazoqanba. I, forty-eight-year man from Somalia. Sorry for bad England. I sold my wife for internet connect, and I am level thirteen in Roblacks. If you want to get batter in Roblacks, contact me at Gmail@borakoobama. Send me your bank account information and password. Than I well give you all the cotton you desire. Sorry for bad spelling. I kindergarden dropout.
Did you hear about the bank robber?
Turns out he got shot by the police.
And he wound up in prison.
What's red and bad for your teeth? A brick.
My woman is a nine on a bad day, but she’ll be 10 on her birthday.
I feel bad for cumming on my turtle.
Why the fuck would I do that? I should have never masturbated in front of my turtle. So basically I was watching porn on my 55 inch tv and my turtle was next to me on the couch. The porno was really old. It was a DVD from 2002. It was probably the hottest porn I have ever watched and honestly I'm probably going to watch porn on dvd instead of from the internet. The only reason I had my turtle with me was because whenever I cum, I feel really depressed and lonely, so I thought that if my turtle watched with me I wouldn't feel lonely. Well, I started stroking my willie, I used lotion, I took all my clothes off, but my dumbass forgot the tissues. I realized that I forgot to grab tissues but it was too late. I was going to cum. I didn't want to cum everywhere so I had to think fast. It was when I saw my turtle when I realized what I had to do. I came like a motherfucker. My turtle was painted with my cum in his tiny little face and all around his shell. He didn't say a word about it, he didn't move, he just stood there looking at me like I killed a bunch of children. I would never forget the look my turtle gave me. His disappointing face broke my heart. I put on my clothes, I took my turtle to the bathroom and cleaned him off. What happened, happened. But my turtle would never forget what happened. My turtle, Tommy, would never forgive me. Today, I passed by him and I know he still remembers what I did to him 3 hours ago. My only wish is that one day, Tommy the turtle will forgive me for my horrible sins.
Why can't dinosaurs clap?
Because they're dead.
Man 1: I-I ran my mom over to get a stupid book.
Man 2: Aww, books aren't that bad. I'm sure she thinks you're a great son considering she can't drive anymore.
Man 1: She was in the road, and I was rushing to get the last copy of this book. She can't drive or do anything anymore.
Why are cats bad storytellers? Because they only have one tail.
