Earth

Earth jokes

Flat

Q: Why are flat-earthers seen so many these days? A: Because one girl wore an earth-printed shirt.

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    • Hannes asks his mother, "Mom, why are the peanuts called peanuts?" Mom replies, "Because they grow in the earth." Hannes replies, "Then why don't strawberries grow in the earth?" Mom replies: "The giraffes originally had a short neck, but it has grown from giraffe to giraffe. The same thing happened with the strawberries. They grew in the earth and grew higher from harvest to harvest until at some point their stems protruded from the earth." Hannes replies, "Then why is my neck so short?" The mother replies: "So many people died in the First and Second World Wars that our necks could not develop at all. It was the same in the Thirty Years' War. We humans have been in so many wars. The giraffes in none and that's why our neck is so short."

    Stephen Hawking is better than NASA. They study black holes that are 8 billion years old, while he was down here on Earth staring at 14-year-old black holes. 😈😈😈

    Do you want to be in Heaven with Jesus, our savior, or be on Earth with bad things?

    The gayest person on Earth is Pac-Man.

    You can pay him 50 cents to eat 200 balls.

    In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.

    With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.

    His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.

    With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.

    He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.

    Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.

    The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.

    For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.

    Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.

    I know you don't like me, and that implies you need better taste.

    I'm not an astronomer, but I'm pretty sure the Earth revolves around the sun... not you.

    I'd give you a nasty look, but it seems like you've already got one.

    Your birth certificate should be rewritten as a letter of apology.

    You haven't changed since the last time I saw you. You really should.