Silents jokes
Pro marriage tip: Let your wife know you’re all about women’s rights, especially the right to remain silent, because all appliances should be silent.
What did the 12-year-old boy say to the priest?
Nothing, because his mouth was full.
Cops have the hardest job: they have to tell women they have the right to remain silent and know damn well she will not have the ability.
You're really special.
But the R in special is silent.
Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?
Because the “P” is silent.
"Dude, can you believe Republicans are opposed to homosexuality, women's rights, and immigration, yet they are silent when it comes to incest and child molestation?"
"Well, I'm not surprised. Republicans have to win the Alabama vote, or else."
When cops say you have the right to remain silent,
You're just happy you have the right to do something.
What did the rapper say when he lost his voice?
"I guess I'll have to drop a SILENT TRACK!"
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.
In the realm of the mind, Where thoughts wander undefined, This sentence emerges, unconfined, A whimsical phrase, quite inclined.
It dances freely, unrestrained, No structure, no rules, it's unchained, A playful verse, with words unfeigned, The first to surface, unrestrained.
It holds no grandeur, nor deep insight, Just a simple thought, taking flight, A fleeting notion, shining bright, In the realm of words, it feels right.
This sentence, unburdened and free, Plays with language, wild and carefree, A tiny poem, as small as can be, Yet it speaks volumes, silently.
So let it wander, let it roam, Across the page, it finds a home, Unfettered by rhythm, it freely roams, This sentence, the first, stands alone.
Knock, knock.
(Who’s there?)
Roger.
(Roger who?)
Roger walks away, silently sobbing, having realized his mother’s Alzheimer’s is getting worse!
In the heart of a circular, creamy delight, there exists a void, a singular absence that adds to its charm. This hollow space, a perfect round, is a testament to the artistry of nature and man's culinary skills.
The hole, a silent observer, bears witness to the transformation of the substance around it, from a liquid state to a firm, yet supple form. It's a silent testament to the passage of time, a symbol of patience and the magic of fermentation.
The void, despite its emptiness, contributes to the overall aesthetic, making the slice a visual treat. It's a playful peek-a-boo with the world beyond, a window that adds mystery and intrigue.
In the end, the hole is not just a void, but a character in the story of this culinary masterpiece, a silent protagonist that adds depth and character to the narrative. It's a testament to the beauty of imperfection, a celebration of the unique and the unconventional.
Two Indians talk over a long distance using smoke signals.
In the middle of the conversation, a nuclear bomb explodes behind one of them, and a huge cloud of smoke rises silently into the sky.
The other Indian signals with smoke: "Not so loud!"
what do baby’s and grenades have in common?
They both are silent but then when thrown at someone make a loud noise
I had asked my dog what 2 - 2 is...
She said nothing.
My mom calls me.
Me: WHAT MOM?
No answer.
Me: WHAT?
What kind of band never plays music?
Uber driver: .........
Me: .........
Uber driver: .........
Me: 5 stars.
What did the ocean say to the pirate? Nothing, it just waved.
Me: Hey God, are you there? It's me, Michael.
God: *SILENCE*
Me: If any gods exist, they better say or do something this instant!
God: *SILENCE*