Choose Jokes

When that one night stand says she has Aids butyou laugh "I choose D!" She says...wait what?? I have all of the above! XD

Sorry for the interruption I am ALYA and i am disappointed in you guys you shouldn't bully or make fun of Orphans they didn't choose their life what happened in their life. what happens if you were an orphan and people are making fun of you. would you like that?

One day a local pastor was visiting the home of some parishioners who had a teenage son. The parents were worried about what career their son would choose, so the pastor said he had a simple test that could predict what would become of him.

He would put three objects on a table and let the young man choose whichever one he wanted to have: a Bible, a wallet, and a bottle of scotch. If the boy chose the Bible, he would probably become a priest; if he chose the wallet, he'd be a banker; and if he chose the bottle, he'd become a worthless bum.

So the parents called their son into the room, and the pastor told him he could have whichever object he wished. When the boy promptly picked up all three, the pastor cried out, "Heaven forbid! He's going to be a Jesuit!"

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A curious tale, strange as the night, Of Alex Fisher, with love so bizarre, For random Hitler lemons, bizarre but bizarre.

Free Verse, they say, this poem shall be, Unrestrained, unrhymed, flowing and free, Yet how to capture this perplexing love, For lemons and Hitler, soaring above?

Alex Fisher, a soul with peculiar taste, Finds joy in lemons with a sour embrace, And Hitler, a name that evokes dark pain, Inexplicably entwined, like wind and rain.

Randomness, the thread that weaves this tale, No logic, no reason, no rhyme to prevail, For who could fathom this peculiar love, Of lemons and Hitler, below and above?

Yet in the realm of words, where all is allowed, We explore the uncharted, the strange and the proud, And though this poem may bewilder and confuse, Let it remind us, acceptance we must choose.

For love knows no boundaries, no norms to abide, It transcends our expectations, with no need to hide, So let us embrace the quirks that make us unique, For in the tapestry of life, we find what we seek.

So here's to Alex Fisher, with love all their own, May they find happiness, wherever they've flown, In lemons and Hitler, a world so absurd, May their love be a reminder, that love has no words.

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.

If I was an object in this world I’d be a glass! Because if you leave me when I’m too close to the edge I will likely shatter and break.

If I was a pizza topping I would be pineapple! Because everybody doubts me.

I’m a star! Because one of these days I’m going to crash and burn...

If I could choose what creature I come back as after I die I’d be a panda, because people would give a shit if I went extinct.

I’m like the sun; I’m painful to look at.

If I was a food I would be chopped liver because nobody likes me.

I’m like an eggshell... broken and empty.

If I was a mythical creature I’d be a unicorn! Because nobody believes in me.

I’m like a flashlight with old batteries inside because my inner light died a long time ago.

My soul is a raisin because it’s dried up shriveled, and not everyone likes it.

I’m like the moon because you only get to see one side of me.

I’m like the moon because as the month progresses my life becomes covered more and more by darkness.

I’m like an Ex streamly powerful fan! Because I push everyone away.

I’m like a disposable camera! People use me once and then just throw me away.

I’m like a shity book cover... because people think they have the right to judge and label me before they read my pages.

My brain and body is essentially a really old married couple that can’t afford to go through with the divorce and now they are stuck in a toxic relationship they are desperate to escape but the more they try the more they sink into the quicksand that is my depression and anxiety

Help me...

You're a good soldier Choosing your battles Pick yourself up and dust yourself off and back in the saddle You're on the front line Everyone's watching You know it's serious we're getting closer, this isn't over The pressure is on You feel it But you've got it all Believe it When you fall get up oh oh And if you fall get up oh oh Tsamina mina zangalewa 'Cause this is Africa Tsamina mina eh eh Waka waka eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa This time for Africa Listen to your God This is our motto Your time to shine don't wait in line y vamos por todo People are raising Their expectations Go on and feed them this is your moment no hesitations Today's your day I feel it You paved the way Believe it If you get down get up oh oh When you get down get up eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa This time for Africa Tsamina mina eh eh Waka waka eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa Anawa aa Tsamina mina eh eh Waka waka eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa This time for Africa Ame la mejole biggi biggi mubbo wa A to Z Asi tsu zala makyuni biggi biggi mubbo from East to West Asi waga waga ma eh eh waga waga ma eh eh Tendency suna tsibuye 'cause this is Africa (Africa, Africa Africa) Tsamina mina, Anawa a a Tsamina mina Tsamina mina, Anawa a a Tsamina mina, eh eh Waka waka, eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa Anawa a a Tsamina mina, eh eh Waka waka, eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa This time for Africa Django eh eh Django eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa Anawa a a Django eh eh Django eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa Anawa a a This time for Africa This time for Africa We're all Africa We're all Africa

A politician dies So a politician dies and ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.

"So, you're a politician..." "Well, yes, is that a problem?" "Oh no, no problem. But we've recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately, you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that, however, you're free to choose where you want to spend eternity!"

"Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??" says the politician. "Them's the rules," Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy disappears...

And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he's in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds... Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can't be, right?

"Open your eyes!" says a voice. "C'mon, wakey, we've only got 24 hours!". Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he's in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite... And there's a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. "Who are you??" The politician asks. "Well, I'm Satan!" says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. "Welcome to Hell!" "Wait, this is Hell? But... Where are all the pain and suffering?" he asks. Satan throws him a wink. "Oh, we've been a bit misrepresented over the years, it's a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is, of course, free, as is the room service, there are extra towels next to the hot tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It's a beautiful day, and if you'd care to look outside..." Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. "It's one of 5 pro-level courses on-site, and there's another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbor!" says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift and walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cheerily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course is made up of every one of his old friends, people he's admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he's admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2-foot-tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying on important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Gandhi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear... And they return to their penthouse suite and spend the rest of the night making love as they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows and falls into a deep and happy sleep...

And is woken up by St Peter. "So, that was Hell. Wasn't what you were expecting, I bet?" "No sir!" says the man. "So then," says St Peter "you can make your choice. It's Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on". "Well... I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I'd prefer Hell," says the politician. "Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!" Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again.

The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulfurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor wire in the other. "What's this??" He cries. "Where's the hotel?? Where's my wife??? Where's the minibar, the golf courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks, and the sunshine???"

"Ah", says Satan. "You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted..."