This joke includes potentially sensitive content.
what do you call an Asian receptionist?
Tai ping
Why does michael jackson like to play ping pong or table tennis? He likes to play with the little balls.
What do you call a Chinese person with no legs?
Lim Ping.
What do you call two Mexicans playing ping pong? Juan on Juan
Q: What do you call an Asian paralympian?
A: Lim Ping
What do u call the bell at the Asian restaurant I'm Ta Ping it Som Ting Won
Q: what does a microwave and an M1 Garand have in common? A:They both go “ping” when they’re done
Where are the ping pong balls? check the bathroom stalls
So one time this really rich guy’s son’s birthday was coming up. So he asks his son what he wants. So the son says “can i have pink ping pong balls.” The father asks why and his son stays silent. The dad decides to get it for him. The dad doesn’t see the son ever do anything with them. A year later the dad asked him what he wants the son then says “can I have 10000 pink ping pong balls”. The dad then responds with “son why, I gave you some last year and this whole year you did not play with them.” The son, yet again stays silent. The Dad was reluctant to do it but did it anyways. Now a few years later the son is now 20 and his rich dad and him have not seen each other in a while. So the dad decides to celebrate his sons birthday. He asks his son once again what he wants and his son says “can I have 10000 pink ping pong balls.” His dad screams “ SON WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THESE BALLS!!! I NEVER SEE YOU WITH THEM AND YET YOU STILL WANT MORE. WHAT THE HELL!!!” The son yet again stays silent. The dad, though a little pissed, decides to buy As much of the pink ping pong balls that he sees and gives it to his son. The son is happy, but does not do anything. Now after a while the sones about 30, and he and the father are more distant than ever. The father gets a call from a hospital telling him that his son could die from a disease that only 2 people survived. So the father goes there and starts crying and grieving. Then he asks his son what he would like before he dies. The son then says “can you buy me all of the factory’s that produce pink ping pong balls.” His dad doesn’t question because he is to sad to and buys him the only factory that produces pink ping pong balls. Then the doctors put him in a wheelchair and follow the dad and they take him to one of pink ping pong ball factory’s and the dad says “okay son I fulfilled what you wanted. But what have you done and what do you plan to do with all of these pink ping pong balls .” The son ,ignoring the question says “ this is magnificent. My final wish is that I stay here overnight.” So the doctors and the father decide to and everyone goes home to sleep. The next day, everyone returned to the factory to find all the pink ping pong balls gone and the son. The father was sad but a little angry and decided to search his whole house to find pink ping pong balls but doesn’t find any and they search the whole factory for the son and the balls. And soon they end up searching the whole earth and never found him.
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
