Offense Jokes / Recent Jokes

Alaska
• A law in Fairbanks does not allow moose to have sex on city streets.
(O_o)
• Even though it is legal to hunt a bear, it is illegal to wake a bear for photo opportunities.
(is shooting waking?)
• Fairbanks: It is considered an offense to feed alcoholic beverages to a moose.
(but why?)
• In Alaska it is illegal to whisper in someone's ear while they are moose hunting.
• It is considered an offense to push a live moose out of a moving airplane.
(How did the moose get in the flippin plane?)
• Kangaroos are not allowed in barber shops at any time.
• Moose may not be viewed from an airplane.
• State policy states that emergencies are held to a minimum and rarely found to exist.
(*911* "we are sorry, this number has been disconnected")

In Fairbanks it is considered an offense to feed alcoholic beverages to a moose. While it is legal to shoot bears, waking a sleeping bear for the purpose of taking a photograph is prohibited. It is considered an offense to push a live moose out of a moving airplane. It is the state policy that emergencies are held to a minimum and are rarely found to exist.-Sec. 44.62.270. State policy. Moose may not be viewed from an airplane.

A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn't afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It is a '70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the prototypical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch your crotch and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires, tra la la la.
I'm driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this assh*le, overaerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up.
Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance. She proceeds to yell in my window, "Hey, slow down you %$&#@ idiot." I'm a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, "assh*le" at me again. Twice? *&%$# that. I turn around and drive up next to her.
"Do you have a problem?" I ask.
"Yeah, why are you driving like an more...

A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn't afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It's a '70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the proto-typical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch yourself and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires.
I'm driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this crazy, over aerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up. Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance.
She proceeds to yell in my window, "Hey, slow down you idiot." I'm a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, "Jerk" at me again. Twice? I turn around and drive up next to her.
"Do you have a problem?" I ask.
"Yeah, why are you driving like an idiot?"
"I was driving like more...

Well back in 5th grade, there was this kid, Cody, and he had cards, and he was splitting us up into groups, Offense & Defense. Just think, he was puting us females on offense with him, and he was puting the males on defense. Just think what goes through 5th grade minds! EWW!!