Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Readers Digest presents "Jokes for Narcissists"




#1) "My husband and I have a freelance drywall business. One way we promote our business is to canvass neighborhoods in the city, putting fliers in mailboxes.

One particular afternoon, we became separated during our stuffing in a neighborhood with a particularly circuitous set of winding streets. Wanting to see if he had been through a certain area, I opened up a mailbox and looked in.

A passerby walking with her child asked me what I was doing. I said, "Oh, I'm looking for my husband."

The passerby said "Oh, you must have a really small husband."

To which I replied, "No, you stupid bitch. I just wanted to see if he has been down this street putting fliers in the mailboxes."


#2) Nothing could seem to stop two members of our congregation from talking during the morning song service, so we decided to try a little experiment. We met a little before the service began and formulated a plan.

As the congregation sang "Just as I am without one plea, but that my Lord has died for me," the two elderly women began their incessant chatter once again. At that instant, two of us grabbed and held the women, while the rest of the 240 members of the congregation brutally sodomized them for eight hours.

After that, they never talked in church again.



#3) While my husband, Darnell, repaired his car in the back yard and I did laundry in the basement, our two children, ages seven and five, were in the house dialing random phone numbers. Unbeknownst to us, the children called 911.

Within minutes, two police officers came running through the back yard, guns drawn. "What's the problem?" they asked my son.

Darnell looked up from his work, regarded the officers with a wry grin, and responded, "My clutch went out. You wanna hand me a wrench?"

To which the police officers replied, "No, you bastard. You wanna eat hot death?" At which time they shot Darnell in the face four times.

#4  My daughter, Susan, uses a wheelchair. One rainy day, we returned home after a shopping trip. On the carpeted platform of the ramp to the backdoor, she hesitated, then turned her chair around, rubbing the wheel on the ground several times.

I impatiently asked, "Are you going into the house or not?"

"Mom," she responded quietly, "I'm wiping my feet."

"Then I guess you can stay outside, you ****ing cripple," I said.


#5) I'm a prison guard who was recently transferred to Litchfield State, a maximum security pen located in a remote section of Maine's backwoods. After a month of this job related isolation, cabin fever set in and I started to get lonely.

I decided to ask advice from Heinz, a fellow guard who has been there for quite some time. I approached him during roll call.

"Hey, Heinz," I whispered. "What do you guys usually do for a little action out here?" I punctuated this question with a few pelvic thrusts to insure that he got the idea.

Without saying a word, Heinz pointed across the cell block to Washington, the scrawny African-American custodian who was busy mopping around a toilet. No way, I thought to myself.

However, later that week my hormonal urges took over and, considering the non-existent alternatives, I followed Washington into the janitor's closet and cornered him by the sinks. Slamming the door shut, I "bitch slapped" him several times with the butt of my pistol, pinned his left arm behind his back with one hand, and ripped down his pants with the other. I was wailing away pretty heavily when the door suddenly opened, and a startled Heinz confronted me with a dazed look.

"No, no! he exclaimed. "I meant we use Washington's car to drive into town!"


2 comments:

Alex said...

Q's really scraping the bottom of the barrel these days!

Five Hundred Pound Peep said...

I get the jokes as far as narcs and sociopaths go. The only laughter in the room is their sneer and fake cackles.