Windows jokes

Knock knock. Hus dare? Luke. Luke who? Luke through the window and you'll see.

He tried to install a free version of Windows 10.

You're built like a Windows touchscreen!

Abraham Lincoln was a good man, he jumped out the window with his dick in his hand and walked up to a group of ladies and said I'm doing my duty so why don't you give me some booty?

So I was on Google, and on my computer it had Windows. When Stephen Hawking died, it shut down, the shutdown sound played, and wouldn't turn on again.

Why did the moron throw his clock out the window?

The clocks reminded him of Richard Clock, the convict who knife-raped his wife.

One day, the Pope is coming to America in his limo, and he said to the driver, "Why don’t you let me drive for once?"

The driver thinks to himself, "Well, I can’t say no to this guy; he’s the Pope." So the driver pulls over, and they change places. The Pope was having fun, hauling butt down the freeway, dogging cars. After a while, the driver taps on the window and tells the Pope, "Slow down a bit; you might get pulled over."

The Pope says, "Ahhh, don’t worry about it; I’m the Pope." So he rolls up the window and continues to drive very fast. After a few moments, he gets pulled over. The cop walks to the car, and the Pope rolls down the tinted window. The cop sees the Pope and says, "Oh, I, ehhh, sorry, can you hold on a minute?"

The Pope says, "Sure." The cop walks back to his car and radios back to the station. He says, "Guys, I just pulled over someone really important."

They ask who, "The President?"

"No, more important."

"The president of another country?"

"No, more important."

"An ambassador?"

"No, even more important."

"Well, who is it?"

"I don’t know, but the Pope is the chauffeur."

A Chinese man moves to the USA after 50 years of living in Shanghai.

He bought a home on a small piece of land.

The friendly American neighbor decides to go across and welcome the new guy.

He goes next door, but on his way up the driveway he sees the Chinese man running around his front yard, chasing about 10 hens.

Not wanting to interrupt these "Chinese customs", he decides to put the welcome on hold for the day.

Next day he decides to try again, but just as he is about to knock on the front door, he looks through the window and sees him urinate into a glass and then drink it.

Not wanting to interrupt another "Chinese custom", he decides to put the welcome on hold for yet another day.

A day later he decides to give it one last go, but on his way next door, he sees the neighbor leading a bull down the driveway and then put his left ear next to the bull's butt.

The American dude can't handle this, so he goes up to the Chinese man and says, "Jeez man, what the hell is it with your Chinese customs? I come over to welcome you to the neighborhood and see you running around the yard after hens. The next day you are pissing in a glass and drinking it, and then today you have your head so close to that bull's butt, it could just about shit on you."

The Chinese man is very taken back and says, "Sorry sir, you no understand, these no Chinese customs I am doing, these are American Customs."

"What do you mean," says the neighbor, "Those aren't American customs."

"Yes they are, man at travel agent tell me," replied the Chinese man. "He say to become true American, I must learn to chase chicks, get piss drunk, and listen to bull-shit!"

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A man with a spirit untamed, untold. With eyes that pierce through the darkest night, He walks a path that's far from light.

His steps are loud, his presence strong, A force of nature, where he belongs. Through the chaos, he finds his way, Leaving footprints that never fade.

A rebel soul, unafraid to speak, His words drip with passion, so unique. He dances with danger, embraces the unknown, Challenging limits, into the wild he's thrown.

No rules can bind him, no walls can contain, Frank Bulgin sets fire to the mundane. He paints the sky with vibrant hues, A kaleidoscope of dreams he pursues.

In his mind, a symphony of thoughts, An artist's palette, where inspiration is sought. He weaves words like a masterful bard, Creating tapestries that leave us marred.

With each verse, he unravels his soul, Unveiling the depths that make him whole. His poetry, a window to his essence, A glimpse into a world of fearless presence.

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A maverick, a legend yet to be told. His spirit roams, forever untamed, A beacon of courage, never to be tamed.

There are three people on the steps of Heaven. God tells them all he is having a good day and if they make him laugh by telling him how they died, he will let them in.

The first one said, "I just finished a long day of work and I get home, and right as I stepped in, I knew my wife was cheating on me. I searched everywhere and I couldn’t find anybody, so I got a drink and went to the balcony, and then I saw him, hanging off the ledge of the balcony. I kicked his hands, but he wouldn’t fall, so I threw a Refrigerator at him, and I fell with the Refrigerator."

God busted out laughing and let him in.

The next person walked up and God told him the same thing he told the other person. God told him that he didn’t think that he could make him laugh more than the first person. The second guy said, "So get this, I’m a window washer on the 8th floor. I’m washing the windows like normal, and this enraged psychopath walks up and starts kicking my hands, and then he throws a refrigerator at me and I die."

God bursts out laughing so much to where he falls off his chair, and he lets the guy through. The next guy comes up and God tells him the same thing he told the last two people, and he tells him that there is no way that he can make him laugh more than the other two did. So he starts talking. "So get this, I’m in a refrigerator..."

