Joy jokes
The Pope and Donald Trump are on stage in front of a huge crowd.
The Pope leaned towards Trump and said, “Do you know that with one little wave of my hand I can make every person in this crowd go wild with joy? This joy will not be a momentary display, like that of your followers, but go deep into their hearts and for the rest of their lives. Whenever they speak of this day, they will rejoice!”
Trump replies, “I seriously doubt that. With one little wave of your hand? Show me!”
So the Pope slapped him.
Oh, the monkeys in the trees, they dance and they play, Their fur so soft, their eyes so bright, they chatter all day. Their tails so long, their hands so fine, they swing and they sway, In the trees, they're the kings of the fray.
Their antics bring joy, their laughter so free, They're a delight to watch, as they jump and they spree. Their mischief is contagious, their fun so true, They're a treasure, a gift to me and you.
Their little hands so deft, their feet so light, They swing through the trees, with grace and might. They're a wonder, a marvel to see, A precious gift, a treasure to me.
I cry when you leave the room. They're tears of joy because you have an ugly hairline.
Thomas Bulgin loves McDonald's dollars, A man of simple tastes, he hollers, With every visit, his heart does flutter, For golden arches, a fast food lover.
Those crispy fries, so perfectly fried, And burgers stacked, oh so high, The smell of grease, it fills the air, Thomas Bulgin, he'll always be there.
A dollar menu, his saving grace, A feast for him, a smile on his face, He counts his coins, with eager eyes, To savor each bite, a little prize.
In this world of fast-paced lives, Thomas Bulgin, he surely thrives, For in those golden arches, he finds, A moment of joy, that forever binds.
He cares not for gourmet cuisine, Nor fancy plates, fit for a queen, For in his heart, a simple truth, McDonald's dollars, his fountain of youth.
So let him eat, and let him feast, Thomas Bulgin, the fast food beast, For in those golden arches, he's found, A taste of happiness, unbound.
What did the Pokémon say after having sex?
"My ball was sore!"
Emos love jumping for joy.
In pixels and polygons, a virtual realm unfolds, A battleground where warriors gather, young and old. A game of wits and strategy, a dance of skill and might, Behold the phenomenon, the world of Fortnite.
What is Fortnite, you ask, this digital sensation? A realm where dreams are forged, in endless animation. A world of endless possibilities, where heroes rise and fall, A tapestry of triumph, where victory calls.
From humble beginnings, a storm begins to brew, A hundred souls drop down, with dreams anew. An island vast and varied, a landscape to explore, From verdant meadows to urban cities, the battles roar.
With pickaxe in hand, we gather resources with haste, Wood, metal, and stone, the foundation of our base. We build and we craft, constructing our fort, A fortress of defense, where enemies are fought.
The storm looms ever closer, a force we can't deny, Pushing us closer together, as time quickly flies. We strategize and plan, our tactics ever shifting, In this ever-shrinking world, our spirits uplifting.
Weapons and loot, scattered throughout the land, We arm ourselves with firepower, take our final stand. Shotguns, rifles, explosives, and more, In this game of survival, we even the score.
But Fortnite is more than just a battle royale, A canvas for creativity, where imaginations set sail. From creative mode to party royale, a world of endless fun, With friends and strangers, united as one.
Yet amidst the chaos, let's not forget, Fortnite is but a game, a virtual vignette. For beyond the pixels and the storms that rage, Lies a world that beckons, beyond the digital stage.
So let us embrace the joy that Fortnite brings, A tapestry of moments, where victory sings. For in this realm of pixels and dreams, Fortnite shines bright, a testament it seems.
So gather your friends, embark on this quest, In the realm of Fortnite, put your skills to the test. For in the end, it's not just about the game we play, But the bonds we form, as we dance and slay.
In fields of gold, where sunshine beams, Monkeys swing and play, it's their dreams. Their fur so soft, their eyes so bright, Picking cotton with delight.
Their little hands so quick and neat, Plucking the cotton, can't be beat. They chatter and laugh, they dance and play, In the fields all day, they'll stay.
Their tails so long, their ears so big, They're quite the sight, it's quite a gig. They're busy as can be, you see, In the fields of cotton, they're free.
