Hotness jokes

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.

Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.

The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.

Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little.

- That girl was hot. - She's my cousin!

Yo mama so hot, she can fit in a mug.

I tried to dress hot so my boyfriend would cast some attention upon me, but it just made him sweat.

Son: Daddy?

Dad: Why tf do you keep calling me daddy? You're 11 years old, feminine gay hoe.

Son: Whoa!? Daddy, what's that?

Dad: Wtf are you talking about?

Son: Your dick has gotten more tastier?

Son: Ooh... I..... Just.... Wanna.... Sssuuc

Dad: Oh nope, I'm not having a gay hoe's fiend in my house, no quit looking at my dick, you need some pussy.

Son: eeeeeewwwwwwwwwww nooooo plz no plz

Dad: Shut the fuck up: ehr em

Mom: What the fugde is going on?

Dad: Our son's a gay bitch.

Mom: Language! So? I need to teach him how to like a girl huh?

Dad: Yes Ma'am, plz.

Mom: Okay. Herman, get your gay ass in my bed but naked, I'll be there in 10.

Son: wha whey huh ur gonna... wtf?!?!?!??

Mom: Quit cursing, I'm gonna fuck u extra hard!!

Son: Ewww, I'm gonna fuck my mom even though she is hot sexy but eeewwww.

Mom: Shut it!!!, or I'm gonna recordid and *fliped her hair taking off her panies (pussy naked)* and show this to ur gay fuck friends!

Son: Huh

Son: Mom FUCK U*

Mom: Okay baby I'm gonna fuck u in a minute lemme tak my bra off

Son: UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH

Son: Moms are the worst, are they?

Me no there not sometimes but i love them teheheteheh

Have you ever wondered how your teachers would look if they were 20 years younger than they actually are? I bet some of them would be smoking hot. Especially my 25-year-old English teacher. I'd bang her if she were 20 years younger.

Why does it get hot after a baseball game?

'Cause all the fans have left.

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..."