Like jokes

Women say their baby daddies are trash like... woman, didn't he impregnate you and didn't he win your heart? I mean, he's not trash, you are!

I miss the good old days when you could have a light joke at someone else's expense. Like doing that marital rape thing, it never used to be called that. It used to be called "serving your husband" or "wifely duties". The real joke is that it was legal until 1990.

Why is that a joke?

Because it is piss funny seeing the look on her face when she wakes up in the middle of coitus.

Why is that a joke?

Dude, come on, you want to start your day off happy or not?

Why is that a joke?

She literally looks like she just seen a ghost and sort of flops about trying to fend you off like a rag doll. It's piss funny.

No seriously, dude, why is that a joke? It sounds more like a felony.

When you are sleeping in class and the shooter sees you, then they wake you up and say, "Let’s team up," like, what the f*ck?

Rape isn't a joke.

It's a type of way of making friends and to mate with other women.

It's a way of art, and works on anybody!

Like this if you agree.

Ben Inkster, more like gay.

What does Mammot like on a woman’s body?

Bum bum bummmm buuummmmm bummm.

LBB- me and Shrek built a theme park for you mummy and it’s called Dummy pee pee poo poo doo doo land because Shrek likes to poop.

Shrek- Should I pull the trap?

*LBB’s mom walks into the trap*

LBB and Shrek- surprise we’re mailing you to Peepoo Peepoo AB

Today we need to teach our teens about having safe sex while using contraceptives.

Condoms 99 percent effective.

Birth control 99 percent effective.

Etc.

Just be like me and use underage 7 year olds works 100 percent of the time (only cost 20 years in jail ;)

I like your mama's big butt, and I cannot lie.

Even Bob Ross couldn’t paint a happy little accident like BLESSEDBRIAN.

So a girl says to her ex, "I can't get you out of my mind, the boyfriend I knew." The girl replies, "I see you in everything, like when I'm walking down the street, even at work, like trash cans are everywhere."

My plants in my garden are like the Twin Towers; neither of them fell, just the flowers.

Your hairline is so repulsive that my entire family got eye cancer from seeing it, and it goes so far back that you be looking like Vegeta.

Dear Hearing People,

We, deaf people, ain’t dead. We can use our hands to talk, eat & fist your face to give you some 💡 awareness that we can understand you 💯 meanwhile we laugh at you 🤡 We can even dance via vibration through music.

Do you know the song w lyric like this 👇 *white b.... accent: Ohhh.. MY God BECKY.. L👀k at her butt. IT is SO BIG. *BIG BEAT DROP* I...LIKE...BIG...BUTT...I cannot LIE 👻 I promise we ain’t ghosting around - Brittany Rose.

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...

Women be like don't tell me what to wear, proceeds to tell men what to wear.

VOTING QUARTERFINAL 1: LIKE: When the school shooter is about to leave your classroom and the autistic kid's sketchers light up.

DISLIKE: When the school shooter finds you and you think you're gonna die, but he remembers the time you gave him a pen. 🖌

Vote for the better joke!

Hello, I am School Shooter Memes. For the last month I made School Shooter Jokes on the site, so now I want you guys to vote for the best one. It will be in a quarterfinal format with the 8 of them being the most liked. I will link all of the polls in the comments so make sure to vote for your favourite joke.

I wondered why there was red all over my bathroom til I found out that my sis had dyed her hair red. Man, it looked like somebody died in there! Lol.

Me and rose bushes have something in common: mangled, can hurt, red, and people only like one part.