The whole reason he is dead is because he kept hitting "Remind me later" on his Windows Updates.

Jack quietly crawled through Jill’s bedroom window, trying not to make a single noise. She sat on her bed, her back facing him. Jack tiptoed up behind her, laid his hands on her shoulders and said, in a rather sensual tone,

“Boo.”

“Jack!” She yelled, “what are you doing here?”

Jack sat down next to her and smiled.

“I figured today was a good day to maybe go up to the hill?” He said.

“That sounds fun,” said Jill.

“C’mon, let’s go!”

The kids climbed down from Jill’s second story window. They frolicked around in the fields, hair swaying in the wind, as they neared the nearby hill. Jack took Jill’s hand, and they skipped up to the very top of the hill. They sat down on the bright green grass and giggled.

“You ready?” Asked Jack.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jill replied with a wink.

Jack laid his hand on Jill’s chest, softly pushing her onto her back. He got down on his knees, and bent down to the bottom of her dress.

“I’ve waited a long time for this...” he whispered.

Jack slowly pulled up Jill’s dress with one hand, running the other up her thigh. His anticipation was building faster and faster. He looked her in the eyes as he slowly pulled down her panties. Once they were all the way off, he turned his head downward. His mouth opened, his eyes went wide. Jack was speechless. Before he could say anything, Jill slammed his head down, gagging him with her giant cock. She sat up as she slammed his head up and down. Jack began to feel dizzy as he gagged and coughed.

“Silly Jack, didn’t you know? I’m not Jill. I never was. My name’s Randy. You’re mine now, Jack. So sit back, enjoy the ride.” Said Randy.

Randy moved Jack’s head faster and faster as he threw his head back. It was coming, fast. All of a sudden, he stopped. Jack’s head stood still as his mouth became a fountain of white, drizzling all over Randy’s legs and onto the grass. Randy let go and Jack jumped back, spitting and trying to get it all out of his mouth. Just as the dizziness began to fade, Randy walked over. The last thing Jack saw was Randy’s fist hurtling towards him...

A blonde texts her husband on a cold winter’s morning: "Windows frozen, won't open."

Husband texts back: "Gently pour some lukewarm water over it and gently tap edges with hammer."

Wife texts back 5 minutes later: "Computer really messed up now."

"(live comedy club) Foul Mouthed Trump Hating Comic:

......"Hey how 'bout that Donald Trump chump, what the fuck up with that dude, man? Geeeezus, he got some kuh-razy ass shit spewing endlessly out that pie-hole, 24/8!" (< leap week, muthafukas!) . . . "I mean, even his last name rhymes with shit that's synonymous for being fucked up, for instance"....

STUMP: TEENY DICK

BUMP: TINY TIT

GUMP: DIMWITTED MOVIE IDIOT GUY

MUMP: A FUCKED UP CHILDREN'S DISEASE

LUMP: IF IT'S MALIGNANT, YOU'RE KINDA FUCKED

UMP: OFTEN MAKES TERRIBLE CALLS

RUMP: AN ASS

DUMP: A PILE OF SHIT THAT CAME OUT OF AN ASS

HUMP: SOMETHING DADDY DID TO HIM DAILY THROUGHOUT CHILDHOOD

PUMP: SEE "HUMP" . . . and last, but definitely not least --

JUMP: JUMP INTO A DEEP HOLE MOTHER FUCKER, AND GO TO HELL!!

.... "Well that's about it for me as my explosive diarrhea is about ready to take a turn for the worse!! ......(splort!, plop!)....... OOOOPS!! ..... sniff, sniff........ Ewww!" (audience roars) "Fuhhhhk!". . . I better go, 'cause I just went!! ..... Ha! ha! ha!" . . . "Thank You Lazies and Gerbilmen! Good Night!!" ............

(endless laughter, guffaws, cheers, jeers, queers, beers, pants pee-ing, beaters beating, pepper sprayin', guns poppin')

"OH LORDY!!... HELL HATH FINALLY COMETH, AND ARMAGETTIN' THE FUCK OUTTA HEEE!!"

(quick curtain call, and off to waiting taxi.........with the windows down) .......Amen."

What happens when Stephen Hawking dies?

The Windows shutdown sound plays.

A burglar breaks into the home of a weapons engineer. He wants to steal some of his weapons from his strictly secured chamber. When he breaks in through the window to go into his weapons cellar, he realizes that the inventor is at home and heard him from upstairs.

The burglar shouts, "Hands up, there is no escape!" The engineer shouts, "What do you want from me?" The thief answers impatiently, "Well, what do you think? I know what you're hiding here. Get me entry to your armory, right away!" "Never in my life will I do that!" The burglar pulls out his pistol, "Either you let me in, or you go for it!"

"Well, I'll give up, I'll give you my guns. Please don't shoot me." The burglar grins gleefully, "Thank you." "I even have a gun here that I've been working on lately. You can have it." The burglar then thinks and grunts, "Okay, before you open up, you'll show me this first!"

