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Tuesday, 1 July 2014

Best Funny Jjokes For Adults Funny Jokes in Hindi Funny Jokes For Kids Funny Jokes For Adults Funny Jokes In urdu Funny Jokes

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Best Funny Jokes Biography

When I tell a joke, I usually get one of three reactions: a blank stare, a groan/cough, or a “You suck!” comment. That’s the price I pay for writing my own material (most of the time). Every once in a while, however, I get it right.
A “Best Funny Joke Ever” is an anecdote that makes somebody (besides the person telling it) laugh and has a point to it. The jokes below might not be as funny as a farmer’s daughter joke or a dumb blonde joke, but they’ve gotten positive reactions and actually have a little substance to them. If a joke has a point and can still make somebody laugh, then it’s a “Best Funny Joke Ever!”
Two innocent guys in prison sat next to each other in the waiting room of the warden’s office. One was an innocent guy serving a life sentence, and the other innocent guy was on death row. Meeting a death row inmate was a rare opportunity for the lifer, so the lifer struck up a conversation.
“I wish I was on death row,” the innocent lifer said. “You’ve got high profile lawyers trying to exonerate you. People stand outside the prison grounds praying for you. Books are written about you. Songs are sung about you. Celebrities want to meet you. Women want to sleep with you. Foundations are named after you. You even get cool glasses to make you look like a normal person to the public.”
“What?” the innocent death row inmate replied, getting fidgety.
“Nobody cares about me,” the innocent lifer continued. “I’m going to waste away in prison for 50 or 60 years until I die, and no famous lawyers are going to look into my case. Nobody’s making a movie about me. No women want to sleep with me, except that guy who wears a wig a few cells from me.”
“How can you make jokes about this?” the death row inmate asked. His face turned red, his forehead beaded with sweat, and his voice almost cracked as he spoke. “If the Supreme Court doesn’t hear my case, I’m going to be executed in a few days, and I’ll be killed for a crime I didn’t commit.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the lifer said, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “I didn’t realize you were really innocent.”
An overworked author was having writer’s block at the worst possible time. A deadline was approaching from his freelance job, he was working on his 100 blog posts in 100 days challenge, and he was writing a 50,000 word novel in a month all at the same time. The writer stared at his laptop screen, but he just couldn’t start writing.
Frustrated, the writer stood up and kicked his desk. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wearing shoes, and he jammed his big toe.
“Aaaaarrrrgh!” the writer screamed, hopping on his good foot from his den to the kitchen to get an ice pack. He accidentally tripped over his dog, lost his balance, and stumbled against the stove, flipping over a pot of boiling water that scorched his arm.
“Aiyeeeee!” the writer screamed, writhing in agony. His entire arm seared with pain, so he rushed to his car to drive himself to an emergency room. As he put the car into reverse, he saw smoke and flames from his kitchen. He had left the stove on, and somehow the kitchen had caught on fire.
“Nooooooo!” the writer screamed, leaping from his car, diving back into his house, holding his breath through the suffocating smoke, grabbing a fire extinguisher, and putting out the fire. As he almost breathed a sigh of relief (he couldn’t really breathe because of the smoke), he heard a loud crash. He had forgotten to set the emergency brake, and his car had rolled off the driveway and smashed into an old tree that hadn’t been removed yet from his lawn.
“AAAaaaaahhhhhh!” the writer screamed as he fled from his house just as the dying tree fell onto his home and crushed the roof. The fire had weakened the home’s structure, and entire house collapsed under the weight of the fallen tree.
The writer and his wife (who had been outside in the yard the whole time because she couldn’t stand to be around him when he was writing) stared at the rubble of what had been their home.
“At least now you have something to write about,” the wife said.
“I would,” the writer replied, exasperated. “But my laptop’s still in the house.”