Front Jokes

Driver's License-By- watersharky Music Productions and Olivia Rodrigo-

I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about 'Cause you were so excited for me To finally drive up to your house But today I drove through the suburbs Crying 'cause you weren't around And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs 'Cause how could I ever love someone else? And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street And all my friends are tired Of hearing how much I miss you, but I kinda feel sorry for them 'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do, yeah Today I drove through the suburbs And pictured I was driving home to you And I know we weren't perfect But I've never felt this way for no one, oh And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay, now that I'm gone I guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street Red lights, stop signs I still see your face in the white cars, front yards Can't drive past the places we used to go to 'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe (ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) Sidewalks we crossed I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing Over all the noise God, I'm so blue, know we're through But I still fuckin' love you, babe (ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay, now that I'm gone 'Cause you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street...

I'm just gonna say it, and don't get offended, but I'm so sick of the media being on the female side. It never shows what life is like for a male.

Yes, women do have it hard in life because they have to give birth, etc.

But men have it pretty hard too, if not harder. Males are criticized for showing emotions.

Men have to go to war on the front lines.

Boys have less support from their friends because showing any emotion is a sign of weakness.

Boys have to wear trousers in schools where they practically burn to death in summer, meanwhile girls get to wear dresses and skirts. And now we hear girls complaining about them not being allowed to wear trousers. Yet we haven't ever heard anything about boys protesting about wearing shorts to school. It's because no one will take a man's protest seriously because the media is always against the men.

Man-rape is unheard of in the media, and I've never seen anything in any form of news accusing a woman as a rapist.

We are expected to gather up our guts [and] ask a girl to be their girlfriend. We have to take them on dates, pay the bill, [and] buy them gifts when the girls never do anything like that for us males. We have to get a job while they put on makeup and go out with their friends and spend 3 months' worth of the money the man has made.

And the women say we only rape women and that we restrict women from doing certain things like fighting in world wars.

It's because most males do not want females to get hurt, yet we are criticized for this.

I propose an idea that on the 19th of September every year (until we get the point across) all males do not go to work, etc.

Who's going to put out all the fires? The two "firewomen" at the local fire station? Who is going to work in the major corporations? The secretary's and the receptionist?

Women are always saying that the world will be a better place if they're are no men around. Let's show them how wrong they are.

(This event can be done worldwide.)

Share this with as many people who still believe in the rights of the males.

(I'm not against feminism; it's just that everything in the media is about some stupid problem women are complaining about + hatred for males everywhere.

But I think that nowadays women have more rights than men because they can wear what they want, do what they want, and never get criticized or face any consequences.)

My neighbor has been mad at his wife for sunbathing nude. I personally am on the fence.

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...

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..."

I just got my doctor’s test results and I’m really upset about it. Turns out, I’m not gonna be a doctor.

My grief counselor died. He was so good, I don’t even care.

Today, I asked my phone “Siri, why am I still single?” and it activated the front camera.

A man wakes from a coma. His wife changes out of her black clothes and, irritated, remarks, “I really cannot depend on you in anything, can I!”

As I get older, I remember all the people I lost along the way. Maybe my budding career as a tour guide was not the right choice.

I was digging in our garden and found a chest full of gold coins. I wanted to run straight home to tell my wife about it. Then I remembered why I was digging in our garden.

The doctor gave me some cream for my skin rash. He said I was a sight for psoriasis.

Don’t challenge Death to a pillow fight. Unless you’re prepared for the reaper cushions.

I don’t have a carbon footprint. I just drive everywhere.

Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs.

A man walks into an enchanted forest and tries to cut down a talking tree. “You can’t cut me down,” the tree exclaims, “I’m a talking tree!” The man responds, “You may be a talking tree, but you will dialogue.”

My mom died when we couldn’t remember her blood type. As she died, she kept telling us to “be positive,” but it’s hard without her.

What does my dad have in common with Nemo? They both can’t be found.

I visited my new friend in his apartment. He told me to make myself at home. So I threw him out. I hate having visitors.

When my Uncle Frank died, he wanted his cremations to be buried in his favorite beer mug. His last wish was to be Frank in Stein.

Do you know the phrase “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure”? Wonderful saying, horrible way to find out that you were adopted.

My husband left a note on the fridge that said, “This isn’t working.” I’m not sure what he’s talking about. I opened the fridge door and it’s working fine!

Why did the man miss the funeral? He wasn’t a mourning person.

It’s important to establish a good vocabulary. If I had known the difference between the words “antidote” and “anecdote,” one of my best friends would still be alive.

Want to know how you make any salad into a Caesar salad? Stab it twenty-three times.

When I see the names of lovers engraved on a tree, I don’t find it cute or romantic. I find it weird how many people take knives with them on outings.

Give a man a match, and he’ll be warm for a few hours. Set him on fire, and he will be warm for the rest of his life.

My wife is mad that I have no sense of direction. So I packed up my stuff and left. Right.

When does a joke become a dad joke? When it leaves you and never comes back.

A priest asks the convicted murderer at the electric chair, “Do you have any last requests?” “Yes,” replies the murderer. “Can you please hold my hand?”

I just read that someone in New York gets stabbed every 52 seconds. Poor guy.

The doctor gave me one year to live, so I shot him with my gun. The judge gave me 15 years. Problem solved.

You know you’re not liked when you get handed the camera every time they take a group photo.

Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield? Everywhere.

What’s red and bad for your teeth? A brick.

My grandfather said my generation relies too much on the latest technology. So I unplugged his life support.

My parents raised me as an only child, which really pissed off my sister.

What did the Titanic say as it sank? I’m nominating all passengers for the Ice Bucket Challenge!

Why did Mozart kill all of his chickens? When he asked them who the best composer was, they all replied, “Bach, Bach, Bach.”

How many emo kids does it take to screw in a lightbulb? None, they all sit in the dark and cry.

I have a stepladder because my real ladder left when I was 5.

They laughed at my crayon drawing. I laughed at their chalk outline.

My husband and I have reached the difficult decision that we do not want children. If anybody does, please just send me your contact details and we can drop them off tomorrow.

I have many jokes about unemployed people, sadly none of them work.

The most corrupt CEOs are the ones who run pretzel companies. They’re always so twisted.

To teach kids about democracy, I let them vote on dinner. They picked tacos. Then I made pizza because they don’t live in a swing state.

I was reading a great book about an immortal cat the other day. It was impossible to put down.

You’re not completely useless. You can always be used as a bad example.

I threw a boomerang a few years ago. I now live in constant fear.

What’s the difference between a hipster and a football player? A football player showers.

I made a website for orphans. It doesn’t have a home page.

The other day, my girlfriend asked me to pass her lipstick but I accidentally passed her a glue stick. She still isn’t talking to me.

Why can’t Michael Jackson go within 500 meters of a school? Because he’s dead.