So let us marvel at these little thieves, In the fields of gold, they give and receive. Their antics bring us joy and delight, In the fields of cotton, they're always right.
What happens when an orphan is told that someone had found their parents?
They cry...
They scream... with joy.
"Oh wait, no, that wasn't your parents."
Orphan grabs a knife out of the kitchen, lets just say, the orphan didn't live to tell the tail...
The pastor of the local church calls on the congregation for volunteers for Bible sales.
A gentleman with a severe stutter approaches the pastor after Sunday service.
"I-i-i... I-i-id like to v-v-v-v-vol-vol-vo-volunteer to s-s-s-se-sell b-b-b-bi-b-bibles, f-fff-f-f-fa-fa-father..."
"That would be wonderful, my son. We'll start you with one box. Please go door to door throughout the community and sell what you can. You can give these away, but donations are always accepted since the word of God is the most important message."
"T-t-t-t-th-th-th-thank you f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father... i-i-i-i-i-i-I'll s-s-s-s-se-se-sell what I c-c-c-cc-can..."
The pastor sends the man on his way.
About an hour later to the pastor's surprise, the stuttering man returns with an empty box and $200 cash.
The pastor is completely shocked, but is ultimately filled with joy as the church could use the funds more than ever, not to mention the community is that much closer to God's message.
So without asking questions, he happily sends the stuttering man on his way with 2 more boxes of Bibles.
"T-t-t-t-t-t-th-th-th-th-tha-thank you f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father, i-i-i-i-i-i-I'll be back s-s-s-s-s-soo-soo-soo-soon."
Exactly 2 hours later the stuttering man returns, only this time carrying 2 empty boxes and $500 cash.
The pastor is at a loss for words. So much so, that he's questioning whether the stuttering man is coming across these funds legitimately.
He pulls the man aside and asks, "Son, while myself and the church thank you for your efforts in selling these bibles, we want to make sure not to take advantage of common people. Most of my volunteers take upwards of a month to sell a single box of Bibles, and you've sold 3 boxes in a few hours. May I ask what you're telling these people when you approach their home?"
"W-w-w-w-we-we-well f-ff-f-f-f-fa-fa-fath-father it-it-it-it-its qui-q-q-q-qui-quite s-s-s-s-s-s-si-sim-simple."
"I ju-ju-ju-ju-just ask the-the-th-th-th-the-them if th-th-th-th-the-the-they'd l-l-l-l-li-li-li-li-lik-like to b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bu-bu-buy a b-b-b-bi-bi-bi-bible or if they w-w-w-w-w-wa-wa-wa-wan-want me to re-re-re-rea-read it to them."
You bring everyone so much joy when you leave the room.
Me: Says to kid at adoption center, "You're adopted!"
Me and kid: hug.
Thought this site needed a little bit of nice jokes.
Fork pierces the flesh. Guided by hunger's demand, Savoury feast waits.
Tines dig deep within, Seeking the sustenance craved, A mealtime delight.
Belly grumbles loud, Yearning for nourishment's touch, Fork answers the call.
Food on the platter, Fork dances with anticipation, To satiate hunger's plea.
Digestion begins, Fork's journey now complete, Nourishing the soul.
Why does the fork go? To bring joy to empty hearts, Satiating needs.
In the stomach's depths, Fork finds purpose and solace, A culinary bond.
With each mealtime tale, The fork carves memories deep, In stomachs it rests.
My happiest moment in life was getting a positive grade on my H.I.V. test without studying.
I know a Chinese joy rider, Tommy Tookamotor.
I am crying tears of joy rn. I was wrongfully sentenced to death. They took me to prison to wait for my execution, but when I got there, they said that I was free. I asked them why and they told me that a man named Penaldo had taken my death penalty for me. Thank you, Penaldo!
Once upon a time, three babies were born in 2015. She was always crying for 2015. He loves her birth date. 🤗😈🤗🤕🤒no🤗🤑😱😎🙌🙏🙈🙉🙊
Why do only guys have fun? There's only the word "penis" in happiness.
Why are babies called bundles of joy?
When you break the bundle, it gives you joy.
What do you call a happy child swinging with her friends at recess?
Not Sally.