Broadcast Jokes

  • Funny Jokes

    OMAHA, Nebraska - In police parlance he is known as a "jumper," someone who wants to commit suicide by jumping from some high place. This particular jumper was threatening to do the deed by leaping from an overpass into traffic.

    While police tried to talk him down a hacker managed to break onto the police radio frequency, and broadcast the Van Halen song JUMP for three and a half minutes. As officers were negotiating all of the police radios suddenly blared, "... might as well jump... go ahead jump!"

    Police say the man clutching an overpass fence couldn't have heard the broadcast, however police chief Don Carey was still not amused. In a display of acumen and discretion Carey called the broadcast "inappropriate." Police say someone who found a lost or stolen police radio might have transmitted the song. The jumper was eventually talked down safely.

    The Mayor of Vidor has decided not to take part in a town hall meeting on race relations CNN plans to broadcast across the nation.

    It is the outgrowth of a CNN special report last week on race relations in America. The report included a story about Vidor. A technical problem at the local Time Warner Cable office prevented all but a few seconds of the story from airing in Beaumont and Vidor. The story was broadcast one night later. Vidor Mayor Joe Hopkins and several other people complained that the story was based on decades-old information and reinforced racial stereotypes about Vidor.

    " After a lot of prayer and consideration, I don't think it's in the best interest of anyone involved that I participate," Hopkins told KFDM News Monday afternoon. "I will decline the invitation from CNN to take part in the town hall meeting. I left a voice message with the senior producer on site."

    "Besides," added the mayor, "It will be a more...

    The first ever Internet broadcast of a penile-pump-implant surgery failed miserably when very few people showed up to watch. Is anyone surprised?
    Healthology.com thought they had a really good idea when they decided to broadcast the procedure on the web. Healthology.com then convinced American Medical Systems, Inc., makers of the hydraulic penis device, to kick in some big cash to finance the broadcast.
    It was hoped that the spectacle of a 50-year-old man having his genitals operated on would draw hoards of curious onlookers. But it didn't happen.
    Reports are that the broadcast attracted only 70,000 viewers. That might sound like a big group, but it pales in comparison to other online surgeries, such as Healthology's breast augmentation broadcast. That procedure drew over a million voyeurs. You can guess why?

    The Top 20 Things You Hear In A Football Broadcast That Sound Dirty BUT AREN'T:

    20. The hole closed on him before he could penetrate it.

    19. He came at his blind side and got him from behind.

    18. He's off to the sidelines for a quick blow.

    17. It's a game of inches.

    16. That hole was so big, you could drive a truck through it.

    15. When you get down in this area, you just gotta start pounding.

    14. He's gonna feel that one tomorrow.

    13. He found his tight end.

    12. End around.

    11. He had to stretch to get it in.

    10. He gets penetration in the backfield.

    9. He blows them off (at the line)

    8. He bangs it in.

    7. He could go all the way.

    6. He gets it off just in time.

    5. He goes deep.

    4. He found a hole and slid through it.

    3. He pounds it in.

    2. He beats them off (the more...

    Early TV news (late 1940's - early 1950's) was highly experimental, broadcast "live," and plagued with unforeseen on-the-air foul-ups.
    David Brinkley writes in his new autobiography, "David Brinkley - A Memoir," of a particular incident he endured in the pre-Huntley days - one of those things you can laugh at later, but seems like a nightmare when it's happening. (Printed without permission:)
    "One of Brinkley's first regularly-scheduled NBC TV news reports was five minutes of air time at 6:00 p.m. filled with scraps of film gathered during the day by a single cameraman, George Johnson, a nice young man totally inexperienced and untrained in journalism, working with a handheld, spring-wound silent-film camera, a Bell and Howell Filmo, wandering alone around Washington during the day looking for something, anything, to put on the air that night.
    Whatever he brought in was broadcast while I sat in a tiny studio out of sight of the audience looking at more...

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