Even Michael Jordan can't dunk from your hairline! π€£π€£
Worst Jokes Ever
Your hairline goes so far back, I remember seeing it in the Stone Age.
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 canβt say you werenβt warned, Mrs. Matthews!"
Hi. Hhhh yrddd.
Random couple after their first night:
Husband: It was very tasty. π₯΅
Wife: Aww, thanks.
Husband: Does anyone had taste it before?
Wife: β οΈ
childhood skipped @iissoo.00 frπ΅βπ«
I told my dad that I wanted to go to a college with a 100% acceptance rate and a 50% graduation rate, and he said, "Your mom doesn't count as a college!"
My grandma always said, "Slow and steady wins the race."
She died in a fire.
Mum: Why are roses red?
Child: Stop, Mum, you never make jokes.
Mum: I made you.
Why is the number 10 always scared?
Answer: Heβs in the middle of 9/11.
What do you call an autistic kid with a gun?
Answer: Special forces.
What has 4 wheels, no wings, and flies?
A dead cripple.
Why did the chicken cro-
UM, ACTUALLY, THE CHICKEN CAN'T CROSS THE ROAD UNLESS IT'S UNDER SOME ROOSTER OR HEN SUPERVISION OR ELSE THE CAR WILL CRASH THE CHICKEN, AND THEY WILL DIE. π€
Why did the chicken cross the road?
To get to the other side. Y'all knew this one, fr.
I beat up a failed musician until he started crying.
I thought a few hits would cheer him up!
Dear Autocorrect, I never wanted to spell the word "bigger".
This lady has 2 parrots that only say one thing: "Hi, we're prostitutes, wanna have some fun?"
So she goes and tells her pastor. He responds with, "I have two parrots as well, they are always praying, and they have everything that a parrot needs to be a Christian. Maybe if we put our parrots together, mine will fix yours."
They proceed to do so, and the lady's parrots say, "Hi, we're prostitutes, wanna have some fun?" and the pastor's parrots reply with "Johnny, drop your beads and lift your heads, our prayers have been answered!"
Little Johnny comes down for breakfast because he lives on a farm, and his mother asks if he has done his chores or not.
"Not yet," says little Johnny, so he goes to feed the chickens, cows, and pigs. He ends up kicking the chickens, cows, and pigs and goes inside and asks why he got a dry bowl of cereal. His mother responds with, "I saw you kick the chickens, so no eggs for a week. I also saw you kick the pigs, so no bacon for a week either. I also saw you kick the cows, so no milk for a week either."
Little Johnny's father comes downstairs and kicks the cats. Little Johnny looks at his mother and says, "You want to tell him, or should I?"
My biology teacher told us "get out nice and sharp colored pencils." Does she mean as sharp as in the blades I use to cut myself?
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.
