Thread: Jokes

OK - it's not a joke, but it made laugh. Supposedly genuine, but it is from the internet so who knows....


Paleoanthropology Division
Smithsonian Institute
207 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20078

Dear Sir,
Thank you for your latest submission to the Institute, labeled "211-D, layer seven, next to the clothesline post. Hominid skull."

We have given this specimen a careful and detailed examination, and regret to inform you that we disagree with your theory that it represents "conclusive proof of the presence of Early Man in Charleston County two million years ago."

Rather, it appears that what you have found is the head of a Barbie doll, of the variety one of our staff, who has small children, believes to be the "Malibu Barbie". It is evident that you have given a great deal of thought to the analysis of this specimen, and you may be quite certain that those of us who are familiar with your prior work in the field were loathe to come to contradiction with your findings.

However, we do feel that there are a number of physical attributes of the specimen which might have tipped you off to its modern origin:

1. The material is molded plastic. Ancient hominid remains are typically fossilized bone.
2. The cranial capacity of the specimen is approximately 9 cubic centimeters, well below the threshold of even the earliest identified proto-hominids.
3. The dentition pattern evident on the "skull" is more consistent with the common domesticated dog than it is with the "ravenous man-eating Pliocene clams" you speculate roamed the wetlands during that time. This latter finding is certainly one of the most intriguing hypotheses you have submitted in your history with this institution, but the evidence seems to weigh rather heavily against it. Without going into too much detail, let us say that:
   1. The specimen looks like the head of a Barbie doll that a dog has chewed on.
   2. Clams don't have teeth.

It is with feelings tinged with melancholy that we must deny your request to have the specimen carbon dated. This is partially due to the heavy load our lab must bear in its normal operation, and partly due to carbon dating's notorious inaccuracy in fossils of recent geologic record.

To the best of our knowledge, no Barbie dolls were produced prior to 1956 AD, and so carbon dating is likely to produce wildly inaccurate results. Sadly, we must also deny your request that we approach the National Science Foundation's Phylogeny Department with the concept of assigning your specimen the scientific name Australopithecus spiff-arino.

Speaking personally I, for one, fought tenaciously for the acceptance of your proposed taxonomy, but was ultimately voted down because the species name you selected was hyphenated, and didn't really sound like it might be Latin.

However, we gladly accept your generous donation of this fascinating specimen to the museum. While it is undoubtedly not a hominid fossil it is, nonetheless, yet another riveting example of the great body of work you seem to accumulate here so effortlessly. You should know that our Director has reserved a special shelf in his own office for the display of the specimens you have previously submitted to the Institution, and the entire staff speculates daily on what you will happen upon next in your digs at the site you have discovered in your back yard.

We eagerly anticipate your trip to our nation's capital that you proposed in your last letter, and several of us are pressing the Director to pay for it. We are particularly interested in hearing you expand on your theories surrounding the "trans-positating fillifitation of ferrous ions in a structural matrix" that makes the excellent juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex femur you recently discovered take on the deceptive appearance of a rusty 9-mm Sears Craftsman automotive crescent wrench.

Yours in Science,
Harvey Rowe
Curator, Antiquities

Originally Posted by spudboy

OK - it's not a joke, but it made laugh. Supposedly genuine, but it is from the internet so who knows....
...

A fine joke spudboy, but it is a fake (see Prehistoric Barbie (Smithsonian Barbie Doll) - Urban Legends, for example).

Hmm - alright. Well, here is a picture of a joke:

Acouple of quick ones;

Drive-in banks were established so most of the cars today can see their real owners.

Theres a fine line between fishing and just standing on the beach looking like an idiot


Statistics say one out of every four people suffer from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends, if they're ok, it's you.

When trouble arises, and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy.

Have you ever noticed, that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anybody driving faster is is a maniac.

Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like handing over a million dollar Stradivarious to a gorilla.


BOOM, BOOM,.

On the farm lived a chicken and a horse, both of whom loved to play together. One day the two were playing, when the horse fell into a bog and began to sink. Scared for his life, the horse whinnied for the chicken to go get the farmer for help! Off the chicken ran, back to the farm.

Arriving at the farm, he searched and searched for the farmer but to no avail for he had gone to town with the only tractor. Running around, the chicken spied the farmer's new Harley. Finding the keys in the ignition, the chicken sped off with a length of rope hoping he still had time to save his friend's life.

Back at the bog, the horse was surprised, but happy, to see the chicken arrive on the shiny Harley, and he managed to grab hold of the rope the chicken tossed to him. After tying the other end to the rear bumper of the farmer's bike, the chicken then drove slowly forward and, with the aid of the powerful bike, rescued the horse!

Happy and proud, the chicken rode the Harley back to the farmhouse, and the farmer was none the wiser when he returned.

The friendship between the two animals was cemented: Best buddies, best pals.

A few weeks later, the chicken fell into a mud pit, and soon, he too, began to sink and cried out to the horse to save his life! The horse thought a moment, walked over, and straddled the large puddle. Looking underneath, he told the chicken to grab his hangy-down thingy and he would then lift him out of the pit.

The chicken got a good grip, and the horse pulled him up and out, saving his life.

The moral of the story: when you're hung like a horse, you don't need a Harley to pick up chicks.

My daughter just walked into the living room and said "Dad, cancel my allowance immediately, rent my room out, throw all my clothes out of the window, take my TV, stereo, iPhone, iPad and my laptop. Please take all of my jewellery to the Salvation Army or Cash Converters. Then sell my new car, take my front door key away from me and throw me out of the house. Then disown me and never talk to me again. And don't forget to write me out of your will and leave my share to my siblings. Well, she didn't put it quite like that... she actually said... "Dad this is my new boyfriend, Mohammed."

Bob and Ralph were fishing on the Newfoundland shoreline when Bob pulled out a cigar. Finding he had no matches, he asked Ralph for a light.

"Ya shure I tink I haff a lighter" Ralph replied with a Newfoundland accent and then reaching into his tackle box, he pulled out a Bic lighter 10 inches long.

"Holy crap, man!" exclaimed Bob, taking the huge Bic Lighter in his hands. "Where'd yew git dat monster?" "Well" replied Ralph "I got it from my Genie." "You haff a Genie?" Bob asked. "Ya, shure. It's right here in my tackle box" says Ralph. "Could I see him?"

Ralph opens his tackle box and sure enough, out pops the Genie.

Addressing the Genie Bob says "Hey dere! I'm a good buddy of your master. Will you grant me one wish?" "Yes, I will," says the Genie.

So Bob asks the Genie for a million bucks. The Genie disappears back into the tackle box leaving Bob sitting there waiting for his million bucks. Shortly, the Newfoundland sky darkens and is filled with the sound of a million ducks... flying directly overhead.

Over the roar of the million ducks Bob yells at Ralph "What the hell? I asked for a million bucks, not a million ducks!" Ralph answers "Ya, I forgot to tell yew dat da Genie is hard of hearing. Do yew really tink I asked for a 10 inch Bic?"

Jim stood over his tee shot on the 450 yard 18th hole for what seemed an eternity. He waggled, looked up, looked down, waggled again, but didn't start his back swing. Finally his exasperated partner asked "What the hell is taking so long?" "My wife is watching me from the clubhouse balcony" Jim explained. "I want to make a perfect shot". His companion said "You don't have a chance in hell of hitting her from here".