Clear jokes
A boy asks his father:
"What is politics?"
Father answers:
"It’s very simple! You see, I bring in the money, so I’m big business. Your mother spends the money, so she’s the government.
Your grandfather sees to it that everything is managed in an orderly way. So he’s the law.
Our maid is the working class.
Everything revolves around your interests, so you’re the people. Your little baby brother represents the future."
The boy has to think it over. That night he hears his little brother crying due to a dirty diaper. He doesn’t know what to do, so he goes to the bedroom of his parents. There his mother is sound asleep. He goes to the bedroom of the maid, but his father is there fucking the maid — and oddly enough his grandfather is watching through the window.
Nobody notices the boy and he returns to his bed.
The next day his father asks him:
"So, can you now explain to me what politics is?"
The boy says:
"Yes, it’s all become clear to me!
Big business screws over the working class while the law watches and the government sleeps. The people are ignored and the future lies in shit."
"Come on, take the camera!"
"Isn't it clear?"
"Well, look!"
I can't help myself I put it down on paper All the different stages, memories of us That's the only way I know that I can shake it Writing all our pages, every single thought I know you don't like when I'm nostalgic No, you've never tried to understand Say you're doing fine, don't think about it Like I do.
Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to
I can't wait for you to recognize the stories Like when you said i was beautiful Will you act as if you haven't even heard it? Nothing of it really matters 'Cause I know you don't like when I'm nostalgic Go back to the start to get an end Say you're doing fine, don't think about it Like I do.
Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to
Just to get over what we lost, what we lost I put it in words to clear my thoughts And just to get over, over us I had to, I had to
Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to
sorry kenny?!
Did you ever think that John F. Kennedy went for a ride in Dallas just to clear his head?
Head teacher talking about recent vandalism during school assembly:
"And to those of you who wrote Mr. Smith's telephone number on the door of the girl's toilets, he would like to make it clear that the last digit is a 7 and not a 4."
What's a cow's favorite newspaper?
The Daily M0Os.
Oh my frickig god, cleared my history and forgot my password for this, 3th account!
Hello, This is my 4th (out of 9) account. The entire reason behind this post is for future personal benefit (don't ask and fuck off).
Blach6 https://worstjokesever.com/@blach6 Left Site and forgot password
Blach66 https://worstjokesever.com/@blach66 Cleared history and forgot password
Blach66.1 https://worstjokesever.com/@blach661 Banned for Racial Slurs, I think all my N- know what that means.
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Clear all your debts with one easy payment. Buy a shotgun and blow your head off.
USS Liberty. Never forget.
It was bombed and destroyed by the Israeli airforce. Thirty-four dead, 171 wounded. The official story says “accident,” yet an American flag was clearly visible on the ship.
Motive: An attempt to cut off our foreign intelligence on Israel? Blame the bombing on an Arab country?
Just imagine if any other nation bombed an American ship...
I hate it when people say age is only a number. Age is clearly a word.
Every male is expected to pass their driver's test. Paul Walker clearly failed his.
Water bottles, strong, Standing tall, like sturdy men, Quenching every thirst.
Clear and transparent, Reflecting strength and resolve, Resilient and pure.
In hand, they offer Refreshing relief, like hugs, Soothing every soul.
Water bottles, like men, Nourish and hydrate our lives, Simple yet vital.
My dad had a very unfortunate accident with his death. I clearly asked for Jammy Dodgers and got Bourbons!
I heard a neat little trick you can use to have a public pool all to yourself. If you blow a whistle 3 times, everyone will just get out!
Sometimes I look at my butt for a really, really long time, and suddenly it all becomes clear to me.
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...
Have you heard about the smart traveler? He's clearly going places.
"I fancy Hunter, my big sugar daddy," said the orphan, clearly lying.
Yo mama so stupid, her favorite color is clear.
Like this if you laughed.
These orphan jokes would leave them crying to their mommies if they had any.
I made a website for orphans. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have a home page.
Why is it ok to hit an orphan? It’s not like they can tell their parents.
Why did the orphan go to church? So he had someone to call Father.
Why do orphans love boomerangs? Because they come back. (Clearly someone didn't come back with the milk)
Why was the orphan so successful? When they told him go big or go home, he only had one option.
What’s the only advantage of being an orphan? Nobody makes jokes about yo mamma.
Hope you had fun reading this! My friend and I laughed reading all of em!