Waist-ists
It got mugged
Would you say they are short-staffed?
They’re already ostrich-sized.
Discrimination
They refuse to go on stakeouts
Because it's a discriminant.
I work at Mathnasium, the math learning center. A child told me this today. I am angry.
That's just sixist.
And the Dutch
We need to keep a homie-hoe-stasis
A space-ist!
They said I was spreading myth information
They let bi-Dons be bi-Dons.
He then corrected himself. What he meant to say, was pencils of color.
This Martian went to apply for a job, despite his low qualifications. The interviewer asked about college education and the Martian said he didn't have that. When asked if he ever did that line of work before, the Martian said no. So the interviewer thanked the Martian for coming, but added that he thought that the Martian was a bit too green for the job -- hence the lawsuit.
(Not original, but I don't remember where I heard similar.)
I mean, can't a guy raise a family in peace?
A string walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender yells at the string, "Get out. We don't serve your kind here."
The string yells, "This is discrimination. I'll be back."
The bartender warns the string, "If you do, I'll rough you up good."
The next day after a particularly hard day working at the sewing factory, the now tired and crumbled string returns to the bar."Hey bar keep. How about a drink?"
"Hey! Aren't you that string I told to never come back?" Demands the bartender.
The string calmly replies, "No, sir. I'm a frayed knot."
I'm a total raise-ist.
Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
“Yes of course” replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit ➡The discrimination.
They climb up a couple of bar stools and have a seat. One of them says to the bartender, "Hey, give me and my partner here a beer would you?"
The bartender replied, "Sorry, we don't serve strings here."
So they climb down off of the bar stools and slither across the floor and out of the bar.
One says to the other,"Lets go down the street. I know of a better bar than this one anyways."
"Now wait a minute, said the other string.This is clearly discrimination!"
"Well what do you intend to do about it?"said the other string?
"I'm going to go back in with a disguise and I'll get that damn beer." So he ties himself in a knot, frazzles up one end of himself,goes back into the bar,slithers across the floor and climbs up the bar stool. He says to the bartender, "I'd like a beer please."
The bartender says," Wait a minute . Aren't you the same piece of string that was in here a while ago?"
So the string said, "No.I'm a frayed knot.
She discriminates against other cultures.
It discriminates!
...getting a teacup off the top shelf in the cupboard. I complained about the lack of a stool or stepladder so I could reach those most important of cups. He handed me the cup and said "It's discrimination! Apart-height's a terrible thing"
