The Stereotypes Puns

You hear them in both ears

5.1 and 7.1

Sony

He’s telling a dumb blonde joke when a young platinum haired beauty jumps to feet, “what gives you the right to stereotype blondes that way?”she demands. “What does hair color have to do with my worth as a human being?”

Flustered, the ventriloquist begins to stammer an apology

“You keep out of this! She yells, “I’m talking to that little jerk on your knee!”

out of habit.

^(edit: wear*)

Males are just females without the fes

Fes can be forced to sound like Fees, and woman have a stereotype of spending money

There is this black guy who details cars in our parking lot for the surrounding businesses. My boss was coming back from lunch and noticed this gentleman needed help starting his client's car, so my boss got his cables out and gave the man a jump. When he told the office this I said "Thank you for putting an end to the stereotype that white men can't jump." Everyone gave a collective "ugh!"

The topic is racism. My mom, sisters, and I are talking about how racism and stereotypes are not the same while my dad just quietly eats his food. We all give some examples of stereotypes for different cultures and how they might have come about. Then there is a break in the conversation.

A break for dad to casually throw in his two cents: "Many stereo types are from Japan."

I can imagine his thoughts before saying it. Oh, I've got one for this. Come on, set me up set me up . . . yes!

Good stuff, dad.

So in my calculus class last year in math, there were these two Chinese twins. Ving, and Ling. Ving was always super cool with me. In exchange for answers (he was super smart) I would hang out with him and be his friend and stuff. After I cheated off of him and studied with him though, I did get to be his friend and we got very close.

His sister, Ling, was always uptight about school and she made sure to study, she got stressed about a B, etc. One day I was hanging out with Ving, and we started talking about names. He went off on this huge rant about how he hated his, and how he wanted to change it to something more Asian-American, like Lee. I told him that the Courthouse downtown had a form that you could fill to legally change it. He told me: "I always give you answers. If you could just drive me down to the courthouse this one time, I will never forget you. I just hate this god-forsaken Chinese name and I want to get rid of it forever."

He seemed pretty adamant about it, so I decided the best decision would be to take him. We walked out to my car, and right as I put the keys in the ignition Ling came running and tapped on the car door like a madman. I rolled it down and she started freaking out about how Ving's name had been passed down through generations and generations, but Ving didn't care. He just wanted to go down to the Courthouse and get it over with.

Ling figured that coming with would be the best idea, so if anything else came up that she would be needed for, she would be there for Ving. Honestly, I felt stuck in the middle of a family feud, so I just took her along. When we got to the Courthouse, Ving confidently walked up to the front desk and asked the receptionist if he could change his name. She gave him a little packet of paper and told him to sit down. Ling and I waited patiently while Ving filled out his info. I was watching him fill it out and I noticed he really did want to change his name to Lee.

Before he finished, though, he started tearing up. He told me he couldn't change his name. He asked the lady at the front that he couldn't do it, and she told him he would need twenty dollars to cancel the request. Ling was so relieved and happy that he changed his mind, she dug through her purse, found the money, and started to hand it to the receptionist.

It was at this moment that the most stereotypical Asian man burst through the doors. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a visor, American flag shorts, flip flops, everything. This

Context: We were talking about our company, which is ridiculously cheap.

Him: [Company], building stereotypes. That's their new slogan.

Me: I like it! Sell it to our CEO, I'm sure it'll fly.

Him: Naw, he takes the grey gound

Talking to my dad about how I felt about my geology final, I go on about how boring the class was and that the kids that are actually geology majors are stereotype hippies. Smell weird, barefoot, dreads, Coachella lovers.. etc.

He seems to ignore everything as I can see his smile forming then as soon as I stop talking...

"They probably get stoned all the time too."

...

My grandparents on my dad's side would always have my brother and I over for Christmas when we were younger (around when I was 5-10 and my brother was 9-14). They always had a little tree in addition to their big one. The small tree had a bunch of those stereotypical ornaments (round, plain, solid color) in a bunch of different colors. My brother and I would always have fun counting the number of a specific color of ornament separately, then comparing our answers. However, every time we would, we would get different answers, so we'd recount, then get different answers again!

Anyway, just this last year (me being 18, my brother being 22), we reminded our grandfather of this. He laughed, said he remembered it, then said "well, why don't you count up the red ones again, see what you get? I'll tell you if you're right."

We agreed, and got to it. We each counted 3 times separately, then compared, then decided to average them. We got around 24 for the red ones, so went to tell our grandpa. After saying we weren't sure, we asked how many there were. He laughed and said "Darn, I don't know! I was hoping you guys could get a number so I wouldn't have to!"

Not that funny when retold, but it was hilarious then