Old and New Jokes

Digital – The art of counting on your fingers.

A panda walks into a bar, sits down and orders a sandwich.

He eats the sandwich, pulls out a gun and shoots the waiter dead.

As the panda stands up to go, the bartender shouts, Hey, Where are you going? You just shot my waiter and you didnt pay for your sandwich!

The panda yells back at the bartender, Hey man, Im a Panda! Look it up!

The bartender opens his dictionary and sees the following definition for panda: A tree-dwelling marsupial of Asian origin, characterized by distinct black and white coloring. Eats shoots and leaves.

Una mujer y un hombre se ven envueltos en un aparatoso accidente de tránsito. Ambos autos quedaron totalmente destrozados, pero asombrosamente ninguno de ellos sufrió heridas. Después salir a duras penas de sus autos, la mujer exclama:

¡Entonces usted es un hombre, qué interesante, yo soy una mujer! ¡Guau! Solo mire nuestros autos, no ha quedado nada de ellos, pero afortunadamente estamos ilesos. Esto debe ser una señal de Dios para que nos conociéramos y vivamos juntos en paz por el resto de nuestros días.

Estoy completamente de acuerdo con usted: esto debe ser una señal de Dios, acepta el tipo.

La mujer continúa:

He aquí otro milagro: mi carro está completamente destruido pero esta botella de vino no se rompió. De seguro Dios quiere que nos la bebamos y celebremos nuestra buena suerte, dicho lo cual le pasa la botella al hombre.

El caballero, asintiendo con la cabeza, abre la botella y le da varios tragos monumentales. Luego se la devuelve a la mujer. La fulana toma la botella e inmediatamente le pone la tapa y se la regresa al tipo. Éste, intrigado, le pregunta:

¿Es que usted no va a beber?

La mujer, alzando los hombros, se limita a decir:

No, creo que yo esperaré hasta que llegue la policía.

Knock Knock
Whos there?
Acid!
Acid who?
Acid down and be quiet!

It is better to be part of the idle rich class than be part of the idle poor class.

Sterility is hereditary.

A penny saved is ridiculous.

As I let go of my feelings of guilt, I am in touch with my inner sociopath.

I have the power to channel my imagination into ever-soaring levels of suspicion and paranoia.

I assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone elses fault.

I no longer need to punish, deceive, or compromise myself, unless I want to stay employed.

In some cultures what I do would be considered normal.

Having control over myself is almost as good as having control over others.

My intuition nearly makes up for my lack of self-judgment.

I honor my personality flaws for without them I would have no personality at all.

Joan of Arc heard voices, too.

I am grateful that I am not as judgmental as all those censorious, self-righteous people around me.

I need not suffer in silence while I can still moan, whimper, and complain.

As I learn the innermost secrets of people around me, they reward me in many ways to keep me quiet.

When someone hurts me, I know that forgiveness is cheaper than a lawsuit, but not nearly as gratifying.

The first step is to say nice things about myself. The second, to do nice things for myself. The third, to find someone to buy me nice things.

As I learn to trust the universe, I no longer need to carry a gun.

All of me is beautiful, even the ugly, stupid and disgusting parts.

I am at one with my duality.

Blessed are the flexible, for they can tie themselves into knots.

Only a lack of imagination saves me from immobilizing myself with imaginary fears.

I will strive to live each day as if it were my 50th birthday.

I honor and express all facets of my being, regardless of state and local laws.

Today I will gladly share my experience and advice, for there are no sweeter words than I told you so!

False hope is better than no hope at all.

A good scapegoat is almost as good as a solution.

Just for today, I will not sit in my living room all day in my underwear in the Hollywood Cafe. Instead, I will move my computer into the bedroom.

Who can I blame for my problems? Just give me a minute… Ill find someone.

Why should I waste my time reliving the past when I can spend it worrying about the future?

The complete lack of evidence is the surest sign that the conspiracy is working.

I am learning that criticism is not nearly as effective as sabotage.

Becoming aware of my character defects leads me naturally to the next step of blaming my parents.

To have a successful relationship I must learn to make it look like Im giving as much as Im getting.

I am willing to make the mistakes if someone else is willing to learn from them.

Before I criticize a man, I walk a mile in his shoes. That way, if he gets angry, hes a mile away and barefoot.

New billboards are getting attention in Arizona. Heres a list of variations of the God Speaks billboards. The billboards are a simple black background with white text. No fine print or sponsoring organization is included.
_______________________Tell the kids I love them.
-God Lets meet at my house Sunday before the game.
-GodCmon over and bring the kids.
-GodWhat part of Thou Shalt Not… didnt you understand?
-GodWe need to talk.
-GodKeep using my name in vain,
Ill make rush hour longer.
-GodLoved the wedding, invite me to the marriage.
-God
That Love Thy Neighbor thing…
I meant it.
-GodI love you and you and you and you and…
-GodWill the road youre on get you to my place?
-GodFollow me.
-GodMy way is the highway.
-God
Need directions?
-God
You think its hot here?
-GodHave you read my #1 best seller?
There will be a test.
-GodDo you have any idea where youre going?
-GodDont make me come down there.
-God

Generally, the Real Programmer plays the same way he works — with computers. He is constantly amazed that his employer actually pays him to do what he would be doing for fun anyway (although he is careful not to express this opinion out loud). Occasionally, the Real Programmer does step out of the office for a breath of fresh air and a beer or two. Some tips on recognizing real programmers away from the computer room:

At a party, the Real Programmers are the ones in the corner talking about operating system security and how to get around it.
At a football game, the Real Programmer is the one comparing the plays against his simulations printed on 11 by 14 fanfold paper.
At the beach, the Real Programmer is the one drawing flowcharts in the sand.
A Real Programmer goes to discos to watch the light shows. At a funeral, the Real Programmer is the one saying Poor George. And he almost had the sort routine working before the coronary.
In a grocery store, the Real Programmer is the one who insists on running the cans past the laser checkout scanner himself, because he never could trust keypunch operators to get it right the first time.

Thanx to William Conway.