Like jokes

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.

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Yo mama so old that her breastmilk was powdered. You breastfeed like this 🌬💨.

Dying mall be like...

"Toys" were us.

Goodbye, kitty.

Dying Canes.

Little Johnny is with his dad behind a garbage truck when a dildo thumps the windshield.

To protect Little Johnny's innocence, he says, "That was an insect."

Little Johnny replies, "I'm surprised it could get off the ground with a cock like that!"

In a world of feline folly, There lived a cat with a secret, A taste for adventure and mischief, And a love for KFC's golden treat.

With eyes like emerald jewels, And fur as black as night, This feline prowled the streets, In search of a savory delight.

Oh, how it yearned for chicken, Crispy and finger-lickin' good, But the cat knew it had to be sly, To satisfy its craving like it should.

Through alleyways it stealthily tiptoed, With nimble paws and a stealthy glide, Until it stumbled upon a secret, That made its hunger amplified.

A stash of KFC's golden eggs, Hidden away from prying eyes, An accidental treasure trove, A feast fit for a feline paradise.

With each stolen egg devoured, The cat's satisfaction grew, The taste of crispy breading, And juicy chicken, it knew.

Word soon spread of this food bandit, A legend of a cat so bold, Whispers echoed through the town, Of the one who stole the KFC gold.

But the cat with the KFC get eggs, Remained a mystery to all, A phantom of the night it became, Leaving no trace, no trail to recall.

And so, it continues its nightly quest, For chicken that satisfies its soul, The cat with the KFC get eggs, Forever on the prowl, never to be controlled.