Classic joke thread...

[TAB]

Besides the "like" button we need a "pelosi" one.

fixed

[tombogan03884]

fixed

If the post doesn't make you sick the button will.   

[TAB]

.

[tombogan03884]

I'm going to try stealing that for FB.   

Edited to claim success !   

[bulldog75]

Not sure if this had been posted here. I talked to one of my older brothers and he confirmed this was a lot of our childhood. A few parts are different. Dad was a Korea vet. My brothers did dumb stuff like this. I wondered why dad would not let me do anything fun.

Around age 10 my dad got me one of those little badass compound bow beginner kits. Of course, the first month I went around our land sticking arrows in anything that could get stuck by an arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farmall tractor tire will take 6 rounds before it goes down? Tough sumbich.
That got boring, so being the 10 yr. old Dukes of Hazard fan that I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut up T-shirt doused in chainsaw gas tied around the end and was sending flaming arrows all over the place. One summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large rotten oak stump in our backyard. I looked over under the carport and see a shiny brand new can of starting fluid (Ether). The light bulb went off in my head.
I grabbed the can and set it on the stump. I thought that it would probably just spray out in a disappointing manner. Lets face it, to a 10 yr old mouth-breather like myself, (Ether), really doesn't "sound" flammable.
So, I went back into the house and got a 1 pound can of Pyrodex (black powder for muzzle loader rifles).
At this point, I set the can of ether on the stump and opened up the can of black powder. My intentions were to sprinkle a little bit around the (Ether) can but it all sorta dumped out on me. No biggie, a 1 lb. Pyrodex and 16 oz (Ether) should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know?
You know what? Screw that I'm going back in the house for the other can.
Yes, I got a second can of pyrodex and dumped it too. Now we're cookin'.
I stepped back about 15 ft and lit the 2 stroke arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and took aim. As I released I heard a clunk as the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time frame, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck...OH SHIT! He just got home from work. So help me God it took 10 minutes for that arrow to go from my bow to the can. My dad was walking towards me in slow motion with a WTF look in his eyes. I turned back towards my target just in time to see the arrow pierce the starting fluid can right at the bottom. Right through the main pile of Pyrodex and into the can.
Oh Shit.
When the shock wave hit it knocked me off my feet. I don't know if it was the actual compression wave that threw me back or just reflex jerk back from 235 fricking decibels of sound. I caught a half a millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs all hovering 1 ft above the ground as far as I could see. It was like a little low to the ground layer of dust fog full of grasshoppers, spiders, and a worm or two.
The daylight turned purple. Let me repeat this... THE FRICKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE.
There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the pasture.
Notice I said "was". That son-of-a-bitch got up and ran off.
So here I am, on the ground blown completely out of my shoes with my Thundercats T-Shirt shredded, my dad is on the other side of the carport having what I can only assume is a Vietnam flashback:
ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE YOU'RE BRINGIN' EM IN TOO CLOSE!! CEASE FIRE. DAMNIT CEASE FIRE!!!!!
His hat has blown off and is 30 ft. behind him in the driveway. All windows on the north side of the house are blown out and there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud about 2000 ft. over our backyard. There is a Honda 185 3 wheeler parked on the other side of the yard and the fenders are drooped down and are now touching the tires.
I wish I knew what I said to my dad at this moment. I don't know – I know I said something. I couldn't hear. I couldn't hear inside my own head. I don't think he heard me either... not that it would really matter. I don't remember much from this point on. I said something, felt a sharp pain, and then woke up later. I felt a sharp pain, blacked out, woke later....repeat this process for an hour or so and you get the idea. I remember at one point my mom had to give me CPR. and Dad screaming "Bring Him back to life so I can kill him again". Thanks Mom.
One thing is for sure... I never had to mow around that stump again, Mom had been bitching about that thing for years and dad never did anything about it. I stepped up to the plate and handled business.
Dad sold his muzzle loader a week or so later. I still have some sort of bone growth abnormality, either from the blast or the beating, or both.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, get your kids into archery. It's good discipline and will teach them skills they can use later on in life.

[Sponsor]

[Big Frank]

LMAO. I never got to have any fun when I was a kid. I made a slingshot from a Y shaped piece of tree branch, a scrap of leather, and 2 big rubber bands. One place we got fish and chips from always put a rubber band around the Styrofoam boxes and I used those. One day we were playing around in the barn and my younger brother was way up on top of a bunch of hay bales when I winged him in the eye with a piece of cat food. That was my last slingshot for a really long time until I finally bought one as an adult. IIRC the cat food was shaped like a plus sign and I had the rubber bands stretched from the end of my arm back to my face to make sure the cat food had enough power to make it up there. Hitting my brother in or near the eye was completely accidental, but sometimes in a barn $hit happens.

[Big Frank]

Did you hear about the kid in California who was kicked out of school for being lactose intolerant? The libtards won't accept any intolerance in school.

[MartinWill1989]

An old woman decides to go into an old town for supplies. As she rode up near the store and tied her old mule to the hitch rail and as she stood there, brushing some of the dust from her face and clothes, a young gunslinger stepped out of the saloon with a gun in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.

The young gunslinger looked at the old woman and laughed, saying, “Hey Old WOMAN, have you ever danced?”

The old woman looked up at the gunslinger and said, “No, I never did dance … Never really wanted to.”

A crowd had gathered as the gunslinger grinned and said, “Well, you old bag, you’re gonna dance now!” and started shooting at the old woman’s feet…

The old woman prospector –not wanting to get her toe blown off– started hopping around like a flea on a hot skillet. Everybody was laughing, fit to be tied.

When his last bullet had been fired, the young gunslinger, still laughing, holstered his gun and turned around to go back into the saloon.

The old woman turned to her pack mule, pulled out a double-barreled shotgun, and cocked both hammers…

The loud clicks carried clearly through the desert air. The crowd stopped laughing immediately.

The young gunslinger heard the sounds too, and he turned around very slowly. The silence was almost deafening.

The crowd watched as the young gunman stared at the old woman and the large gaping holes of those twin barrels.

The barrels of the shotgun never wavered in the old woman’s hands, as she quietly said, “Son, have you ever licked a mule’s behind?”

The gunslinger swallowed hard and said, “No ma’am … But … I’ve always wanted to.”

[Big Frank]

Warning: You are now entering the bad joke zone.

Did you know there's a city in California named after a waffle that was dropped on the beach? Sandy Eggo.

I know it was bad but don't blame me. That was courtesy of "The Waffle King" at Kellogg's. He knew it was bad too.

[Big Frank]

Time for some pix.