Head jokes

When her head game is so strong, she sucks the chromosome right out of you.

There was a math teacher on a plane that crashed. What was the last thing that went through their head?

A pentagon!

(9/11 joke)

A rich girl is flying on his helicopter when suddenly it crashes, killing everyone. What was the last thing that went through her head?

The helicopter blade!

There once were 3 men on an airplane and one bit into an apple and said, "This is disgusting!" and threw it out the window. The 2nd man bit into a banana and said, "This is rotten!" and he threw it out the window. The 3rd man bit into a bomb and screamed, "ALL MY TEETH FELL OUT!" and he threw it out the window.

Meanwhile, on the ground, a police officer was walking and he saw a kid crying and he went up to him and asked him why he was crying. He replied, "An apple came flying out of the sky and hit me on the head!" The police officer said, "That is weird," and kept on walking. Then he saw another kid crying and the police officer asked, "Why are you crying?" and he answered, "A banana came flying out of the sky and hit me on the head!" The officer said, "This has been a strange day." Then he sees a kid laughing and he asked why he was laughing and he said, while he was laughing, "My dad farted and the house blew up!"

I once tried to have a family friendly conversation with a worm, but it kept its head in the dirt.

When you decide to turn your high school into your personal shooting range, but you don’t give any proper notice except for a bullet to the head...

What’s bad about swinging a dead baby above your head?

Stopping it with the shovel!

Two hats are next to each other. One hat says to the other, "Stay here, I'll go on ahead."

What was going through the student's heads during a school shooting?

Bullets.

My cat sleeps about 20 hours a day. She has her food prepared for her. She can eat whenever she wants, 24/7/365. Her meals are provided at no cost to her. She visits the doctor once a year for her checkup, and again during the year if any medical needs arise. For this she pays nothing, and nothing is required of her.

She lives in a nice neighborhood in a house that is much larger than she needs, but she is not required to do any upkeep. If she makes a mess, someone else cleans it up. She has her choice of luxurious places to sleep. She receives these accommodations absolutely free. She is living like a queen, and has absolutely no expenses whatsoever. All of her costs are picked up by others who go out and earn a living every day.

I was just thinking about all this, and suddenly it hit me like a brick in the head, Holy Sh*t, my cat is a Democrat!

Daughter: Dad, why are you so mean?

Dad: Because you are so mean, that's why.

Daughter: You so get on my nerves.

Dad: I am gonna slap you in your god darn head if you don't shut up.

Daughter: Wow, Dad, you savage.

Dad: 21 SAVAGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Daughter: Oh my God, I am tellin' Mom that you are doin' that thing again.

OMG guys, I finally did it. I made a head slicey boy. I have headless.

If you cut off your head, you can't breathe.

You also can't breathe if you die.

So why isn't it debreathiation?

Ever heard the saying white people can’t jump??

Well, I think that’s total bullshit. You should have seen us on 9/11!

What did the no head man say?

"Haha!"

