Point Jokes / Recent Jokes

A World War II pilot is reminiscing before school children about his days in the air force. "In 1942," he says, "the situation was really tough. The Germans had a very strong air force. I remember," he continues, "one day I was protecting our bombers and suddenly, out of the clouds, these fokkers appeared.
At this point, several of the children giggle.
"I looked up, and right above me was one of them. I aimed at him and shot him down. They were swarming. I immediately realized that there was another fokker behind me."
At hearing the pilot go on, the girls in the auditorium start to giggle and boys start to laugh. The teacher stands up and says, "I think I should point out that 'Fokker' was the name of the German-Dutch aircraft company"
"That's true," says the pilot, "but these nazi fokkers were flying Messerschmidts."

I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents'
house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be interesting for a
non-Italian girl to see how an Italian family spends the holidays.
I thought my mother and by date would hit it off like partridges
and pear trees.

So, I was wrong.

Sue me.

I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended the
invitation. "I know these family things can be a little weird," I
told her, "but my folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun
on Christmas Eve."

"Sounds fine to me," Karen said.

I had only known by mother for 31 years when I told her I'd be
bringing Karen with me. "She's a very nice girl and she's really
looking forward to meeting all of you."

"Sounds fine to me," my mother said.

And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two sounds-fine-to-me's.
What more...

Real programmers don't eat quiche. Real programmers don't even know how to spell
Quiche. They like Twinkies, Coke, and palate-scorching Szechwan food.
Real programmers don't write application programs. They program right down to the bare
metal.
Application programs are for dullards who can't do system programming.
Real programmers don't write specs. Users should be grateful for whatever they get.
They are lucky to get any program at all.
Real programmers don't comment their code. If it was hard to write, it should be hard to
understand and even harder to modify.
Real programmers don't draw flowcharts. Flowcharts are, after all, the illiterate's form of documentation. Cavemen drew flowcharts; look how much it did for them.
Real programmers don't read manuals. Reliance on a reference is a hallmark of the
novice and the coward.
Real programmers don't use Cobol. Cobol is for wimpy application programmers.
Real programmers don't use more...

This is the story of the night my ten-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine. Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and fifteen minutes of fame.

My husband, Rich, and I had just returned from a vacation in the Cayman Islands, where I had been sick as a dog the whole time, trying to convince myself that if I had to feel lousy, it was better to do it in paradise. We had arrived home at 9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I still had illness-related vertigo, and because of the flight delays, had not been able to prepare the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the next morning. I sat down at my desk to think and around ten more...

This is about a guy who revealed himself as the biggest stupidass on a major international game site. His nickname was PolleZZ. At some point some other players took the nickname Webmaster and sent him a message, saying that there was a system update going on and that in order to keep his game statistics and player history intact, he had to reply stating his userid and password. The dork immediately did so, giving away his password (it was 1234512345). They used it then to spy on his games (making him lose all his games) and to submit moronic messages on the message boards on his behalf. Only weeks later he discovered this (not by himself in fact), so he changed his password. But then, some time later again, at some point he told someone which was his favorite soccer team (the Belgian team Anderlecht) and this turned out to be his new password! So they got it again because he gave it away a second time! By the way, in real life PolleZZ has a fat ass (literally) (a friend of his told more...

Several dozen brunette, redhead, and blonde guys were facing execution via firing squad. The firing squad took the brunettes first, and the leader said "Ready, aim... " at which point the brunettes yelled "Earthquake!!!".
The firing squad looked around anxiously and while they were trying to figure out whether there was an earthquake or not, the brunette guys all took off and escaped. Undaunted, the firing squad took the redheads next, and the leader again said "Ready, aim... " at which point the redheads
yelled "Tornado!!!".
The firing squad looked around anxiously and while they were trying to figure out which direction the tornado was coming from, the redhead guys all took off and escaped. The firing squad took the blonde guys last, and by now the blondes had it all figured out; when the right time came just yell out the name of some natural disaster. So when the firing squad leader said "Ready, aim... ", the blonde guys more...

A cardiologist died and was given an elaborate funeral. A huge heart covered in flowers stood behind the casket during the service.
Following the eulogy, the heart opened, and the casket rolled inside. The heart then closed, sealing the doctor in the beautiful heart forever.
At that point, one of the mourners burst into laughter. When all eyes stared at him, he said, "I'm sorry, I was just thinking of my own funeral...I'm a gynecologist."
At that point, the proctologist fainted.