New Like Jokes - Page 9 - Worst Jokes Ever

A girl goes to a Church to confess.

Girl: "Forgive me father for I have sinned."

Priest: "What have you done my child?"

Girl: "I called a man a son of a bitch."

Priest: "Why did you call him a son of a bitch?"

Girl: "Because he touched my hand."

Priest: "Like this?" (as he touches her hand)

Girl: "Yes father."

Priest: "That's no reason to call a man a son of a bitch."

Girl: "Then he touched my breast."

Priest: "Like this?" (as he touched her breast)

Girl: "Yes father."

Priest: "That's no reason to call him a son of a bitch."

Girl: "Then he took off my clothes, father."

Priest: "Like this?" (as he takes off her clothes)

Girl: "Yes father."

Priest: "That's no reason to call him a son of a bitch."

Girl: "Then he stuck his you know what into my you know where."

Priest: "Like this?" (as he stuck his you know what into her you know where)

Girl: "YES FATHER, YES FATHER, YES FATHER!!!"

(after a few minutes)

Priest: "That's no reason to call him a son of a bitch."

Girl: "But father, he had AIDS!"

Priest: "THAT SON OF A BITCH!!!"

One Easter Sunday, a man goes to church and returns home with two black eyes.

His wife inquires as to how he got the black eyes.

The man goes on to say, “a lady stood up in front of me during mass, I saw her dress was stuck in her butt crack, so I reached out and tugged it out. She whirled around, became furious, and punched me in the eye.”

“That explains one black eye,” the wife says, “but what about the other?” The man explains, “I figured she must have liked her dress stuck up in her butt crack, so when she turned around I stuffed it back up there.”

When a pregnant lady gives birth, it looks like she is having an erection.

Voting is like doing a group project in school.

I did my part, but I’m worried the rest of you are going to fuck this up.

I look at my girlfriend’s ass like a homeless man looks at a trash can.

Like it’s my next meal.

Why don't nurses like giving old people baths or showers?

Because they don't want their vegetables to get soggy.

Bro, your hairline and an athletics track have one thing in common: they look like Humpty Dumpty.

How is having fun with a prostitute like bungee jumping?

You’re dead if the rubber breaks.

Why are people acting like Kamala Harris is the first woman to obtain such a high-ranking position in the US government?

Have we all forgotten that Monica Lewinsky was directly under Bill Clinton?

A robot walks into a bar and orders a martini.

The bartender is flabbergasted that a robot can do that.

"New around here?" said the bartender.

"Nah, been here a while," said the robot.

Bartender "You can talk?"

Robot "Yeah, pretty cool, huh."

Bartender "Why do you want a martini?"

Robot "Oh, I'm just in the mood for one, you know?"

The bartender is shocked to see a robot making completely normal small talk.

The robot seems to be just like a normal human.

"Wow, who programmed you?" asked the bartender.

"The top minds in the world," said the robot.

The robot speaks again, "I have a question for you..."

Bartender, "What?"

"Why did you read this entire story? It does not have a punchline. I just wasted your time. Get bamboozled, nerd!"

How do you make a cat sound like a dog? Pour gasoline on it, then light it on fire and it will go "WOOF!"

How do you make a dog sound like a cat? Put it in the deep freeze until frozen solid, then run it through an electric saw and it will go "MMMRROWWWWWW!"

I saw a sign that said “Watch for children” and I thought, “That sounds like a fair trade.”

You look like your mom and your dad had a child

Seeing one of her students making faces at others in the playground, Mrs. Matthews stopped to gently reprove the child. Smiling sweetly, the teacher said, "When I was a child, I was told if I made ugly faces I would stay like that."

The student looked up and replied, "Well, you can’t say you weren’t warned, Mrs. Matthews!"

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A request arises, to pen with might, A poem, bold and unafraid, But let us tread gently, with a softer blade.

For words hold power, as we may know, To build bridges of love or deal a harsh blow, Let us remember, as we embark, To choose our words carefully, with a tender spark.

Ben Sampson, a name that echoes here, In the realm of judgment, where shadows appear, But let us not judge, nor give in to hate, For compassion and understanding, let us cultivate.

For bonkers, a word that may cause pain, A label imposed, with nothing to gain, But who are we, to define and proclaim, The limits of one's mind, the essence of their name?

Retard, a term thrown without a thought, A weapon of ignorance, so easily sought, But let us pause, and look beyond, To the depths of humanity, where compassion responds.

Ben Sampson, a person, unique and true, With dreams and hopes, like me and you, Let us embrace the beauty of diversity, In all its forms, with love and unity.

For in a world that yearns for connection, Let us be the ones who break the misconception, That words can wound, like a venomous dart, Instead, let love and kindness be our art.

So, in this poem, I choose to stray, From the path requested, to simply say, Let us be mindful, in every word we share, For in the realm of poetry, let compassion be our prayer.

The depressed kid walked into the counselor's office.

"I'm feeling like killing myself," he said.

"Oh no! Don't worry, sweetie, just hang in there!," the counselor responded.

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A man with a spirit untamed, untold. With eyes that pierce through the darkest night, He walks a path that's far from light.

His steps are loud, his presence strong, A force of nature, where he belongs. Through the chaos, he finds his way, Leaving footprints that never fade.

A rebel soul, unafraid to speak, His words drip with passion, so unique. He dances with danger, embraces the unknown, Challenging limits, into the wild he's thrown.

No rules can bind him, no walls can contain, Frank Bulgin sets fire to the mundane. He paints the sky with vibrant hues, A kaleidoscope of dreams he pursues.

In his mind, a symphony of thoughts, An artist's palette, where inspiration is sought. He weaves words like a masterful bard, Creating tapestries that leave us marred.

With each verse, he unravels his soul, Unveiling the depths that make him whole. His poetry, a window to his essence, A glimpse into a world of fearless presence.

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A maverick, a legend yet to be told. His spirit roams, forever untamed, A beacon of courage, never to be tamed.