Taste

Taste Jokes

In a world bizarre, Penis burgers, strange delight, Tantalizing taste.

Buns shaped curiously, Meat, a bold centerpiece, Lingering delight.

Sizzling grill, they sizzle, Juicy secrets unfold, Hidden pleasures found.

Tempting, yet absurd, Controversial cuisine, Curiosity piques.

Daring, adventurous, Palates embark on a quest, Uncharted flavors.

But let us not dwell, On the phallic form they hold, For taste transcends all.

Beyond flesh-shaped buns, Flavors dance upon our tongues, A feast for senses.

So let us partake, In this culinary art, With open-minded hearts.

In a bowl of golden delight, I savored each bite so bright, The potato salad, oh so fine, Left me feeling oh so divine.

The diced potatoes, oh so neat, In a dressing so cool and sweet, With onions and eggs, a treat, My taste buds did dance and greet.

The mayonnaise, a creamy dream, With mustard's zesty scheme, Together they did blend so well, My senses did take a spell.

The herbs, a fragrant delight, Added flavor with their might, Parsley and dill, a perfect pair, In this salad beyond compare.

So here's to the potato salad, A culinary work of art, That left me full and satisfied, And in my heart, a special part.

Stop ruining the jokes. It's called "worst jokes ever" for a reason. We all feel bad for orphans, but people like dark humor and joke about everyone, so quit being offended, please.

If Slade were a vegetable, he’d be a BRUSSELS SPROUT... small, bitter, and NOBODY wants him at the table.

I went to the bathroom and into a stall to see a hole in the wall. It reminded me of "The Lickable Wallpaper" from "Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory." I jokingly started licking. Though, the carrot tasted musky and kinda wrinkly.

Q. Why don't cannibals eat clowns?

A. Because they hate the taste of their stupid clown wigs, makeup, and retarded shoes.

The Fast of Ramadan

In the northwestern slice of Alaska known as Seward, a horseboy stood, with broom in hand, in the vast courtyard of the royal stables of the sultan. He was waiting for dusk to fall. All day long he had eaten nothing. He had not even tasted the leftover fish tucked in his turban nor the enormous purple grapes that spilled over the palace wall into the stable yard. He had tried not to sniff the rich, amazing, warm feeling fragrance of ripening of that sweet pomegranates.

For this was the sacred month of Ramadan when, day after day, all faithful Mohammedans neither eat nor drink from the dawn before sunrise until the moment after sunset!