Chocolate rain. Some stay dry and others feel the pain. Chocolate rain. A baby born will die before the sin. Chocolate rain. The school books say it can't be here again. Chocolate rain. The prisons make you wonder where it went. Chocolate rain. Build a tent and say the world is dry. Chocolate rain. Zoom the camera out and see the lie. Chocolate rain. Forecast to be falling yesterday. Chocolate rain. Only in the past is what they say. Chocolate rain. Raised your neighborhood insurance rates. Chocolate rain. Makes us happy 'livin in a gate. Chocolate rain. Made me cross the street the other day. Chocolate rain. Made you turn your head the other way. Chocolate rain. History quickly crashing through your veins. Chocolate rain. Using you to fall back down again. Chocolate rain. History quickly crashing through your veins. Chocolate rain. Using you to fall back down again. Chocolate rain. Seldom mentioned on the radio. Chocolate rain. It's the fear your leaders call control. Chocolate rain. Worse than swearing worse than calling names. Chocolate rain. Say it publicly and you're insane. Chocolate rain. No one wants to hear about it now. Chocolate rain. Wish real hard it goes away somehow. Chocolate rain. Makes the best of friends begin to fight. Chocolate rain. But did they know each other in the light? Chocolate rain. Every February washed away. Chocolate rain. Stays behind as colors celebrate. Chocolate rain. The same crime has a higher price to pay. Chocolate rain. The judge and jury swear it's not the face. Chocolate rain. History quickly crashing through your veins. Chocolate rain. Using you to fall back down again. Chocolate rain. History quickly crashing through your veins. Chocolate rain. Using you to fall back down again. Chocolate rain. Dirty secrets of economy. Chocolate rain. Turns that body into GDP. Chocolate rain. The bell curve blames the baby's DNA. Chocolate rain. But test scores are how much the parents make. Chocolate rain. Flippin' cars in France the other night. Chocolate rain. Cleans the sewers out beneath Mumbai. Chocolate rain. 'Cross the world and back it's all the same. Chocolate rain. Angels cry and shake their heads in shame. Chocolate rain. Lifts the ark of paradise in sin. Chocolate rain. Which part do you think you're livin' in? Chocolate rain. More than marchin', more than passing law. Chocolate rain. Remake how we got to where we are. Chocolate rain. History quickly crashing through your veins. Chocolate rain. Using you to fall back down again. Chocolate rain. History quickly crashing through your veins. Chocolate rain. Using you to fall back down again.

Why were people sad when John F. Kennedy got shot? All he got was head.

Btw friend here also wants to do suicide.

Friend: Why did I cross the road? Me: To get to the other side. Friend: True!

Friend: Hey let's go hang out at the forest today! Me: Ok *grabs ropes for the both of us and rushes outside bc this is a lucky day* Friend: Hey at least we did it!

Friend: What's the best thing about me? Me: You will eventually end. Friend: Hmmmmmm . . . true!

Friend: What historical time influenced you the most? Me: The great depression.

If I could be an object I'd be glass because I'm see-through and I can shatter with the minimum difficulty immediately!

My parents sometimes say I'm their sunshine! . . . because I'm painful if you look at me.

Teacher: What does km/s mean? Me+like almost all of the class: *in unison* It means kill myself but misspelled.

Friend: What's the best way to end a game? Me: With death. Friend: . . . Hmmm now that you think about it yeah! That's the best way!

When you're about to jump down a cliff but you realize that you can't litter there.

Google says that you're about 75% water but I'm made of 101% depression 101% anxiety 101% suicidal 101% stress.

Brain be like will_to_live.exe, happiness.exe, and many more others not found also you have now got crippling_depression.exe, anxiety.exe, suicide_thoughts.exe, suicide_attempts, and stressful_life.exe so so so much many more.

How do you keep weeds away? Just put a bucket of crippling depression and suicidal thought and attempts in the soil and then they just kill themselves. Problem solved.

When you take antidepressants but they don't work it will just make you more depressed and that's a fact.

A bored depressed suicidal person: *sees a dying person* Dying person: P-l-pls c-c-c-call m-me a-an amb-b-bulancccee *wheeze* *dies* Bored depressed suicidal person: Hmmmm ur an ambulance Dying person: *manages to get back up* Bored depressed suicidal person: Oooooohh goddddd Dying person: *in a demonic tone* BUT NOT FOR ME~

Roses are red, Inside I'm dead, I have crippling depression, Some one pls shoot my head.

When you finally open up to a person who you think will care and understand but it turns out that they don't. You: *panickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanicking*

The only time you should lift your spirits up is when your gonna hang yourself.

A made-up story starting now. So I went to school as usual. There's a school shooting. All the depressed suicidal people: *crave death* *walks up to shooter* all say KILL ME A made-up story starting ending.

In this one the friend isn't suicidal. Friend: Wanna play a game? Me: Life wait no a game has a meaning. Friend: . . . *crickets* Friend: Calls suicide hotline. Me: Wait no!!!!!

Me: *has crippling depression* *asks mom why I was born* Mom: Hmmm I think I was drunk and on a lotta drugs. Me: Hmmm tysm *gets the rope* Mom: *making hanging puns* Me: *hurries to the trash truck*

Me: At this point I've lived about a decade depressed and suicidal that I don't struggle with it now, I'm good at it and it's all normal.

Hope you enjoyed.

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..."