The inventor says, "It's shooting plasma. You can test it on one of my practice goals that I've made while I'm unlocking," and points to a side room where various dummies with targets are set up. The burglar walks into the room with the targets, focuses on the red dot in the middle of the disc, and pushes off. But the gun does not fire plasma or at the target. Instead, the gun fires a bullet at the burglar. This causes him to bleed to the ground.

The engineer behind him began to laugh, "Hahaha! I knew you were falling for it! This is not a plasma gun at all; this is my latest invention, especially for burglars like you: the backward-shooting pistol."

When the school shooter is right outside the classroom window, and the autistic kid starts trying to say hello to him.

I woke up one night and it was really dark in my room. Then my TV started to float out the window. I said, "Drop it, nig-"

Don't Touch My Truck-By: Breland and Sam Hunt

You can drink my liquor. You can call my lady. You can take my money. You can smoke my blunt. Scuff these Jordans. You can say you hate me. You can call me crazy, but Don't touch my truck (skrrt, skrrt) Skrrt (yeah, yeah) Skrrt Don't touch my truck (brrp, yeah) Skrrt (woo-oh) Skrrt Don't touch my V8 engine with the windows tinted Boy, we came from the bottom, got it out the mud Whole block jumpin' 'cause the subs stay hittin'. If they roll up on me, know I keep one tucked (ooh, yeah) Woo Tell them boys come and get me. I be ridin' through the city. Young, rich and I'm pretty. Homie, don't get it twisted. Keep a semi in the hemi (oh) Red cup full of Henny. My hitters come in plenties, for real. You can drink my liquor. You can call my lady. You can take my money. You can smoke my blunt. Scuff these Jordans. You can say you hate me. You can call me crazy, but Don't touch my truck (skrrt, skrrt) Skrrt (yeah, yeah) Skrrt Don't touch my truck (brrp, yeah) Skrrt (woo-oh) Skrrt Don't touch my Wood grain dash with the matte black finish And it match my shawty with the big ol' butt. Know them boys soft 'cause they got hard feelings. You can try me if you wanna go and test your luck (woo) Tell them boys come and get me (get me) I be ridin' through the city. Young, rich and I'm pretty (yeah) Homie, don't get it twisted (yeah) Keep a semi in the hemi (in the hemi) Red cup full of Henny (yeah, we drinking) My hitters come in plenties, for real. You can drink my liquor. You can call my lady. You can take my money. You can smoke my blunt. Scuff these Jordans. You can say you hate me. You can call me crazy, but Don't touch my truck Skrrt Skrrt Don't touch my truck Skrrt Skrrt Don't touch my Woo, ooh, woo, ooh, woo, ooh Don't touch my truck (woo, ooh) Don't touch my truck

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Because the chicken had 4 chicks and a cheating hen who all sucked out all his money he got from his extremely boring job, and he finally got some peace for himself and was going to the local bar, which was on the other side of the road.

He walked in the door, wings sagging, feathers catching on his claws. The bartender eyes him as he sits on a bar stool. "Chuck, how ya doin'? The missus doin' good?"

"Just give me the hardest stuff you got. I'm done."

This caught the bartender by surprise. "Chuck, come on, don't be sayin' that. Just look to the future and you'll be fine."

"What future?" Chuck replied in a huff. "My wife and chicks are so goddamn pestering sometimes, you know? But if I leave, they'll all suffer, and I don't want that either. Oh, God, Phil, I don't know what to do."

"You know, you've got a good heart for a rooster your age," Phil answered. "We need that in these parts. I'm tellin' ya, there will be more than what's happenin' right now, ya know, life's got all its gears turning for ya, and there's just a bit slow right now. The gears haven't been oiled in a while, but who's the only one who can fix that?"

Chuck knew the answer. "Me."

Phil returned with his drink. "McClucken's Whiskey, on the house."

Chuck glanced at his glass. He held it up to the light. His face reflected in an aura around it, neither looking forward to the light and not backward, either.

"No thanks, Phil," Chuck sighed, "But thanks anyways."

He went to get up out of his chair. Phil called as he walked out the door, "Just remember to oil the gears every now and then, eh?"

Chuck's comb flapped in a cool breeze brought in by the season. A bench was nearby, staring across to the other side. And he just sat there, sat there thinking. Cars blurred to a colorfully colorless nothingness as he thought in silence.

He could see an open window in his mind, full of chickens: a sassy hen, two identical sportish chick; another, older than the two, and body bristling with blue comb-dye and the latest thing he watched online fresh on his Chickstagram page; finally, the first of the bunch, shy, bookish, with a secretly courageous soul. They all looked... worried, worried for the rooster who guided them, helped them grow, supported them... and all looking out of the window back at him.

A single tear welled in Chuck's eye.

The chicken walked back across the road to his family, to his friends, and to the life he was content with.